Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1022) (1897 02 23)
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AM. ‘NW A ES pe _ LU > : B 7 «< <n aa ae” Wie e RA=Ce — a. /} © mn (ma ima (idl i a ml FAA UA \fal liad DBE amps vale AE { i) 7A fr | |e | | milk =f inl yl oS =: i Iya leal ian Entered as Second Class Matter at the New Yor , N. Y, Post Office. Copyrighted 1897, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, February 2, 180% $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, No. 1022. a eee. Year, — _No. 9 WILLIAM STREET,NEW YORK, == SE 5 winsome a Vol. ae ae Sloan's 610sey Call; * ue cin BY MAJOR DANGERFIELD BURR. —- — ay Sa WF Ss SHE SPRUNG TO HER FEET, HER EYES FAIRLY FLASHING WITH ANGER,
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2 Dare Slean’s Close Call: OR, Dean Dangerfield’s Desperate Game. BY MAJ. DANGERFIELD BURR. CHAPTER I, A DOUBLE BLOW. Upon the broad piazza of a house in the far West, a woman paced to and fro, her eyes alter- nately glancing down the driveway that led to the house and tien falling upon the floor, as though enrapt in deepest thought. There was an air of refinement, and a look of haughty pride about the face of the woman that would have better become one in a drawing- room in the metropolis, than a dweller in what might be almost termed a border home, Her face was yet beautiful, for the features were cast in a mold of perfection; but to a read- er of the human physiognomy one would have discovered there expressions that were not just, lovable and true. Though perhaps on the verge of two-score years, she yet hardly appeared over thirty, and her form was the perfection of symmetry and grace. Sae was clad in deep mourning, and yet the look in her glorious eyes was not that of one who was saddened by the death of some dear one. The house she dwelt in was a substantial frame dwelling, and about it and its surround- ings an\ air of luxury, for the far West. ‘here were substantial out-houses, broad acres of cultivated lands, meadows dotted with cattle, ani altogether it looked like the home of per- sons who possessed a goodly amount of riches, Suddenly the lady stopped in her walk, for her eyes had fallen upon a horseran entering the gate leading into the inclosure, some quarter of a mile away. She sat down upon a rustic seat on the piazza and awaited the coming of this horseman, who was well mounted and rode on ata gallop, his hore showing that he had not tarried by the Ww ‘ne rider was a young man of twenty-one, with a splendid physique, great, broad shoulders, and had the general appearance of an athlete. He was dressed in a riding suit of corduroys, a slouch hat, top-boots, and at his back was slung a repeating-rifle, He rode with the easy grace of a perfect rider, and raised his hat politely as he drew near the piazza, is face was darkly bronzed, but cut in a ‘mold of decision, intelligence and nobleness, Handsome he certainly was, and one, too, to win a man’s regard, as well as a woman’s love, ‘* Well, mother, 1 am back again. I have ridden the ten miles from the post-office station ie for I have bad news for you, I amsorry say. And throwing his rein over bis saddle, ke let his horse go on around to the stables, while he ascended the piazza steps and respectfully kissed the lady on the forehead, es news, Dare? What can it be? What bad news is there for us to hear?” “* While waiting at the post-office for the let- ters, I picked up this paper, and bya strange coincidence my eyes fell upon this cr eaibnape unfolding a paper and reading alou * A MAN'S DISHONOR, ‘* We learn by telegraph that Loyd Lucas, a _ gentleman of high standing and heretofore un- *. doubted integrity, has fled from his home in S——, having been ruined financially by specu- lations, ‘* [t has been ascertained that Mr. Lucas was the agent for many estates,and among them the elegant Elmwood Hall property, left in bis hands for sale by the owner, Mrs, Dora Sloan, widow of the late Henry Sloan, who was killed in a personal conflict with his neighbor, Darke Dangerfield, of Daisv Dell Manor, “Mra, Sloan and her son left Elmwood Hall nearly half a year ago for parts unknown, for they would tell to no one where they were go- ing. Their home Loyd Lucas had in his hands for sale, and only a few days before his de- parture disposed of it, we learn, for a certain amount in cash by no means its value, the deeds, already signed, having been trusted to his hands & e widow. “We believe Widow Sloan is, however, a Tich woman outside of her Elmwood Hall estate, so that the loss of this property will not leave her destitute, ssp eennennsenteseunmes _—< = = Dare Sloan’s Close Call. it is supposed that he is already safe in Can- ada,” Such was mother, She heard it through without a word, and then said bitterly: “We must find that man, Dare, and bring him to punishment for this crime against us. Fortunately, as the paper says, we have money in bank, ‘Still, that does not palliate the crime of Loyd Lucas; but I should have had a letter from the bank about my drafts on it for this place.” ‘*Here is one, mother,” and the young man handed over a letter. Mrs. Sloan broke open the envelope, and her face became livid as she read it. Her son hastily seized it, and read aloud: ** COMMONWEALTH BANK, ‘*Ngw YORK, May 3d, 18—. ‘* Mrs, Dora DEAN SLOAN:— ‘“*Mapam:—It is my painful duty to inform you that your drafts for ten thousand dollars upon your account in this bank went back un- paid, as unfortunate speculations at the hands of our president have brought us to the verge of ruin, ‘©Sbould the bank be able to rally from its financial difficulties, you, being a depositor for a large sum, will be paid every dollar it will be possible to pay you; but, should the bank go under wholly, I regret to say that you will be, with many others, the loser of your entire de- what Dare SlJoan read to his sit, ‘* Up to date your account stands: {EOniAenont:.. waacea es}. secee yo tloks $81,00000 Tintarest to Gate 2/0: vccsicdee ks Oo en 4,800.00 ARORA WS accs «ss chiowsiavigns Manat ania $85,800.00 ‘“‘ With sympathy at the misfortune, and the hope that we may recuperate, I remain, madam, ** Respectfully yours, ‘* Warp Ivers, Cashier.” ‘‘Dare, we are ruined!” groaned Mrs, Sloan, when her son had read the letter aloud, ‘‘Ttis a hard blow, mother, and the second =~ by this mail; but we may recover some- thing,’ ‘*No, we are little better than beggars, for we cannot pay for this place, as my drafts bave re- turned, and Elmwood Hall, which would have given us a good support, has been sold by that villain, Loyd Lucas. * All wehavein cash now is a thousand dollars; we can realize as much more by sales of what we do not need now, for we must begin life in an humble way. ‘*- You, Dare, must take a thousand dollars and go East at once. ‘“‘Wirst go to New York and see Ward Ives, the cashier of the bank, and learn the truth from him, if ever we are to get anything, ‘Then go to W—— and seeif you can discover aught regarding Loyd Lucas, Do this at once, my son, while I pack u here and prepare to move to an humble home, ‘*T can also decide what is best for our future while you are gone; but, you must go Hast at once, leaving here at dawn to-morrow morning. “TI will go, mother, and I hope all is not as bad as it now appears; but, should it be, I cer- tainly can take care of you and myself, too, for I am young, strong, and fully able to do so,” was the reply of the brave youth who had thus had bis inheritance swept from him by a double blow of misfortune, ' CHAPTER II, THE RED WITOH. ALONG a Western highway a strange-looking being was traveling—a being to attract atten- tion in any Jand, so odd, so weird was her make- up and general appearance, It was several days after the departure of DareSloan from his Western home for the East, to see if his mother and himself had been made almost beggars by the crimes of others, The rson who was traveling along the highway, ad halted on a ridge that commanded a view of the Sloan home. It wasa woman, and she was mounted upon an animal in contrast to herself, for it was a ‘¢ Where Lucas ed gone no one can tell; but a pack, covered with an oilcloth to ful'y protec t it from the weather, was firmly strap: ed upon the back of the beast, while perched upon it were @ parrot and a crow, In the saddle upon the black horse sat the strange creature to whom I have referred, } She was dressed ina scarlet skirt,.men’s top- boots armed with spurs, a soldier’s jacket vith a | colonel’s epaulettes upon the shoulders, and a — —_—_—— Dora in reve words: slouch hat encircled by a stuffed rattlesnake’s | ; skin in lieu of a cord. | She wore a belt of arms, a knife and pair of | revolvers, while a rifle was hung to her saddle- | horn. In one hand she carried a staff, with | which she could guide her horse, and also use as» a weapon of offense and defense, It wasa stout stick, painted red, with a smali hand scythe, used as a crook upon one end, and a saber bayo- | net upon the other, and from the point to the curve was about eight feet long. The woman was large, well-formed, and her © hair, dropping loosely down her back below her © waist, was iron-gray, Her face was bronzed by exposure, strong in feature, and marked by a look or expression that was dangerous should she be aroused, Her eyes were sunken, but intensely black and bright, and though fully fifty years of age, her teeth were white as milk and perfect. Altogetoer one, Two huge dogs had now come up from the rear, one a huge bloodhound, the other a sav- age-looking mastiff, while,ov a knapsack strapped behind her saddle, sat a jet-black cat of enor- mous size, Altogether, the woman and her pets were a startling lot to behold. “That is her house, so J’ll camp near,” said the woman, in a voice strangely low and musi- Ca. . She turned aside from the road, and a ride of a hundred yards brought her to a meadow, through which ran a small stream, Here she dismounted and took the saddle froin one horze, the pack from the other, allowing the animals to drink and feed at will, A large tree was near at hand, and the strange woman took from her pack three sticks, or les, two of them five feet long, with iron- spiked ends, the other six feet in length. The first two were stuck firmly in the ground; the longer one was laid along on the tops; then a small tent was unrolled and stretched over the ridge-pole thus made, and the ends of the can- vas fastened down with wooden pins. A roll of blankets, in an oil-skin, were then spread under the tent, and some cooking-utensils were taken from the pack, the two dogs mean- while bringing pieces of wood in their mouths and piling them up with evident knowledge that a fire was to be made, The crow and the parrot had perched them- selves in the tree overbead, and the cat was prowling near, looking for wood-mice, Out of a hamper the woman took a piece of bacon, some potatoes, crackers, and coffee, and, with a fishing-line in a brief time she is which were caught several fish from the stream, soon dressed for frying. She ate her supper with apparent relish, fed the birds, thé dogs and cat, and then lighted a pipe, carved out of white clay, and representing a buman skull, — Having finished sinoking, she caught her horses and lariated them out near, and takin her staff, with its bayonet and scythe, she left her little camp, a word to the dogs placing them on guard there, Reaching the bighway she turned into it, passed on to the gate leading to the home of the Widow Sloan and her son, aud soon approached the house, ; It was just sunset, and, as was her wont, Mra, Sloan was pacing to and fro on the piazza, Her son had Shae gone East for some days, ei age was alone on the place with the farm ands, The owner of the place bad been there that day, having received k again bis draft on the broken bank, She had calmly told bim of her misfortunes, and said that she would give the place up to him the moment she had a tele- ener from ber son telling her he could do noth. ng about recovering their lost riches, n the mean time, with a page. that all was’ splendid beast, as black as jetand yet ridden | lost, she had bo age to pack up the few things without any bridle or halter! A lariat was | she cared to e away with her and arrange about his neck, the coil hanging upon the horn | her other belongings to sell to any one who of the side-saddle, Behind this horse had come to a halt a beautiful mare as white as snow. This second animal followed, with no rope to lead her, A lariat was about her neck also, and would bu Suddenly she turned in her walk as the words fell upon bi er ear: A good-evening to the Widow Sloan!” she was a remarkable-looking , personage, and her outfit certainly wasa novel © ~~ er So Fle THE
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4 $$$ protec! d upon q it were at the : a top- t with a) anda . nake’s | air of | addle- | , with | use ag stout *ythe, bayo- | iO the d her vy her | ig in that ‘and _ her 3 x * Dare Sloan’s Close -Call. ——— Dora Sloan started, for shé had been so lost in reverie she had not noticed the approach of any one. Then, as her eyes fell upon the etrange crea- ture before her, the color fled from h.r face, while from her lips came the low - spoken words: * Heaven save me! the Red Witch !” ~ OHAPTER III. THE GOLD WITCH. THE laugh of the strange woman, at the words of the Widow Sloan, was a startling one, if was so fuil of bitterness and mockery. “Yes, I am the Red Witch, and we meet again, my fair widow,” she retorted, but her voice was not musical now, it was harsh and menacing. ‘*In Heaven’s name, woman, what brought you here?” cried Mrs. Sloan. ‘** To see you.” ‘Did you not vow to me, Susan Carr, that you siand never again cross my path?” ‘Oh, yes, when [ wanted money I told you 30; but that was when we were back in New York State.” ‘¢ A- d what is the difference?” ‘*‘Why, you have come West, out here to Iowa, as though you were on my track!” ‘*T surely am not on your track. I came here to be away from tbe world with my son, to live by ourselves,” ‘* How strange it is, Dora Sloan, that beauti- ful lips like yours can lie, for you know you utter that which is false,” ‘* Beware, woman, for I am mistress here!” and an ugly light came into Dora Sloan’s eyes. ** No, you are not, and you know it, for to- day you are jiitle better than a beggar.” ** Do you know of this?” **Oh, ves, for I keep posted about you, Dora ‘Sloan. I know that you came here to get away from the Dangerfields, When you lost Darke Dangerfield, whom you loved with your whole ‘goal, when he cast you off, a poor country girl, fora city heiress, you sbowed how you could hate him, You bribed me to take his wife’s child from her. ‘Well, you married Henry Sloan, a good ‘young farmer out of spite, and your child was ‘born at the same time that the Dangerfield boy was, Youpsid me well for what I did not do, for [lied to you about changing children, and Mrs. Dangerfield having twins and that I gave ‘you one of her boys. ‘*It was you who had twins, not she, One of your boys died, and the other, Dare Sloan, is your son, as I told you when last we met, “You, believing him to be Darke Danger- field’s son, had determined to destroy him in the end, in revenge; you bated him; but the mo- ‘ment you knew he was your own child, you ‘loved bim, and, because he had saved the life -of Darke Dangerfield’s daughter, you feared ‘they might love each other, in spite of bis father having been slain by the h of her father, and so you ran away here to hide, leaving no «trace of your whereabouts, ** You feared that your son might love Anita Dangerfield, whose father killed your husband, who attacked him in a fit of jealous rage, and -whose mother, the heiress for whom Darke Dan- -gerfield cast you off, died suddenly one night—” “Woman! will you cease your infernal clat- ter?” saddenly cried Mrs, Sloan, turning upon ‘the Red Witch. “Ob, yes, when I bave had my say, and _ ‘brought back to you the memory of that night, sixteen years ago, when I was the nurse of Dangerfield, and her baby girl, Anita, was only a few days old. “You know what I saw, that night, how a woman entered the rcom,a woman who had -once dwelt in the Dene mansion, and knew it well, and, entering the sick-chamber, poured poison into the bottle of medicine on the stand by the bedside. i $2" “T kept my secret, for it was valuable to me; ‘but, I became a wanderer, and now am known -as the Gold Witch of the mines, - “And [ will tell you why, Dora Sloan. I wandered down into Sy Colorado ming country, and I tell you the miners dreaded me as tiek, zh I was the veritable Witch of Endor, They believed I had the power to find gold, and they paid me liberally for ‘ pointers’ and for- tune-telling. . “One day I struck it rich myself, and I am digging a fortune out of my find. ‘When I have n a fortune, I will no longer be the Gold Witch, but will go East and -enjoy my riches; but it will take me several years yet, I guess, though gold.s plenty in my canyon. ‘* You see, Dora Sloan, 1 have one who keeps me posted of things going on East, and so | knew that Loyd Lucas sold your place and ran off with the money, and that the bank failed in which you had your money, so that you had come down almost to beggary. “*f have kept my eye on you, Dora Sloan, not knowing but that I would need you some day to give me more gold, as I bad your secret, you know; but I am rich now and you are a beggar, so I come only to see if your pride had broken down under your loss of fortune.” Like a tigress Dora Sloan wheeled upon her. ‘*No, a thousand times no! My pride re- mains, and you should not see me cringe or cower, did I lose a hundred fortunes, ‘ ‘Bot, woman, fiend, sorceress, or whatever you be, tell me why you have followed me with your accursed hate? Itis true 1 used you as a tool to gain my revenge upon Darke Danger- field and his wife, and it is equally true that you deceived me, Susan Carr. **But why? You were well paid, and, since then, when you bave demanded gold, you have bad it—” ‘Because you feared me, knowing what I could bring you to.” ‘*So be it; but why do you dog me with your hate?” *“*T have my reason, woman, and a good one it is; but you shall not know it now, no, not now. Some day you shall know; but now I will not tell you. ‘*T came here simply to see youin your mis- fortune, Dora Sloan, and to enjoy your misery. I have seen you, so I will go my way again; but we will meet again, yes, again, for if you go to the uttermost parts of the earth, you shail never be free from me,I vow it; yes, by the hate I feel for you, | swear it!” and with a mocking Jangh the Gold Witch turned away. A moment did Dora Slvan stand gazing after her; then she turned an: entered the house. Calling to a servant she said: ‘* Tell the herder to come here to me, quick.” A few moments after a tall man, with the look of a thorough pleinsman, entered the room, He was dressed like a cowboy, wore a slouch hat, and had:a bold, honest face. ‘* Brandon, you once told my son that you had been a frontier scout,” ‘* Yes, Mrs, Sloan, I was for years a scout, then turned ranchero, but the Indians ran my cattle off; so in bad luck I came hereand turned herder for you,” ‘** Cau you follow a trail, Buck Brandon?” ‘**'Yes, as well as any man living.” ‘“'Tbere was a woman here a while since. She has gone now, but cannot go far to-night, and [ wish you to follow her, When you find out where she stops for the night, come back here and I will give you the best horse I have, and you are to trail her to where she lives, only I do not wish her to know it, ‘* Find out where her home is, Brandon, and [ will a you five hundred dollars.” ‘*T will do it, ma’m, for, with that money, and what I have laid up, I can go to Nebraska and start me another ranch, will go at once, ma’m.” “Tt is dark, see! Now, can you find her to- night?” | ]T have my dog, ma’m, and he’ll tree her,” was the reply of the ex-scout, and he left the house, Ten minutes after, with a dog fast toa rope, he was going down the drive toward the gate. The dog had struck the scent at the piazza, and was on the trail of the Gold Witch. oe CHAPTER IV. TRACKED. Buck BRANDON knew his dog had the right trail and would stick to it, so he readily followed his lead, holding on to the lead rope, The dog kept the scent down the driveway, through the gate leading into the country road, and thence on for nearly a mile to a ridge, Then it branched off down the hill toward a meadow. * What, down there, is it? Then she is one of a camping , I guess,” said the cowboy, and me he came in sight of a glimmering camp- The darkness was now intense, but the fire revealed a small camp, and seated in front of a tent, a weird form, The dog was anxious to Fe 00 but lay down | at a low, stern command o hi s master, who be- } animal, gan to reconnoiter from where he was, when the intense silence was broken by the deep, warning bark of the bloodhound, It was echoed by the long-drawn-out howl of the other dog, the shrill croaking of the crow, and the loud ery of the parrot: ‘Be awake! danger! danger !” “Tne devil!” muttered the cowboy, and he beat a hasty retreat, carrying bis dog and with his hand clinched over his jaws to prevent his answering the warning barks of those in the camp. Having gained a point of observation on the ridge, the cowboy saw the woman moving about camp, and also beheld the two huge dogs, The woman had thrown more wood on the fire, and flaring up, the flames revealed the weird form, the tent, and in the background the horses, ‘* She is all alone, that is certain, if I cansay so when she has dumb beasts for companions; but there is one there that is not dumb, and it sounded like an infernal parrot.” ‘‘ Why, she looks like Satan’s grandmother, and who she can be I should like to know. What can she have wanted up at the house, I wonder? ‘* Well, Ihave tracked her to her camp, so will go back and report to the madam,” He retraced his way to the house and Dora Sloan met him at the piazza steps. ‘* Well, did you find her?” ** Yes, ma‘am, I found her camp, which is over in the Brook Meadow.” ** Alone?” “She has no human critter with ber; hut there are two immense dogs, two horses, and { heard a parrot chattering and something tout sounded like a crow’s note of warning. . ‘*She’s an odd one, ma’am, and bas a snug little tent and looks as comfortable as you please,” ** She does not intend to remain there?’ ‘*T suppose not, ma’am,” ‘Well, Brandon, you must be ready to be on her track by dawn, or whenever she leaves. ‘* You can take your choice of my horses, and tell Sopby to fix you up all the provisions you need foralong jaunt. I will give fifty dollars for any expenses you may have to incur, and upon your return with exact information as to where the woman haz her home, I will pay you the sum I promised, “T wish to know just where she lives, what she is about, and yet she must not suspect you of being on her track,” ‘Trust me for that, ma’am, and I'll bring you the correct news; but she’s a queer one, and I’d beeen she was a witch, if I believed in such things. ‘*She does call herself a witch, and pretends to possess wonderful powers; but, thatis all non- sense, of course.” ** Yes, ma’am; but Ill go and get ready for my trail.” Buck Brandon in an hour’s time was read for the trail, armed thoroughly, well mounted, with plenty of supplies and his dog, Tease, on hand to accompany him, He went down toward the road and there waited, staking his horse out and throwing him- self down u his blanket, \ Just at dawn Tease awoke him with a low growl, and he heard the sound of hoofs ap- proaching. Lying quiet, he saw go by in the dim light a horse and rider, and behind trotted a riderless ‘* Going West,” he said to himself, as he held Tease down to keep him from betraying their presence, Then he arose, and, mounting his borse, rode over to the place where he had seen the little camp. The fire was burning low, but the place was deserted. ‘“* Take the scent good, Tease, for you have got to help me when I am at fault,” said the cow- boy ; and after a short while passed in the camp, he mounted once more and started upon the trail of ~ Gold Witch, who was now an hour ahead of him. 3 He turned into the gate, and riding up to the house, had breakfast andfed his horse and dog. Mrs, Sloan had just risen as he rode up to the piazza and seid: **] saw her pass at dawn, ma’am, but don’t wish to crowd her too close, or I might run upon her camp. I[’)] find her, though, you may be sure, and soon bring you word, ‘* | trust you to do so, Brandon,” was the earn- est reply. ah eed When he had disappeared in the forest, the widow muttered:
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Dare Sloan’s Close Call. “ ‘‘ When he finds her, then I will act. I am tired of this life of continua! dread of that ter- rible creature, ‘*Tt must end!” And a cruel smile crossed the face of the hand- some woman as she uttered the words that im- plied—what? CHAPTER V. ACCUSED, ALONG a highway inthe State of New York, rode a horseman one dark night, some ten days after the departure of Dare Sloan from his Western home to investigate the truth of the losses that had fallen upon his mother and him- self by the crimes of others, The night was not only intensely dark, but a keen wind was blowing and a steady rain was falling, which caused the horseman to draw his cloak more closely around him and urge his horse onward, : ‘*T hope I will arrive in time to telegraph mother, From allIcan learn, we have not a a dollar left—which will be sad news for her, ‘*The office does not close until midnight, I think, and the town is not far away now; but it is too dark for me to see the time. “* Strange that I have not overtaken old Squire Benson, who so foolishly confessed to me that he mer gg with him twelve thousand dollars in cas ‘*He urged me to come on herseback from B——, so as to serve asa protection to him on his way home, and remain at his house with him to-night, ‘* Otherwise I would have taken the train at B——, and long since have been in N ‘“He promised to ride slow so that I would overtake him, but I have been unable to do 80, fast as I have ridden.” As the horseman spoke, half-aloud, he entered a dense forest through which the road ran. A few minutes after there came the sharp crack of a pistol, a wild cry of pain and fright, and then the rapid clatter of hoofs, A moment after two horsemen dashing along the road came upon a strange scene, A man lay on the rain-drenched earth, dead, and his horse stood near him. ‘ A second horse stood near, and his rider bent over tke prostrate form of the dead man. ‘* He is dead, that is certain, so 1 must take his money and valuables. ‘Then I will go and—” He ceased speaking as the two horsemen dash- ed uP, almost coming upon the scene like magic, so silently had they appeared. ‘Ho! what is this?” cried one, sternly. ** A man has been murdered, sir, ‘“‘T heard the shot and cry, and rode ny to this spot to find him dying, and he asked me a take charge of his money and valuables, so ** No, that won’t do, my man, for you are the murderer and our coming surprised you. ** Hold! resist and we kill you!” ‘* By Heaven! do you dare call me a murderer? Do you know whom you accuse?” cried the ac- cused young man rily. ‘©No, we do not know, and we do not care who you are, We heard the shot, and the cry for aid, so rode here with all haste and find you robbing the dead, Weare armed, so if you re- sist you die.” The young man did not resist, He simply move still and the others dismounted and seized im, They found a revolver = him and took pos- session of it, and with the reins of the dead man’s horse tied the prisoner’s arms securely. ** Now, Hal, you remain with the body, while I goon to jail with this murderer. I will then send a coroner to the scene, ** Mount your horse, sir!” The prisoner obeyed, with the aid of his cap- tors, as his hands were bound behind him, and the two rode off ther. In half an hour they had reached the town, and as the gas-Jamps flashed in the face of the prisoner, his captor cried in a startled tone: ‘*My God! are you not Dare Sloan?” ‘*Tam, and I recognized you also, Mr, Dan- gerfield. You can now understand that I am not guilty of murdering poor Squire Benson, and that my innocence alone permitted me to allow you and your comrade to arrest me for the crime,” ‘*My dear fellow, I certainly feel ey for ou, and, as I owe my life to you, the ves of otbers dear to me, on an occasion you doubtless well remember, I would gladly release 5 yd but, as it is, I must deliver you up, and trust you can prove your innocence to others, as I of course can do nothing in the | house, handsomely furnished it and purchased a ee A matter.” ‘** T ask no favors of you, Mr. Dangerfield, and I do not think others will believe me guilty.” They had now reached the jail, and to the offi- cer in charge Dean Dangerfield gave his pris- oner, with the words: ‘* My friend Hal Burton and myself were re- turning from a hunt over in the river-bottom, when we heard a shot and a cry for help, handsome carriage and horses for bis wife. One day it was said that Dora Sloan and Darke Dangerfield met in the little cemetery, ard what passed between them no one knew; but Henry Sloan waylaid his enemy on the way home, there was an interchange of shots and the former was killed. The master of Daisy Dell Manor gave himself up, told how he kad been attacked, and, acting ‘ We rode up and found this young gentleman | in self-defense, had been fcrced to kill Henry standing over tae body of a man who, he says, is Squire Benson, ‘*He was found under circumstances that caused us to arrest him; but it is Mr. Dare Sloan, formerly of Elmwood Hall, so there must be some mistake, ** My friend Burton is in the forest near Gaines’s mill with the body.” ‘*T am sorry to see you in a suspicious plight, Mr. Sloan, for I remember you well, ron | your father was my friend; but I must do my duty, and I only hope you can make your way out of this trouble,” remarked the chief of police, ina tone of sympathy, and turning to Dean Danger- field, he continued: ‘““You will lead my men to the scene, Mr. Dangerfield, I hope?” ** Yes, if you wish it.” Dare Sloan was then led to a cell, and he re- marked: ‘*T had taken this package of money from Squire Benson, and his watch and chain, in- tending to come after help and not wishing to leave them on the body, should some one come upon him while I was away. ‘Here they are. I believe there is twelve thousand dollars in that envelope, but how much in his pocketbook I do not know, so you had better examine it.” The chief shook his head. The words of the young man had set him to thinking; but he took the money, ketbook and watch and chain, and leaving Dare Sloan behind iron bars, returned to bis office, There he placed money and watch in his safe, while Dean Dangerfleld, who awaited him there, observed : ‘*T suppose I should give you this, for it is the revolver I took from Sloan.” ‘There is an empty chamber in it, too,” “« Ah! that looks bad; but I hope Sloan can ety his innocencs, black as all sopears against im, for you know he once saved my life, and twice did he save the life of a sister,” ‘‘ T heard something about it; but I will put this revolver with the other things and go with you myself,” replied the chief. Soon after the patrol-wagon rolled away from the police station, and Hal Burton was found keeping his lonely vigil by the dead. The chief of police asked him a few questions and then relieved him from duty, ‘* You will stay with me to-night, Hal, for Daisy Dell Manor is nearer than your home,” said Dean Dangerfield, as the chief told them they could go, but to report at his quarters in town the next morning at nine o’clock, ‘“*'Yes,” was the reply, and the two friends rode off together in the still pouring rain. CHAPTER VI. A GLANCE AT THE BYGONE. Daisy DELL Manor had originally been known as Daisy Dell Farm, when it had be- longed to Farmer Ezra Dean, thought to be at the time of his death the richest man in the county. He, his wife and daughter Dora had com- pein the family, and the farm had belonged to is kindred for generations, and their graves were over on the ridge, not far from the grand old mansion. Dora, a beautiful girl, and supposed heiress, found herself, at the death of her parents, poor, and, deserted a her rich city lover, Darke Dangerfield, she had become the wife of Henry Sloan, an honest young farmer on the neighbor- ing farm known as Elmwood Hall. ving his wife to idolatry, Henry Sloan yet knew that she had loved another; but he sought to win her to him, and so had arranged to pur- chase Daisy Dell and give it back to her, Seager ec ee his old rival, Darke Danger- field, who had married an heiress,and bought the place right before him almost. This engendered bad blood, especially as the Dangerfields fitted up the farm magnificently, brought their servants in livery and drove turnouts, Then, too, they changed the name to Daisy Dell Manor. Not to be outdone, Henry Sloan c Elm- wood Farm to Elmwood Hall, added to the Sloan, and so he was set free, with the life of the former upon his conscience, To each family had been born a son, Dean Dangerfield and Dare Sloan, and when the lads were a few years old a daughter bad come to the home of Darke Dangerfield. Bat when the baby girl was but a few weeks old the mother died, suddenly and somewhat mysteriously, for she had been supposed to be out of danger, and the widower was left with his two children. é But Darke Dangerfield seldom remained at Daisy Dell Manor, for leaving his children un- der the care of a nursery governess, he devoted. his time to traveling about the world. His son, Dean, grew up to be a wild youth, without a father’s watchful eye upon him, and having been dismissed from the Military Acad- emy was sent to Daisy Dell Manor to manage the estate. Anita, his sister, on the contrary, was a most lovely girl, winning the hearts of all who knew her. Dare Sloan had been kept constantly at school, or traveling, by his mother, who lived a life of exile at Elmwood Hall, seeing no one but her servants, until she became known as The Hermitess of Eimwood, Returning from one of his jaunts out West, on one occasion, Dare Sloan saved the life of Anita Dangerfield, for the boat on which they were passengers took fire, and she was returning from visiting a school friend, and was to meet her father in Buffalo, When he took her to her father Dare Sloan only then discovered who it was that he had saved, and be was uvknown to them, he was glad to see. Returning home to visit his mother, he had, some time after, saved Anita again, when she and a school friend, with Dean Dangerfield, who was driving, had been run away by a spirited pair of horses, and, but for the coming upon the scene of Dare Sloan and his pluck, would have been dashed to death. Not long after this the Widow Sloan and her son suddenly and mysteriously left Elmwood Hall, going no one knew whither, except the agent they had left behind to sell the estate. People wondered at the departure of the beau- tiful Hermitess of Elmwood and her son, but no oue seemed to be able to give a reason. Even Dare himself could not understand his mother’s sudden going; but he yielded, and the sought the bome in the far West where the read- er has seen them, seemingly hiding away from their fellow-beings who had ever known or heard of them before. But the words of Susan Carr, the nurse, who had become known in the Colorado mines as the Gold Witch, had hinted at the reason of Dora Sloan’s sudden flight from her old home. She had hinted that Dare, whom she had not believed was her son, had, when he was known to be her own flesh and blood, become most dear to her—her idol, in truth; and, fearing that he would love Anita Dangerfield, she bad run off with him to get him far from all danger. She knew that it would never do for her son and Darke Dangerfield’s daughter to love each other, and mayhap some day wed. No, it would not do for those two to clasp hands across two graves, the father of one, the mother of the other, And so Dora Sloan had fled far away with her son. But the loss of her riches bad allowed her to forget danger to Dare from Anita’s bright eyes, and she had sent him back to the old home to see if really it was lost to them. He bad gone there and, when almost beneath the shadow of Elmwood Hall, he had been ac- cused of the murder of an old man and thrown into prison with circumstantial evidence ota i reagan in a way that it would ind to prove his innocence of the crime charged upon him, CHAPTER VIL. NO HOPE, Tae morning came with little hope to Dare Sloan, for the town was greatly excited over the murder of Squire Benson. { { : :
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goes aga’ Dare Sloan’s Close Call. The coroner’s jury had met, and the story of Dean Dangerfield and his friend, Hal Burton, had been told before them, They had been over in the river-lands hunt- ing, and had been detained by the rain. As it did not slack up, they had started home, heard ashot as they were seeking shelter under a tree in the forest from a downfall of rain and riding forward came upon two horses, the form of Squire Benson upon the ground and Dare bending over him, The heir of Daisy Dell seemed not willing to he any testimony that would criminate Dare loan, and people understood that be owed him his life; but Hal Burton told a straight narra- tive, and what he said pointed to the fact that the murderer of the squire was the young man found by his side, With this circumstantial evidence against bim, Dare Sloan wa. held for trial on the charge of murder, He seemed almost incredulous at first, and then deeply moved, **Whom will you have for your lawyer, Mr, Sloan?” asked the chief of police, ‘*T bardly know what to say or do; but I must have some one to defend me, or they will surely prove me guilty of this crime,” ‘* Yes, appearances are strongly against you, so my advico is to gee rear lawyer, lay out your defense, and secure proof you can to show you are innocent.” ‘* Well, I will send for Lawyer Verdan. He was my father’s friend; but I have little money to pay him; in fact, my mother and myself are almost pevniiess now,’ He then sent for the lawyer, and having already telegraphed his mother that there was no chance of getting back a dollar of their money lost by the bank failure, and thaf their agent had indeed sold Elmwood Hall for cash aod decamped with the money, he sat down and wrote ber as follows: ‘‘ Last night I heard a shot as I was riding through the forest, and came upon a man lying by the roadside dying, ‘‘It was Squire Benson, whom I had met at S——, and who told me he had a large amount of money and was going through on horseback, asking me to accompany him, telling me to join him at the Rock Spring Tavern. ‘*T went there and he was gone, for I was de- tained in getting a horse, and following, after nightfall 1 came upon him, as I said, dying by the roadside, ‘*He asked me to take his money and valu- ables, and died before he told me what to do with them. “Tt was just then that two persons came up- on me, and I was arrested as the murderer of the squire and putin jail; but of course I can prove my innocence, and wil] then return to you to see what is best for us to do,” Such was the tenor of the letter of Dare Sloan to his mother, which was duly mailed, Lawyer Verdan called at the jail soon after and warmly greeted his client, ‘*Dare, my poor boy, Il am sorry to see you in this trouble, for I cannot believe you guilty; but we will talk it over and see what can be done to get you free.” **{ have about five hundred dollers, Mr. Ver- dan, and half of it I will give to you; but I will need tbe balance when I get out, for Loyd Lucas has robbed us of our home, and I suppose you know that the bank failed and mother lost every dollar deposited there?” ‘The deuce! I had not heard of this.” “Ves, sir, we are about beggars,” said Dare bitterly. _ “Then keep your money, my nek and I'll see ‘you through without pay or at least trust to your paying me some day; but, Dare, let us not hide matters, but be honest with each other, and I tell you your logs of property at this time you, ‘T have some money, sir, as I said, and—” ‘You do not understand me; I mean that, as ou have been made Ppa it looks as es & you had tried to get old Benson’s money—hold on, I say it looks so, and the district.attorney will so try and use it against you, ‘ Now all seems st you in this affair, so n tell me how you met Benson? _ “At S—, where I remained over to see a cousin of Loyd Lucas’s, He told me he had col- lected a large sum of money, and purchased ‘two horses, 5» wished me to go with him on | horseback, instead of by rail to N——, and ride one of his horses, ves ban d and went after the horse, but found, on reaching Rock Spring Tavern, i’ aud _ Zone on, so I tric to overtake him. Song ** My horse lost a shoe and that detained me, andI gave up overtaking tae squire, so rode slowly on toward N——, when, after nightfall, I heard a shot and came upon bim. ‘* My coming frightened away his murderer, and as he was pi ga he told me to take his money snd valuables, and could say no more, ‘* T did so, and just then Dangerfield and Bur- ton came up, and of course it did look as though I was guilty.” ‘*It looks devilishly so, my poor boy,” blunt- ly said the old lawyer, ‘‘ But in spite of ap- pearances!I take you as innocent, and we will do all we can to save you. ** Now tell me why your mother left Elm- wood Hall in such a mysterious way?” ‘*She wished to go away from scenes that gave her only sorrow, and so I said nothing aguinst it.” ‘* And where is she now?” “ West.” ** That is indefinite,” **She asked me to give to no one her ad- dress,” “Ah, my boy,it is all owing to this love affair of ber girlhood, She met that handsome fellow, Dangerfield, and idolized him; she re- fused me, | frankly tell you, Squire Benson and others, and was engaged to Dangerfield. ‘* But a break came between them, though who was at fault Ido not know, and she mar- ried your father, and she made him a good wife, too ‘* Poor woman! I feel for her, for I knew her joyous nature, and how deeply she niust have suffered to make a hermitess af herself as she did, ** Now you sey she is West, and you have lost your riches? ‘* Well, worse than that is your present trouble, Dare, and it seems hard indeed that your accuser is the son of the man who, right or wrong, took your father’s life, and who, I learn, you saved from death. ‘** But, Dare, I am an old bachelor; I have ample means, and, »y Heaven! they shall not hang youif Ican helpit with the wits I am blessed with and the pocketbook I can call my own; so keep up heart, my boy, and we will win yet, ‘Now I will see that you are as comfortable as you can be made here in this dismal place, and I'll see you often, and get your trial set for the earliest momevt possible,” and the good old lawyer, an old lover ot Dora Dean’s in her girl- hood, and still true to his first and only love, left her son alone with his bitter meditations, CHAPTER VIII, THE TRIAL, THE day of trial came around, and the court- house was densely packed by a crowd of curious people, anxious to see a man tried for his life, and who had taken the life, all believed, of a fellow-being. There was, too, a mystery about the young prisoner which had been engendered by his ee strange life as an exile at Elmwood all. Dare Sloan bad never attended school in the country near Elmwood, or in the town, so he was positively a stranger there almost, The mysterious departure of himself and mother, the flight of Loyd Lucas with the money he had received for their home, the loss of their money in the bank’s failure, all added to the interest in the case. Then his return by night, and the death and robbery of Squire Benson made matters look very gloomy for Dare Sloan, So it was that the day of trial the court-room was densely packed with ‘eager, excited, curious Bye oa Dare Sloan was calm and unmoved, though his face was pale. He sat next to his lawyer, and the eyes of all | were upon him. The trial was opened without delay, and a jery was obtained after some difficulty, for wyer Verdan was very anxious to get intelli- gent men only, The first witness called was Dean Danger- eld, ii told his story simply, as he had made it known to the P ict power again there seemed a desire to shield the prisoner all in his power, and this Dare Dean appeared to notice, f Then Hal Burton was called. He had more to say, and did not appear to be influenced by any motive to aid bap grigpan i It was as though he wished to the whole truth as it was, “i : The story was of how, when the rain suddenly poured down in torrents, they, Dean Danger- field and himself, returning from hunting, had sought shelter beneath a massive oak on the roadside, hoping the drenching rain would soon cease, Then a shot had been heard and a cry of mur- der, and they had dashed out to see what the trouble was, and had come upon the accused bending over the dead body of Squire Benson, who had just breathed his last. The accused had taken the money and valu- ables from the body and said that Squire Ben- son had so told him to do, They knew not who the prisoner was then, but believing him the murderer, they had ar- rested him. The revolver of the accused was then sbown by the chief of I pwr and ove of the chambers was empty, and the bullet taken from the dead man fitted it exactly. The face of the prisoner paled more at this tes- timony regarding his pistol, but said nothing. The chief of police was then called, and he made known the fact of the prisoner having been brought to the jail at night, and that he had said he had met Squire Benson in S—— and been asked to accompany him to N—— on horseback, Also that he had arrived at the Rock Spring Tavern after the squire had left, and had tried to ‘overteke him. Then the chief went on to say that he had been sent down to S—— to obtain what clues he could against the accused, and he hed found that the prisoner had called with an order for the squire’s horse and ridden him away. The order was produced and written in pencil, but it was said to bave been a forgery of the squire’s writing and name, At the Rock Spring Tavern the chief found that the squire had stopped to water his horse, and then bad gone on his way without leaving any word as to any one following after bim. he prosecuting attorney then proved that the prisoner had always been an odd personage, as- sociating with no one, and that he had depart- ed with his mother for parts unknown. Finding that they had been defrauded by their agent, and lost all through the failure of the bank, the young man bad ae in an appear- ance near his old home, met old Squire Benson on the train, gotten off at S—— with him, se- cured a horse the equire had purchased some days before and ridden on after him to waylay him, murder and rob him, The attorney then went on to say that the will of Squire Benson had been made known through being handed in to probate and that he had left his fortune to ‘‘ Dare Sloan, son of the woman I so dearly loved in her youth—Dora Dean—now the widow of Heury Sloan.” All started at this. It gave another reason for the killing of the squire by Dare Sloan, for by his death he would get a fortune fully equal to what had been lost through Loyd Lucas and the bank! ** Now, gentlemen of the jury,” continued the attorney, ‘‘the case is as clear as noonday against the prisoner. He met old Squire Ben- son on the train, told him of his misfortunes, and learned in turn that he was the heir of his intended victim, They stopped at L——, and the prisoner at once determined to follow his victim, kill and rob him, The money the squire had with him would be ample to last him until ho came into his legacy, and no one would sus- pect him of the crime; but he was discovered in the act and now stands before you for you to pronounce upon his guilt.” It was evident to Lawyer Verdan that the case was against his client. The evidence was so damving that he could see no way to refute it; so he let the prisoner tell his own story. Dare arose and in a voice that reached every ear, with a look that was fearless and an ex- pression of honesty that seemed to weigh in his favor with some, told how he had met the squire, who seemed ill and anxious, That he bad begged him to stop over at S—— 7 and go on with him on_ horseback, and, sending his baggage by the train, he had done so, ' The squire had written a note in pencil for the horse, while he rode on; but the an?mal was in the pasture and had to be brought in, and then a bridle and saddle purcha' anotber delay to send after it, At last he had run him off, 8 CO) 4 Bee say ** Did you know the equire bad a large sum — Sf eer ape bim!” he was asked, ‘ Yes, for be told me so, and said for that na yt reason he wished to return by road, for he by the squire had not been sent to the stable, and there was ad started on after the squire and had overtaken him by night, when he heaael the istol-shot, and whoever the murderer had been, __ , ° oe —-- ea oe
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ios AF 4 A fin fe ca “<¥ a x a . mee ‘ ti ae epee ee seed Ae EN a RE TF pre er nye renee oe Dare Sloan’s Close Call. spoke of having been dogged by some one, but who it was he did not mention, if he knew.” “Did you know that you were to be his heir?’ ‘“*{ did uot, though he had asked me to his home and told me that he had an important se- cret to tell me, and that [ need not fret about losing my fortune.” ‘¢ But about the shot from your pistol?’ ‘*T thought each barrel was loaded; but how it came tha’ one shot had been fired off I do not know,” Then Lawyer Verdan made his speech, and a most eloquent one it was. He admitted that circumstantial evidence inted to the guilt of the prisoner; but so many innocent men had been hanged on just such evi- dence, he begged the jury to bring in a ver- = of not guilty where there was a doubt of guilt, — The jury listened to the charge of the judge, and it pointed to the prisoner’s guilt. Then, without leaving their seats, they gave their verdict, It was: “ uilty CHAPTER IX. A FRUITLESS SEARCH, Back to his cell, condemned to die on the gallows, went Dare Sloan from the court- room, All deemed it a fair trial and a just finding, for no one seemed to doubt the guilt of the prisoner, All the testimony given seemed to point to- ward his having committed the crime. Lawyer Verdan asked him if he wished to make an appeal. ** No, it would do no Fae for they are cer- tain of my guilt and will hang me,” was the re- nse. ** What about your mother?” ** Alas! she seems to have deserted me, in my misfortune, for my letters have remained un- answered, and you sent two telegrams to the station nearest to her home,” ‘*Yes, and I must tell you, my ad boy, that the answer came back that Mrs. Sloan had left her home, going no one knew where.” ‘*She may have started here,” ** Yet she has had weeks to come in and has not arrived.” . ** Then some misfortune has befallen her, for my mother would not desert me in my time of direst need, Mr. Verdan.” **So I would think, from what I know of her nature. **] will send a ial messenger to see if I can find ber—nay, [ will go myself, for this is a case where I should do so, and you know, my poor boy, your day of execution is not far off.” ‘* T know it, sir, and as I now feel, deserted by all except you, I do not dread it, if only it was not to die upon the gallows.” The lawyer left that night for the West, with directions from Dare just how to find his home, Thus the days dragged their weary length along. and the day of execution was only a few weeks away. Two weeks passed away, and at last the law- yer returned. During his absence the chief of police had been the only friend the poor prisoner had. He had said to him: ** Somehow, Mr. Sloan, against all appear- ances of your guilt, I do not believe you guilty. a Iris here in my heart that you are not, and I cannot get it out, so I wish to do all 1 can for you. at least.” The cell was made more comfortable, the food was brought to the prisoner from the best hotel in the place, and he was given books, a guitar, on which he played most skillfully, and drawing materials, for he sketched well, with which to amuse himself, ; Calm. and ever courteous, Dare Sloan won the respect and regard of all in the jail, and his utter fearlessness was remarked by every one. One day the lawyer came in, not unexpected- ly, for he had been looked for daily. . His face showed at once that his mission had been unsuccessful. i “You did not see my mother, sir?” said Dare, after he had greeted him. “No, nor could I learn where she had gone,” ‘*She had left the house?” “Yes, two weeks after your departure.” “Had given up the place?” * Yes, so the owner told me, and sold out. her , furniture and all,” st eink Mae wat dry aps cota SSS SSS sss SS ay eg RP eine ce ee ‘And he could give you noclueas to where she had gone?” ** No; only he said that she had your telegram that there was nota dollar to be gotten from Lucas or the bank, but you would remain awhile to see if aught could be done, ‘Phen she had sold out her household effects ard departed.” ** Alone?” ‘* She had gone off in her carriage, driven by a@ cowboy by the name of Brandon.” ‘* Ah, yes, I know him, for he was our cattle- herder,” ‘Then I tried to track her, and did so as far as the station, where she had sold her carriage and horses and parted with the cowboy, who had taken the train West, and she elso, I believe, but I could not find out; but, here are your let- ters to her, which were at the farm, and one to you that was left by her with the owner, ‘* Anxious to find her, 1 opened the letter and here it 18.” : Eagerly did Dare Sloan read the letter, which was as follows: ** My Drar Son:— ‘* Your telegram tells me that we are little else than beggars, so I give up this place, its cattle and all we had purchased, and decart to find a new home, ‘*Upon your return, go to the ranch of Buck Brandon where you once spent a couple of months hunting, and if you do not find a letter from me there, await the coming of one. ‘* With hope that all may yet he well, ‘* Your devoted ‘* MOTHER.” “In vain did I try to find out where the ranch of this man Brandon was, but no one seemed to know, for they said he had come there with you.” ~ ‘©-Yes, and his home is in Nebraska, and it would take weeks to get there; and more, I know that he had given it up; but still, mother might have gone to that vicinity, while Bran- don, no longer working for us, doubtless re- turned there,” ‘Then we must send there,” ‘‘No, my good friend, the place could not be reached under two weeks, if indeed a messenger could find it, j ‘Then mother would doubtless not be there, from her Jetter, and it would take time to look for her where she has gone. ‘Then comes the return, 80 you see it would be too late, and perhaps it is better so, “ She will not have to suffer Suspense, and all will be over when she knows the worst. ‘When I am gone, take my money and go to Brandon’s ranch, for 1 will give you full direc- tions for reaching there, and tell her all, ‘*T will tell her how you defended me, my dear friend, and you must do all you can to cheer her up and see if you cannot regain some- thing of her lost fortune for her, so that she will not want in her declining years.” ‘She shall never want for anything, I pledge you, my boy,” and the lawyer hastily turned away and brushed a tear from his eyes, He had done all in his power for the prisoner, and so could only await the fatal day when all would be over, CHAPTER X, AN UNBELIEVER, In a grand city mansion, furnished with every luxury that wealth could buy, and with the air of a home of an aristocrat, sat a young ard beautiful girl, idly running her fingers over the keys of a piano. Her voice, as she now and then sung snatches of songs, was rich and musical, and her touch was skillful und sympathetic as she played her accompaniment, “Very young, for she was not over eighteen, she was yet possessed of a perfect form, while her face was one of striking loveliness, and in- dicative of conscious a power, and withal stamped with the nobility of womanhood. She was dressed with rare taste, and seemed to be idling her time away as though awaiting the coming of some one, A sharp ring at the door bell sent the liveried butler to answer it, and a moment after there entered the room a young man in traveling coat and hat. ‘* Brother, I am glad to see you. I haddinner delayed upon receiving your telegram,” she said, as she kissed him affectionately. “Well, Sis, I’! run up and brush off the dust and join you at once in the dining-room, and after dinner we will have a long talk.” P] : ‘ x as me! ’ eS the he eae ; ~ BNE oe hoc ATEN : Pikaet tae Le Oh Pee ee pi oh Pe PRM eee pees OL. oe 0 ae eae ee ee Ten minutes after Dean Dangerfield joined bis” sister at dinner. It was a dinner fit for a set company, with silver service, iced wines and liveried attend- ants, for Darke Dangerfield, a millionaire, lived like a prince. ‘‘ The governor is away, of course, for I hada line from him saying he was going West to see about some mining stock he was largely inter- ested in,” ‘© Yes: father left two weeks ago, and a letter received yesterday said he would be gone for six weeks or more, and, as be was going far from mail stations, not to expect another soon.” **T only wish that he was here; but you will have to act in bis place, Sis.” “Tn what way, brother?” ** Tl] tell you later,” and, after dinner, the two adjourned to the library. ‘‘ Heard from Kate Kennerley lately, Sis?’ asked Dean Darrington, as he threw himself down upon a lounge and lighted a cigar. ‘* Yes, I correspond regularly with her ‘* Suppose she spoke of me?” “No; she never refers to you now, bro- ther.” ‘* And just because I wasa trifle wild, and got into a financial scrape, she refused me,” ‘*- You should have acted differently to have won Kate, brother.” ‘* Why, I had to sow my wild oats, for all boys of spirit do; but, I’ll win her yet.” **T doubt it, Dean.” ‘*You see if I don’t; but, have you read the papers of late from N——?” “ No, I seldom look at them,” “Then you do not know that the devil has been to pay there of late.” ‘* Ah, brother! what act have you been guilty of now?” “Just like you, Sis, to accuse me, Why, ! am innocent, but the young fellow you so much liked has put his foot 1n it, or rather his neck.” “To whom do you refer?” ** Dare Sloan.” Anita Dangerfield started at this, and her face paled, but, the cigar smoke and a liberal quan- tity of wine at dinner, dimmed the eyesight of her brother so that he failed to see it. ‘What has Mr. Sloan done?’ she asked ee, ‘** Killed old Squire Benson, and—” 4 A low moan broke from the lips of the young girl, but still she asked, calmly: ‘*Do you mean that Mr. Sloan has committed murder?” ‘* Yes, and that is not all.” ‘* What more can he have done?” ‘‘He robbed him afterward, has been tried, found guilty, and sentenced to death.” “Tt is false! false I say, Dean Dangerfield, for Dare Sloan was never guilty of an act so cruel and criminal.” She ears to her feet as she spoke, fairly frightening her brother, and her eyes flashed with anger. ua cs “Tt is so true, Sis, that Dare Sloan now lies under sentence of death in the jail at N——, and in two weeks from next Friday he is to hang. *¢] did all in my power to save bim, but the facts were against him, and even old Lawyer Verdan could not prove bim innocent.” “ Brother, tell me all about this case.” “That is the way with you women; you never oad the papers, other than the marriages, deaths, and fashion notes, so you know nothing of what is going on, } “Why. | wondered why you did not come down to N—— and try and save the young man who twice saved your life, for it would be just like you,” ¥ . ‘Yes, and he saved your life. Dean, and kept you from having the lives of Kate and myself upon your conscience, for your recklessness in driving us out with that wild pair of horses; but tell me of this sad affair, for again I say I do not believe Dare Sloan guilty,” ‘The jury and the judge thougbt so, and ro that ends it; but I'L teli you how I tried to tes- tify to save him, for I did not wish bim hanged, though Ha! Burton told al! he knew about the affair.” , ‘* And what bad you and your very fast to do with it?” “ Oh, we found Sloan standing over the dead budy of the squire,” “Where?” « Within a few miles of N—.” “Ty Soage* Mr. Sloan had gone away, never to return “So it was thought by all in N—; bot Loyd Lucas sold Elmwood and skipped off with the money, and then the Commercial Bank friend, Hal Burton, whom you know I despise, ee
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7 ——— Dare Sloan’s Close Cali. failed, in which the Sloans had all their wealth deposited, and Dare came Hast to see about it all, met up with old Benson, and—” ** Pray tell me now how this most unfortunate young man came to be accused of the murder of Squire Benson,” and Anita Dangerfield spoke in a tone that was almost disagreeable, Then Dean Dangerfield told her all, from the coming of Hal Burton and himself upon the dead body of Squire Benson, with Dare Sloan bending over it, up to the end of the trial. ‘*And youand Mr, Hal Burton are the only witnesses?” ‘* What others do you wish, sister?’ angrily asked the young man. * How did Mr. Sloan’s statement agree with yours?” ‘* Perfectly.” ** He admitted all as it occurred?” xyes,” ** But denied that he was guilty?” “ Yes ” ‘** And did any one believe him innocent?” ‘* Well, I tried to think so, His lawyer, Ver- dan, swears that he is not guilty, and the chief of police says he thinks it is a case of circum- stantial evidence; but there is no clue as to who could have done the killing if Sloan did not, and so it stands,” ** And his mother?” ‘* Ts not there,” ‘* Where is she?” “Heaven only knows, for though she has been written to, telegraphed for, and Verdan went after ber, she is not to be found, for she Jeft her home soon after Dare came East,” ** She is a strange woman.” ‘* Yes, strange indeed,” ** Brother Dean?” 4 Yes, Anita.” 2 i do not believe that Dare Sloan is guilty.” ut— “*T care nothing for all the evidence, and re- peat it, that 1 do not believe Dare Sloan guilty of this murder,” was the firm response of the beautiful girl. CHAPTER XI, AN APPEAL, For some minutes after Anita Dangerfield had expressed her unbelief of the guilt of Dare Sloan no word was spoken between the brother and sister to break the silence, Then Anita suddenly asked: “‘ Well, brother, how are affairs at Daisy Dell Manor?” “ Sis, that is just what I came to the city to see you about,” ‘ Well?” “16 is not well, for I am in debt.” “There is no reason for it, Dean, for father sent you there to live and gave you the income of the place. “Let me see: the income, when the agent managed it, while we were at school and father abroad, was some six thousand dollars above taxes and all expenses of servants and every- thing, in fact, pertaining to the estate,” ‘lt is as much now; but somebow I get be- hind.” : “With your living and six thousand dollars a year, you should not, for you have only your clothes to buy, as the cellar is stocked with wines and liquors, and your groceries are sent from the city, and I paid your bill, with ours, two days ago,”” ‘**T cannot help it, Sis, for I get behind, and am now fifteen thousand dollars in debt.” ** Brother!” “‘Itis true; and I’ve got to have the money, for my notes in bank come due within the week, and must be paid,” ‘*T do not see where you can get the money to y them.” ay From father, for he will have to come to my a . ‘* He is not to be reached now, as I told you.” ‘* Well, you must help, me out,” “*T cannot.” ee ‘¢ Why, your check is as good at the bank as father's tor I know he told them to honor your checks against his account, the same as his own, ‘‘ True, but that was for all housebold and in- cidental expenses, and for what I might wish tor myself,” ; ‘* 10 you know what his deposit is at present?” ‘* He has accounts in several banks.” “Well, has nay got fifteen thousand on de- sitin any one ge ae. unlocked a drawer of her fath- er’s desk, and took out several bank books, _ “Yes, he has twenty-two thousands in the Safety, as much more in t*e Third City, and “ thirty-three in the Mammoth, with ‘some seven | and the party broke up with a haste that was hundred in the Grocers’.” ‘* Then give me the check I neea,” ** T cannot.” “Tf you will, I will return it to you within two weeks,” “You will have to give new notes to do so, and it will not help you.” “ No ” ‘Then you trust to gambling to get out of your scrape and that is the way your money is thrown away, while Hal Burton and a number of other pretended friends, live on you.” ‘**T did not come here to be lectured, Anita; but, I tell you frankly, I must have that money, witb which to take up these notes,” “*T cannot give it to you.” “You must,” ‘It is not mine, Dean, and father might draw at any time on bis bank accounts,” ‘*The bank would make his check good, if it came in, and there were no funds there, for I have heard him say he has often overdrawn twenty thousand at a time.” ** T cannot do what you ask, Dean,” “* Sister,” and the face of the young man was white and anxious now. “‘T must make a confession to you, and show you the position I am in.” “‘It is a very sad and unfortunate one, bro- ther.” ‘Tbe notes will have to go to protest,” ‘* Well?” ** And hurt father’s credit.” ** How can that be?” ‘* As indorser.” ‘* Brother, father has never indorsed a note for you, as he never knew you got such accommo- dations,” “Sister, I must throw myself upon your mercy, for I must confess to you, and with shame, that I indorsed these notes in father’s name, for otherwise I could not have gotten the money, and [ was being pressed desperately for gambling debts,” ‘* Brother! brother! this is terrible, for you confess yourself a forger,” and Anita buried her face in her hands, “T know all that I have done, sister, and I have come to you for your belp and sympathy. ‘IT know that you are aware, better then is father, of what money he bas, and you could spare me the fifteen thousand and he know nothing about it. “* Du this for me and save me.” Anita was silent a moment, and then said: ‘*Tell me just what you owe.” ‘* Tt is considerable,’ “Remember, I must knew the truth, for I shall pay the bills, not you.” But, sister—” ‘* If I help you, it shall be in my own way.” ‘* You will compromise me, and—” ‘* No, for you can let it be known that you are | called off suddenly, and, as I am going to run down to Daisy Deil, I will pay your bills. Now what o you owe?” ‘* But I am not going away.” » “You certainly are, for father has written for you to come West, and I intended writing you when I got your telegram,” ‘But I will not go West.” “6 Then the law must take its course with you. ‘* Do you know what that means?” ** Imprisonment,” ‘* It does; and you will see me go to prison?” stig Why not now, when it will soon come to it? ‘* Why, brother, father has paid for you in the past ten years, since you were a mere boy over one hundred thousand dollars, half of which was for gambling debts. ‘*He gave you every chance to redeem your- self at Daisy Dell, and he knows how wild a life you bave led there, for the man you discharged has been here.” ‘That infernal valet of mine, Screws, whom I discharged for giving a champagne supper to bis friends, when he thought I was not coming back that night. ‘* Why, Sis, they had as fine a spread as was ever set out at the Manor, with our wines and all, and Screws wore my dress suit, the butler bad discarded his livery and had an old rig on of father’s, and the cook and girls were rigged out in our poor dead mother’s finery which had been in the trunks for long years, ‘*The silver service was all out, toasts were drank, the Scotch coachman was playing on his infernal bagpipe for them to dance by, and such a circus you never saw as I walked in, “Twas drunk, I confess it, and so I whi out my revolver and began to fire at random, ludicrous, ‘*T discharged them all the next morning, and Screws has been here with his stories, bas he? ‘Yes, and told all, even to what he had done; but he said that your life gavo them all an ex- ample, and they followed it, as you had had drunken orgies there time and again with very questionable people as guests to say the least.” ** Well, I have gone it rather strong, but Iam sorry and I come to you for help, and you will hear my appeal,” ** On one condition!” ‘* Name it.” “That you remain here, give me a list of your debts, and I go to N—— and pay all you owe,” was the determined reply of Anita, CHAPTER XII. A RASCAL, “You are terribly hard on me, Anita, but I am in a hole, so must submit; but, after that?” ‘*'You must at once go West and join father for he will give you another chance. ** And that is?” ** As manager of his mines out there.” **T do not like the idea,” ‘*Then arrange as best you can.” ‘‘T thought you did not know where to find father?” “Go to where he told me to write hin, and his agent there can doubtless tell you,” ‘*T will need money.” “‘T will give you five hundred to fit out for the trip and take you there,” ** Well, I'll have to submit; but the governor will be furious,” ** You must expect his just anger, of course.” ‘Pll face it out, 30 here goes. Get your pen- cil and merigh She obeyed, and he said: ‘** One note in bank—ten thousand,” ‘* And the others?” “That is all, for I said more asI needed a margin for pin-money.” ‘* Ah, brother! but continue.” ‘* Brown, the tailor, six hundred,” “ Yes,” “ Burke, the bootmaker, sixty.” “*T have it,” ** Vane, twenty-five,” Well?” “Ramsay, gents’ wear establishment, one forty.” “ce Yes.” ‘* Hotel, one hundred.” ** Why not stay at home?” ““Well, I had to stop at the hotel often.” ‘* Well?” ‘* Broadbent, three hundred.” ‘* What for?” ‘* Gambling debt.” *T gee,” 5 ‘* Rufus Moore, six hundred,” “Forsame?? “ Yes,” “Next.” ‘* Barney Vail, one thousand.” Lad Yes,” . “ Hal Burton—well, let me see—it is fifteen hundred clear, I remember now.” ‘“ What else?” ‘* That is all,” ‘Yes; fourteen thousand, three hundred and twenty-five dollars,” said Anita, adding it up quickly, ‘*T see now what you wanted the fifteen thou- sand for,”? ‘* And you will pay all for me?” ‘¢ Yes, even to the debts due for gambling, an’ which I am sure you were cheated out of, fir { have little confidence in those who are jour sporting creditors, ‘Now I will use a part of the money in the Safety Bank, and I will go to-night, for I have over an bour in which to catch the train, so kindly send a servant to order a hack, as I will not take the carriage out to-night, having told Spencer I would not need him.” Dean Dangerfield seized his hat and left the - house, and his sister went to herroom to prepare | for her journey. He went straight toa telegraph-office, and sent the following message: “To Hat Burton, Eso.:— ‘* Sportsman’s Inn, N——. “Tam detained here on important business, so my sister goes to-night to the Dell. Have asked ber to square my accounts, as I may be called West to join my father.
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weegke) Dare Sloan’s Close Call. ‘‘ Gave your account as fifteen hundred, which she will pay. ** Come to the city and go West with me, You understand. Auswer to my home. os Rs Having sent this message, Dean Dangerfield ah into a hack that was passing and drove ome, He escorted his sister to the depét, saw her on the train, and returned home, promising her to get his outfit for the western trip the next day. Back to the library be went and began to pace the floor, muttering to himself as though in pain- ful reverie, ‘*It is the best that I can do, for if Screws told what went on at the Dell, he may hint that he knows more, and Hal thought it best that we hould go away. ‘** Now, Sis pays all I owe, and more, too, for Burtonowes me; but he will bring me the money and we will start together. **T only wish I had more, for I have no idea of joining the governor, not I, as I can expect nothing from him! ‘** Egad, after all I have done, I can hardly ex- pect it; but, I must make Sis give me a few thousands, and then Burton and myself will have to depend upon ourselves, if that goes. ‘“*Hal ought to borrow a few hundreds to come here with. As he is over head and ears in debt now, a little more will not harm him— ha! Sis has left the keys to the desk,” He broke out in a cold sweat as his eyes fell 7 the bunch of keys hanging in his father’s esk, He started toward it twice, halted, and then sat down to await until the servants had re- tired. Soon he rose and went out to the rear hall. ** Bolton, I have work to do that will keep me up late, as I intend going West in a day or two, so close up the house and I will put out the library lights.” ‘* Yes, sir,” and Bolton was glad to get to When all was quiet, the young man locked the library door, let fall the heavy curtains, and sat down at the desk, A guilty conscience made him suspicious, for, bad the servants seen him looking over the desk, they would have thought nothing of There was a roll of bills in a small drawer, and counting them he muttered: ‘* Four hundred dollars; they are safe,” Then he found some jewelry belonging to his father, a few gold pieces, and next the bank books. In one he read of a deposit of bonds, amount- ing to fifty thousand dollars, with the words written; ** Not to be drawn against, and interest to be deposited to account.” The book of the Safety Bank his sister had taken with her; but, the others were there, The Third City Bank book showed a balance on hand to date of twenty-two thousand, 1] just write a check for ten thousand of that amount, and that will Jast me and bea bonanza. ** Bah! why not make it twelve thousand, as Iam about it? ** 1) do it,” He took up several check books, found the one of the Third City Bank, and wrote at the head the place out West where his sister had told him that his father had been on a certain te, Then he wrote in the amount, twelve thousand dollars, payable to himself, and, with another pen, forged hie father’s name, writing it with an ease that showed he had had some practice at doing so before. He compared it with other autographs on old checks, and said: ‘It is perfect.” Then he put the check in the bank-book and left it there while be started to his room, Bat a violent ring at the door-bell startled him terribly. He hastily arranged the curtains, left the keys where he had found them, and started for the door, rubbing his eyes as though he had been asleep, for he feared that his sister might have returned, But it was only a messenger-boy, and the telegram was addressed to him, it read: ** Message caught me at home, Will collect to-morrow as stated, and meet you in we at the ciuh to-morrow, midnight, Poa) 3 Me He was so pleased, he gave the boy a dollar and then went to bed. He ate a hearty breakfast, for he seemed to have cast honor to the winds and decided fully upon his course for the future. After banking hours began, he strolled into the Third City. He was known to the cashier, and handed in his book with the check, saying pleasantly: ‘* Please let mo have that, Sharpe?” “Certainly, Mr. Dangerfield. How do you want it?” 4 In fifties and hundreda, as I have to pay it out. ‘*IT see you were a witness in an important murder case,” remarked Mr. Sharpe, anxious to be agreeable to the son of his wealthy de- positor. ‘Yes, and I felt sorry for the poor fellow, as he saved my life once; but thank you, Mr, Sharpe, and good-morning.” ‘‘Good-morning, Mr, Bangerfield. Call in when you can,” Dean Dangerfield bowed, pocketed his twelve thousand dollars, and returning to his home, put the bank-book back in its place. Then he sauntered out to buy what he wished for his Western trip, and, as Anita was to pay the bills, he launched into considerable extrava- gance. CHAPTER XIII. ANITA’S MISSION, A LADY closely vailed landed from an early train at N——, and took a room in the City Hotel, where her trunk now followed her, She sat down and wrote a number of notes, and dispatched them by messenger, after which she had breakfast, Then she dressed herself in a black suit, and wearing a thick sable vail that completely con- cealed her face, she quietly left her room and departed from the hotel by the side entrance, as though not wishing to attract attention. Her steps led ber to an office, over the door of which hung a sign: “DAVID VERDAN, ** ATTORNEY-AT-LAW.” She asked tha attendant if Mr. Verdan would gee her, and was ushered into his private office. Without raising her vail she said to the ex- udge: ** Judge Verdan, I wish you would give me the particulars of this murder case which has condemned young Dare Sloan to death, and permit me to say that knowing your time is valuable, you have but to name your price for services rendered.” ‘* Tf you are the friend of Sloan I will gladly give you all the particulars without payment, madam. ‘Pardon me, but you are not his mother, I feel sure, yet your vail completely—” ‘“*T so intended to have my vail conceal me, Judge Verdan; but I willnot hide from you, for you must aid me,” She removed her vail as she spoke, and the startled lawyer said: ‘¢ Miss Dangerfield?” ‘Yes! and I only yesterday learned of all this trouble, and I come to you in confidence, sir. ‘*T wish you to tell me just what you can of this sad affair, and your own opinion regarding the innocence of Mr, Sloan, whom If am frank to confess I believe to be innocent.” k **T am glad to hear you say so, for such is my own opinion, my dear young lady. ‘*T did all in my power to save Dare, but the evidence certainly points to his guilt, as you will yourself say when you have heard all, and I do not blame the jury for rendering the ‘ver- dict they did.” Then Judge Verdan told Anita Dangerfield the whole stor7;. She listened with deep interest, asking a ques- tion here and there, that showed an intelligence of iegal matters that surprised the judge, and then said: ‘*Can nothing more be done, sir?” ** Nothing.” ‘Could not the governor pardon him!” ‘* He could, but will he?’ ‘“*T can ask him,” ‘Then, if be can be prevailed upon, you are the one, Miss Dangerfield, to persuade him.” ** Write me out the facts in the shurtest way possible, and a letter that you believe bim in- nocent, and get one from the chief of police, who als», you sav, dors not think him guilty. ‘‘T retur + to the city to-night, but shall go at once to the governor and plead for Mr. Sloan’s life, to commutation of sentence to im- prisonment for life, if naught else, and then we can have time to work in which to prove his innocence, ‘“*T will be at the City Hotel, sir, one hour before my train leaves,” and Anita took her se 9 eturning to the hotel she changed her dress once more and then sat down to wait, as though expecting some one, for she had placed upon a table before her, pen, ink, paper and a check- book. Soon a card was sent up, and Anita bade the door-boy show the gentleman up to her parlor. Soon a gentleman entered, and appearing to oe Anita, greeted her pleasantly, while she said: ‘Pardon my asking you to come here, Mr, Vaughan, but my father has gone West in- definitely, whither my brother goes at once to join him, so I came to take up the note for ten thousand soon due, and which I asked you to bring with you,” ‘*T have it here, Miss Dangerfield; but it is not due for a week yet.” ‘*] prefer to take it up now, so how shall I make this check payable?” ‘*To Cashier, Miss Vaughan,” The check was written an’ signed, the note received in return, and Mr. Vaughan bad been gone but a minute when the card of Hal Bur- ton came up. He sought to be friendly as he entered the little parlor, but Anita’s haughty look checked him, and he said: ‘‘Glad tosee you back again in N——, Miss Dangerfield.” Without noticing his remark, Anita said: ‘* My brother wishes me to pay to you asum. ot money you claim he owes you, sir, for a gam- bling debt. Write a receipt for the amount, pleese, and here isa check, For what sum shall 1 make it out?” ‘¢ Fifteen bundred dollars, Miss Dangerfield.” “That is the sum he named. Here is your check, and I need not remind you that our inter- view is at an end.” His face flushed with anger, but he bowed and left the room, The bootmaker called next, and was promptly paid, then Mr, Broadbent and Rufus Moore, who were received with the same haughty reserve as Hal Burton, The other creditors followed in order, accord- ing to their appointments through Anita’s notes to them, and she then sent down for the land- lord, paid the hundred due bim, and, ordering a carriage, drove out to Daisy Dell Manor, Tbe servants there were taken by surprise, and Dean’s traps were quickly packed up and sent to the depét, while Anita gave notice that she would return in afew days, and to have the home in readiness for her, a% she expected to remain some time, Tbenshe returned to town, met Judge Verdan at the appointed hour, and, an hour after, was on her way back to the city. She arrived at ten, and found her brother awaiting her, for he had suspected she would return at once, She told him what she had done, looked over the bills of his purchases, told bim frankly that he had been too extravagant, but she would pay them, and added: ‘Now, brother, your trunks from Daisy Dell ’ Manor I brought with me, and you had better get ready to leave on the noon train to-morrow, for you must not delay. ‘“T will pay these bills to-morrow, and give you as much more as will just make up the fif- teen thousand dollars, and you certainly will be well supplied, especially a8 you are going to join father,” ‘By the way, Sis, there is one bill in N—— I forgot, so I wrote to have it seat, and you can open it and mail check when it arrives, “It is only thirty dollars for a pair of pis- tols,” “| will pay it, but that leaves you thirty dol- lars less, for will not go one dollar over the fifteen thousand.” “ All right; [ will run down to the Club to say good-by, and pack up when J come back, 80 I can leave to-morrow at noon,” and Dean was as anxious to get away, as was his sister to have him, for she wished to go to the capital to see the governor about Dare Sloan's ps while her brother dreaded that check he had forged being discovered before he could leave. At’ the Club he met Hal Burton, and that worthy waa only too anxious to decamp west- Mor
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we* ward, for reasons best known to himself, and as he had borrowed several hundred dollars, and Dean shared with him the fifteen hundred, he considered himself fairly supplied with funds, while he had an idea that bis friend had more money in reserve, which would appear when needed, Stili, Dean Dangerfield was too shrewd to show his hand then, as he knew that Hal Burton would at once suspect that be could not come by so large a sum save by dishonesty, Having arranged with Hal Burton to pur- chase tickets and have all in readiness at the depét for the noon train, Dean Dangerfield re- turned home to find his sister worried about her keys. a Oh, yes; I forgot to tell you I saw them in the desk, so took them out and put them in that vase yonder on the mantel, Sis. ‘¢ Well, all is arranged for my departure to- morrow, and I owe it to your kindness, my dear sister, that I am out of my scrapes, and have a new start in life. ‘You area noble littlewoman, Good-night,” and kissing ber he went to his room. The next day he departed for the West, find- ing Hal Burton on the train to meet him, and saving the choice seats for himself and pal. An hour after Anita Dangerfield also departed from the city; but her destination was the capital of the State, and she went to see the governor about a pardon, or commutation of sentence for Dare Sioan. CHAPTER XIV. THE GOVERNOR'S DECISION. THE governor was quite impressed with the beauty of a fair visitor who ‘‘ requested to see him privately upon a mission of life and death.” He saw a young girl cf exceeding loveliness of face and symmetry of form, and one upon whose face was set the stamp of refinement aod noble womanhood, ‘*T have called, your Excellency, to ask of you a favor which it is in your power alone to grant, that of pardon toa fellow being sen- tenced to die on the gallows, or if not that, at least a commutation of the sentence to im- prisonment for life. ‘Here are the papers in the case, and I, and others, are willing to set our honor upon the innocence of the condemned man, against all the evidence that appears of his guilt. “T leave his fate in your hands, sir, pleading for bis life,” The voice of Anita Dangerfield was low, musical and full of fervent sympathy, and his Excellency felt the power of its tones. He took the papers, and, as she walked to a window and overlooked a garden, he glanced carefully over them, At length she turned and met his gaze, so she approached him, ‘* Be seated, please,” She sat down, and the governor said in a voice that was painfully distinct: “*] have read these papers, and Judge Ver- dan is a man I esteom most highly, while the chief of police of N—— is also a man whose word is of value. ‘But I fear that there is sympathy in their hearts which causes them to make the request they do, for I cannot possibly see how the jury, with such evidence, could have done other- { him. ghee yet you can commute his sentence?” said Anita, coldly, for the manner and words of the governor had nerved her to hear the we ND, I shall not interfere, for consistently I do 80.” cea Nothing can change your decision, your Ex- cellency?” j ; ’ “Only proof of the prisoner's innocence.” ‘*] regret to have taken so much of your Ex- cellency’s valuable time, and bid you good-morn- SY i-2 Dare Sloan’s Close Call. ing,” and Anita was sweeping ‘rom the room, when the governor called out: **One moment, ryagae She turned quickly with a flush of hope in her eart. a What is this young man to you, if I may ask? Her face crimsoned and she replied: **One to whom I twice owe my life, sir.” **T am sorry, for I wish | could serve you; but alas! duty demands thai I refuse.” She bowed and swept from the room, Going to a telegraph-office she sent the follow- ing message: “To JupGE DAVID VERDAN:— ‘“G—— positively refuses, Something else must be done, Am coming to see you. ‘A, DY That night Anita took thetrain back to the city, and with tired body and sad heart reached her home and sought the rest she so much needed. The next morning her maid handed her the letters which had arrived for her. There was one from her loved friend, Kate Kennerley, of Erie, Pennsylvania, who had been ber school chum for years, and had been with her in the carriage when Dare Sloan had saved their lives, Kate had gone to Daisy Dell Manor with Anita, who was anxious to serve asa check up- on her brother’s wild life, of which rumors had reached his father. During their stay Dean Dangerfield had pro- ven himself a devoted brother, had fallen in love with Kate, who was beautiful, lovable and an heiress, and bad been refused by her when be abeicep himself, for the girl had read him like a OK, The jetter received from Kate Kennerley was about Dare Sloan, for she had just heard of his arrest an‘ conviction, ** Tt ended with: “Oh, Anita! Can we not do something to save that noble man, for I am as sure that he is innocent as that I live? ** Write at once.” _ Anita’s answer to this was a telegram say- ing: ‘IT go to the Dell Wednesday. Join me here at once and accompany me, Don't fail.” The message was sent to the office by a ser- vant, and then Anita took up other letters and hastily glanced over them. The last one she took up was a letter acdressed to her brother. It was post-marked at N——, and she said, in- differently : ‘*The bill he referred to, so I will get it off my mind by sending a check at once.” She broke the seal, but suddenly her face flushed, then paled; the letter dropped from her hands, and she sat like one who had received a terrible blow. CHAPTER XV. FRIENDS IN NEED. As has been said, Kate Kennerley was an heiress and a beauty, and her home near Erie was certainly a most charming one. Like Anita, she was an only child, the pet of a devoted father, while around her constantly were a score of admirers anxious to win the prize of her love and hand, The news of the trial and sentence of Dare er had come to Kate Kennerley like a sbock. He had saved her from death, she knew his history, and she was well aware how deeply interested in him was Anita Dangeriield. So she had at once written to ask if they could do nothing for bim, like Kate she not believing that he could be guilty. Had it been that be had killed a man in an encounter it would have been different; but that he had waylaid, murdered and robbed an old man, she would not, could not believe, When sbe received the telegram from Anita she knew at once that it was more urgent than the words indicated. 4 She ‘‘ read between the lines,” as it were, and determined to start by the first train for the city to join her friend. 3 Boge than Anita could have believed possi- ble, Kate Kennerley drove up to the door of the Dangerfields’ elegant mansion. She found Anita pale and anxious, and she looked as though some terrible trouble was upon her. —— a ee Se ee ee TS A eS ee ee OS ee SS ey et essential 9 “My dear Anita, is it then so bad as that?” she said, with deepest sympathy, asthe two were together, ** He is to be hanged.” “Yes, but your fear shows, my dear, how deeply it causes you to suffer.” ‘* Ah, Kate, if you only knew all, you would not wonder at my suffering. ‘*T see that you think that I am deeplv in love with Mr. Sloan, and that is why I suffer; but that is not wholly right. ‘* Twice he saved my life, he saved yours, and I saw him that fearful night of fire on the gp and know just how brave, how noble he is. “You saw him, too, when he caught sight of our runaway team, and saw that he risked his life in forcing his horse over those two fearful leaps to get to the road and catch our frightened animals before we should be dashed to death at the broken-down bridge. “That was not the act of a coward, a high- waymap, and none but such would do what he bas been tried and sentenced for. ** Bat that is not all, dear Kate, for I have made a fearful discovery. ** Do not ask me to tell you of it, for I cannot, cannot, unless it is absolutely necessary; but I will do so if we must save Dare Sloan by other apenas than I hope now to do, for save him I shall. “He shall not die on the gallows,” and the eyes and expression of Anita Dangerfield proved that she meant al! that she said. Kate Kennerley bad known her intimately, and never before had she seen her so moved, so determined, Her calm manner always, had shown that there was a volcano of passion and determina- tion beneath to break forth if the cause was iven, ‘Well, Anita, we will save him, for when two women put their heads together why should they fail? ‘© When do you go to Daisy Dell?’ ‘* To-day, for I wish to arrive by night, and I have written to Lawyer Verdan to meet us, He is a true friend to Dare, and we wil! drive out to the Dell together and can talk it all over, ‘* How good it was for you to come, for I need your help so much.” “Tt was my duty. any plan of action?” ** Yes: but I wish to doall wecan in other ways beforetrying it, Heshball not die,if I have to—no, no, I must sey no more now,” and with : shudder Anita walked over toward the win- ow, A moment after Kate said: ‘*Where is your brother, Anita, for he cer- tainly should wish to help Mr, Sloan?” Anita turned quickly and said in a tone that Kate could not understand: ‘*Dean Dangerfield has gone West to join my father, so we will have no one at Daisy Dell Manor to be in our way.” ‘*Your father felt most kindly toward Mr. Sloan, I know.” ‘Yes, and would sacrifice much to be of ser- vice to him now; but, father could do nothing, and we alone must act, with the aid of Judge Verdan. ** Dean, you know, and his friend Burton, were the witnesses of the killing of Squire Benson, - their testimony placed him where he now 5.” “From what I heard, appearances were cer- tainly against Mr. Sloan, and yet I cannot be- wee him guilty o* murder for the hope of gain, ‘** He is not guilty,” was Anita’s firm response, and then the two maidens set about preparing for their trip to Daisy Uell Manor. It was night when they arrived at N——, as Kate bad wished, for she cared rot to be seen by rag one, and Judge Verdan was there to meet em, He failed’to recognize them in their long, thick be but Anita went up to him and grasped his and: ‘*It is kind of you, sir; let me introduce my friend, Miss Kennerley.” ‘*] have my barouche here, ladies, and drive myself, so no one will know of your coming. R teas one send for your trunks to-morrow,” said e e, 4 rp a a small trunk with us, judge, with all we need.” A man carried it to the barouche, the girls entered, and scon, with the judge for a driver, were on their way to Taisy Dell. Anita bad written to the bousekeeper of th ‘r coming, and to bave supper, but to letr: «ne But, have you thought of
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ee reores 10 know that she was expected; so all was ready for them, |. After a substantial supper, they adjourned to the library, and then Anita, who had seemed nervous ali the while, said abruptly : ‘*Now, Judge Verdan, we must talk over this affair we have on hand, for, under all circum- stances, [ am determined that Dare Sloan shall not die like a dog, for a crime of which he is as innocent as am I myself!” CHAPTER XV] ANITA KEEPS A SECRET, THE manner and words of Anita Dangerfield convinced the judge that she knew more than she had so far made known regarding the case of Dare Sloan. So he said calmly and with no desire to let her think that he suspected her: ‘* You make a bold assertion, Miss Anita, when you say that Mr, Sloan is as innocent of the crime as you are yourself,” yr I mean it, for I am convinced that he is not ty. ; ‘**And so amI, He never committed a deed 80 cruel and criminal,” added Kate Kennerley. Judge Verdan was a thorough reader of hu- man nature, and as cunning as a fox in his legal profession, He was a man of whom, in a case of interest to him, the presiding judge, the jury and op- posing lawyers all stood in awe of. He saw that Anita Dangerfield was holding something back, and also that she had not let her friend into her confidence. When both had asserted the same thing, as to Dare Sloan’s innocence, it had been in a way that showed Anita held a reserve fire, while Kate had merely acted upon her surmise of in- nocence, ‘Have you, young Jadies, other news in the case that makes you more confident?” asked the judge, pretending to see no more in the remark of one than in what the other had said. Kate glanced at Anita and said: ** A brava man, sir, could not be the cowardly assassin and robber circumstances point to Mr. Sloan as huving been,” ‘* Well said, Miss Kennerley, and that is an argument I used in the trial, and firmly believe in myself, **But the judge who presided and the jury took the apparent evidence of guilt and so de- cided, and Mr, Sloan has but two weeks longer to live, ** You saw the governor, Miss Anita, as your dispatch told me?” ‘* Yes, sir; and the evidence prejudiced him against Mr, Sloan.” ** And be would not commute the sentence?” ** No, sir.” “Well, Miss Anita, let us go to work with our eyes open; so tell me just what you know to assert su positively that Sloan is innocent?” Anita started at this and asked, quickly: ‘* How do you know that I have evidence? **T have been watching you closely; I read your letter between the lines, and your words now convince me that you know more than you have thus far admitted.” *T confess it; yet I say this in confidence, I cannot give you one atom of the knowledge I . IL cannot ing confiderce yet; but, surely will, if all else fails. **You must be satisfied with this, and we must do all in our power to save Dare Sloan from the gallows,” **T agree with you; but all appeals will be in vain.” * Granted that they have been.” ** What then?” ** We must try other plans,” ‘tT can see nothing that can be done,” ** We must help him make his escape,” The judge fairly started at these bold words flung at him with intense earnestness, ** But, Miss Anita—” ** Judge Verdan, you are our friend in this matter and I trust you fully. **T know just how you are interested, soI do not ask you to betray your trust as an attorney, by breaking the law; but I do ask you to give me all the information you can to help me, for break it I shall, as,on my honor, I say to you that you will not regret it, that you will rejoice in your having helped me, as Dare Sloan is not the murderer of Squire Benson,” ‘*Ah, Miss Anita, you area brave girl to as- sert 111s and yet keep your secret to yourself,” “Is a!ldoso, Judge Verdan, to the last, and then »!. ,)f allother plans fail to free Mr. Sloan, will [ tell oil that | kuow of this matter.” ‘* Well, I will not urge it; but tell me your Dare Sloan’s Close Call. plans, for I feel assured that you have found some way out of this,” ‘* My plan isto help Mr, Sloan to escape, and I wish to ask you to get me permission to go to see him to-morrow.” ** Will it be wise?’ **Tt will not be known who I am,” “If I asked the chief, I would have to say who you were, My idea is that you had best go, heavily vailed and ask the chief tolet you see the prisoner, ‘* Tell him that you come in place of his mo- ther, who cannot come, and this will hardly be a story, for you do come as one to cheer him. He will let you pass in, I am sure,” ‘* Well, now tell me, please, what guards are at the jail?” ‘* There is, as you know, a gate guard, for the jail stands in the center of a block, surrounded by a high stone wall with iron spikes on the top, ‘*There are two gates, one for vehicles, and which is only yo cage for such, and a smaller iron door in the wall for persons to pass through. ‘*Here always stands, by day and night, a uard,” ** And within?” ‘* By day there isa guard at the jail door, aad at night the door is closed and a watchman walks the corridors all night.” ** What floor is Mr. Sloan on?” ‘* On the second floor, in the rear of the Jail at the end of the corridor, for he is now in the Death Cell,” ** A door and window to it, of course?” ‘** Yes, there is an iron frame-work across the end of the corridor, and the gate in it is kept locked. ‘* Then there is the door into the cell, and op- ite to it, in the rear, the window; but the atter is heavily grated with iron.” ** And this guard in the corridors by night and the one at the gate are the only ones on duty?” ‘* After nine o’clock, yes, except a savage dog which is then turned Joose and has the run of the jail-yard.” ** Four barriers to overcome then?” What four, Miss Anita, have you reference tot ‘*The iron grating of the window, the watch- man in the corridor, the dog and the guard at the gate,” : ‘* Insurmountable obstacles, I fear,” said the judge sadly, **Ob, no; not asl regard them; but do you know this gate guard?” oc I do ” ‘Ts it the same man every night?” baa: Ri ** Married?” “a No. ” ‘* A young man?” ‘¢ Possibly thirty.” *' Trustworthy ?” **T should think so, or he would hardly have the position he has.” ‘* What is his pay?” 4: Eighty dollars a month, I believe, Miss Anita,” ** What is his name, sir?” ** Richard Doyle.” ** Can you tell me where he lives?” ** Number Fifteen, Elm street, in the outskirts of the city.” ‘Thank you, judge. I have material to work on, and it will not compromise you, which I am anxious not to do.” ‘*Let me add, Miss Anita, that Doyle is most riendly toward Sloan, for when the freshet oc- curred in the river here three years ago, Doyle’s house was washed adrift and was going to pieces on asand-bar, when Dare Sloan swam out to him and brought him ashore ata terrible risk, for the guard could not swim a stroke. ‘* He reminded me of this the other day ; but if he were to do aught to aid Sloan’s escape, it would not only cost bim his place but get him sent to prison for a certain term.” “‘T can understand all that, Judge Verdan, and I intend to work with my eyes open,’ As it was now late, they retired, the judge ac- cepting the hospitalities of Daisy Dell Manor for the night, intending to drive back to town early the next morning. “Kate, I shall save him,” said Anita, as the two retired to their rooms for the night, CHAPTER XVII. THE VAILED VISITOR. WueEN Judge Verdan arrived in town tie next morning, he sent a hackmapn out the Daisy Dell road, telling him that he would meet - jail, bad retir two ladies who were on foot, and could get a fare back. The hackman drove rapidly along, and within a short distance of Daisy Dell Manor, found two ladies closely vailed. They got in and were driven back to the town, to the City Hotel. They were Anita and Kate, as the reader has surmised, for wishing to remain unknown in the matter, they cared not be driven to town in the family carriage, After obtaining a room at the hotel, Anita sat down and wrote a note. It was as follows: ‘* Will Mr. Richard Doyle be good enough to call at six sharp at the City Hotel, Room 10? ‘‘He need ask for no one, but simply come to the room, which is the first door after passing through the ladies’ entrance to the hotel. ‘** He will hear of something to ois advantage by coming. ‘ ** Should he have to ask for any one, let it be for Miss Kennerley.” This note was dispatched by special messenger to Number Fifteen Elm street, Kate Kenner “4 giving it to the boy, as Anita was pretty we. known in N—. In an hour’s time the boy returned and said that Mr. Doyle, being a night watchman at the ed for his day’s sleep, but would call at the hour named, ** Now, 1 shall go to the jail, Kate, as soon as you return with your purchases,” said Anita. Kate at once went out on a shopping tour, and when she returned she had made some re- markable purchases, There were several files, a coil of rope, a false beard and wig, with slouch hat. ‘*T did not buy but one thing at each store, Anita, and you can carry them under your cloak without suspicion, I think,” she said, Anita at once proceeded to put them in the lining of her cloak, which she ripped open for the pu e Then she went out alone and her steps led her to the jail, which she twice passed, so as to reconnoiter fully. At the gate she rung the bell and asked to see the chief of police. She was shown into the office, and the gentle- manly chief approached her politely with the remark: ‘** How can I serve you, lady?” In choking accents came the words: ‘*T have come at last to see my poor Dare,” It was a clever ruse, and the chief was as cleverly taken in, ‘“*Tam glad that you are here, madam, for your son’s sake, though you bave my deepest sympathy. : “Barker, say to Mr, Sloan that his mother has arrived.” The man disappeared, and Anita, in her dress of black, leant on the window, the very picture of despalr, Soon the man returned, and the chief led her to the death cell, and said as he threw open the door of the cell: ‘** Your mother, Mr, Sloan, and you shall not be disturbed for an hour.” He closed the door quickly and retired, as though not wishing to witness the painful meet- ing, and Dare, with manacles on his ankles, stood and held out bis arms. But he started as the vail was drawn aside and the light from the window fell full upon the pale, beautiful face of Anita Dangerfield, whose finger was warningly preseed upon her lips. ‘Great Heaven! Miss Dangerfield, can it be that you have done this?” ‘Sh! This is no time for surprise or senti- ment, for I am here to serve you, Mr. Sloan, and I let them believe the cheat that I was your mother, so do not you betray me, | implore}” The words were uttered in almost a whisper, and she stood by the window as she spoke, reso- lute and brave, ** But, Miss—” ‘Sh! you are not to talk, for I claim my woman’s prerogative to do this, Come here by this window and stand with your arm about me, your back to the door, for jails are full of ears ‘‘Never mind the whys or wherefores of my coming. Iam here, and I wish to tell you that I know you are guiltless of the crime charged. upon you! ‘* That must suffice; and more—it must excuse all that I am now doing. ; “*T tried to get the governor to pardon you, but he refused, and he would not commute your sentence, so that we could have time to prove your innocence—” | | |
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“We?” ** Yes, Kate Kennerley and I,” **God bless you!” ** As you could not be saved one way I tried this, and have brought you material for your use, Judge Verdan is watching the incoming trains, that your mother does not arrive and be- tray the plot. He will call on you to-night, but, Say nothing to him about my being here, for he must not be compromised. ** Tf all goes well he will only say that he will not be able to see you again; but, if he does not say this, do not act. ‘Should he send you word that he wil] not be able to call for some days, then act; I mean should he not call himself but send that word. ‘* Now, here is a bunch of keys I bought in the city. ‘‘They are regular burglar-keys, [ am told, and I will fit one to your manacles if you will sit down and place your ankle sol can reach it. “Thank you—ah! the first one fits; so hide it,” and she took it from the bunch and handed it to him. ‘** Now, here are some files, and that iron grating is not over an inch tuick, so cut two of the bars. “This rope will ved fy down to the yard, and the dog will be looked to, ‘“‘ Here are a false beard, wig and slouch hat, and at twelve you leave your cell by the window, goaround the jail to the gateand a man will meet you there, so follow his directions im- plicitly. **Once you are away, your innocence can be roven, some day, “If the judge should not come and bid you good-by, or send, donot make the attempt to- night, and I will call to-morrow. “This is all I have to say, Mr, Sloan, only I advise you to go to the far West and remain in hiding, for you will be looked for, and if taken, you know the penalty, for, though I know you are innocent, others believe you guilty, and the Court has sentenced you.” ; in vain did Dare Sloan try to speak; his throat was too dry; he seemed choking, and his tongue could not utter a word. He had not flinched before even under his sen- tence, but he trembled now, and his face was haggard with suffering. Now that Anita had said all she had to say, = was embarrassed, aud she felt that he suf- ered, She could only remain silent, while he, to hide his emotion, concealed the rope, files and other things about bis b Then be aroseand leant on the window-sill, where she stood gazing out into the yard. Thus passed the minutes until the sound of approaching steps were heard. ith an effort Dare Sloan then said: **God bless you! We will meet again.” She made no reply, but drawing ber vail over her face, started toward the door as it swung open, while the prisoner said earnestly: ‘*Come to-morrow!” She made no reply, but passed out into the corridor, the door clanged behind her, the iron gate went to with a dismal ring and she returned to the office under the care of Barker. Then she sunk intoaseat for a moment, as though overcome; but she rallied quickly, and, as the chief was away, Barker escorted her to the gate, and, fifteen minutes after, she threw herself into Kate Kennerley’s arms murmur- ing: f It is done!” Then she swooned away, CHAPTER XVIII, THE KEEPER’S BARGAIN, % RicHARD DOYLE was an honest-faced man, _ good-looking, and a clever fellow taken alto- gether, _ He had strength and good health as an in- heritance, when bis parents died, but certain ambitions he had nurtured of being a rich man, - some day, vanished when he found he had to - settle down to hard work, e had tried farming, stage-driving, and was looking for a school when, one night, he strolled into N—— with but a few dollars in his pocket, — eT wo footpads, thinking that be was well-sup- plied ‘vith funds, sprung upon him unawares, but, they made a mistake, for, though wounded, he fought them off and captured both just as the chief of police of N—— dashed up. Doyle told his story, said that he thought one ” of tae men was dead, which proved to be the ease, The other was not much burt, and was at once sent in a hack to tue hospital, Dare Sloan’s Close Call. The next day it was discovered that the two men were desperate characters, escaped con- victs and in for life, and a reward was already faiad for their capture, of five thousand dol- ars. Doyle became a hero, got the reward and was made night watchman at the jail, with a salary of eighty dollars a month, He had no references, said nothing as to his antecedents, so was taken on faith of what he had done, For three years he had served faithfully and saved up half of his salary, so that he now had some six thousand dollarsin cash, including his reward money. This wus the person who called at the City Hotel at six o’clock P, M. on the day of Avita’s visit to the jail, and knocked at the door of Room Number Ten. He was invited into the little parlor -by Anita, Kate being in the adjoining room, ‘*Mr. Doyle, I believe?” ‘* Yes, ma’am—I mean miss,” answered Doyle, wholly taken aback at the beautiful girl who confronted him. Anita turned the key in the door, and said, pleasantly : ‘*Be seated, Mr. Doyle, for I wish to have a serious talk with you. . Richard sat down, but was bewildered. He had been intending to purchase some property, had written about it to the owner, who lived the metropolis, and had received answer that = would soon be in N—— and would see im, : So he had called at the hotel, but the beauty of Anita completely upset him. “*Mr, Doyle,” said Anita, taking a seat right in front of him, ‘‘I sent for you because I am in trouble and you can help me out of it.” **I”” and Doyle was more than ever non- plused, : ‘* Yes, and I will tell you now, You are the night watchman at the jail, I believe?” ‘* The gate-keeper, miss.” “Yes, and I wish to ask you,if there was a prisoner in there, under sentence of death, one who had saved your life, for instance, and you knew he was not guilty of the crime for which he had been condemned to suffer, would you not wish to save him?” ““T would, miss, but my duty would keep me from doing so,” ‘* Exactly, as you regard it. Now, Mr. Doyle, I bave in this package five thousand dol- lars, and [ wish to offer it to you.” ‘*To me?” gasped Doyle. ‘“* Yes, I wish to offer it to you for a purpose, aot ont is to befriend one who saved your e. * Dare Sloan?” “You are right. He saved my life on two occasions, and has helped others. He risked his life to save yours, at the time of the freshet in the river, and—” **God knows he did, miss, and it hurts me to the heart to see him die,” te ae but he must not die, for we can save » ' Richard Doyle shook his head, ‘*[ say we can save him, and we will! If he was guilty, I would let him die; but no brave man ever did the act he is accused of, He was tried and purely circumstantial evidence con- demned him. ‘ ‘*T admit that his meeting the squire on the train, following him, and being by his dead body when found, with his pistol and one shot missing, and the bullet taken from the body of the dead man Se in his revolver, not tospeak of Squire Benson’s will in his fa- vor, with his having been left penniless, all these point to his being the murderer ” “They do, miss, but, somehow, I cannot be- lieve it of him.” : ‘*T know he is not Suilty, Richard Doyle,” de- clared Anita, impressively, ** You know it, miss?” **On my honor, yes;and yet I cannot—dare not betray what I know! But I swear to you, Ricbard Doyle, against all appearances to con- demn him, Dare Sloan is not guilty,” | “You should make this known,” ‘*T cannot—no, I cannot, for others would suffer. Yes, it would cause untold suffering, But, once free, Dare can prove his innocence, perhaps, and I wish you to help me—help me upon my word that he is guiltless, You can go from here with him, fly toa safe retreat in the est, for you bave not a tie to bind you here, as I know,” ‘My duty, miss!” “Your daty is to the man to whom you owe your life, even were he guilry; butwhen | swear 11: to you that heis not guilty, that you will help to hang the man you owe what you are now, you should not let him be strangled upon the gallows. ** Do you hear, strangled on the gallows like a dog, when you, doing harm to no one, only remiss in your duty, can save him, ‘* What would your conscience suffer should you afterward find him innocent? ‘** Ay, what will you suffer to see him hanged, believing him guilty and feeling that you owe him your life, and could save him and yet did not, ** Yes, did not from a sense of duty that cost a. life, that put upon you the blood of an innocent man, “‘T say, Richard Doyle, do you weigh duty against life?” The eyes of Anita Dangerfield fairly blazed, and her face was flushed and eager. She had risen to her feet and now faced the man, who seemed to be under her spell, for he cried out in a voice that quivered: **For God’s sake, tell me how I can save him?” Instantly Anita ek, is and said with forced calm **T will teli you.” CHAPTER XIX, ANITA’S BOLD SCHEME, ‘RICHARD DOYLE, | felt that you would not refuse between duty to one under the shadow of the gallows, who was innocent, and duty toward your employer, the city. **T have here the money I promised, and—” “*Hold on, miss, and understand me right here, I could not be bribed to do this by ten times the sum you offer; but, I do it from a sense of greater duty to Dare Dean than to the city that employs me. “If I accepted a bribe, I would be criminal, ay own conscience, and so would hate my- 8e ‘*No! Keep your money and— One minute! ‘*T have my money in the a 3 in bank, just five thousand, and I haveat my home one thou- sand in cash. I'll give you my book and a check, so you ¢an draw it, and I'll take this, for some folks know where I have my deposit, and they will telegraph there at once, expecting me to call for it.” ‘* Very well; I will collect it, for I take the train to-night and will be at the bank when it opens. ButI wish you would accept your ex- penses from me,” *** No, miss; 1 have enough, and to spare, and can make a good start somewhcre with what [ have. Now, what is your plan?” ‘“*T have already taken to Mr. Sloan some files, a rope, false beard, wig and hat.” ** But his irons?” ‘*T found a key that would unlock thein, so left it with him.” y ‘*T heard his mother had been to see him,” ‘“* No, they thought that I was his mother, for I wished them to think so.” ‘* You are a schemer, miss,” ‘* All women are, when put to it; but there is a savage dog in the jail-yard.” ‘* Yes, miss—Catchem,” ‘Ho knows you?” ** Oh yes; I turn him loose every night.” ‘** Well, to-night forget to do that duty, and wait at your post after midnight, until Mr. Sloan comes,” ‘* Yes, miss,” Ne: “You can then both come here, for I notia that the ladies’ door is not closed until after th one-o'clock train arrives, *‘Come right in, for the door will be open, and you will find disguises in that closet, which you better put on, and catch the one- o’clock train, and I advise you to make for the West with all speed, and Mr. Sloan can suggest Sereee go, as he knows the country well, I be- eve, ‘** And my check-book, miss, for you?” ‘* Leave it at the office of Judge Verdan, and say it will be called for.” ** Yes, miss, I will go home at once and get it and arrange to leave, for I go on my post at nine o’clock,” fi And I wish you would give this to Mr. oan, ‘‘it is money, twenty-five hundred dollars, and this note explains,” and she handed him a note which read: ‘“*Use the money as your own, repaying it when you can do so to the one who ever wishes you well.” ** Now, Mr. voyle,” continued Anita, “ I would advise that you write a vote to the chief of police, into her chair again ness: ETS as De des OA i ieee
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12 telling him that you have aided Mr. Sloan to escape, as you are convinced of his innocence, and that you hope the wisdom of your course |’ will some day be proven, and if you have be- trayed your trust it was to save the life of one who had risked his life to save yours.” ** Tl do it, miss, I'll write the note when I go home and put it in the letter-box at the gate to- night when I leave,” **Now, Mr. Doyle, Iam going to tell you who Iam, and should the world go bard with you, should you ever nee a friend, write to me and roa will find that I have not forgotten -your indness to me and to Mr. Sloan. ‘*T am Anita Dangerfleld, of Daisy Dell Manor.” * By Jove, I half-guessed it, from your beauty and all folks said of you, and knowing that Mr, Sloan had saved your life! Iam glad to serve you, Miss Dangerfield,” Richard beld out his hand and it was warmly grasped by Anita, Then he arose, pocketed the money pac for himself and for Dare Sloan, and soon a my es tock bis departure, As he did so, Kate Kennerley came in from the next room, and the two friends congratu- lated each other on their success thus far. ‘* Anita, you are a wonderful girl, for you fairly magnetized that man,” Then Kate sallied out once more to look up disguises, ag in an hour she returned ac- com ed by a boy carrying a number of bundles. These she deposited upon the bed, and the two looked over the purchases and found them all that could be wished, for Richard Doyle being small of stature, there was a feminine outfit for him, while that of Dare Sioan was the suit of an old farmer, cap, gray wig and all, These were put in the closet, just as a tap came at the door, and Judge Verdan entered. ‘‘ Here, my beautiful schemer, is a package reaheg at my office for you,” he said, handing it to nita, $ Yes, it is Mr, Doyle’s bank-book, and a er for bearer,” and she explained all to the u That is an honest fellow, certainly, to accept no money consideration ; but what about your visit to the jail?” Anita told him all and he smiled as he said: io the chief could only have seen under that v ‘*‘ Well, he’s a good fellow and perhaps you _could have won him over too, and he will rejoice at Sloan’s escape, while the letter of Doyle will keep bim out o trouble, although the night men are responsible for pe eee ‘*Now what can I do?” ‘* Simply y go by the jail and leave word that you are d away and to tell the prisoner good-by for you; but.see that the message goes to bim, for his escape depends upon it,” “Tean call, and—” Noit have thought of that, but did not wish to mix’ you up in it, so arranged for your send- ing. ‘him good-by ‘You are a Yaoi thoughtful young lady, I assure you, ‘*f will go at once and send the message, so tell me what else I can do?” ‘* Kindly drive out to the Dell and bring my maid in to take the train with us to-night, for if ve go it may be known,” ‘*[ will gladly do it, and am only sorry I have not been able to help you more, young ladies, ‘*T will take the trate north myself to-night, as I bave business in S——, and in a couple of days will see you in the city and we can talk over the success of your plot, which I must say is eget) to any detective work I ever heard of. ow, until we meet in the city, au revoir!” The judge took his departure and left the two girls to their own meditations. They had a late dinner in their rooms, evar a and paid the bill up tothe following mornin but had theirtrunk when it arrived, with ‘Anita's ‘ maid, taken over to the dep6t, The maid went over and bought the tickets and checked the trunk, and told them she had seen the judge there who told her to say that his message had been delivered. Then they waited until tims to go over to the train, and sli out of the hotel, leaving the door unlocked and gas burning Soon after they were holar ‘whirled -vapidly _ toward the city on the Express train, wondering passing and noving. CHAPTER Xx, RIVING FOR FREEDOM, a the rvielt of Anita Dangerfield to his for @ ee: wnile Dare Sloan sat in eset = | SOLD gp SR eee ae Sloan’ s Close Call. and his face, as rege light fell upon it, showed that he was deeply moved, Not a quiver of fear had he shown through his whole trial, and as his time of execution drew near his guards were loud in their praise of his nerve and courtly manners, which never forsook him, But now the visit of this beautiful girl, who kad given him hope of life, almost unnerved him, and it was a long while before he could command himself once more, He had wondered about his mother, and in his own trouble and sorrow it had pained him to know nothing of her, Why bad she left their home, as she had, and why had no answer come to his telegrams and letra to her? Had harm befallen her also? He almost feared that it was so, Now there was a chance of his gaining bis freedom, and his first thought was of his mo- ther, and how he could find her, It was a desperate chance, be knew; but he — meet the chances be they ever 80 desper- a To remain there was to die on the gallows, By escape he could do much, And how had Anita accomplished all this? Who had aided her? She had spoken of Kate Kennerley, but could it be ble that two girls could so cleverly get the best of jail officials and iron bars? And what had been Anita’s motive? Was it only to repay a life for a life? He had been glad of a chance to get back to ams that he might see her; but he bad not ted to meet her as he had. o he tried the key again in his manacles, and it morked to a charm. He measured the height of his window to the ground, and knotted his rope so as to give him an easy descent, Then he stepped up to the window, and with a bk in his hand, tried the lowest iron bar ac The: file made a grating sound that seemed very loud to his acute ears, so he took some oil sr oe his lamp and put on the bar, and tried ie ri can do it,” he said, after a short trial, and he went and glanced out of the grating in his door up the corridor, for his chains allowed him the length of his room, He saw no one about, and knew that the guard was seldom on the upper tier of the jail in the daytime from after breakfast to supper, except to bring his dinner. So he began work again, blowing the iron dust out of the window as it accamulated, For two hours he worked steadily and the bar was filed through close to the window, Some books piled upon the window concealed the cut, and he Jay down u his cot, know- ing that the guard front soon bring his dinner, — He soon came, and a tempting repast he brought him, ‘*T feels awful sorry for you, Mr. Sloan, for somehow I can’t reason myself into believing you kilt the squire,” said the guard, ** You are all very kind to me, Barker, and I ppreciate it.” And I felt that sorry for your poor mother this morning, until I cried almost, for the tears would come into my eyes, for she trembled like a willow tree and well-nigh fainted in the office on her way out,” Dare Sloan made no reply, but his food nearly choked him, “Well, sir, I do re something may turn up to save you, for it’s two weeks to-day to the time of your pe 7 ‘Thank you, Barker, I also hope that some- th may save me from the gallows, for I am not the one who murdered the squire, in spite of all evidence that points to my bein ‘© You are all kind to me, and the one who thinks that kind beartscan not be found in those whom duty calls to guard men bebind iron bars, do not know the men who are jailers. se ae was a fine dinner, Barker, and I thank you Barker took up the ey and departed, when the or immediately begun work on the up Wits thre these two filed through and pressed out- ward or inward, the space would allow of his between the others. So he held on at his work until the shadows of net See then the work was done! _ books hid the two severed iron bars, and po more he threw himself upon his cot to : apy ewe brought him his supper, and mechanic- ally cast his eyes about thecell to see that all was right—not that he had any suspicion, for it never entered his brain the thought that a eek heavily manacled on one leg, with iron in a window twenty-five feet from the andere | with a savage dog in the yard, a watch- man at the gate, and a high wall, not to of the guard in the jail at night, could escape. It was simply impossible he thought, and from habit only he looked about him, Then he bade the prisoner good-night, told him he must put out his lamp when the ‘clock struck nine, and departed. Dare Sloan sat down to his table when the guard had gone, and wrote as follows to the chief of police: My Dear Sir:— ‘*Were I a guilty man, I would never have faced my fate as I have done; but, knowin my innocence, and not wishing to hang for another’s crime, I take advantage of an opportunity offer- ed to make my escape to-night, **T desire to thank you for much kindness shown ae and, through you, others who have been my kee pers. “* By my escape “ale I hope to be able to prove that it is not well to convict a man upon circumstantial evidence alone, ‘* When there is a doubt, give him the benefit of it, for it certainly must be a severe load to carry on the conscience of a judge, jury and prosecuting attorney to know afterward that they have committed a legal murder, hanged an innocent man, which would be their case with me, did I await here the day set for me to die on the gallows, BY Wishing you well, sir, am ‘* Waithfullly yours, ** Dare SLOAN,” This letter was addressed to the chief and laid aside to be placed on the table when he left his cell, Then the prisoner waited for the coming of the night-watch at nine, for he had received the word sent by Judge Verdan that he was going out of town fora few days and left good-by, and Dare Sloan felt perfect faith in Anita that she had arranged her plot beyond fear of failure. The night-guard, a man who had never treated the prisoner with ordinary kindness, soon ap- peared, threw open his door, aod said, gruffly: “All right in here, prisoner?” ‘It is your place to find that out,” was the stern reply, and Dare, who had retired to his cot, turned his face to the wall. The guard gave a rude laugh, flashed his lan- tern into the room and disappeared, locking the see a him, and also the iron gate across the corridor, Dare knew that he usually came the rounds about four times during the night, but did not open the cell doors; so he waited until hig sec- ond round, which was about eleven o’clock, ‘Then he arose, dressed himself quickly and bent the iron bars outward. It was no easy task, but he Pocsast ys tote it, aud then putting on the wig, beard and slouch hat, he made the knotted rope fast tothe upper _ V2 ty bars, and forced his way out of the window, He Jowered himself readily to the Faround crept to the shadow of the wall and went aroun it to the gate. There stood the guard and this was bis moment sf, of il, hat if a mistake had been made? He was ready to meet the worst, and spri ring ; upon the uard if necessary, and 80 rose pe toward ben. : The guard never moved, never spoke, and he walked up to him and asked: » ** Are you ifm, any one?” ** Yes, for ie. a whose life you saved, Come!” unlocked the gate as he spoke, ped out and the guard Seiodkal: it and the key into the letter-box, with his letter to the — i . co uaa ane Sree acy tat the n, uic a ey ned — . entered Room 10 un- | away toward the hotel, cee, and, bares out, were so disguised as tobe atten Taine after the train came in and boarding it, N—— was quickly left bebind m, CHAPTER XXL i the d fter Ioer eturn iT was the daya r home, that Auten Dangerfield arose early a ers at the papers. r. Sloan, I am Richard "Oo se a.42& £ eee ne ee ted oe
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Dare Sloan’s Close Call. Richard Doyle and had gotten the money, Then she returned to her home and she and Kate took a day of rest, which they certainly needed, Hardly had she glanced at the paper when she ran to Kate’s room. **1t is here and all is well. ** Listen!” : Then she read aloud as follows: “THE GALLOWS CHEATED! ‘* A CLEVER ESCAPE! ** Guilty, or Not Guilty ? “* News bas come to us from thethriving town of N of a bold escape from prison in that place of a man condemned to death. ** Our readers will remember the trial noticed in our columns some time since of Dare Sloan, for taking the life, it was alleged, of a rich old farmer by the name of Squire Benson, ‘© The trial was of great interest on account of the parties concerned therein, and the testimony was such as to condemn by circumstantial evi- dence, 4 “The following is a description of the case, taken from our report of the trial,” Then followed a lengthy account of the trial, the history of Dare Sloan, and in which Darke Dangerfield was spoken of as having killed the father of the accused, in a personal encounter, nearly a score of years before, The article then went on to say: ‘In two weeks the prisoner was to have been hanged; but it seems that he had rescued from drowning, at the risk of his own life, the night- watch at the jail, one Richard Doyle, who with others, felt convinced that Sloan was not guilty, and so determined to save him from death, ‘*To do this he concocted a clever plan, it is said by the aid of two mysterious ladies who visited N-—-, but that is only surmise, founded onthe fact that a lady drew Doyle’s money from the bank here, as was ascertained to-day; but it is not seen how the two ladies could have been of any service in the bold escape. ‘*Furthermore Doyle, the night-watch, left a note for the chief of police, saying why he res- cued the prisoner, and that he ho that it would be proven he was right in doing so. ‘* He got to the prisoner in some way files and a rope, and gave him a key to unlock the man- acles upon his ankles, ‘‘The condemned man filed his ye through the bars of the window, lowered himself by means of the rope and joined Doyle at the gate, when they escaped together, going where the detectives thus far have been wholly unable to discover. “The following letters are the ones left by Doyle and the prisoner for the chief of police.” Then follow the letters, and the article con- tinued: ‘Now, the question is—is Dare Sloan guilty or not guilty? ‘* Tt certainly will be a severe set-back against circumstantial evidence, if, now that he is free, he isable to disprove the charge against him, and, for the sake of the young man, who cer- tainly did not appear to be an assassin and rob- ber, we trust that he can do go, “His lawyer, Judge David Verdan, was seen at S—— yesterday by & reporter, and questioned upon the subject. e said that he considered the escape a clever one, and, as the night watch of the jail was gone with the prisoner, there was no one else to hold responsible, ** As to the guilt or innocence of his late client the judge said that he was assured of the charge im being false. “Detectives have been started in all direc- tions to overtake the fugitives, and a reward of five thousand dollars has been offered for their capture, ‘We have just learned of another sensation at N——., for a young man there of good family, but who led a fast and reckless life—and who, by the way, was a witness against Sloan—dis- a some days ago, saying that he was go- ing to the city on business. : It bas now leaked out that he forged his aunt’s name to a check for five hundred dollars raed pe the money on it, so it is not likely that he return to N——-, as the old lady says she would send him to prison were he her own son. She had gone to the bank the day before, with her vail down, presented the book aad check of Such was the article in the paper, and the two girls seemed delighted to feel that Dare Sloan and Richard Doyle had escaped. though they dreaded that they might be recaptured. “* Kate, I always knew that Hal Burton was a rascal, and I verily believe that he went Wes with my brother, **T will be very glad when father comes, for I shall confess to him just what I have done,” ‘Tt will be best, Anita, and he will uphold you in it, I know; but, how strange that no word has come from Dare Sloan’s mother in all this time!” “ft is strange, Kate; but then, she is a very mysterious woman, and even when her son's life was at stake, may have preferred to keep in the background. But, come; let us go down to breakfast. They had -hardly finished breakfast when a card was brought in. ‘“*Ah! it is Judge Verdan!” cried Anita, and they hastened into the parlor, where the judge was enjoying a look at the luxurious surround- a in which he found himself, e greeted the girls pleasantly and remarked: ‘You have a grand home here, Miss Anita.” ** Yes, sir, it is certainly a charming dwelling- place, for my father loves luxury.” “ He is right to enjoy it with his wealth; but, have you seen the morning papers!” ‘Yes, sir,and it made us feel very glad to learn that he escaped.” ‘* You have the praise of it, Miss Anita, and it was well-planned and executed.” ‘* You do not think they will be captured?” ‘“*Not they! Dare is as sharp as a needle, and Doyle is no fool. They are safe beyond pursuit, Sine may rely on that; but, you saw that your rother’s intimate friend, Hal Burton, had gone wrong? ‘* Yes, sir,” and Anita’s face flushed. “*T predicted it of him some day, and I was sorry to see your brother so intimate with him, But, any news of your father?’ ‘“ No, judge, except that he will be away for weeks yet; but, as Kate is to be my guest until his return, I will not be lonesome, and next week we are to go down to Daisy Dell Manor for awhile.” “Yes, it is lovely there now,” declared the udge, and as he wished to catch tbe noon train ack home he soon after took his Jeave, mutter- ing to himself: ‘ What that lovely girl knows about this mur- der, ho secret she holds, troubles her, for I can see 10, CHAPTER XXII. KEEPING A SECRET. Two weeks passed at Daisy Dell Manor and the two girls had heard nothing to canse them dread for the safety of Dare Sloan and Richard Doyle. All the detectives had returned from the pur- suit utterly baffled, and it was given up that the fugitives had gotten away beyond all chance of capture, letter forwarded from the city, told Anita that her father was coming home soon, so she and Kate determined to at once leave Daisy Dell Manor to be there to welcome him on his arrival, . They had enjoyed in a quiet way their stay at the manor, had sketched, rode horseback, driven about the country and into town, and also roam- ed about the forests, Elmwood Hall, the old home of the Sloans,was still unoccupied, and they bad looked.over it, the person in charge showing them through. They had visited the old cemetery, and seen the grand monument erected to Henry Sloan, who had failen by the hand of Mr. Dangerfield in the long ago, and they had often sat on the little bridge where the encounter bad occurred, and talked over the sad incident together. Judge Verdan had driven out to the manor often and dined with the young ladies, and he had kept them well posted about affairs of inter- est to them, “There’s not a man about the jail, from the sheriff down, who is not glad that Sloan es- caped,” he said, and then added: ‘But you had a close shave of it ebout Doyle’s check, for a detective was telegraphed to to go and watch the bank, thinking t the man would go there to draw his money, The officer asked about it during the day, and the cashier told bim that a.lady had drawn it out just after the bank had ed that morning.” But Anita and Kate left the Dell and its quiet pleasures and returned to the city. The day of their arrival a letter came from 13 Darke Dangerfield telling his daughter to expect: him in a few days, Another letter arrived by the same mail, and was postmarked at Omaha, Nebraska. That letter Anita read aloud to Kate, as follows: ‘* Words can never express to you, my dear Miss Dangerfield, what pratitude 1 hold in mv heart for you. You saved me from a cruel, au ignominious death upon the gallows, and your own heart must tell you how deeply I feel the debt due you, a debt that thanks can never Ye **'You said that you knew me to be innocent of the crime with which I was charged, so it is needless for me to reassert thatI am not the guilty one a ‘jury of my peers’ made me, ‘What knowledge you possess, or how you gained it, 1 have no means of knowing; but your reward for your noble deed is your own consciousness of having done a righteous act, ““As Iam not guilty I feel, though now a hunted man, that I can look my fellow-men in the eyes fearlessly ; but I shall, for your sake, remain in a safe retreat, until you are willing to divulge the secret you hold and point out the real murderer, ** Through the services of your ally, my friend now, Richard Doyle, I escaped, and in disguise we reached the far West, ‘* Richard has money saved up, and will seek the Pacific Coast somewhere and find an invest- ment for it. ‘*Krom him I received the twenty-five bun- dred dollars you were so good as to loan me, pt assure you it is a great boon to me in my ight. f It is my hope to returnit to you at no dis- tant day. ‘*At present 1 go to seek my mother, at a point where I feel sure I will find her, or hear of where she is, andl am certain that it is on account of her utter isolation from mails that she has not heard of my, but for you, fatal trouble; and now that I am free I realize that it is better so, for her sake, *T hope some day, my dear Miss Dangerfield, you will let me prove my innocence to the world through the secret you hold of who is the real criminal, ‘““To your dear friend, Miss Kennerley, pre- sent my ‘kindest remembrances and beartfelt thanks for the noble manner in which she aided you to befriend me, and Mr. Doyle joins me in regards to you both and every good wish for your re “ Again, with deepest gratitude let me sub- scribe myself, Faithfully yours, *DaRE SLOAN.” Such was was the fugitive’s letter, and it made a deep impression upon Anita Dangerfield. All through it she could see that be felt more ee toward her, and she asked: “* Kate, what do you think of his letter?” ‘* A manly one, surely; and more—pardon me for saying so: it shows his love for you.” ‘*Oh, Kate!” *T mean it, and I think it a shame that two such, as you and he, should be fated to a cruel separation in life, for I know, too, my dear Anita, that you are not indifferent to Dare Sloan, and I do not condemn you for it, either.’ eae made no reply, and soon after Kate asked: ‘* May I ask you a direct question?” “ Yes,” ** Will you give me a direct answer?” 7 will.” ** Mind you, I do not seek to pry into what you do not feel at liberty to tell me; but I wish to satisfy myself upon one point, Anita.” ‘** Ask and I will answer you,” “You have said that you knew that Dare Sloan had not committed the murder for which he was sentenced?” “ Yes,” **Do you know who it was that did murder Squire Benson?” A moment of silence and then distinctly came the words: **T dol” CHAPTER XXIII, GONE WRONG, DARKE DANGERFIELD arrived on the day he had written that he would. As she hey her father, Anita saw that something gone wrong, for his facé was stern and haggard.
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SO ENT arene en eee eet 14 After awhile he led the way to his library and said: ‘*? have been unfortunate in my mining in- vestments of late, Anita, and lost heavily, so we will have to hedge to even things up, as for a year past I bave been losing money, and Dean has cost me even more than you know, ‘*T can recuperate all right if I economize for a year or two, so we will sell this mansion and go to Daisy Dell Manor. ‘* With what I have in bank, and what this mansion and furniture will bring, I can pay all liabilities, and Daisy Dell will give us a hand- some living for acouple of years, and in that time some of the mines may pan out richly. ‘* Then, too, we being et the Dell will bea check upon your brother, who has been going it very fast there, I am afraid.” ‘*But my brotber will be West, will he not? You did not bring him back with you?” ‘Back with me! Why, is he not at the Dell?” ‘* No, father; Dean left over three weeks ago to join you.” ** And why have I not seen him?” **T do not know, sir; but he went to your head- quarters direct.” ‘*He has not been near me; but, why should he go there?” ‘*T will make a clean breast of it, father, and tell you that I sent him West,” ‘* This is strange, Anita, and I shall certainly be glad to hear what you have to say. ‘* Now I recall it, did he go alone?” ‘*T fear not, sir, for I have reason to believe Hal Burton went with him.” ‘‘ He did, for now I will tell you that I met Burton and spoke to him as he was near my office. His face flushed, but he said: ‘**¢ You are mistaken, sir, for my name is not Burton,’ ‘* T apologized and went on, wondering at the likeness between the fellow and Burton,” ** Well, sir, Mr. Burton is a fugitive from jus- tice, having forged his aunt’s name to a check and got the money on it just before brother left, and I wrote to Mr, Girard and learned that Dean had been at the club the night before his departure and had introduced a Mr. Burton,” * That settles it; but now to Dean.” ‘*T have done that for which you may cen- sure me, father; but it was only to do as I did or bring disgrace upon us, I will let you be the judge.” Then Anita told her father all that she had done about her brother—that she had gone to N——, paid his debts, taken-up the forged note, and then sent him out to join his father. Darke Dangerfield’s brow grew black as a ¢hundercloud as he listened, but he did not speak until she ended with: * And it was just fifteen thousand dollars that he cost you, sir.” ** And, at this time, itis a hard blow; but you acted for the best, and nobly, my dear child, and kept our name from dishonor. ‘* But where has he gone, and what will he do without money?” ‘*l know that he has some money, sir, for I gave him about three hundred dollars, and I have the accounts of the exact amount; but I am sure that he does not owe Burton a cent, for Isaac told me he carried a telegram to the office after I left, and he wrote it with a hard pencil on the pad, and I have read the message from the imprint. Here it is,” And she got the telegraph blank pad and handed it, with the accounts, to her father. There he read the dispatch sent to Hal Burton by Dean Dangerfield. ‘* Yes, that was a false debt to get money out of you, [ am sure. * But it will not last him long, and he will goon be back demanding more of me.” ‘*Father, pardon me if [ say you have been weak where Dean is concerned, and parents gen- erally are where their sons are involved; but let a daughter go wrong, how quickly she is shut out of the parental love and the pale of so- pars z ** You are right, my child, for it is really so,” Now, I do not care a fig for any inheritance that may be mine; but I do say that as long as you give Dean money he will do nothing and de- pend on you, ‘* As for myself, if you lost every dollar you have, my education and accomplishments will make us a living, I know.” ‘*T can work, too, my sweet child, for I am not an old man yet; but, let me see just what I have in bank, and we can quickly discover how we stand. : ‘We can put this house, furniture and equipages down at atleast one hundred thousand, ee eee eee eS... and it will ring more; but we will say that sum, and what do you make our deposits?” ‘* Seventy-seven thousand, seven hundred dol- lars, sir, less fifteen thousand paid for Dean,” ‘* Sixty-two thousand call it then, and with the home, one hundred and sixty-two thousand,” ‘** Yes, sir; and the liabilities?” ‘*T have to pay in cash at once I may say, to save my credit, one hundred and fifty-five thousand, **T wo years ago that sum was nothing to me; but I have lost a million in mines and stocker.” ‘“* Well, sir, what you haveclears you easily, and we can go to the Dell owing nothing.” ‘© You did as I told you about the books?” ** Yes, sir; I got them from the banks to-day; but I have not looked at them— Ab! the Third City I see gives you a balance of only ten thou- sand, where I had it down twenty-two.” **And so it should be, asI remember, for I have drawn nothing from it. ‘‘T,ook over the checks canceled, for all are surely in.” Anita glanced at the checks and her face paled, while she said: ‘* Father, here is a forgery.” ‘* What?” ‘* A check for twelve thousand dollars, payable to Dean Dangerfield, dated at your mines out West, and indorsed by my brother,” ‘‘“My God! he drew that before he went West!” and the now irate parent trembled in his anger, ‘* From this moment I disown him, for he isa villain, and no sonof mine, no brother of yours!” and the low, quivering voice of the man showed how deeply he was moved by his son’s disgrace, while Anita was too shocked to speak. At last she said with a sigh: ‘* Yes, father, poor, unfortunate Dean has gone beyond all bounds, for—I can tell more! ‘* But, let us settle this matter first, for it is not enough for your liabilities; but I have an account of my own, youremember, and it ran up to nearly eigbt thousand. dollars, Five of that I now huve, soit will, with this home and your deposits, pay all debts and no one will know that you have suffered losses,” ‘*But he may have done more yet!” groaned the father who was so deeply hurt at the dis- honor of his son. “No, father; these balances are all correct now, and you know Mr. Girard has offered you often, a hundred thousand cash for this home as it stands, so you can get that to-morrow, and all will be well, pecuniarily; but I have some- ae to tell you—a confession to make, in act. ‘‘ Nothing can surprise me now, my child, for I am fairly stunned at that mad boy’s dis- race, ‘** But tell me what you would, for it must be important that you wish to speak now,” “It is important, father,” and Anita drew her chair nearer, while she said: ‘**T will call Kate, for she knows all,” CHAPTER XXIV. ANITA’S CONFESSION. WueEn Kate Kennerley had entered the li- brary, Darke Dangerfield was sure that be was to hear a confession from his daughter that she was in love. He had been willing for her to accept several of the fine offers she had received, though fear- ful that she would do so, loving her as devoted- ly as he did and hating to give her up; but that she had ever loved any one, he was confident was not the case. Now he felt sure that she had fallen in love; but he was not long in being un- deceived. ‘* Father, have you read the papers of late, say about three weeks to two months ago?” ‘*T must confess that I have not, for I have been in the mountains for three months, where a Ror iad seldom penetrated, my child, But why? ‘*Tbhen you do not know that there was a murder down at N——?” ** No, indeed! Who was killed?” ‘* Squire Benson.” ‘* A fine old man and one whom I respected highly. You know, or rather you do not know, that he was said to be the real heir to Daisy Dell Estate, and some thought if he claimed his rights he could bave hag it, even if he contested my da of it, for he was the first cousin o rs. Dean, the mother of Mrs, Sloan, and rumor had it that a will of some relative had left it to him, ** But he did not claim it, and so, as the property of Mrs. Sloan’s mother, it was offered Le en net Menem — ee gee ee = ene i mgaries: | for sale to pay debts, and I bought it in, It is now worth ten times what I gave for it. ‘‘ But what about this murder, and who killed the old squire?” ‘‘ Dare Sloan was accused of it, father.” ‘‘ Why, he is in the West somewhere, I have heard; and besides, I cannot believe him guilty of such a crime.” ‘“‘T am glad to hear you say 80, father, for I acted at first with the same belief in his inno- cence; but, let me tell you the whole story.” Anita then proceeded to tell of the fraud per- petrated by Loyd Lucas in selling Elmwood Hall, the failure of the bank in which the all of the Sloans had been deposited, and how Dare had come East to see if he could save anything from the wreck, and, meeting Squire Benson, what had followed. ‘* And who were ther who arrested young Sloan?” “Do you not think, sir, that he would be con- sidered guilty, especially when the pistol, hav- ing one shot fired from it, was taken from young Mr, Sloan?” ‘*Tt would look so, surely; but appearances often deceive, and yet I fear a jury will find him guilty.” ‘* He has been found guilty, and was sentenced to be hanged; but he escaped.” ‘‘Ha! this was quick work indeed! But you did not tell me who it was that arrested Sloan.” ‘* My brother and Mr, Burton,” Darke Dangerfield started, his dark face paled and became more stern, while he said: ** And they were the only witnesses?” ‘* Yes, with the pistol and the general ap- pearance of guilt.” Mr. Dangerfield shook his head, and then asked: ‘** But, how did he escape?” ‘*That is my confession, father,” And Anita told of just what she had done, adding: ‘*T was anxious to save him, doubting his guilt, and because I owed my life to him, as did also Kate and my brother. ‘Then I learned—no matter how—that Dare was not the murderer. But, more on this sub- ject hereafter, as I cannot tell you or any one that secret; it must remain locked up in my heart, and no one must share if, ‘*You know that 1 had some money of my own deposited in bank, I took this out, expect- ing to bribe the guards; but I found one who would not take the bribe, for he too owed a debt of gratitude to Mr. Sloan such as I and Dean and Kate owe, ‘* That saved me the five thousand, and I now will turn it over to you; but twenty-five hun- dred of it I gave to the guard for Mr, Sloan, knowing his necessities, and telling him to take it as a loan,” ‘You did right, my daughter.” ‘* Here is the letter he wrote me, so you see he . safe, and how he regards the money as a oan, ‘* Now, father, I have confessed all,” ‘* And L uphold you fully, my child, and con- gratulate you and Kate upon Kf splendid work, You have proven yourself worthy to be chief of a detective bureau; but, about this knowledge of Sloan’s innocence?” **Do not ask me, father, for my lips are sealed ; as I bave said, I must bear the secret alone.” Darke Dangerfield looked fixedly into bis daughter’s face; but she did not flinch, and with a strange expression upon his countenance he turned away. The next day Darke Dangerfield called upon his friend, Mr. Girard, and told him he could have his city mansion for the price he had of- fered, as he was going to reside upon his country estate. Mr. Girard gave him a check for the amount, and what things Anita cared to remove were sent to Daisy Dell, ‘ The liabilities due were promptly paid, with the aid of Anita’s five thousand, and all out- standing household debts were liquidated in full, and a grim smile crossed the face of Darke Dan- gerfield as he said, the day after their arrival at the farm: ‘¢ Well, Anita, we have Daisy Dell Manor un- incumbered, and just two thousand dollars in bank,” ‘* Yes, father, we are well off indeed, and but for the fact that poor Dean has gone to the bad, I could be happy.” ‘ Never mention his name to me again, Anita, but banish him from your heart and thoughts as I shall from mine.” ‘*Tf I only could!” murmured Anita as she turned sadly away, and went to look after her household affairs, determined, however, that
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rt ¢ . Dare Sloan's Close Call. 15 | | | ; her father should never see the clouds in her heart reflected upon her face, as she said: ‘*For he, too, has sorrows to bear—a lost love, es I now know, and a grave in the heart that can never be effaced.” CHAPTER XXV. CONCLUSION. Kate KEnNERLEY returned to her happy home from the city, when Anita and. her father left for Daisy Dell Manor; but she went with a feel- ing of sympathy and pain for her dearly loved friend which she could not banish, even when surrounded by her many admirers. At Daisy Dell all went 00 in the even tenor of its way, its master devoting himself to the care of his estate with an energy that seemed to keep him contented if not happy. Judge Verdan was a frequent visitor at the Tell, often staying to dinner and remaining all night, and, at the request of Darke Danger- field, he had purchased Elmwood Hall, its owner never having occupied it, and let it to the master of the Dell to farm, until he could himself buy it as he expressed a wish to do, Although in N—— nothing had been heard of Dean Dangerfield and Hal Burton, it was sur- mised that the former had been disowned, for some reason, by his father, and so his name was never spoken by visitors to the Manor. Not a word either had ever come of Dare Sloan and Richard Doyle; but the latter had gone to what was then Washington Terri- tery, and established himself in a business that was paying him well, while the former had made his way to the ranch of Buck Brandon, ‘the cowboy. He found Buck established upon his small ‘ranch, with a herd of cattle about him and thus laying the foundation of future fortune, From Buck he heard the story of the visit of the Red Witch to the farm, and how the Widow Sloan bad bade him follow her. This he had done, and returned to report that she bad gone to a mining-camp in Colorado, and thither Dora Sloan had, at once, started, getting full directions from the cowboy. A letter had come for Dare Sloan to follow her, and he did so, to at last find her ina mining-camp, and mistress of a paying mine which she had secured. But, though the mine panned out well, neither Dare nor his mother cared to return East to en- joy their wealth, for the shadow of the gallows yet hung over the young miner, he weil knew, and thereason why was still kept by Anita; only er lips could speak the words which would take the brand of murder from his brow. _ But, Dare had discovered the terrible secret which she kept locked up in her own heart, it was, that Dean Dangerfield was the mur- derer of old Squire Benson! ; THE END, Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. BY COL, A. F. HOLT. "R17 Wideawake, the Train-boy Detective. S11 Headlight Harry’s Flyer; or, Dako Derby. 678 Headlight Harry’s Hazard. 691 Headlight Marry’s Haul; or, The Railroad Pards, 727 Meadlight Harry's Siren; or, Mad Madge. 759 Headlight Harry’s Heritage. 794 Headlight Harry's Hees or, The Cache of Gold. ‘BYY Black Buckskin; or, The Masked Men of Death Canyon, A19 Kenneth, the Knife-King; or, The Doomed Six. ‘485 Littie Lightfoot, the Pilot of the Woods, 828 The Dandy Sport; or, The King Pin Conspirator, BY BUFFALO BILL (lon, Wm. F. Cody). B Kansas King; or, The Red Right Hand. 49 The Phantom Spy: or, The Pilot of the Pratrio. 55 Deadly-Kye. the Unknown Scout; or, The Banded Brotherhood 68 Border Robin Hood; or, The Prairie Rover. : 188 Faney Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s Trust, BY BUCKSKIN SAM (Major Sam. 8, Mall.) Old Rocky's "* Boyeess or, Benito, the Horse-Breaker 3 é Giant Genres} or, The Ang’] of the Range. 275 Arizona Jack 3 or, Giant George’s Pard. 297 The Tarantula of Tacs ; or, Giant George’s Revenge, ? The Strange Pard; or, Little Ben’s Death Hunt. a Ker-whoop, Ker-whoo} or, The Tarantuln of Taos. B27 Creeping Cat, the Caddo; or, The Red and White Parde, Frio Fred; or, The Tonkaway’s Trust. $44 The Fighting Trio; or, Rattlesnake, the Tonkaway. 849 Wild Wolf; or, Big-Foot Wallace to the Front. Sen an Ranch Raiders io The Siege of Fort Pargatory, . nap- o angers te Oniete ies “ rey or, The Three Thunderbolts. ‘881 Randera Rill: or. Frio Frank to the Front. 892 Romeo and the Reds; or, The Beleaguered Ranch, 404 re eauarints ees Pete’s Big Rampage. 414 The o nvers 427 The hese Tratlera: or, Old Rocky on the Rampage, ' pred Bis or, The Lynx of the Leona, Ad Little Lone Star: or, The Belle of the Cibolo, 684 Cache Carl, the Chico Giart. ¥ BY BRACEBRIDGE HEMYN@. 89 Ialand Jim; or, The Pet of the Family. $1 ‘The Oaptatn of the Clubs cr The Rival Athletes, 101 Marke way in New ork, arty, 58T BY T. ©. HARBAUGH. 28 Nick o’ the Night; or, The Boy Spy of ’76. 87 The Hidden Lodge; or The Littl» Hunter. A? Nightingale Nat; or, Tne Forest Captains, g 64 Dandy Jack; or, The Outlaws of the Oregon Trail. 82 Kit Harefoot, the Wood-Hawk; or, Old Powder-face. 94 Midnight Jack ; or, The Boy Trapper. 106 Old Frosty, the Guide; or, The White Queen. 128 Kiowa Charley. the White Mustanger. 189 Judge Lynch Jr. or, ‘The Boy Viziiante, 155 Gold Trigger, the Sport; or, The Girl Avenger. 169 Tornado Tom; or, Injun Jack From Red Core, 188 Ned Temple, the Border Hoy; or, The Mad Hunter. § Arkansaw: or. The Queen of Fate’s Revenge. 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. 215 Captain Bullet; or, Little Tovknot’s Crusade. 281 Plucky Phil; or, Rosa, the Re! Jezebel. 241 Bill Bravo; or, The Roughs of the Rockies, 255 Captain Apoli:, te King-Pin of Bowte. 267 The Buckskin Detective: or, The King of Road-agents. Old Winch; or, The Buckskin Desperadoes. 294 Dynamite Dan; or, The Bowie Blade of Gochetopa. 802 The Mountain Detective: or, The Trigger Bar Bully. 816 Old Eelipse, Trump Card of Arizona, 826 The Ten Purda; or, The Terror of Take-Notice, 836 Big Benson; or, The Queen of the Lasso. 845 Pitiless Matt; or, Ked Thunderholt’s Secret. B56 Cool Sam and Par’: or The Terrible Six. 866 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective, 886 Captain Cutlass: or, he Beccaneer’s Girl Foe. 896 Rough Rob; or, The !win Champions of Blue Blazes. 411 The Silken Lasso; or, The Rose of Ranch Robin. 418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter; or, The Gold Gang of New York. 425 Texas Trump. the Border Rattler. 486 Phil Flash, the New York Fox; or, The Mystery of Room 21, 445 The City Vamptres; or, Ked Rolfe’s Pigeon. 461 One Against Fifty; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar. 470 The Boy Shadow; or, Felix Fox’s Hunt. 477 The Exceisior Sport; or, The Washington Spotter. 499 Single Sight, the One-Eyed Sport. 502 Branded Ben, the Night Ferret. 512 Dodger Dick, the Wharf-Spy Detective. $21 Dodger Dick’s Best Dodge; or, The Gotham Gold Gang. 528 Fox and Faicon, the Bowery Shadows. 588 Dodger Dick, the Dock Ferret, 548 Dodger Dick’s Double: or, The Rival Boy Detectives, 558 Dodger Dick’s Desperate Case. 568 Dodger Dick. the Boy Vidor; or, The Gang of Three. 578 The Two Shadows; or, Dodger Dick’s Stop Game. 582 Dodger Dick’s Drop; or, The Mon from Jersey. 594 Little Lon, the Street-Singer Detective. 610 Old Skinner, the Gold Shark; or, Tony Sharp on Guard, 626 The Champion Pards; or, The Luciler of Silver Bar, 687 Dick Doan, the Dock Bov Detective. 645 Kit, the Pavement Sharp. 658 Billy Bantam, the Boy Beagle. 671 Jersey ded, the Boy Hustler: or, Shadowing the Shadower. 685 Happy Hugh, the Boy Musician Detective. 7O1l Photograph Fred, the Camera Sharp. 715 Wide Awake Len, the Quaker City Ferret. TS2 Daisy Pell, the Pavement Detective; or, Trapping Big Game, 42 Billy Winka, the Bell Boy Detective, 54 Rilly Winks, the Poss Boy Shadow. &8 Eagle Ned, the Boy on Gnard; or, The Camp Spiders, 80 Tonkaway Tom, the Red Wizard. ; 27 The Bantam Sport. 48 Clip, the Battery Ferret; or, Jack Jeffers’ Foul Play. Zranan BY GEORGE ©. JENKS. 4855 Git Thar Owney the Unknown. 492 Git Thar Owney’s Pledre. 518 The Demon Doctor; or, Deadhold, the Kid Detective. 581 Double-Ourve Dan, the Pitcher Detective. 598 Flutes the Singer Detective; or, Owney in a New Role, 608 The Pitcher Detective’s Fotl; or, Dan’s Double Play. 616 The Ocean Detective: or. The Last Cruise of the Black Bear, 6SL The Pitcher Detective’x Toughest Tussle. 786 Larry the Thoroughbred; or, Beaten on Every Side. 779 Lron Hand, the Charmed Detective, 854 Uncle Sam’s Detective in Chicago. BY CHARLES MORRIS. 118 WIL Somers, the Boy Detective. 122 Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. 126 Picayune Pete; or, Nicodemus, the Doz Detective, 180 Detective Dick; or, The Hero in Rags. 142 Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective, 147 Will Wildiire, the Thoroughbred. 152 Black Beas, Will Wildfire’s Racer. 157 Mike Merry the Harbor Police Boy. 162 Will Wildfire in the Wooda, 165 Billy Baggage, the Railroad Boy. 170 A Trump Card; or, Will Wildtive Wins and Luses 174 Bob Rockett; or, Mysteries of New York. 179 Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, 158 The Hidden Ttand or, Will Wildfire’s Revenge. 187 Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Boy; cr, The Smugglers. 189 Bob Rockett; or, Driven to the Wall. 196 Shadowed; or, Bob Kockett’s Fight for nafe. 206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King. 212 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective, 220 Tom Tanner; or, The Biack Sheep of the Flock, 225 Sam Charcoal the Premium Darky. 235 Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy. 242 The Two * Bloods”; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang. 252 Dick Dashaway ? or, A Dakota Boy in Chicago. . 262 The Young Sharps: or, Rollicking Mike’s Hot Trail. 2. b Jolly dim, the Detective Apprentice. 289 Jolly Jim’« Job; or, The Young Detective. 598 The Water-Hound; or, The Young Thoroughored. 805 Dashaway, of Daketa; or, A Western Lad in Quaker City. B24 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective. 841 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. 858 The Reporter-Detective ; or, Fred Flyer’s Blizzard, 867 Wide-Awanke Joe; or, A Boy of the Times. 879 Larryethe Leveler; or. The Bloods of the Boulevard. 498 Fireily Jack, the River-Rat Detective. 4 423 The Lost Finger; or, The Entrapped Cashier, “ 428 Fred Flyer, the Reporter Detective. 482 Invincible Logan, the Pinkerton Ferret. 456 Billy Brick, the Jolly Vaganond. 46> Wide-Awake Jerry, Detective; or Entombed Alive, 479 Detective Dodge; or, The Mystery of Frank Hearty. 4858 Wild Dick Racket; or, How He Fonght for Honor. 01 Boots, the Boy Fireman: or, Too Sharp for the Sharper, 566 e Secret *ervice Boy Detective. 596 Jimmy the Kid; or, A Lamb Among Wolves. 627 Tom Bruce of Arkansas: or, The Wolfin the Fold, 655 Plnecky Paul, the Boy Speculator. 667 Rob and Sam, the Daisy Detectives. 44 The Curbstone Petective: or, Harry Hale’s Big Beat, Th? Detective Frank’s Sweep-staker. 869 Ned Norman, the Gamin Broker, BY J. W. OSBON. ‘he Rival Glant« of Nowhar’. ‘actus Burr, the Man from Hard Lack. Old Buckeye, the Sierra Shadow. 564 Powder Phil, the Boy Miner; or, The Man Without a Past. 609 Bolly Dorrit, the Vetersn Detective. 620 Little Hightning’s League; or, The Mystery of tne Island 688 Plueky 1, the Boy Prospector. 751 Gold-Dust Dan, the Trail Patrol. 755 Gold Dust Dan’s Oath; or, Keckless Roy, the Regulator . r 469 498 es -_ BY PHILIP & WAKNE, 67 Patent-Leather Joe; or, Old Rattlesunke, the Charmer. 175 Capram Arizona; or, Patent-Leather Joe's Big Game. 198 Captain Mask; or, Patent-Leather Joe’s Defeat. 219 Despard, the Duelist; or, The Moantain Vempires. $88 A Tough Boy ; or, The Dwarf’s Revenge. &68 Little Tornado; or, The Outeasts of the Glen. B78 Little Jingo; or, the Queer Pard, 888 Little Oh-my 3 or, Caught in His Own Trap. 401 Little Shoo-F ly 3 or, A Race fora Ranch. 408 Little Leather-Breeches ; or, Old Jumbo’s Curse. 481 Little Ah Sing or, The Curse of Blood. 451 Colorado Kate. A Tale of the oliner 480 Three Jolly Pards; or, The Pets of Paddy’s Flat. 5it Jim Gladdenr’s Deputy; or, The Jolly Pard’s Campaign. 527 The Jolly Pards to the Rescue; or, The Jack of Hearts, 6547 Sandy Andy; or, A Good Man Down. 656 Lariat Lil; or, The Cast for a Life. 574 Old Weasel-top, the Man with the Dogs. 5938 Keen Clem, the Ranch Inp. 599 Jim Dandy the No-Name Sport. 618 Billy Blazes; or, The Skeleton’s Legacy. 685 Oklahoma Hi the Blue-Coat Scout. 648 Happy Harry’s Big Find; or, The Beautiful Jezebel 664 Cheeky Charley the Special. BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR, 2 Vellowstone Juck; or, The Trapper. 48 Black John, the Road-Agent; or, The Outlaw’s Retreat, 65 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustang Sam and His Pard. 119 ne Sam 3 or, The King of the Plains, 86 Night-Uawk Kit; or, The Daughter of the Ranch, Dainty Lance the Boy Sport. 51 Panther Paul; or, Dainty Lance to the Resene. 60 The Black Glant; or, Dainty Lance in Jeopardy. 68 Deadly Dash; or, Fighting Fire witb Fire. 84 The Boy Trailers; or, Dainty Lance on the War-Path. 208 The Boy Pards; or, Dainty Lance Unmasks. 211 Crooked Cale, the Caliban of Celestial City. $10 The Barranca Wolf; or, The Beautiful Decoy. 819 The Black Rider; or, The Horse-Thieves’ League. 885 Old Double Fist; or, The Strange Guide 855 The King of the Woods: or. Danie! Boone’s Last Trail, 449 Kit Fox, the Border Boy Detective 625 Chinecapin Dan, the Boy Tratler. 677 Chineapin Dan’s Second Trail. 688 Chincapin Dan’s Home Stretch. 698 Old Crazy, the Man Without a Head. TOS Light-Heart Lute’« Legacy. 718 Light-Heart Lute’s Last Trail. 728 Silverblade, the Shoshone. 729 Silverblade, the Half-Blood; or, The Border Beagle at Bay. 789 Silverblade, the Hostile: or, The Border Beag'e’s Trail. 748 Silverblade the Friendly; or, The Border Beagie’s Boy Pard BY OAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLOR U. 8, A, 191 Ruffalo Rilly, the Boy Bullwhacker. 194 Buffalo BIls Bet; or. The Gambler Guide, 1 1 1 1 1 BY EDWARD 8. ELLIS. 6 Bill Blddon, Trapper. 8 Seth Jones; or, The Captives of the Frontier, 10 Nat Todd; or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive. 2: ‘xne Frontier Angel. . 98 The Boy Miners; or, The Enchanted Island, 182 The Munted Hunter} or, The Strange Horsem*n. 254 The Half-Blood ; or, The Panther of the Plaine, 271 The Huge Hunter; or, The Steam Prairie Man, MISCELLANEOUS AUTHORS, 4 The Wild-lorse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Rela and Frederick Whittaker. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen. 12 Gulliver's Travels. By Dean Swift. 14 Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Lamp. 16 Robinson Orusoe. (27 Illustrations.) 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. 22 a Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By Juan wis, 88 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pirates of the Carribees. By S, W. Pierce. 86 The Boy Clewn; or, The Arena Queen. By # 8, Finn. 88 Ned Wylde, the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 61 The Boy Fif'es; or. The Underground Camp. By A. C.Irons, 95 The Rival Rovers; or, The Freebooters of the Mississipp) By Lieut.-Col, Hazeltine. 98 Rebin Ilood, the Uutiawed Earl; or, The Merry Men of Green- bs wood. By Prof. Gildersleeve. 105 Old Rube, the Hunter; or, The Crow Captive. By Captain Hamilton Holmes. 112 The Mad Hunter; or, TheCave of Death. By Burton Saxe, 124 Tippy, the Texan; or, The Young Champion. By George ee son. 128 The Young Privateer; or, The Pirate’s Stronghold. By Harry Cavendish. { 148 Sharp Sam; or, The Adventures of'a Friendleas Boy, By J. Alexander Patten. 227 Dusky Darrell, Trapper: or, The Green Ranger of the Yel- lowstone. By Edward Emerson. 261 Fergus ie go 4 the New York Boy. By G, L. Aiken. 266 Killb’ar. the Guide; »%r, Davy Crockett’s Creoked Trail, By Ensign C. D. Warren. 298 Red Claw. the One-Eyed Trapper; or, The Maid of the Cliff. By Captain Comstock. 817 Peacock Pete, the Lively Lad from Leadville. By Lieu- tenant Alfred Thorne. 828 The Sky Detective; or, A Boy's Fight for Life and Honor. By Maior Mickey Free. 850 Red Ralph, the River Rover; or, The Brother’s Re- venge. By Ned Buntline. % 865 Raltimore Ren the Bootblack Detective. By A. P. Morris. 874 Gold-Duat Tom: or, Ben’s Double Match. ByG HB. Morse, 876 Callfornia Joe’s Firat Trail. By Colonel Thomas 418 Bille Rombchell, the Cliff Climber. By F. 8. Winth 'y Bombshcll, the limber. By F. 8S. Winthrop, 475 The Black Ship. By JohnS Warner. 4 Comanche Dick and His Three Invinetblea, By Henry J. Thomas. 582 The Cowboy Duke. By Edwin Brooke Forrest, BS2 Artel the Athlete. By David Drutd. : 585 Will Waters, the Bov Ferret. By 11. Enton. 682 The Dead Petective’s Double. By Gerald Carlton. %21 Maverick Mone, tne Arizona Detective; or, The Wizard of Urkos Pass. By Will Lisenbee. . 809 Pon Danton, the Gent from Denver. By King Keene, of the U.S. Secret Service Corps. 814 Ace High, the Frisco Detective. By C. E. Tripp. 880 The Grim Lodgers in Rag Alley} or, Citizen Rube of Number Seven. By Ben D. Hallidry. 881 The Chicago Drummer’s Peal. By J. G. Rethnre. 841 Prince Charlie, the Cat’s-Paw Sport. By Marma- uke Der, <a 848 Dan, the River Sport; or, Foiling the Frisco Sharp. By Harold Payne. : 861 Billy Brine, the Swamp Fox. Py Chas. F, Welles. A New Issue Every Tuesday. F The Half-Dime Library {+ tor saie vy #1l Newsdealers, five eonts per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 Wiliam Street, New York, ,
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Se BEADLE’S« H ALF-PIME«[_IBRARY. Published Every Tuesday. Each Isswe Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Deadwood Dick Novels. 1 Deadwood 20 Deadwood 28 Deadwood 85 Deadwood 42 Deadwood 49 Deadwood x, ST Deadwood 78 Deadwood 77 Deadwood 100 Deadwood 164 Deadwood 109 Deadwood 129 Deadwood 188 Deadwood 149 Deadwood 156 Deadwood 195 Deadwood 201 Deadwood 05 Deadwood ? Deadwood 221 Deadwood 282 Gold-Duat 268 Deadwood 268 Deadwood 809 Deadwood B21 Deadwood 847 Deadwood 851 Deadwood 362 Deadwood ‘ 405 Deadwood } 410 Deadwood 421 Deadwood 480 Deadwood 445 Deadwood 445 Deadwood 458 Deadwood 459 Deadwood 465 Deadwood 471 Deadwood A776 Deadwood 451 Deadwood 491 Deadwood 496 Deadwood 600 Deadwooa 508 Deadwood ' 515 Deadwood f 522 Deadwood | 529 Veadwood 554 Deadwood BEY Deadwooa 514 Deadwood 5649 Deadwooa 5654 Deadwood 5661 Deadwooa 567 Deadwood 572 Deadwood 578 Deadwood S842 Dcadwooe 500 Deadwood 595 Deadwood 600 Deadwood 606 Deadwood 612 Deadwood 618 Deadwood 624 Deadwood 680 Deadwood 686 Deadwood 642 Dead wood : 648 Deadwood , 660 Dendwood 666 Deadwood 672 Deadwood 678 Deadwood 684 Deadwood 690 Deadwood 695 Deadwood 700 Deadwood 704 Deadwood 710 Deadwood 716 Deadwood 722 Deadwood 728 Deadwood 4 Deadwood 740 Deadwood TAZ Deadwood 752 Vendwood T5S Deudwood 764 Deadwood 770 Deadwood 7Z76 Deadwood 782 Deadwooa 7ST Deadwood 792 Deadwood 797 Dendwood 802 Deadwood 807 Dendwood 812 Deadwood 816 Deadwood 822 Deadwood 828 Deadwood 884 Dendwood 840 Deadwood 845 Deadwood 852 Deadwood S58 Deadwood 868 Deadwood 870 Dendwood R76 Dendwood S82 Deadwood 891 Deadwood 898 Deadwood 904 Deadwood 910 Deadwood 916 Deadwood 928 Deadwood 984 Deadwood 940 Dendwood 946 Deadwood 95L Deadwood 965 Deadwood 97TT Deadwood 992 Deadwood h 988 The Two Cruise. 959 Th 966 Ficht ore Fig 999 J 1014 te Ua, ne - t M Fighting pack, k Langs the Privateer dy Ned, tke Runaway, Dick, the Prince of the Road. Dick’s Defiance; or, Double Daggers. ya = tents Dey Buffads Ben. ck in « Castle, Dick’s Bonanza; or, The Phantom Miner. Dick in Danger; or, Omana Oll. Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar. Dick on Deck: or, Calamity ¢ ‘ne, the Heroine Dick’s Last Aet: or, Corduroy Charlie. Dick in Leadville. ae he ig ice; - ‘The Double Cross Sign. ck as Detective. Diek'’a Donble: or, The Gorgon’s Gulch Ghost. Dick’s } om Base; or, Blonds Bill. Dick’s Big Strike; or, A Game of Gold. Diek of Deadwood: or, The Picked Party. Dick’s Pream; or, The Rivals of the Road. Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hill’s Jezebel. Dick’« Doom: or, Calamity Jane’s Adventure. Dick’sa Dead Deal. Dick’s Peath-Plant. Dick. A Romance of Ronghs and Tougha, Dick’s Divide ; or, The Spirit of Swamp Lake. Dick’s Death Trail. Dick’s Deals or, The Gold Brick of Cregon. Dick’s Dozen; or, The Fakir of Phantom Flats Dick’s Ducata: or, Days in the Diggings. ake Gee or, The Terrible Vendetta, ck’a Claim, Dick in Dead City. Dick’s Dinmonde. Dick in New Vorks or, A “‘ Cute Case.” Dick’s Dust; or, The Chained Hand. Dick, Jr.; or, The Crimson Crescent Sign, Dick, Jr.'s, Defiance. Dick. Jr.’« Full Hand. Dick, Jr.’a, Big Round-Up. Dick Jr.’s Racket at Claim 10, Diek, Jr.’ Corral; or, Bozeman Bill. Dick, Jr.’s, Dog Detective, Dick, dr., In Deadwood, Dick, Jr.’«, Compact. Dick Jr.'s. Inheritance, Dick, Jr.'s Diggings. Diek, Jr.’«, Deliverance. pick = qpotewes. ck. Jr.'s, ree. Dick, Jr.’s, Danger Ducka, Dick, Jr.’s, Death Hunt. Dick, dr., In Texas, Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidocg Inek, Jr., on Min Mettle. Dick, Jr., tn Gotham, Dick, Jr., in Boston. Dick, Jr., in Philadelphia. pa 30° “— ek. Jr., on Dick. wr.. in Denver. Dick. Jr.'s, Decree, . Dick Jr., in Beelzebub’s Basin: Dick, Jr., at Coney Island. Dick, Jr.’*, Leadville Lay. Diek, Jr., in Detroit. Dick. Jr. in Cincinnati. Dick, Jr., In Nevada, Dick, Jr., in No Man’a Land, Dick, Jr., After the Queer. Dick Jr.. in Buffalo. Dick, dra, Chase Across the Continent Dick, Jr., Among the Smugglers. Diek, Jr.’«, lnsurance Cane, Dick, Jr., Rack in the Mines. Dick, dr., ta Durango; or, “ Gathered In.” oe! ar hens di or, Found a Fortune, fek, Jr.’s. Dazzic. Dick, Jr.’s. Dollars. Li 5 Le as Danger Divide. . ck, Jr.'s, Drop. Dick, Jr., at Jack-Pot. Dick Jr., in San Francisco, Diek, Jrv« Still Hunt. Dick, Jr.’a Dominoes, Dick, Jr.’« Diagrulae, Dick. Jr.’*, Double Deal, Dick Jr.’s. Deathwatch, Dick, Jr.’», boublet. Dick, Jr.’s, Deathblow. de Dick, Jr.’s Desperate Strait: vies ab eee or i - ck, drs Deteat. Dick, Jr.'s, Resurrection. een ER ey Days. dle Pes efled. Dick, Jr.’a, Double Device. — . Dick, Jr’.s, Desperate Venture, Dick, Jr.’a, Diamond Dice. Jr.’*, Royal Flush, Diek, Jr.’a Head-off. ee ante pine vk, dre’a, Boom. Dick, Jr.'s, Scoop. Dick, dr.’a, Proxy. Dick, drs, Clutch, Diek, Jr.’s, High Horse. Dick Jr., at Deviha Gulch. Dick, Jr.’s, Veath-Hole Hustle: Dick, Jr.’« Bombshell a= Dick, Jr.. In Mexteo. Dick, Jr’« Deeoy Duck. Dick, Jr. tn Silver Pocket. Dick. Jr.’s, Dead-Sure Game, Dick, Jr’s, Double Prive. Dick, Jr.'s, Trade-Mark. Pick, Jr., at falas aad Dick, Jr.’s Double-Decker, Dick, Jr. at Dollarville. piers ie a Er see Flats. ek, Jr.'s, ake-up. Dick, Jr.’s, Double Breve Dick, Jr.’s, Right Bower. 957 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Ten-Strike. Dick, Jr.'s, Gold-Dust 9T1 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Oath, : Dick, Jr.’s, Death-Doom. 986 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Best Card. Dick, dr., at_Gold Dust. 998 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Big Play. 1005 Deadwood Dick, 1011 Dsadwo sd D ck, Je.’«. Dutch Pard, BY T, J. FLANAGAN,’ 909 Midshipman Dare, the Pirate Catcher. 925 The % ung, Cowper Captain. Jr., Branded. dshipmen ; or, The Corsair-Chaser’s First 949 The Three Licutenants e Masco fddy ¢ or, The Four Commanders. Shy hrtek. is Middies ; or, Dandy Dick’s Dash. Vers . HO yer gy wes 45-3 —-9 Five Cents, by all Newsdealers.. Other Novels by E. L. Wheeler. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight. 84 Rosebud Rob on Hand; or, Idyl, the Girl Miner. 88 Rosebud Rob's Reappenrance; or, Photograph Pbil. 121 Rosebud Kob’s Challenge; or, Cinnamon Chip. 277 Denver Doll, the Detective Queen; or, The Yankee’s Surround 281 Denver Doll’s Victory; pr. Skul! and Crossbones. 285 Denver Doll’« Decoy ; of. Little Bill’s Bonanza. 296 Denver Doll’s Drift; or. The Road Queen. B68 Yreka Jim, the Gold-Gatherers or, The Life Lottery, 872 Yreka Jim’s Prize; or. The Wolves of Wake-Up. i 685 Yreka Jim’s Joker; or, The Rivals of Red Nese, 894 Yreka Jim ot Yuba Dam, 209 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective; or. Dot Leetle Game. 218 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventriloquist Hunter 244 Sierra Sam, the Frontier Ferret; or, A Sister's Devotion. 248 Sierra Sams Secret; or, The Bloody Footprinta 258 Sierra Sam’s Pard; or, The Angel of Big Vista. 258 Sierra Sam’s Sevens or, The Stolen Bride, 884 Kanguaroe Kit; or, The Mysterious Miner. $89 Kangaroo Kit’s Racket; or, The Pride of Played-Out. 89 Death-Fuace, Detective; or, Life in New York. 96 Watch-Eye, the Detective; or, Aribs and Angels, 117 Gilt-Edged Dick, the Sport Detective 145 Captain Ferret, the New York Detective, 164 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective. 226 The Arab Detective ; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp, 291 Turk the Boy Ferret. 825 Kelley, Hickey & Co., the Detectives of Philadelphia. 848 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Detective. 400 Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective. 416 Wigh Hat Harry, the Base Ball Detective. 426 Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Boy Detective. 484 Jim Beak and Pal, Private Detectives. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures, 82 Bob Woolf or, The Girl Dead-Shot. 45 Old Avalanche: or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand. 58 Jim Bludsoe, JIr., the Boy Phenix. 61 Buackhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Teara 92 Canada Chet ; or, Oli Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp. 118 Jaek Hoyle the Young Sneculator. 125 Bonanza Hill, Miner; «r, Madam Mystery, the Forger. 188 Boss Bob . the King of Bootblacks. 141 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent; or, The Branded Brows, 177 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Sierras Scamps 181 Wild Frank the Buckskin Bravo; or. Lady Lily’s Love. 286 Apollo BAll, the Trail Tornado; or, Rowdy Kate. 240 Cyclone Kit, the Young Gladiator; or, The Locked Valley. 278 Jumbo Joe, the Boy Patro): or, The Rival Heirs. B80 Little Qufck-Shot; or, The Dead Face of Daggersaville. 858 First-Class Fred, the Gent trom Gopher. 878 Nabob Ned? or, The Secret of Slab City. 882 Cool Kit, the Kirg of Kids; or, A Villain’s Vengeance. 488 Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher; or, A Son’s Vengeance. , 486 Sealakin Sam. the Sparkler; or The Tribunal of Ten. 918 Kit Keith, t e Reveiue Spotter. 922 Sol Sharpe, the New_York Night-Hawk. 948 Old Haywxeed Among Bunco Men. 1001 Banty, the Denver Bootblack. BY J. C. COWDRICK, 490 Broadway Billy, the Bootblack Bravo. 614 Broadway Billy’« Boodle; or, Clearing a Strange Case 586 Broadway Billy’« ‘ Difikilty.” 657 Broadway Billy’s Peath Racket. 579 Broadway Billy’s Surprise Party. 605 Broadway Billy; or, The Boy Detective’s Big Inning. 628 Broadway Billy’« Dead Acts or, The League of Seven 669 Broadway Billy Abroad; or, The Bootblack in Frisco. 675 Broadway Billy’« Beast; or, Beating San Francisco's Finest, 687 Broadway Billy tn Clover. . f 696 Broadway Billy in Texas; or, The River Rustlers, 708 Broadway Billy’« Brand. 711 Brondway Billy at Santa Fe; or, The Clever Deal. 720 Broadway Billy’s F'ull Wand: or, The Gamin Detective, 785 Broadway Billy’a Business. 788 Broadway Billy’s Curious Case. 758 Broadway Billy in Denver. 762 Broadway Billy's Bargain; or, The Three Detective. 769 Broadway Billy, the Retriever Detective. 775 Broadway Rilly’« Shadow Chase. Broadway Billy’s Beagles; or, The Trio’s Quest, 786 Brondway Billy’« Team; or, The Combine’s Big Pall. 790 Broadway Billy’s Brigade; or. The Dead Alive. 796 Broadway Billy’s Queer Bequest. 800 Broadway Billy Baffled. 805 Broadway Bitlly’« Signal Scoop. 810 Broadway Hilly’s Wipe Out. 815 Brondway Billy’a Bank Racket. Rrondway Billy’s Bluff. 826 Broadway Bitly Among Jersey Thugs. 888 Broadway Billy’« Raid. S89 Broadway Billy’« Big Boom, 844 Broadway Billy’« Ble Bulge. 849 Broadway Bliilly’« $100,000 Snap. 856 Broadway Billy’s Blind: or, The Bootblack Stowaway. 862 Broadway Billy in London. S68 Broadway Billy Shadows London Slums. S74 Broadway Hilly’« French Game. 880 Broadway Billy and the Bomb-Throwers. 860 Kilver-Mask, the Man of Mystery; or, The Golden Keys. 869 Shasta, the Gold ing} or, For Seven Years Dead. 420 The Detective’s Apprentice; or, A Boy Without , Name, 424 Cibuta Jonny; or, Red-Hot Times at Ante Bar. 489 Sandy Sam, the Street Scout. 467 Disco Dan, the Daisy Dude. 506 Redlight Ralph the Prince of the Road. 524 The atone Detective; or, Redlight Ralph’s Resolve 548 Mart, the Night Express Detective. 5T1 Air-Line Luke the Young Engineer; or, The Dovble Case 592 The Boy Pinkerton; or, Running the Rascals Out. 615 Fighting Harry the Chief of Chained Cyclone. 640 Bareback Reth, the Centaur of the Circle. , 647 Tyrewrliter Tilly, the Merchant’s Ward. 659 Moonlight Morgan the“ Pizenest ”’ Map of Ante Bar, 887 Battery Bob. the Dock Detective. 894 Arizona Dick’s W ipe-Out. 900 Jumping Jack’« Jubilee. 906 Satety Sams the Cycle Sport. 912 Train Boy Trist’s HWot Hustle, 918 The Trump Dock-Boy. 924 Big Roots Bob, the Fire-Laddle. 980 Kusiler Ralph, the Boy Spotter. 985 The Ex-Newshoy Detective’s Chum. 941 The Bowling Green Detective’s Drop. 944 Cowboy Charlie’« Double. ; 947 The Bowery W restler; or, The Butcher-Boy’s Backer. 958 Paddy's Trump Card; or, Silver Sallie, the Girl Sport, 960 The Broadway Sport: or, Fiver Fred’s Clear Case. 967 81000 Reward; or, The Rival Reporters’ Sleek Scoop. $78 Bantam Billy, the Corker-Ferret. 978 Plucky Pat. the Street-Boy Detective. 989 Bicycle Bob’s Hot Scorch, 997 Scorcher Sam, the Detective on Wheels 1004 Seorcher Sam’s Sweep-Stake s- 1009 T'we Giri Cy clis’s Winning Hand. BY WILLIAM PERRY BROWNE. 956 Brooklyn Rob's Bulge: or, Dodger Dot’s Diamond Snap. 968 The East-Side Spotter: or, Turning Down the Big Three 974 Old Sant’s Dark Deal: or, Miner Mat’s Iron Grip, 1015 The Reporter-Detective’s Big Pull. BUFFALO BILL NOVELS, BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM. | 1018 Buffalo Bills Texas Team. 1007 Buffalo Bill’s Sure-Shota. 1000 Buffalo Kill’s Decoy Boya. 995 Buffalo Bill’s Drop; or, Dead-Shot Ned , the Kausas Kid 988 Buffalo Bill's Lasso Throwers, 981 Buffalo Bill's Fighting Five. 975 Buffalo Bill's iifle Shots. 968 Buffato Bills Kush Ride; or, Sure-Shot, the High-Fiyer. 964 Buffalo Bills Decoy: or, The Arizona Crack Shot, 955 Buffalo Bill’s Mazeppa-Chase. 948 Buffalo Bills Snap-xbot 3 or, Wild Kid's Texan Taliy 942 Buffalo Bill's Tough Tuasle. 986 Buffalo Bill’s Boy Mascot; or, Joe Jarvis’ Hold-up. 929 Buffalo Bill’s Crack-shot Pard. 650 Buffalo Bill's Boy Pard; or, Butterfly Billy. 216 Sison Bll, the Prince ot the Reins. 222 Bison Bill's Clue: or. Grit, the Bravo Sport, BY BUFFALO BILL. 55 Deadly-Eye. the Unknown Scout; or, The Banded Brotherhood 68 Border Robin Hood; or, The Prairie Rover. 158 Faney Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s Trust. BY CAPT, ALFRED B,. TAYLOR, U. 8. A. 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker. 194 Buffalo Bill's Bet; or, The Gambler Guide. BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM. 982 New Vork Nat’s Drop: or, Ex-Ferret Sykes’ Bold Game 926 New York Nat and the Traitor Ferret. 920 New York Nat Trapped. 914 New York Nat's Three of a Kind. 908 New York Nat’s Double. 902 New York Nat’s in Colorado. 896 New York Nat in Gold Nugget Camp. SSY New York Nat’s Deadly Deal, S888 New York Nat’s Crook-Chase. S77 New York Nat’s Trump Card. S87L New York Nat and the Grave Ghouls. 865 New York Nat’s Masked Mascot, 859 New Vork Nat, the Gamin Detective. 858 Dick Doom’s Kidnapper Knock-Out. 847 Dick Doom’s Ten Strike. 842 Dick Deom’s Flush Hand. 772 Dick Doom’s Death-Grip; or, The Detective by Destiny, T7TZ Dick Doonm’s Destiny; or, The River Blackleg’s Terror. 784 Dick Doom: or, the Sharps and Sharks ot New York, 788 Dick Doom in Boston; or, A Man of Many Maske, 798 Dick Doom tn Chicago. 798 Dick Doom in the Wild Weat._ ] 4 808 Dick Doom’s Clean Sweep; or, Five Links in a Clue. 808 Dick Doom’s Death Clue, Dick Doom’s Diamond Deal, 819 Dick Doom’s Girl Mascot. 829 Dick Doom’s Shadow Hunt, 885 Dick Doom’s Big Hoeul. 7 749 Dashing Charlie; or, The Kentucky Tenderfoot’s First Trali. 756 Dashing Charlie’s Testiny; or, The Renegade’s Captive, 760 Dashing Charlie’s Pawnee Pard. 766 Dashing Charlie, the Rescuer. 497 Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. 787 Buck Taylor, the Comanche’s Captive. 748 Buck Taylor’s Boys; or, The Red Riders of the Rio Grande, 560 Pawnee Bt], the Prairie Shadower. 718 Pawnee Bill: or, Carl, the Mad Cowboy. 719 Pawnee Billa Pledge; or, The Cowboy's Doom. 725 Pawnee Bill; or, Daring Dick. 692 Redfern’« Curtous Case: ™, The Rival Sharpes. Kedtern at De vile Kaneh; or, The Sharp from Texas, 702 Redtern’« High Handy; or, Blue Jacket. 707 Redfern’s Last Trail: or, The Red Sombrero Rangers, And Fifty Others. BY LIEUT. A. K,. SIMS. 589 Tom-Cat and Pard; or, The Dead Set at Silver City. 622 Tom-Cat’s Triad; or, The Affuir at Tombstone, 681 Tom Cat’s Terrible Task; cr, The Cowboy Detective. 688 Tom-Cat’s Triumph; or, Black Dan's Great Combine. 646 Captain Cactus, the Chaparral Cock; or, Josh’s Ten Strike 5668 The Dandy of badges or, Rustling jor Millions. 676 The Silver Sport: or, Josh Peppermint’s Jubilee. 5S88§S8affron Sol, the Man With a Shadow 601 Happy Hana, the Dutch Vidoca; or, Hot Timesat Round-Up 611 Bildad Barnacle, the Detective Hercules. 646 Cowboy Gid, the Cattle-Range Detective. 657 Warbling Williem the Mountain Mountebank, 665 Jolly Jeremiahs the Plains Detective. 676 Signal Sam, the Lookout Scout. 689 Billy, the Gypsy Spy: or, The Mystery of Two Lives, 699 Riraple Sim, the Rroncho Buster: or, For Bie Stakes. 712 The Meameriat Sport; or, The Mystified Detectives 738 Toltec Tom, the Mad Prospector, 45 Kansas Jim, the Cross-Cut Detective. 761 Marmaduke, the Mostanger Detective. 778 The Rustler of Rolling Stone. 785 Lone Wand Jee the Committee of One. 801 Kent Kirby, the High-Kicker from Killbuck. 882 The Doctor Dete etive in Texas. 872 Two Showmen Petectives in Colorado. 987 The Texan Firebrand; or, Brazos Billy’s Snap.Shot. 961 The Tramp’s Trump-Trick. NEW ISSUES. 1021 Doctor Pau’, Dricetive. By Leon Lewis. 1022 Dare Slonn’s (lose Call. By Maj. Dangerfield Burr, 1028 The Cowboy Clan in Cuta, By Col P. Ingrabam, 1024 Dandy Bick, Detective. By Robert R. Inman, 1025 The Flying Yankee; or, The Ocean Outcast. By Col. P. Ingrabam. JUST ISSUED. 1016 The Boy Dagier in ©uba; or, The Cowboy Clan On Deck. By Col. P. Ingraham. : 1017 De ective Ma‘t’« Man-Hunt or, Downing the Des- perate Dozen. By Ned St. Meyer. 1018 Deadwood Dies, Jr.'s, Big Four. By E, L. Wheeler 1019 Burd BRayard’s Close Call. By Capt. Hawthorne. 1020 Barn y Blake, the Boy Privateer. By H. Johnstone A New Issue Every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all newsdealers, five eonts per eopy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 92 William Street, New York,