Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1072) (1898 02 08)
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No. 1072. _ Keen-Knife, | PRINCE OF THE PRAIRIES, BY OLL COOMES, AUTHOR oF ‘'VAGABOND JOE,’ ‘THE DUMB SPY,” “ANTELOPE ABE, THE BOY GUIDE,” ETC., ETO, Five Cents a Copy. $2.50 a Year. CHAPTER-I. THE PRINCE TO THE RESCUE. It was mid-September and the day was near | its close. The air was balmy, with just breeze enough | torustle the forest leaves and stir the tall prai- rie-grass into gentle continuous billows. e wooded aisles were rife with that mingled sweetness so peculiar to the woods at this season of the year; while upon the prairie, the air camo | laden with the odor of a hundred different kinds_of beauteous flowers. Not a sound could be heard in the forest—not a living ob- ject could be seen upon the great prairie; but as the mo- mentss/pore on, the figure of a youth emerged.from the forest shadows and paused upon the edge of the plain. He was not over eighteen years of age, and his buck- skin garments and numerous weapons told that he was one of those daring, hardy fel- lows—a hunter and trapper of the great North-west. He was of medium hight, with a well-developed form, sinewy limbs and muscles. and # face as handsome as it was Clear in its display of the predominant traits of his character. His oyes were of a dark-brown, and although mild and pleasant in expres- sion, they were as quick and as the eyes of a hawk. ith his rifle resting in the hollow of his left arm, his head erect, and his brows andere in a ag 2 pied close scrutiny, the you bes the pain before him. But a single object appear- ed upon its green bosom, which stretched away for miles and miles ina gently Undulating expanse. That object was a mere white speck, and appeared on_ the summit of a hill over three miles away. With steady eyo ho watch- ed it, wondering what it could possibly be. Ina few minutes, however, a second and third white object ap- peared on tbe crest of the rairie wave, and then a fight ef recognition beamed in the young hunter’s eyes. “Tes a party of ime- @ants,” he said to himself, Entered as Second Class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post Office. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 92 WILLIAM STREET, New York, ‘for my name is not Rob Radcliff. Them ’are white objects are their covered wagons, and now it strikes me they’re goin’ to have trouble, for the Sioux are nya any apd everywhere after scalps. It may be only a party of men able to | take keer of themselves, but if there’s any wo- men ’mongst them, may God protect them. Surely they’re not ignorant of the danger into which they’re goin’. If I thought they were, I’d | go straight and tell them to turn tail-and git. They’ll bout make the river to-night and camp; then I'll try and go down and see who they are and whare they're goin’.” The youth turned and glided into the forest and moved away at a brisk pace through its leafy aisles. A few minutes’ walk brought him to the edge of a large opening, or glade, several hundred acres in area. Jt was of an ‘ellip- tical form, and cut in two by the Rac- coon river, which, flowing in 9g, north-east- Copyrighted 1898, by BEADILw® AND ADAMS, » aeprg WORLEY Vives Aiea February 8, 1898, A erly direction across it, described the short diameter. In the dense thicket, bordering the glade, the youth again paused and Canad t that was presented to his view. Upon the banks of the river nearly half a mile away, stood a, goodly-sized log-house of no mean pretensions, with front facing the river and a trellised ie overgrown with wid ivy and honeysuckle. It was inclosed by a rail fence, which, also, encircled scme forty acres of the rich valley land, that were in a good state of Published Every Tuesday cultivation, as a promising crop of maize bore § witness. Beyond the river a herd of cattle tend- ed by a negro boy was grazing. Not far from the main building were two or NS These } three others, quite small and hovel-like. were the cabins of the servants who tilled the land and tended the herds of the man who claim- ed all, and who dwelt in the large house with the vine-clad porch, But, what wasmoststrar¢o about this little settlewe.t, was neglect of defensive measures, such as a block- house, stockade and loop- holes in the buildings; and ficient evidence of their own- er being on terms of ce dians. peaceable intercourse honor- able? or were the owner of that place and his, servante in league with the dusky den. izens of the forest? often asked himself, but with- out a definite answer. He was satisfied, however, that the tall, dark-faced man that owned the Hidden Home, as the place was called by the hunters and trap was having thus secre and family in such an out- enshrouded in some mystery. The youth had every reason to believe that his professed honorable calling was only a scheme to cover up some evil work. He had only been there about two years, and, as yet, no words of suspicion had been carried to the ears of the Territorial officials, hence his peace from that quarter. Only the hunters and trappers thereabouts were in a cloud, not so much from his secret location and calling, as his being on friendly terms with the In dians. Rob Radcliff had been to the house of Don Manuel La Mort, as he had heard the lord of the Hidden Home called, but had met with such @ cool reception from tli strangers as told him ot ar CPS ELLE CALE BELLE OR GLEE ( SQ) CesT TGEM “3 Vol. XLIL | ypon the scene ff the absence of them was suf- and friendship with the In- ff But were those terms of | These were the questions } that the young hunter had # not altogether rigbt, and his ff ad himself | of-the-way place, was an act (i i
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£' _ seorn, she said: hen, from the woods on the right, a snow-white pony galloped into the opening. Upon its back was seated a young white girl of some eighteen summers—a being as fair as the young trapper had ever gazed upon. A graceful and rounded form with every feature handsomely developed; red cheeks and lips; dark, brilliant eyes, and hair that was black as the raven’s wing and hung in wavy tresses down her back—all these made her a being of rare beauty to the eyes of Rob | Radcliff, the Boy Hunter. ' For a moment he feasted his eyes upon her, then he involuntarily stepped from his covert into the opening. . The beautiful girl saw him, and at the same * moment drew reinand turned her animal’s head toward the stranger. : The Boy Hunter approached her with a puz- zled expression upon his face, ‘* Pardon me, miss,” he said, sporoeenicallys “for interruptin’ your peaceful ride.” -“ Twas not aware that you had, young man,” the maiden replied, kindly; ‘but your face looks familiar, and if I mistake not, you have been at our house.” _ “Tf you live yonder,” he replied, pointing to- ward fhe house of Manuel La Mort, ‘‘ yon vrob- ably have seen me there, bué ’m sure - never met you before, and would be pleased to know who you are.” The maiden smiled at his rude politeness, and _— having glanced uneasily around her, she said; “My name is Camilla La Mort, I am the daughter of Manuel La Mort, the owner of this ‘Lone Estate,’ as we call it; and it would not be well for me to be seen holding communica- tion with a stranger.” WEL Ot “‘ Ah! then your privileges are limited?” Rob “Yes, sir; that fully expresses the fact of my . Tam not allowed to speak to any one un- less it is one of our servants or the Indians. I cannot say why it is that I am refused this privilege.’ “Then your folks are on friendly terms with . the Indians?” ‘Yes, sir.” “How does that come, when us trappers can’t _ Say our scalps will be our own the next hour?” I cannot say, unless my father exerts great influence over them, We have lived here two po and have never had any trouble from that source,” _ “And may I ask where you're from to this country?” : “Such information I have been forbidden, under penalty of the lash, ever to breathe to any one.” Se ; “* By whom were you forbidden?” “My father,” ; _ He must be a monster!” the youth exclaim- » ed, though he had scarcely uttered the words ere he regretted having done so, and was about vad rca ae for his rash speech, when the maiden “My father is a Spaniard by birth and an American by education. He was born and bred in Loui from whence he came to this country. He is of a fiery and impetuous na- ture, and it would be death to you and me both were he to know of this conversation, so I must away.” “One moment, Camilla,” said the Boy Hunt- _ er; ‘does not your father follow some evil call- ing here in this secluded sp wie e face of the maiden 6 slightly flush- ed, and in a tone in which there was a tinge of father?” cried, re- “Would » 6 No, ou ask me to convict na no, Miss Camilla,” the yout gretfully, * not for the world; yet the nature of your question is an affirmative answer to my - question. I know you are not entirely happy here in this secluded home, and it has been sus- among us hunters and trappers that cted Bon Manuel La Mort is not what he pretends to be.” + er’s _ of our country; and I am uuhappy—very un- your ~~ The f | { | rescue of his youns rend, he uttered a pece **T promise you both, upom my sacred word and honor,” returned the youth. ‘Then come nearer; there may be prying ears around,” she said, and when the Boy Hunt- er approached nearer, she continued: ‘‘ For over a year father has been following the evil call- ing of a—” She did. not finish the sentence, for just then there came a crashing through the thicket be- at them, followed by the massive tread of eet. “ Filled with sudden fear, Camilla gave her po- ny the reins and dashed away; but our hero calmly turned to see who the intruder was. A tall, dark man, with clouded brow and flashing eyes, was approaching him. It was Manuel La Mort. In one hand he carried a heavy rawhide rid- ing-whip, and as he advanced toward the young hunter, he raised it aloft and fairly hissed be- tweeh his set teeth: ‘*Curses upon you, you young buck-skin! Pll cowhide the life out of you! Ill teach you the price of loafing about my premises. like a sneak- ing whelp, and meeting that girl in secret to worm from her that which does not concern you—my business here.” He oy Sc our hero and grasped him rudely by the shoulder. The youth saw the vindictive gleam of his dark eyes, and the facial muscles twitching with anger. He knew the fire of the man’s impetuous spirit was raging within his breast, and that he had a terrible foe to deal with, Boldly the youth confronted his adve : He never flinched from his strong grasp, yet he seemed like a child by the side of the giant, Manuel La Mort, “Be careful, Don La Mort!” exclaimed our ' hero; ‘fone lick of that whip will be your death-warrant!” . The giant did not heed the warning, but sum- moning all his strength, he brought the whip downward through the air. But the youth was on the alert, and as the rawhide descended, he threw up his hand and rege, it near the giant’s hand, and arrested its further descent, Quick asa flash his fingers closed upon the, stock of the gy apn then, with a movement cone as quick, he snatched it from La Mort’s Springing lighu'y backward, the youth raised the scourge and guve his enemy a cut across the eyes that sent him staggering away, howling with rage and blinded with pain. The yeaa Bases was about to follow up the advantage already gained, and apply the whip upon the giant bully until he begged for quar- ter, but at this juncture three -nude figures d ang: from the thicket, with yells that could }. ave been heard for miles, ; a. was a party of La Mort’s friends—Sioux In- ians! Before the Boy Hunter could draw a weapon, the foremost savage was upon him, but quick as a flash of lightning he struck the say. across the face twice in succession with the whip, and |, sent him to the earth, writhing and howling. with agony. The second savage closed upon the youth, and before he could strike again, pinioned his arms Pre bind ean rushed up, and e third savage now up, aspin the youth by the hair with the lefthan , drew a scalping-knife with the other. , The next moment the weapon was at the young hunter’s head, Onecircling sweep of the taaden anda cry of fiendish triumph burst from the red-skin’s lips, as he flourished aloft the Boy Hunter’s scalp! But it was the last scalp-cry of the warrior. The next moment he fell dead, with a bullet through his brain. Then forth from the thicket leaped another form—the form of a young Indian, in the hand of whom wasa rifle from whose muzzle a thin | wreath of smoke was ac It_was the white man’s friend, Keen-Knife, the Prince of the Prairies) CHAPTER IL A DOUBLE Sos Library. : LP. As ~Knife leaped from the thicket to the . ne ce te . - EASE. wn amd terrible war-whoop that was readily nized by the Boy Hunter, as well as his ene- mies. Then he 4 ae 3 upon his friend’s eaptor, bringing a tomahawk down upon his tufted Stor burying the weapon to the eye in his rain. The savage that Rob had steuck with the whip, as well as Manuel La Mort, hearing the cry of the terrible young Prince of, the Prairies, struggled to their feet and beatia hasty retreat toward the cabins of the Lone Estate.. Keen-Knife would have given pursuit, had | not the condition of his young friend demanded his attention. The Indian youth, although a few years older than Rob Radcliff, was apparently much. young- er. His face was devoid of paint, and that usual silent and low igaiy expression so.character- istic of the Indian. H and build, yet with firm-knit limbs, powerful museles, a deep, full chest, and wide, massive shoulders, His eyes were black, and bright as polished ebony; and his hair, of the same hue as his eyes, hung in a long, flowing mass down his back to fis hips. Around his be , flaring outward. at the top and set with a. number of small silver stars, was a fillet of red leather, to which was attached two or three white eagle- plumes. : : ! His garb was made after the prevailing fash- ion of the white hunter, though of a, material that would have dazzled the eyes of an old bor- derman. His tunic was made of deep-blue cloth, trimmed with yellow fringe around the skirts, and confined at the waist by a belt of wampum. Around the shoulders was a cape of spotted fawn-skin, to: which was attached a neck- lace of bear’s-claws.. The feet- were incased in buck-skin moccasins highly ornamented, and the leggings were of some green material, fringed. ie oe side with yellow buck-skin and stained — eathers, Keen-Knife was no. Indian dandy. The pure blood of a once powerful, but not extinct tribe. coursed his veins.. He had been raised from in- fancy by a white family; for years he had been the boon companion of that noted youth, Ante- lope Abe; ne ha imbibed many of the princi- ples of the white man, and was known as the white man’s friend... From. those whom he had ity of scout, had he received served in the ca those fancy articles of clothing, made by nim- ble white fingers whose fair owners vied with each other for the good graces of the young Prince of the Prairies. “Ts Bold-Heart hurt?” he asked, turning to young Radeliff. ‘ ° ‘“‘No; but by the blue blazes, Keen-Knife!” exclaimed the Boy Hunter, ‘your comin’ was just in the nick of time to save that varmint goin’ one skirlp deeper.” “What does my youngfriendmean? Did not the Sioux get his scalp?” - Hat! hat ha!” laughed the youth, “‘he got one of them, Prince, but not the one I think most of. That's twice that old rig of if wig has pays to @8Ca) hae Indian when saw how artfu. strike Sea He’ll be more cautious e was of medium hight - The young 6 ey thicket, closely followed by Rob, and soon they Wiel were to the left of t
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~*~ ae ee ge: > ‘ sae as | RE ERR VETS SE I LR I A kind of free prisoner, willing to escape if she gnly knew where to go. I must know more ‘about her, Prince, and shall hang around the place till I gain the desired information.” Keén*Kunife shook his head negatively, and re- ied: ; “Tf the dark-browed man heard her speak with you, he will put bonds upon her and you will see her then oily in the wolf’s den.” The Boy Hunter’s brow knitted with anger, | § Cnrse him!” he exclaimed. ‘‘I will take his life, but what I release her!” The Indian smiled and said: ‘‘ Bold-Eeart loves the daughter of the dark- browed man.” ~ ‘* No, no, Prince, I can’t say that: but I must ‘say my sympathies have been aroused in her behalf. She’s young and handsome, Prince, but never, never las the passion called love dis- turbed my breast. I’ve a curious heart that way. It never has, nor doI believe it ever will, throb in unison with any other heart.” ‘‘Time brings changes to the heart as well as to the body and mind, Bold-Heart,” said Keen- Knife. ay ; “That may all be, Prince. I consider it no disgrace for a feller to love a purty girl. But, see here: awhile ago I saw an emigrant-train of several wagons comin’ over the big prairie, and, judging from their course, they will strike the river ’bout two miles below here. It may be emigrants wanting a guide, and if so we might secure the job and make a few extras, as pelt- ries are not worth anything nowadays. If -yowll go down the river and see who it is, rince, P’ll make a scout bout the Lone Estate, as the gal called it. Ill meet you here again at midnight.” - ‘*T will go down the river and look after the train, asmy young friend desires, but hate to see you go alone about the Lone Estate. -Dan- gers hover around it, But Bold-Heart has keen eyes and ears, and let him keep on his guard. I will be here at midnight.” “ That's you, Prince,” replied the Boy Hunter, “‘and now I will lean out for tall timber.” They separated, one going down the river and the other up. ’ The face of Keen-Knife wore an expression of regret and anxiety. He did not entirely favor the project of his young friend reconnoitering about the Lone Estate. He was satisfied that every Sega to it was guarded by the tools of La Mort. But, with his rifle af a trail, the red youth glided briskly along the river with every faculty on the alert. He had gone thus some distance when sudden ly the prolonged reverberation of a rifle came booming down the valley and died away in faint echoes through the woods. It came from up the river, and what was most alarming about the report, was its being closely followed by a wail as of human agony. p Keen-Knife stopped. He knew it was not the report of Bold-Heart’s rifle, and a cloud of fear swept over his face. : e believed his young friend had got into trouble; and turning, he glided rapidly k up the river. "Boon he came to where they had parted. ; He stopped and listened. ° All was silent—si- sent as the grave itself. 7 Looking up Bold-Heart’s trail, he set off to follow it. It was, however, with great difficul- ty that he did so, for the white youth was al- most as expert in hiding a trail as Keen-Knife was in following one. He moved on several hundred paces and was nearing the edge of the Lone Estate, when he discovered that the trail suddenly became deep- er and plainer,. The steps were further gree which fact alone convinced Rob’s red friend that Rob had set off at a rapid run. Still a few steps on, he saw numerous other tracks in the yielding soil, and where the old leaves had been torn up as if by the feet of persons in a hand-to-hand en- counter, ; his satisfied Keen-Knife that his young friend had met with a savage foe—probably a dozen of them, and had been slain. He looked around and was nota little surprised to see drops of blood spattered over the leaves. Some one had been wounded, either Bold-Heart or an enemy. The young Indian halted and gazed around him. Ié was now almost sunset, and twilight shadows were.gathering in the woods, A deep, dread silence prevailed—a silence that was ominous as death itself tothe ear of Keen-Knife. With his hands clasped over the muzzle of his rifle, and his neck craned forward, he gazed around him with asteady eye. $ Buddenly he started and a low ery issued frow Sa mg nee, SRLS TOIL OTT / / | —— a Keen-Knife, his lips, as his eyes fell upon a heap of old, dank leaves and twigs that had been raked together quite recently into an elongated pile, a foot or two in hight by five or more in length. What was the meaning of it? Was ita snare to entrap him? For a moment the young Prince of the Prairies stood and gazed at the object. But he soon satisfied himself that there was no life beneath | it, and advanced cautiously toward it. Before he reached the pile of leaves he saw | where some heavy body had been dragged along | upon the ground. The trail was marked with streaks of clotted blood, and ended at the heap of leaves. Keen-Knife’s worst fears were in a manner realized when he suddenly discovered a human moccasined foot protruding from beneath the pile of decaying vegetation. Then he knew a.lifeless human body lay buried there. He halted almost sick at heart. There was not a doubt in his mind but it was the lifeless form of his young friend, Bold-Heart, the Boy Hunter, CHAPTER III. THE FAIR FUGITIVE, Just at sunset, three days previous to the opening of our story, a party of emigrants went into camp on the banks of a little stream that found its way into the Raccoon river. There were eight or ten canvas-covered wagons, besides a two-wheeled vehicle, whose contents were hidden by a long wooden box. The general appearance of the emigrants and their outfit, was not of the rougher and meaner sort. On the contrary, they were a pleasant, bright and intelligent-looking party, and their wagons and stock were of a superior grade. e party was tino argo of some forty persons, including several African servants and teamsters. The presence of the negroes was evidence of itself, that most of the party hailed from the Southern States, as was, in fact, the case. The eldest of them, and the a nt leader of the party, had passed the meridian of life, yet he was a tall, powerful man in whose air and deportment there was a strong military bear- ing, which evidently came as much of nature as habit and disciplinary training. ’ His face wore a few writes: and his hair and long flowing beard were white as snow. There was a remarkable degree of firmness and dauntless courage manifested in his steel-gray eyes and upon his stern. bearded face. This was Major Thomas Bronson, or more familiarly known as Major Tom. He had won the title of major by invaluable services as a soldier; and as an old campaigner, there were none in the party better i ified to lead it into = dangers of the Great West, than Major Tom ronson, He was a widower, and in fact, it might have been said he was alone in the world had it not been for his adopted daughter, Dora Barnwell, a bright-eyed little maiden of some sixteen summers. In her the old major found much joy and happiness, for she was a merry-hearted and vivacious little creature, full of innocent mischief and enthusiasm, which had a tendency to gain the love of every one, and which kept an air of cheerfulness around all. There is another person in the party who re- quires our present notice. It is Frank Hey- ward, a youth of some two-and-twenty years. He was not only pre sing in appearance, but a man whose whole bearing indicated intel- ligence and mental culture. He was kind and Ee ite to all, full-of life, brave and daring toa ault; and like Dora Barnwell he was one of the bright Seerentions of the little party. Frank had no relations in the company, but between him and the major there existed a mutual friendship. The young man’s father and Major Bronson had been friends from early boyhood, and when David Heyward died, the major found a true representative of his old friend, in his son Frank. their journey, Frank and the major were noticed, upon many occasions, in private consultation, which was invariably ended when- ever any one approached them. And although not the shadow of a suspicion of any Makan was entertained by any of the party, they believed the two had some secret object in view in coming West, far more po be than the major’s eolonizing scheme. Bus what it was, ne one could form the slightest conception. As before rym the party from the ee ee ee = swe ee : 3 y TOON em South, with one or two exceptions. They had the fertile valley of the Raccoon river in view for planting a colony, although they were breasting many dangers in their undertaking. The creek upon which they had encamped | was covered on one side by a dense growth of cottonwoods, beneath whose arcading boughs and foliage, the wagons were drawn and the tents pitched. The animals were corraled at the edge of the prairie, and a guard posted on either side of the encampment, During the preparations of the evening m those that were not engaged passed the moments Im various way 8. A group of four were seated at one side, look- ing over a map of the Great West. ‘You see, major,” said Ethan White, “we must be nearing the Raccoon—I should judge we were not over a day’s journey from it, at furthest.” ‘That is my opinion, exactly,” said Major Bronson, ‘‘and if we are in the right latitude, I am almost certain we will strike the very point of which I spoke. It has been some ten years since I passed up the river with the party of explorers; but at that time, I remarked upon the great natural advantages offered for a colony upon the river where we are going.” ‘Then the tract of land lies contiguous to the river?” “Tt is a vast plain rising from the river's banks, and extends eastward for miles, where it meets a low escarpment of table-land, or rollin igre There is timber in abundance north o he little creek that forms the northern boun- dary of the plain.” “But I fear, major,” said White, “we will be too far inland to make agriculture a suc cess. ‘“ Why so?” ‘* We will be too far from a market for our products,” “That depends entirely upon circumstances, If we should make stock-raising a specialty, it would—” “A horseman! a horseman, coming this way at a rapid speed!” c These words rung in stentorian notes from the lips of the guard stationed at the edge of the prairie; and the next moment the whole camp was in a state of general excitement, Men, women and children rushed to where the guard was on duty, and gazed with anxious and inquiring looks in the direction indicated. ar away upon the plain, over a mile distant, they could see through the gathering twilight, the dim outlines of an ap horse- man, Almost simultaneous with this discovery, the saw another horseman far behind the first, This was followed by a third, fourth, and so on, until fully a dozen appeared in sight, and were apparently in purs of the one furthest in vance, This was suddenly verified by a wild, savage pe They were Indians, and that solitary orseman a fugitive: Yes, and by Heavens, that fugitive is a woman! . This the settlers could pay see in the flying skirts of her dress, the flowing hair and white white face. “To arms, men!” cried Major Tom. “Let us to the rescue of the fugitive! It is a woman, and God only knows what a tale of horror her lips may unfold. There must be, or have been, a settlement near, and she alone has escaped. on else could she have ache apo f om an emigrant train, perhaps, major, said Frank He ma a ‘* Well, we'll soon know,” replied the major; “ forward, boys, to meet the savage foe!” The next moment the men, with rifle in hand, issued from thé grove onto the prairie. But na sooner had they done so than the Indians were seen to come to a sudden halt, evidently taken by surprise at sight of the armed emigrants, But the fugitive seemed to take new courage, and came on directly toward the camp. In a few minutes be bbe — in in midst of .the excited emigrants, from whose lips a cry of surprise and pity, raingled with thane, ixsn- ed in low accents. The fugitive was a young woman scarcely twenty summers of age; and, although her face wore an expression of despair, she was a being of rare and wondrous beauty. Her eyes were black as midnight, and shaded by long, drooping lashes that gave them a timid and languid expression. Her hair, hke her eyes, were black as ebon, and hung in long, flowing tresses to her animal’s back. Her dress, cast of features, complexion and small white hands and ngers were evidence, satisfactory, that she was not a bor--
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Ps 4. in her dark eyes and silken hair which satisfied Major Bronson, without considering her com- plexion, that the blood of a southern creole— such as were usually met with in Louisiana— coursed her veins. She was mounted upon a fine-looking animal of the American stock, and when she drew rein it fairly staggered with exhaustion. The fugitive was the first to speak. * Are you friends to me—a helpless fugitive?” she asked, in a tone which must have been musi- cal when not rendered harsh by fear and excite- ment, ‘Yes, yes; you can rely upon safety in our eamp, young woman,” said Major Bronson; ‘“here, Heyward, assist this young lady to dis- mount.” Frank Heyward advanced and assisted the fair fugitive to the ground, and giving her ani- mal to one of the servants, he conducted her to camp. She. was tall and queenly, graceful of move- ment, seeming to float along upon the air by Frank’s side. “How does it come that you are a fugitive fair lady?” asked young Heyward, when he had seen her seated in camp. All gathered around her, and in breathless interest listened to her tale of woe. “Pather and I,” she said, ‘in company with two other farvilies, were journeying from a oint on the M \ssissippi river to a settlement on he Missouri. At dawn this morning, just as we broke camp, we were attacked by a band of Indians. I \\as mounted upon my horse, and slightly in advance of the train when the first shot was fired Isaw father go down under the blow of a ton\sahawk, His last words were for me to flee. J ~” Here the maiden broke down and sobbed bitterly. Major Bronson spoke words of cheer to her, and tendered her the heartfelt sympathy of the whole par’y. He promised to look after her father or bie morrow, and if he could not be Cound, te return her safe to her friends. ‘But, kind sir,” she moaned, ‘“‘my father was the only friend I had in the world, that I know of.” } ; “Thom I hope you may find him still alive. But wat is your name?” “WM Jdred Cleveland.” “C jeveland!” exclaimed Bronson. ‘I had a dear friend once by that name. He lived in Ter .essee,” ‘ Vather was formerly from that State,” re- li d Mildred, a ray of hope beginning to shine by m the liquid depths of her dark eyes. ‘From ‘Ténnessee!” exclaimed the major; *’ was his name Orville Vane Cleveland?” “The same.” “Great Heaven! is it thus that I meet the jild of my beloved old friend, Orville Vane? Rest assured, Mildred, that you will have a friend and protector in ‘Major Tom Bronson as long as his life-lamp holds out to burn,” “Bronson? I have often heard father speak of Thomas Bronson.” : “No doubt of it, no doubt of it,” returned the major; ‘‘but here, Mildred, is my ward, Miss Dora Barnwell, who will keep you com- pany, and in her society I hope you will find some relief for your bereaved heart.” The major left Dora and Mildred together and alone—the others haying already withdrawn— and went to see about strengthening their posi- tion against the Indians, who he feared would make a night attack upon their camp, But, the night wore away without’ any de- monstration on the part of the foe. During the short time they were together, Dora and her companion became strongly at- tached te each other; as much so, perhaps, as was possible for two of such opposite na- tures. Dora was a little, petite creature, full of sun- shine and merriment. Mildred was tall, grace: ful and queenly in propersions, with features slightly tr wit auteur —just enough. thought Frank Heyward, to enhance her pecu- liar style of beauty. A party was sent out in search of Mildred’s ' father, but after an absence of two days they returned, having found no trace of the unfortu- nate man nor of any of the party. Poor Mildred! she gave up all hopes of recov- aring the remains of her father, and quietly submitted to fate. She accepted Major Tom Bronson’s proffered ssa ape and protection, on thethird day, when the resumed a journey, Mildred Cleveland went with ma DORA’S SURPRISE. ** BEHOLD the promised land!” This was the exclamation of pace Tom Bron- } son, as the whole train came to a halt upon the summit of a long range of low hills looking westward for miles and miles, Before them lay a vast plain whose green bosom was traversed by the Raccoon river and some of its adjuncts. Here and there a tiny lakelet lay slambering upon the vast expanse, reflecting the sun-rays like mirrors. Groups of deer and prong-horned antelopes could be seen in the distance. The plain was bounded on the west by'the river, on the north by a dense body of timber, and on the east by therange of hills upon which they stood. “Tis a grand and beautiful plain,” said Frank Heyward. “What say you, Mildred and Dora? ‘“My opinion coincides with yours exactly, Mr. Heyward,” said the dark-eyed, queenly Mildred. “And mine, too,” added merry-hearted Dora; “but if yonder woods are full of ugly Eons it might mar the natural beauty of the ain. pa I hope we will have no trouble with the In- dians, Gaughter,” said Major Bronson. ‘‘We have presents and gold enough to buy their nen and good-will, at least, until our colony scomes strong enough to defy their hostile proclivities.” At this juncture young Heyward noticed that Mildred Cleveland started quickly, and glanced toward the different wagons with an Inquiring look, “What is the matter, Miss Cleveland? You seem agitated,” said Frank. Mildred’s face showed no little confusion as she replied: ‘*T was startled by Mr. Bronson’s remark. I father it was ve us. To be tires and its rude, closed box, as though her fears had singled it out as the treasure-vehicle. The train now descended into the green, fer- tile valley, which they crossed to the north-west extremity where the timber reached down to the river. Here, almost upon the banks of the stream, the train halted. It was the point se- lected by Major Tom for their permanent camp; and it was an admirable one for that purpose, being flanked on all sides by water. The little water-bound tract of prairie was of a trian form, the*river forming the base; the creek that divided the apo from the woods, the perpendicular; and a large, deep bayou ex- tending from the river diagonally across the plain almost to the creek described the hypothe- nuse. The narrow space between the creek and the head of the bayou admitted the teams toand from the place. The Peninsula, as Major Bronson not inap- propriately named the triangular tract, was about five acres in area, and of sufficient alti- tude to escape the periodical overflow of the river, and the malaria so common wt the low, wet lands of the river bottoms. It wanted two hours of sunset when the train reached the Peninsula, The wagons were ar- ranged in a hollow square, inside of which the tents were pitched with more than usual eare, for they were not to be moved soon, at least, until cabins were erected. A new spirit seemed to have been infused inte the heart of each one, unless it was that of Mil- dred, for all felt that this was the beginning ofa new life in a new home. Mildred Cleveland still felt that she was in the midst of strangers, and could not indulge in that social and familiar freedom of those around her; although every one tried to make her feel at home, and as one of the party. i ng the short time they had been together, Frank Heyward had been quite attentive to the beautiful fugitive, and more than one believed he had been smitten by her wondrous charms. But be this as it may, it was more readily per- } | ceived that his attentions were received with smiles and blushes which spoke plainer thar words—told that she loved Frank. It did not require much time to go inte eamp, corral the stock to grass and procure wood fez cooking purposes, from the adjacent forest, _ On the morrow they were to commence build- ing. The party passed the time in various ways during the eyening, The abundance of fish in. the river drew tha attention of the boys and they were soon group- ed along the bank with rod and line in hand, The girls wandered at pleasure about the Pen insula, culling the wild flowers that grew is profusion everywhere, While the old folks gath ered and laid their plans and made their calcu- lations for the work that was before them. Mildred Cleveland and Dora Barnwell stroll ed away alone, and seated themselves upon the river-bank at the upper side of the Peninsula. Here they entered into converse, Dora’s voice rippling away in musical notes and merry, peal of laughter; while the tall, dark-eyed beauty at. her side spoke in a low, soft tone and smiled half-haughtily at her vivacity and merry-heart- edness, Something besides the loss of her father seem ed to make Mildred unhappy and uneasy. Dora was keen of perception, as all women are, and she saw at once that Frank Heyward was the object of her restlessness of heart. She— Mildred—loved !him, and yet was in doubt whether her love was, in the least, reciprocated. This doubt was occasioned from tle fact that Frank had been quite frequent in his attentions to Dora, herself. At last Dora said to her: : , ‘“Why is it, Mildred, you seem uneasy this evening?” _“*Oh, Dora! I have been so very uneasy ever since I learned you had so much money and valuables with you. The prairie-pirates, they say, are more dangerous than the Indians, and have scouts and spies out in all directions.” “T would not fet that trouble you, dear Mil- dred,” replied Dora, kindly; ‘‘ father will see that we are not surprised by an enemy. Are there any prairie-pirates about here that you have he ot, Mildred?” Mildred hesitated, and turned her dark eyes away to keep from encountering those of her little questioner. The subject, itself, seemed terrifying to her sensitive heart and mind, But seeing Dora did not change the theme of con- versation, she finally said: “Yes, Dora, I heard our guide speak of a band of robbers under the outlaw brothers, called Bodsford. They not only steal horses and plun- der emigrant-trains, but make a business of kid- napping young girls and women and selling them to the Indians, or holding them for ran- som. Dora uttered a little and would have made reply, but approaching footsteps caused her t¢ | ‘Pardon my intrusion, ladies, but I could not resist the temptation of your society.” Tt was Frank Heyward who addressed them. He came near and seated himself by Mildred’s side, at the same time making some pleasant re- marks about his own impoliteness. Mildred’s eyes glowed with unusual brillian- , and a deep flush came to her cheeks, which ora, as well as Frank, himself, did not fail te observe. Soon Dora framed an excuse, and rising to her feet, left Mildred and Frank alone. She strolled listlessly along the river-bank, ing down into the murmuring waters, or plucking the wild flowers that bedecked her th. Suddenly her eye caught sight of a small canoe, laying half-concealed wana the edge of the bank, At first she thought it might contain an occupant who was in the concealed portion of it, but she soon became convinced that such was not the case, when she’ saw it moving with the gentle pulsations of the water. Her young spirit of adventure at once became aroused, she resolved to have a boat-ride upon the river. She was no novice in the use of - ) . | | oars, having been raised on the shores of a little — vi lake where she could have daily access to the which de- boat-house, and row upon the lake love for the veloped a skill with the oars and a water. Without calling any one to her assistance, she | sprung lightly down the bank and ste into the little craft which had evidently sp Tachi for it was not made fast. Y -It was an Indian canoe, made of bark,and a about large enough for two persons. “In bottom lay a paddie, so there was nothing ws the ie
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per eneeesitineds ton oceersiiige a heeertaet ean e n. Slicre re — een. “a nee rr mg to insure the success of the maiden’s ride up- | on the river. Seating herself, she headed the bark up-stream, and, skirting the bank for a rod or two, shot abruptly out into the stream directly in front | ef Frank and Mildred, causing them to start suddenly. A clear, joyous laugh pealed from Dora’s lips on seeing ber friends start with surprise, then plying the paddle she sent the little craft flying | up the stream. “Do not venture away too far, Dora,” cau- tioned young Heyward, “or you might get bier by some lurking Indian.” f there should be but one, Frank,” Dora re- | plied, in a playful manner, ‘‘2 will take him prisoner and brmg him to camp. would all like to see a genuine wild Indian.” terity, and after skimming around near Frank the stream. Young Heyward saw that Mildred watched her movements very closely, as if half-envious of the attention he bestowed upon her; and whenever he spoke in praiseworthy terms of Dora, a smile, in which there was a shadow of jealous envy, played about her pretty red lips. Pora continued slowly up the river without seeming to notice the distance she was leaving the camp behind her, but watching each shore with a cautious eye. Suddenly she saw that which arrested her at- tention with an admirirg interest. From the boughs of some low, scrubby trees that stood upon the east shore and were inclined outward over the water, hung a curtain of green vines resembling Spanish moss. Upon the face of this curtain the maiden saw numerous clusters of small white flowers and red berries, ’ lt wasa sight very pleasing to the eye of an enthusiastic maiden, and Dora at once headed her canoe inshore, with the intention of procur- ing a cluster of the berries and flowers, to carry back to camp as a trophy of her adventure. It required but a few strokes of the oar to earry the canoe before, and within reach of, the een facade of creepers and parasitical vines hat hung to the water’s surface and concealed the shore beyond. Dora rose to her feet and reached out for the nearest cluster of berries, but in so doing, the canoe rocked slightly and the paddle fell over- board. Before she could make an attempt to re- cover i it was carried beyond her reach. ‘This was quite a misfortune, as she was out of sight of her friends, there being an abrupt bend in the stream below. She could go ashore where slfe was, but then the river would be between her and her friends. ‘* What should she do?—what could she do?” She had scarcely asked herself these questions when she detected a slight rustling in the green foliage before her. She started and grasping the vines for sup listened intently. She could still hear a Fin rustling in the drapery of vines before her, such as would be made by the movement of a huge serpent. ‘bars grew alarmed, and almost paralyzed with fear, felt igs ee that she had got herself into trouble, and ‘vas in the act of calling for help when she saw the flash of something red through the vines upon which the. setting sun was streaming. The nextinstant the selvage of the green drapery was parted, and a of pine , scintillating orbs peered through upon er. Dora attempted to cry out, but terror held her ess, speech] Then the vines were parted wider and the hose head and grim, triumphant face of an ian warrior appeared in the opening. CHAPTER V, WHOSE WAS THE BODY? SLowLy, and with all his natural precaution, Keen-Knife approached the lifeless form that lay covered under the leaves. He felt satisfied that it was the ic Bold-Heart, yet he did not let this belief “blind his precaution, for fear of some trap. » When he reached the body. he raked the leaves therefrom with the muzzle of his rifle, and a cry of triumph pealed from his lips when he saw it was the body of a Sioux warrior, with a bullet-hole through his forehead. The dead sav was uuscalped. This con- ‘vinced Bob’s red friend that he had been slain by Bold-Heart, who had either made good his eseape or been captured. The latter Sppeeret the most probable, else the warriors w have sarried their dead with them. I know you | | came directly toward him. She used the paddle with remarkable dex- | Q | upon her, for she was a being of extreme loveli- and Mildred for a few moments, continued on up | Keen-Knife, However, the young Indian resolved to wait till midnight, and then if Bold-Heart did not meet him at the appointed place, he would go in search of him, So turning, he began retrac- ing his footsteps down the river, moving with great rapidity, yet with the most extreme si- lence, close along the shore. He had traversed over two miles, when his kesn ear suddenly caught the dip of a paddle. Peering cut upon the river, he saw ‘a small canoe, with a single occupant—a beautiful white rirl, : Creeping closer to the edge of the river, he concealed himself within the deep shadows of a clump of vines, *to watch the fair, sylph-like creature, Much to his surprise, she turned her canoe and Like a grim statue he sat, and feasted his eyes ness. She came near him—within arm’s length— only a curtain of trailing vines separated them. Parl 4 her canoe to stand still, she arosé to her feet as though she were going to leap ashore, buti instead of so doing, she reached upward toward a cluster of scarlet berries on the vines. The movement caused her canoe to rock slightly, and her Spicning slipped overboard, isappointment was written upon her sweet young face, and she gazed around her like one in trouble. Keen-Knife felt satisfied that she belonged to the party of emigrants spoken of by Bold-Heart, and so he resolved to release her from her di- lemma, He arose to his feet, and that he might not frighten her, he carefully parted the vines and made his presence known, The sight of him seemed. to fill the maiden with terror, seeing which, Keen-Knife said: “Let the pale-face maiden fear not. I am Keen-Knife, the friend of the white man.” Dora Barnwell breathed freer, yet it was several moments before she had regained her composure to speak. ‘3 u are a friend,” she at length asked, My Whe have you come upon me so noiselessly?” A grim smile swept over the Indian’s face as he replied: ‘T was here before you came. But if you mistrust me, return to your friends and tell them Keen-Knife, the white man’s friend, de- sires an interview with them.” ‘But I have dropped my paddle in the river,” Dora replied. The Indian quickly withdrew, and Dora heard his footsteps hurrying down the stream, In a few moments he returned, and handed her the truant ashen blade. Dora thanked him kindly, adding: ‘*This act of kindness, red-man, removes all doubt from my mind of your friendliness, , If you like, you can take a seat in my canoe and o with me to my friends. I have heard of een-Knife, the Prince of the Prairies, before.” Keen-Knife made no reply, but leaped lightly into the canoe. Seating himself, he took the addle from Dora’s hand, and headed the bark own the stream. ‘ “Dora could not help admiring his rude gal- imagen td igh Se pip gh eyes, ae ong, flo ir. He was a noble specimen o manhood.” bk In the mean time, those at the camp had be- gun to grow uneasy about Dora’s protracted absence, when all at once, Major Bronson pr nts the canoe rounding the bend of the ver. “By heavens!” he exclaimed, “there comes Hae 3 now, and as I live, there’s an Indian with er ‘She has kept her word then,” said Frank, “and has captured an Indian. He must be friendly; what think you, Mildred?” Mildred fixed her dark eyes upon the ap- proaching Indian, and Frank saw that her cheeks grew pale, and that her lips quivered with emotion, as she replied: Yes, it must be a friendly—probably the noted Keen-Knife, of whom you have heard haps. “Yes, I have heard of Keen-Knife, Prince of the Prairie: the white man’s friend,” At this moment the canoe touched upon the shore, and the occupants landed. A shout of joy pealed from thé emigrants’ lips when they learned who the Indian was, jor Bronson conducted the young Prince to his own tent, and proceeded to question him, while Dora gave a pleasant account of her ad- venture to her friends, : ‘Are you well acquainted with the country. ’ and the dangers hereabouts, Keen-Knife?” asked 5 —_——— the major of his guest, after they had conversed awhile. ‘ “7 have hunted and trapped here for many ° long months,” replied the Indian, ‘‘ There is no watercourse but what I have followed, no path but what my feet have pressed. You are in | great danger, for the Sioux are. on the war ane and the dark-browed man at the Lone istate furnishes them with fire-water to make them mad and crazy for white blood.” ‘* What do you mean by the Lone Estate?” “Tt is the,place where a pale-face lives, with many black slaves. He is a bad. man, and con- sorts with the Sioux and many white Indians,” ‘** Does he live alone with his slaves?” *“No. There are white women there,” ‘** Did you ever see them?” : **T was never at the Lone Estate. It would be death for me to geo there. But Bold-Heart saw one to-day, fair as the rose upon the plain.” ** And who is Bold-Heart?”’ ** A white friend of mine.” ‘Where is he now?’ ‘*T know not, but at midnight he promised to meet me in the forest, not far away.” ‘Then he has been to the Lone Estate, has he?’ ; and to-day he talked with the ae 3 of the dark-browed man.” ajor Tom started, and an anxious light beamed in his steel-gray eyes. ‘““Keen-Knife,” he asked, ‘‘ will you do me a favor by bringing your friend to our camp! want to see him on important business,” ‘*een-Knife will tell Bold-Heart what the a of the pale-faces desires,” replied the In- dian. “T will reward you well for your services, oung man; but if you are not to meet Bold- eart until midnight, you will remain with us till then, will you not# You shall occupy this tent if you so decide.” “Keen-Knife is the friend of the pale-face, He never sleeps when there’s danger around, I will watch over your camp till it is time to go and meet my friend.” ‘*You’re a noble fellow, Keen-Knife—” began the major, but before he could conclude his sen- tence, Keen- Knife had glided from the tent, and when he next saw him, he was cerefully in- specting the situation of the camp. CHAPTER VI. WHAT KEEN-KNIFE SAW. No one watched the movements of Keen- Knife more closely than did Mildred. The sight of the Indian seemed to fill her with fear, and although Frank noticed the Friendly fix his gaze upon her more than once with a st admiring expression, he never permitted k eyes to meet those of the fair, queenly maiden. Before nigh@all, a number of guards were posted at different points, and Keen-Knife promised the major that he would keep on the scout around the Peninsula until midnight, With a double assurance of safety while the noted young Prince of the Prairie watched over them, the emigrants retired early to bed. Be fore he left, Keen-Knife had promised to report their situation to the major, who was then te station a new set of guards, The night was one of extreme darkness and silence. Nothing save the coruscations of the fire-flies could be seen, and only a few peculiar to the northern night could be heard away off in the wilderness. Keen-Knife had disappeared from sight after nightfall as if by magic. But the guards, now and then ag a sight of a shadowy form flit ting about from place to place, and they felt satisfied of its being the young Indian, As the hours wore on, a low, half-stifled ery suddenly pealed out on the still night air, cau. ing “in ards to start bee ane re was a ery as of human agony. was not repemé- ed. A silence thigh wus more intense than ever now ensued. Half an hour later, Keen-Knife, crouc under the edge of the river bank, Pig sigh of an object that deeply arrested his attention, It was a dull s of fire floating on the river close along the eastern shore, Dr dime at the will of the current. It was about the size of a small bird’s egg, and had it been in the woods, Keen-Knife would have taken no ticular notice of it, for there, after night, he often met with such objects commonly known among the hunters and old woodmen as fox-fire, a piece of fungus or decayed wood, But ite being tipon the surface of the stream aroused his native curiosity, and he resolved to inquire into the objeet when it came nearer.
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ares f y Sica jib ‘6 At last it arose and tossed the glowin, saw it disappear amon But just at the moment when he would have done 80, his acute ear caught the sound of a light footstep on the bank below him. He turned his head and was not a little surprised to see a figure pped in a blanket or gown, standing on the bank, plainly outlined against the starry sky, and seemingly magnified into a being of colossal stature. The Indian scarcely breathed, so silent did he “remain and watch the giant, shrouded form. Finally it moved down the bank to the water’s edge and paused 'a few paces below where he lay concealed. The dull speck of fire floating on the water seemed to arrest the attention of the shrouded ! | | | oe eee a objects, yet aiming to conceal his disgust. “Ves,” returned Keen-Knife, ‘let the gray- haired chief of the pale-faces be on his guard, His whole band is in danger. And I must leave now. The stars point close to the hour of rid- night. When I have met my young friend, Bold-Heart, then will I come back.” ‘Do so by all means,” exclaimed the major. “Keen-Knife will be as good as his word, but here is something for the white man. I took it from the river when it glowed like fire,” said the youth, handing the major the mysterious bottle. . Major Tom examined it with no little sur- figure, and when it came nearer, the figure knelt | prise, although the light of his lamp dimmed down—put out a hand and lifted it from the Koen-Knife could scarcely restrain his silence longer, but curbing his anxiety with that true “Indian patience, he waited and watched. He saw the shrouded figure, still kneeling draw the dark blanket over its head closer ar remain in that position several minutes, during __ which time the Indian caught the vivid flash of a light between the edges of the blanket. TOR objec t into the river again, then turned and moved ck from the river. Keen-Knife watched the stealthy form, and the tents of the emi- grants’ camp. What did it all mean? What m was hanging over the encampment?, Teen-Knife now turned his attention to the : Soeting object again. In the middle of the cur- rent, it was being carried quite rapidly down (the stream, and went gliding along so that it would have appeared to a casual observer more like the coruscation of a fire-fly than aught else. _ Stealing swiftly along the bank to the mouth of the bayou, the Indian quickly threw aside his outer clothing, with the determination of taking to the river to secure that mysterious object. He laid aside all his weapons but his hunting- knife. This he placed between his teeth, and into the stream, was soon swimming ard the object. , 0 silently did he move that he scarcely stir- red a ripple upon the smooth m of the river. He swam upon his back, and only his face was visible above the water—even that seemed like an inanimate thing floating with the current. The wily youth almost reached the glow- ing object, when a small circling wave, followed by another and another, dashed over his face and caused him to raise his head sli a" His fears were instantly aevateed e knew those tiny wavelets had been caused by some living thing in the water, for not a breath of air was stirring. Carefully he turned himself and glanced along the surface of the stream. The glowing object he saw ws within arm’s reach of him. He put out his hand to seize it, but at this instant he beheld a pair of dull, glow- ing orbs just beyond, and a dusky human Sand a : i the same attitude as his own, and no doubt for the same purpose. : Tt oe ge but au instant for Keen-Knife to comprehend ull. The savage, for such the young Prince gnized him to be, was there to inter- eopt the floatin reco et after it had passed through the hands of the shrouded figure at the camp. Keen-Knife gr his knife and dashing for- ward, STanriolt wibe the foe. . size There was a quick floundering in the water, a low, gurgling moan, then all became silent as the grave again. A few minutes later, a figure crept from the river and stood erect where the white man’s friend had first taken to the water. It was Keen-Knife himself. In one hand he held a reekin weal, ia the other he held a small object thet glowed like a coal of fire. at was the object? Keen-Knife examined it closely. : It was simply a small glass bottle, corked air- f t. Within it was a small bit of phosphorus and a slip of white r—nothing more. 4 the Si young Prince of the with a quick gaze as if to once to the tent occupied by He found him up with a light t. ell, ew 0 matters stand, Keen-Knife?” triumphant and sindidieads manner the Indian tapped bis girdle, where the major Sotreta two scalps Mapes triumph Bette Bea os aS Ph e- ee. - Rid ee < yy Sf See ee Ye a < a wate tie - < =< ang Se OR Se SR NON Ss eas pees it suddenly ceased its approach, having, evidently, eos caee the —
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SR FO Oe eee _ eer, rehended invent a f ; Ms "1 a. fi Uy \ ab, yu ¥ ‘— ‘ w x fh i and children gathe en of the Boy Hunter A nO —_—_-— EE ESS Higher :rese tthe ~yells as the-savages rushed from their couches-and joined in the confusion. Then the‘hounds.of Death-Trail, gave tongue as though ‘they were starting upon a trail. j “God of mercy! the lopin’ devils have dis- kovered my escape!” were the words that sud- denly fellnmpon the:ears of Keen-Knife. _ They iissued from the lips of the being in the log beforethim. He recognized the voice with a thrill of joy. “ Bold-Heart,” he.said, in a low tone. “Thank God! it’s you, Keen-Kmnife!” “Yes,” replied the Indian. “‘Follow me, Bold-Heart. The Sioux and ‘Death-Trail’s hounds will :fiad us here.” “Yes, quick, quick, Prince! ‘I would never shave entered this log after I escaped, but to elude the guard .seated upon it. Ah! the ac- F kmaves:are at theeend of the log now!” With remarkable rapidity Keen-Knife re- ‘treated from-‘the log, chosely followed by his ane «Digi isa raspin $s aveapons and clothm, rom (where be had casi them,(the young = ne gli- dled away intotihedenseshrubbery. Rb started ito follow him, but, before he had gone three steps he fell to the earth mwnder the blow of a etd: in the hand af the outlaw, Tim Bodsford. ‘Then with yells of triumph, a hundned say- ages gathered around the,prostrate youth. -Knife paused in his retreat when he misfortune of his:friend. yells he heard Death-rail Above the sav: ; back to the village. ‘This calling his ho eonvinced him that his presenee had not heen discovered, With the half-unconseious Bold-Heart, the In- dians retired to their village. ; In afew minutes new camp-fires were twink- allover the town, and from hiscovert Keen- saw the savages gather in gouncil. He knew well what it meant-—Bold-Heart’s fate was to be decided on at once. Foremost in the council was Tim Bodsford | and his brother, Death-Trail. _ Every conceivable mode of torture, almost, was a of and commented upon by the sav- ages; but their vindictive uity could not umishment for Bold-Heart, of a se- verity sufficient to satiate their devilish thirst for reven . At last or a ere a torture that was received with a shout of ap- barbarians; and when by Keen-Knife was found, new fuel was added to the flame of _ thetr wrat With some thirty men, Tim Bodsford retired iy to the woods shortly after sunrise, and soon re- turned bearing a long, half-decayed log with them, They deposited the log near the center of the pans, oo Bodsford’ ordered the captive pene t out. _ Bo Heart was led forth bound hand and foot, yet betraying no fear by look nor word. His ste was firm and his face wore an expres- sion of Fearlesmess and courage. He was thrown rudely across the log and bound in such a posi- tion as would soon bring death itself. _ Bodsford now announced that ¢ for the torture to begin, and with yells and ‘howls of fiendish delight, the warriors, squaws red’ around to witness the was ready ucah, the head chief, with his little son, 1 Satferings « Appanocsah, the future chief of his tribe, a chil some five years, took his stand near the large end of the log where they could command a fair view of the torture. - Tim Bodsford, with sleeves rolled up, and knife in hand advanced toward the doomed pale- — feeling the keen edge of his weapon as he went. _ He reached the log and stooped to begin the _ work of torture, but at the same instant he fell dead with a tomahawk quivering in his brain. _ *Keen-Knife! Keon-Knife ” The words burst from the ee of the old chief, for he alone saw the form of the young Prince of the Prairies rise, as if by magic, from the earth at his feet, and hurl the weapon at the - outlaw’s head, “Keen-Knife!_ _Keen-Knife!” chorused a hun- _ dred throats. fn: wert he 4 4 d ' ino war- a pera caine ae id Koen-Knife -continu Keen-Kntfe. Inkpaducah iby the heels, ‘threw it over his | shoulder and dashed away like a deer. | A glance showed the chief from whence the youth had come. The log was hollow, and in it | had he been carried into the heart of the village iby Bodsford and the savages, Though feeble with the weight of years, the wold chief bounded away in swift pursuit of the cunning foe, calling loudly on his warriors to follow. Little Appanoosah set up:a fearful scream, and struggled like a young :panther, but his captor held him firm, and:ran on at a marvel- ous speed that defied any pursuer. He ran directly toward the ‘river, and there the savages expected to head him off, and scat- tered out to the right and left to keep him from turning up or down the stream. A hundred rifles were raisei time and again upon the daring young Indian, but each time lowered. 'They dared not fire, ‘for the cunning fugitive covered his body withithe child of the chief. On toward the ‘river he ran. A canoe was moored upon its banks, and without slacking his ad, he leaped into the craft, The impetus of the bound carried the little bark out from the shore, and drove:tt.clear across to the oppo- site bank, Leaping ashore, Keen-Knife turned, and hold- ing the child up betweenvhim -and this pursuers, ut 2 feece, defiant yell. Again-a hundred rifles were leveled upon him, but the cry of In ucah stayed tthe for the child.as well as his captor, would have been riddled with bullets. i “Let the cowardly Sioux fire if they would slay the eub of their Chief,” exclaimed Keen- Knife, defiantly. b The savages rushed frantically up aad down the bank, and some plunged into the water and began swimming across. . | “Call your dogs of warriors back, ehief,” the young, Prince; “call them back if you would save the life of your child. The gooment a warrior sets foot upon this shore, the, boy chief shall die!” ‘He drew his knife as he concluded, and raised it over the child, as if to give emphasis to his wonds. Fl well Inkpaduch knew the foe with which he had to deal, and at once recalled his warriors from the river; and then in a low tone, inaud- ible to Keen-Knife, he addressed them. Their rage and cries at once became stayed; and with the river between them, or hundred perdi bor riors stood gazing in silence upon sing. youthful foe who had baffled them, ‘“oTis well the chief recalled his braves,” said our hero, ‘or his child would now be food for the hounds of Death-Trail.” Although fifty yards of water separated them, Keen-Knife could see the scowl of vengeance, mingled with paternal anxiety and fear, upon the chief’s face, “Let Keen-Knife release the child of Inkpa- yo ii then shall he depart in peace,” said the chief. : A grim, scornful smile swept over the face of the young Prince. : Does Tnkpaducah think Keen-Knife a cow- ard? He defies the Sioux to take him, with the child of the chief alive.” ‘But the hounds of the Death-Trail know Keen-Knife from the child whose hand has given them meat,” replied’the chief, with a malicious smile of toa, : You threaten me with the fangs of Death- Trail’s hounds. When they tear the flesh of Keen-Knife, his scalping-knife will have drank the blood of Appanoosah, But when you set at liberty the young pale-face in your camp, then shall you have your child unharmed.” The face of the chief grew brighter, and had our hero been nearer him, he might have seen a smile in which there was a hidden meaning, move his lips; but from the silence that prevail- ed, the youth knew his old brain was hatching some plot to capture him as well as secure his child, At last he turned to one of his warriors, and addressed him in a low tone. ' Then the warrior turned and moved away toward the village, and in a few moments re- turned with Rob Radcliff, the Boy Hunter. The chief now turned to Keen-Knife and said: “<The Boy Hunter shall be released. Let Keen- Knife return the child of the chief and take the e-face away. ~ Pa The old Sioux chief is a fool,” returned Keen-Knife, contemptuoukly; ‘‘does he think Keen-Knife will run into the power of his cow- varlets?” onthe Tndians scowled fiercely at the d-*2nt youth, Wi ; ; » iy , Wire's : ie ee * 1 Srerte) f ely, ie ar iyres 2 Sli . " in , c. * fy im 4 * * a 7 . L a ‘ A. RD en 7 —~-—-f---—- -_~- “What then does the sneaking bey want?” asked the chief, ‘*Want you to send your braves all back to” the village, then will I bring your child and take Bold-Heart away.” p Defeat was written upon the face of the chief and his warriors, and for a moment an outbreak of vengeance seémed imminent. But that deep, paternal love for his offspring soon mastered the old chief’s emotions of a hostile character, and he ordered his warriors to fall back to the vil- lage. ‘Keen-Knife watched their sullen retreat, and saw them take a position in the village, ready to dart forward at an instant signal. The youth knew that they intended deviltry, but, never- theless, he determined to improve the, moment for Bold-Heart’s release. ' With the child of the chief he entered the canoe, and in a few minutes he was upon the op- »0site shore. It required but an instant-to pass ihe child to his father and for Rob Radcliff to_ a into the canoe, but at the same instant a wild, savage yell rent the still morning air, and ithe whole band of Inkpaducah came pouring to- ‘ ward the river. a2 oak ae ee : LUTTE IES HE ONES a, 3 = ee a4 = Before they reached the bank, however, the youth had put the stream between them, and with a yel of defiance, sped away into the woods. happened to glance back. ey saw that a num- ut they had not Fay far when they ‘ber of the foe had crossed the river, andwerein ae hot pursuit, Deep into the dark and almost impenetrable . shadgws of the woods the youths sped on—on — where it would have been difficult for the sav- 7) age foe to follow. ‘But haxk! what sound is that comes echoing hte ; 7 through tne woods? _ ; ‘i Ah! ‘tis the hounds of Death-Trail givin to and they are close upon the track of the fugitives! at | CHAPTER IX. FRANK HEYWARD MISSING, “ A TRAITOR in camp!” Major Bronson repeated the words, time and . pen He could scarcely think it possible that, een-K . nife’s assertion was true, unless the In- dian was the traitor himself, But, such sl thought he could not entertain, in justice to his own conscience. It was true the Indian was eccentric to one unaccustomed to his ways, but from the time they had set foot within the bor- ders of the territory, he had heard Keen-Knife spoken -of as immovable in his fidelity to the re : In fact there were none upon whom the major could fix suspicion. Not one of the emigrants besides himself and Frank Heyward ever been within the Territory, nor within a hundred — miles of it until their coming with the colony. And he could as easily have s his little ward, Dora Barnwell, or Mildred Cleve- land of the crime as Heyward. No, there must be some mistake, or else the Indian was simply aiming to work upon his fears to keep him on the for danger. ‘But let me see,” he finally said to himself, ‘perhaps the paper in this bottle will clew to the matter in question.” He sat down near the lamp, uncorked the bottle and extracted the little roll of paper therefrom, , ‘¢Now,” he continued to himself, as he unfold- ed the paper, “if Keen-Knif true, this bottle and paper must have been thrown into the river by that traitor, who trusted to the current to bh aaa a aed ac- complice down the river. And the Indian must have seen him toss the bottle into the stream, hence his suspicion, But I'll see what the paper | sa 8,7? The paper unfolded, he held it close to the light, and saw written thereon, in a bold hand, ho a lead pencil, a number of words which ran us furnish a e’s words were — » “ “Look sharp! Reached the place to-day. We've | two beautiful Wh and thirty thousand dollars in camp. Keen-Knife is here on the alert, Wait till I communicate again before a g the camp. It may be we can get the girls and money without running much risk, By et. A muttered exclamation burst from the li of Major Bronson, not through surprise at contents of the pa writer, ‘F, H.” eae young friend 4 ye ee ee PA e initials of the
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| eee ™ thought of the dan - conviction that maidens were exposed. “Twill go this moment,” he said to himself, ‘arouse them from their sleep and warn them of their danger. Then I will go straight to Frank and show him this paper, ints to him, although I would rather find im dead than to learn that he is the traitor, and has decoyed me and others here to rob us. God forbid!” The old man arose and leaving his tent made his way to that of Dora and Mildred. They were asleep, but he awoke them and bade both dress and hurry to his tent. In obedience to his wish they were soon there, ““What do you want, father?’ asked Dora. | “Oh, you must be sick, you’re so very pale.” ** No, no, children,” he said, in his familiar manner of speaking, ‘“ We are all in danger— you girls in particular,” A little cry pealed from Dora’s lips, and Mil- dred turned pale as death. ** Keen-Knife told me there was a traitor in our camp,” continued the major, ‘‘ and here is a paper which he found in a bottle on the river. Itis a communication from that trai- tor, whoever he is, to somé one outside of our camp. Then the major read the letter,.omitting the initials Again Dora uttered a little ery, and the stately Mildred fairly staggered under the shock the news gave her sensitive nerves. Oh, father! who do you think the traitor is?’ asked Dora. ‘*T cannot say, Dora. I have had such per- fect confidence in every man, woman and child in this band, that it seems impossible one of them could be guilty of such a crime. Howev- er, [ll investigate the matter fast as possible, and in the meantime let me caution you, chil- @ren, about wandering away from the camp. No telling what danger may be lurking about the place. Now fo your tent, implore the protection of the Divine power and try and rest easy Good-night, girls.” hen they were pee the major rested his face on his hand, and for a moment a desperate struggle seemed raging within his breast. A heavy sigh now and then told of his agony of epee’ that seemed to convulse his powerful rame, Finally he arose to his feet and throwing a cloak around his shoulders, said to himself: ‘Yes, I will go to Frank with the letter and demand an explanation. If he is the traitor, the presence of the letter will be undeniable evidence.” He went out and proceeded slowly toward Frank Heyward’s tent. Arrived there he tapped lightly on the flap door. here was no nse, “Frank,” he called. Still no ore “ Frank Heyward!” : No response yet, and with a cry of surprise the major rushed into the tent. ; But it was empty. Frank was gone, and his absence forced Paci ig Bronson the terrible rank Heyward was the traitor! CHAPTER X. | THE PRAIRIE PIRATES. A Party of ten horsemen were moving west- ward over the plain near the close of the same day that the emigrants went into camp on the Peninsula. The leader of the band was a man of some thirty years of age, of medium build and fine, commanding proportions. He might have been called auieena ad it not been for the hard bold expression of the dark, flashing eyes, and the sénsual bearded mouth. He was dressed in a flashy suit of velveteen, with a jaunty ca and feather, and high-topped boots upon whic dingled a pair of silver rowels. ‘ is companions were dressed and painted like Indians, yet it was easy to be seen that they were white men. This was not only observable from the contour of their features, but the man- ner in which they sat their animals. In fact, it would have been an matter for one accus- _tomed to the prairies have also recognized them as a band of prairie pirates. They were headed directly toward the Lone Estate, and ere the went down, they drew rein before the door of the pretentious cabin of Manuel La Mort. The leader hastily dismounted, and his exam- ple was followed by his companions. A troop of negroes and half-breed Indians came swarming trom the adjacent cabins, and } Suspicion | gers to which those innocent | took their horses, while the freebooters were conducted into the cabin, where they were met by La Mort. “* Ah, my good Rubal Ryan,” said he, to the leader of the outlaws, “you are on time, as usual.” ‘** Always, Manuel,” returned the outlaw chief; ‘“‘but, by my soul, old fellow, ;what ails your eyes? One would think the pious, temperate Don La Mort was a regular whisky mug, judg- ing from your optics.” ‘Be seated, men, be seated,” returned La Mort; ‘nevermind my eyes. The cursed whelp that struck me is having a foretaste of fire and steel by this time in the Sioux village.” “To whom do you allude?’ queried Rubal Ryan. , ‘**To Bold-Heart, the Boy Hunter.” ‘* Bravo!” shouted the pirate captain, ‘‘and I would give considerable if they could catch that infernal Keen-Knife, also.” — ; ** It’s hard catching the devil’s own,” retorted La Mort. ‘* Yes, good Manuel, or you and I would have been caught, long, long ago.” An outburst of laughter followed the truthful remark, od “Full of your wit as ever, Rubal,” said La Mort, ‘‘ but not changing the subject, how did *. your emigrant ruse work? ** Like a charm, Manuel, like a charm.” “Good!” ejaculated La Mort; ‘ now, gentile- men, we'jl have a bottle of my best ‘enthu- siasm’ over it, after which I will see to sending some dispatches down the river, then entertain you further.” He ordered a bottle of: whisky and glasses, which he placed on the table before his guests, with whom he drank freely, then left the apart- ment. Down under some willows by the river-bank he met three Indjans—evil-looking fellows—to whom he addressed some instructions; then giv- ing one of them a small glass bottle, with addi- tional instructions as to its use, he returned to the house, while the Indians crept away down the river. La Mort did not rejoin his guests on apes | the cabin, but, continuing along the narrow hall, entered a room to the right. The apartment was neatly and comfortably furnished, and bore evidence of fenstnine deli- cacy and handiwork, A rich carpet was upon the floor, and the walls were covered with some woven noneines of a rich and harmonious color. Here and there was arranged a bouquet of wild flowers, that diffused delicious odor through the room. A musical instrument, upon the chords of which the fairy fingers of the evening zephyrs were lightly playing, | upon the window-sill, and near it sat a young female, whose form was almost blended with the twilight shadows that were stealing into the room, It was Camilla La Mort, the fair maiden with whom Bold-Heart had met that day on the edge of the glade, and with whom he had been over- heard in converse by her father. Her eyes were red with weeping, for her pa- rent had approached her angrily and with threats of punishment, for her meeting with the Boy Hunter. He accused her of plotting against his life, and forbade her going beyond the con- fines of her room without his consent. And now, as he entered the apartment where she sat weeping, she turned her eyes to elude the fierce gaze he fastened upon her. **T hope my truant daughter,” the villain said, “feels better, and that by this time your con- science has upbraided you for the course pur- sued to-day.” ‘“‘T regret nothing I have done,” replied Ca- milla, bitterly, ‘‘ Well, it makes but little difference tome, since I propose to be master of this ranch, and have my will obeyed, And now [I will tell you what I came in for: Rubal Ryan has returned, and within the next three days you will prepare to become his wife,” ‘* Father! would you have me wed an out- law?’ the maiden cried. “T would have you marry Rubal Ryan, no matter whether he is priest or pirate. 6 safe- ty of the Lone Estate is owing to him and his men, and in lieu of his services he demands your hand, and his desire shall be gratified.” The villain turned and left the room, slamming the door to after him and locking it. Poor Camilla! She threw herself upon a sofa me wept and sobbed as though her heart would La Mort rejoined the prairie pia. and then began a night of carouse that until most of them had fallen to the floor in a drunken sleep. La Mort and Rubal Ryan alone remain- Half-Dime Library. ed awake at the hour of midnight. In fact, they had imbibed less freely than the white In- dians, taking care not to swallow too much of the liquid poison, for during the night they ex- pectol some important dispatches from the emi- grants’ camp on the Peninsula. To pass the lagging moments, the two revelers indulged in cards and dice, taking ‘an oecasional “draw ” from a bottle that sat near. At last La Mort broke out: : Curse the stupid dolts, they’ve had time te go twice to the camp and back.” ‘*Tt may be they’ve gone there and are un- able to get back,” replied Ryan. ‘‘ Tf that lynx- eyed Keen-Knife is there, ten to one your spy will get entrapped.” ‘Time will tell, but T’ll swear I hate to lose this night. We ought to have been at work hours ago, and not give the emigrants time to ecg themselves, or they might give us trou- dle.” ‘“* Very true,” responded the pirate chief. The hours wore on and the red streaks of dawn were seen in the eastern sky. Still the messengers had not returned, and La Mort was going off in a fit of rage and fury, when a step sounded in the hall. ‘* Ah, the snails have come,” he said, and ris- ing and opening the door, he admitted a small Indian half-breed, whose whole being was the embodiment of subtle cunning. ‘Where are Cule and Joht, Snake?’ asked La Mort, with a savage frown. ‘‘Dead, master, dead,’ replied Snake, ** Dead!” exclaimed La Mort. ‘*Dead,” repeated the hbalf-breed. ‘The white man’s friend, Keen-Knife, slew them.” ‘*Fiends and furies!” raved La Mort, “and how does it come that you ever got back with your scalp, Snake?” “The Snake is too cunning for Keen-Knife. He waswithin the confines of the emigrants’ camp aud came out again safe.” ‘* What was you doing in their camp?” “Went to meet the Spy, for Keen-Knife found the bottle on the river after it had left the Spy’s hands with the dispatch,” ‘* Ah, you’rea cunning dog, Snake. Now tell me whether you met the Spy in the emigrants’ camp,” “ did.” “Bravo! What did the Spy tell you?” ‘* Said—tell you there were two purty girls in the fe % A peal of laughter burst from the outlaw’s ips. Go on, Snake. What else?’ said Rubal Ryan. ‘**Said there was lots of money in the camp. Hadn’t found out where it was kept, though thought it was in a two-wheeled wagon with a box on it. Said you’d have to wait till to-mor- row night, as the death of Cule and Joht has de- layed work to-night. Keen-Knife gone now.” “Well, that’s a good riddance,” heartily ejaculated Ryan, : , ‘‘He may be back in time to thwart our plans,” rejoined La Mort; ‘but have you any more news, Snake?” ‘Yes,’ returned the evil-eyed messenger; ‘““when I left the camp of the emigrants, I saw the cloaked form of a man moving away before me. My fingers itched for his scalp, for I knew he was one of the emigrants, but I followed and watched him. He came directly to the cabins of Don La Mort. Under the Forked Cotton- wood tree he stopped. Then I saw him take something from under his cloak and lay it in the crotch of the tree. Then he went away, I didn’t follow him, but went to the tree and found this, and Snake drew from the bosom of his calico shirt, a small bouquet of wild flowers, around the stems of which were twined some broad spears of grass. ‘By heavens!” exclaimed La Mort, as he took the flowers, ‘‘this may give us some infor- mation—who knows?” ‘* But I can’t see what information a bunch of posies would give you;” said Captain Rubal. “Then you don’t niiderstand the lan ot flowers,” said La Mort, fumbling the bouquet over. “Well, it is a little strange that one of the emigrants: should put this in the tree, now isn’t it? “Tt surely is, Don Manuel: but I shouldn’t wonder if it was put there for Camilla, by some sneaking lover.” ‘Ah! see here!” exclaimed La Mort, remoy- ing the from about the stems, under which he found a neat, folded paper; ‘“this will pro- bably explain the whole mystery.” He angolded the slip of white paper and saw eh db gp upon in a plain, bold hand, and us: ee
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< | as the sun rose above the distant range of | watch upon “My pEAR Cammuia: After long, weary months of anxiety and suspense, I have again recurned to the Raccoon with a colony which [ was instrumental in getting up. My sole object, as well as their interest, was your release from the power of La Mort. And, as I told you last May, I believe I have found your father—Major Thomas Bronson, who is with our party. I will place this note in our old post-office the Forked Cettonwood, and I hope you will find it to-morrow. If you do, dear Camilla, make haste to answer it. To-morrow night at twelve o’clock, I will be under the tree, and would like an interview with you there. If you can meet me. come prepared to go with me to our camp. Once there we can defy the minions of Don La Mort, for we are prepared for any emergency, FRANK istewan.” An oath burst from the lips of La Mort, and he brought his clenched fist down upon. the table with such force as shook the floor of the building. What now, irae Don Manuel La Mort?” exclaimed Rubal Ryan; “ don’t, I implore you, dowt rapes of your boots, nor go off ona tangent. Take a whiff of ‘‘ enthusiasm ” to set- tle your nerves, and then explain the cause of your lordship’s wrath.” “Read that, read that!” hissed La Mort, thrusting the paper under Captain Rubal’s nose. “Steady, La Mort, steady!” said Ryan, placid- ly, and taking the paper, read it, **So, so!” exclaimed the outldw when he had finished the letter. ‘‘Then my affianced Ca- milla has another lover. Frank Heyward—who is Frank Heyward, my dear, tumultuous Don Manuel?” “ You tell!” fumed the lord of the Lone Es- tate; ‘‘one of the cursed emigrants of course. And he has been in this neighborhood before— last May—and met Camilla and fell in love with her! Now he has returned to release her from oe ad of Don La Mort! - By Heaven, that’s cool! Rubal Ryan burstinto a roar of laughter, and thumbed his nose in a significant manner, Knitting his brows with rage and fury, La Mort continued: “Tt seems that the girl and her lover have mistrusted something of her parentage. Major Thomas Bronson! ell, well, we'll see about this matter. Frank Heyward shall be entrap- ae to-morrow night at twelve o’clock, and his ife shall pay for his meddling. Here, Snake; take this bouquet and putit right where you got it. Pll watch Miss Camilla to-morrow; and to- morrow night—well, [ve said what I'll do—en- be Mr. Heyward, and Camilla, too.” 6 carefully precy un, the paper and blades of grass, and then Snake carried the purloined missive back and deposited it in the forks of the cottonwood where he had found it, Alas, poor Camilla! she little dreamed what a snare was being set for her young feet, and the lover for whom, for long weary months, she had ‘been fretting her young life away. CHAPTER XI. WORK BEGINS. THE morning dawned clear and cor bike it shone upon a scene of life and bustle in the camp of the emigrants, Refreshed by a peace- ful night’s rest and quiet slumber, all felt fresh and vigorous, and thea with a new spirit of | joy. To his ot ee Major Tom found Frank Hey- ward in his tent at daylight, and for a moment he felt like demanding an explgnaean of his ab- sence during the night. But, he had had time to studly over the letter found in the bottle; and 80 he concluded to keep the whole discovery a secret with Dora and Mildred, and maintain a Frank’s movements, If he really was guilty of being in league with the enemy, it would be the wey 0 convince himself of the fact—b catching i in some act that would int directly to guilt, However, he hoped e would make no such a discovery, and tried hard to convince himself that Frank’s fidelity was above reproach. Mildred and Dora seemed more light-hearted and charming than ever, and during the morn- ing they strolled leisurely about the Peninsula in quest of pleasure and exercise, and to pour out the exuberance of their young spirits in son and admiration of the beauties of nature arookd. them. Most of the wagons were now unloaded and their canvas tilts removed, so they could used in drawing building logs from the timber, The two-wheeled vehicle, with its long narrow box, remained as y and more once Mildred fixed her eyes upon it with an inquiring ; after their morning meal was over, several ‘eanis were harnessed, and with ax and rifle, the Keen-Knife. men repaired to the woods for logs, crossing the creek some distance above the camp. Guards were deployed in all directions to pro- tect the choppers, and soon the ring of the white man’s ax was heard in the virgin forest. Anxiously was the return of Keen-Knife looked for. Surrounded by the dangers of hos- | tile Indians, the colonists felt greatly the need | of one of his Va pape! asa scout to watch the movements of the cunning foe. As the day wore on it found Dora and Mildred seated on the river bank, at the lower side of the Peninsula, in conversation. ‘*Who do you think, Dora, Major Bronson suspected of sending that dispatch afloat on the river last night?” ‘“*T have not the least idea, Mildred. None but Frank Heyward could be in league with the Indians and outhkws, for none but he and fa- ther have ever been in the country before they came in with the colony.” “Then Frank lias been here?” ‘Yes. Just last spring he and a number of young men came West on a hunting excursion. But Frank soon returned, and at once proposed to father to form a colony and go West. From that I always thought he had more than a com- mon interest in this country, so you see he is the only one upoh whom father could possibly place suspicion of being in league with the Indians or outlaws. But, Mildred”—and there was an earnest lightin Dora’s sparkling eyes—‘‘ IT would as soon believe you guilty of the crime, as Frank Heyward.” i A clear, metallic laugh rung from Mildred’s ips. PY on little chit,” she said to Dora; “T see you love Frank Heyward.” Dora colored and poutingly replied: *“No, I do not, Mildred; but he is worthy of any woman’s love, and— But look yonder! Isn’t that Keen-Knife, now? It surely is!” Mildred looked in the direction indicated and saw a plumed head, with a amy Sabet cap upon it, appear above a little clump of bushes on the opposite side of the river. “Yes, it is Keen-Knife,” said Mildred, and her face grew white, as if with affright at sight im. “Tt is,* replied Dora. ‘I recognize his red cap and white feathers, though I was sure I saw another dark face peering through the bushes to the right of him.’ “Tut! tut, Dora! it was only imagination. Surely Keen-Knife would not be that close to a hostile Indian and not know it. See, he is mo- tioning for one of us to bring the canoe over after him.” ‘The men are‘all in the woods and I'll go and bring him over to camp,” said Dora, and risin to her feet, she tripped lightly along the b to where the little canoe lay moored. CHAPTER. XII HIDING A TRAIL. On sped the fugitives, Keen-Knife and Bold- Heart, with the hounds of Death Trail bellowing close behind. ared brutes will * The lo said Rob cliff, glancing it us yit, Prince,” : k at the forms gliding on with nose close upon the ground. “Tf Keen-Knife and Bold-Heart had each a tomahawk, then could they defend themselves ae the fangs of the brutes,” replied the In- an. ‘Yes, yes; here, I am without a weapon of aa A kind, and you’ve nothin’ but your rifle and 8. ” ‘‘Take the rifle, Bold-Heart, and I will try and stop the hounds for a moment, at least.” Bold-Heart took the Indian’s rifle; then the Friendly removed his crimson head-gear and threw it upon the ground as he ran on. The act served its , for the hounds stopped by the fillet and sniffed around it with a loud whining that told they had been thrown from the trail. But the sagacious old beagle soon struck the track again, and giving tongue was off like a dart. Keen-Knife now removed his mantle and drop- it, and again the hounds were detained, but it was only fora moment. He now took his ri- fle from Bold-Heart and changing his course so as to bring the hounds in fair view, he i gr short, mee turning, brought his rifle qui to his face. It cracked, and the beagle—the fore- most hound—fell dead. This stopped the other hounds entirely, and not until Death-Trail came up and called them from the body of their leader, did they take the track agai But fugitives had now ed much ad- , and turning to the left, they entered a van stony defile, which, as they continued to follow 9 And at last the ee it, grew narrower at each step. | high walls came so close that the fugitives were compelled to press their forms through sideways , for several feet, when they found themselves in a little open valley, or plateau. ‘* Stop here,” said Keen-Knife. iy What for, Prince? The hounds are close up- on us, ** Let. us slay them here. They can come through the defile only one behind the other, and we can kill them as fast as they come.” “True, true, Prince. An Indian for wit, every time. It will be a good riddance to slay. them hounds, for—” The rest of the sentence was drowned in the crack of the Friendly’s rifle, and a howl of pain that told another of the hounds had been slain. Laying aside his weapon, the Indian grasped a bowlder in his right hand and awaited the ap- proach of the dogs, which had already entered the defile, Bold-Heart followed his friend’s example and grasped a rock from the ground at his feet, In two minutes more the last of Death-Trail’s He ageuainl lay crushed and mangled in the de- ile. Then with his defiant war-cry the. fearless Keen-Knife dashed across the sane and plung- ed into the woods beyond, closely followed by Bold-Heart. ( A savage yeli, mingled with oaths and curses, told the fugitives when the pursuers had reach- ed the spot where the defile was blocked by the bodies of the dead hounds. A grim smile of triumph swept over the face of ames and in «a low guttural tone he sai . ‘No need run now. The savages will have to follow us by sight of our trail, and not by the sound of the hounds’ voice. We can make tracks faster than they can count them.” eae you think they will follow us, do ou?” ‘*Yes, They will never leave our trail until they know we are safe beyond their reach. Bae we can throw them off the scent, Bold-Heart. tome. Not far away a little creek went purling south- ward through the forest, and toward it Keen- Knife led the way. When he reached the bank, he turned and moved down its course, keeping to the water’s edge, and bidding Bold-Heart to follow behind, but not to step in his tracks. Consequently both left a plain trail behind them in the sand, They had continued thus over two hundred yards when they sheered gradually to the left un- til they found themselves wading in the center of the creek, They now ott and, at a signal from the Indian, both began walking backward from the water and along the shore, taking at care to plant their feet in the same tracks they had made in going down. When they had thus re- traced about a hundred yards, they stepped aside into the water again, without leaving the least sign, whatever, of their having done so. ares now waded across the stream and con- cealed themselves under some dense foliage that hung to the water’s brink, y ten minutes ela before a number of Indians came gliding from the woods upon their trail, and not a little surprised were our friends when they saw that one of them wore Hy pean head-dress and mantle of Keen- ife. A low cry of triumph escaped their savage lips when they discovered the track of the fugi- tives in the yielding sand, and with the switt- ness Of hounds they glided away upon it. They soon came, however, to where the trail entered the water, and here they seemed to hesitate, Keen-Knife was afraid they might peeeiy. detect his ruse. For several moments they ex- amined the spot carefully, but despite their keenness of instinct and perception, they did not discover the cunning retrograde of the tives; but, supposing they had taken to the water an continued on down the creek, they pressed on in swift pursuit. A low, silent laugh escaped Keen-Knife’s li while Bold-Heart ed age his admiration o ~ Friendly’s cunning in eluding the crafty nen \ They remained in their covert over an hour, and as the enemy did not return, they felt as- sured they had on on, and were about to issue from their place of concealment, when the more cautious Keen-Knife laid his hand pg on Bold-Heart’s arm, and drew him back into the shadows, at the same time pointing through a little opening at a form that emerged from the woods on the opposite side of the creek. Tt was the form of Death-Trail, and his rough,
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brutal face wore an expression of rage and fury In one hand he carried a rifle, in the other a tomahawk. The latter Keen-Knife quickly recognized as his own—the one with which he had brained Tim Bodsford, The rifle was Bold- Heart’s, Stopping within ear-shot of our friends, the outlaw burst out in a tempest of rage. ‘ “Fyery hound dead,” he exclaimed, aloud. “Curse them boy imps! This tomahawk—” and he raised the weapon as if to strike an im- aginary foe—‘‘ shall be buried in the brain of that Indian, as he buried it in Tim Bodsford’s— not that I care so much for Tim, but them hounds. And this rifle, I hope, will send a bul- let through its owner’s heart, for if it hadn’t been for him, my hounds woudn’t have been smashed into a jelly this minit. There was old Sult, the leader, and a better hound never sunk tooth in the flesh o’ a captive. And Sult’s dead, r dog—yes, every devil 0’ ’em’s dead! Cuss them boy imps!” At this juncture Bold-Heart saw his com- panion stoop and pick up a small stone; then as, stopping quickly from his covert, hurled it with | all his-power at the outlaw. The villain caught sight of the youth, just as ' he drew hack to throw, and in order to avert the blow, he stooped slightly forward. . Keen- Knife, however, had anticipated this very movement on the part of the foe, and aimed at the breast. The missile struck the outlaw square on the top of the head, crashing in the skull, and felling him dead without a moan. om ‘By blazes, Prince! you throw as you shoot - to the center,” said Bold-H ; iy “Ugh!” was the response of the Friendly, as they crept from their covert and advanced to the fallen outlaw. ‘Stone is good as bullet if you know how to use ’em.” The outlaw was indeed stone dead, and Bold- Heart lest no time in possessing himself of his |. yvifleand accouterments, and Keen-Knife secured § his tomahawk. Nor did the victory of the In- dian end here: before Bold-Heart could stay him from the bloody act, the scalp of the white ruffian nang at his girdle. The next moment they were moving away a through the woods, i ‘They traveled on in silence for hours, seldom if apa g, and nl ami a wary watch around _ them. eir footsteps were oless, and they seemed like phantoms gliding amid the shadows of the wood. | Keen-Knife was in advance, and Bold-Heart younger and less experienced in woodcraft, had only to imitate, as near as ible, his move- iZ ments in order to proceed with equal silence. Suddenly the B has Prince | with a low, gu { ie CHAPTER XII! DORA IN TROUBL_ 3 Tr ired but a few minutes for Dora to Teach canoe and enter it, Then she plied _ the oare vigorously, and the next moment was down toward the opposite shore. watched her with an expression de- f = noting ess and uncertainty. | The Indian still maintained his position behind ‘y the clump of bushes. Only his head and | ‘shoulders were visible to Dora, while he was | screened entirely from those at camp by an _ dntermediate knot of bushes. . Pe. ‘Oh, Keen-Knife!” exclaimed Dora, when the iq / prow of her craft had touched upon the beach, | how anxiously have we waited your return!” i” The Indian made no reply, but advanced | quickly toward her, and it was then that Dora j yi _ saw it wae not Keen-Knife, but a Sioux warrior | ’ wearing the Be). weit great _ push the gavage saw her intention, and f ‘movement of a panther, he sprung forward and _ seized the boat by the prow, and drew it half up on the beach. Then another dusky form glided from the shrubbery, and gtk Wed _ blanket over her head and shoulders, lifted her : peeey, in his arms and bore her rapidly back ahs e@ woods. Saget ltaen eatoatings io nce toot baie trees fe atr m sprin, eet as i mm ./ teartal dream. she mn han Friendly’s red head-dress and blue resence of mind Dora essayed to ‘+ back into the river, but the uick as the i, | yo * if 4 Rg By fs ra) news of Dora Barnwell’s fate, _.. The infor almost produced a panic k to camp with the” among the women and children, but one woman retained her composure sufficiently to seize a dinner-horn and blow a few sharp blasts*upon) it. This was the signal—agreed upon—to the men in the woods, that danger menaced the camp and that their presence was needed. Dora Barnwell struggled ris ogre y for free- dom and tried to ery out, but the thick folds of the blanket completely stifled her Voice. ~ She was conscious of being borne swiftly away—of hearing the patter of feet, then all became blank to her. There were four of her captors, a part of the band we left on the supposed trail of Keen-Knife and Bold-Heart, and one of whom, it will be re- membered, had donned the As aoe My discarded head-dress and mantle, by which the capture of the maiden had been cunningly achieved. The subtle foe knew that only great haste would enable them to retain their captive against pursuers, and changing the inanimate form from one to the other, they were enabled to move with great rapidity. Not until they were far away did they attempt to hide their trail. Coming to a point where a small creek debouched from a dark valley they stopped. One of them quickly pointed out what seemed to be the dry of a stream, lying par- allel with, and not a great way from the living stream. / Close examination showed the wily red-men that the little stream had been turned from its original course for some purpose or other; how- ever, it was just what suited their por and they proceeded at once to avail themselves of its proffered advantage, wo of the pike took the ee and step- ing into the dry bed proceeded down its course or some distance. Then they turned aside and moved away into the forest, while the other two Indians proceeded to turn the stream into the dry bed, thereby obliterating the trail of their comrades. This done, they turned and moved away in a direction altogether different from that taken by the two with the captive, leaving a broad trail behind them to cnislend any one i d to follow them into the belief that they the captive. , Believing they had effectually concealed their trail, the two captors moved on more leisurely, for the unconscious form of the maiden was no light burden. Only their dogged tience and savage triumph, kept them from braining and scalping the helpless eee. ey moved on and soon entered a dense thicket through which they pressed with great difficulty, and emerged into a densely wooded t clear of undergrowth. Just then two dark forms arose before them from the ground—there was a vivid flash—the sharp report of a rifle—a death-wail, and one of the savages fell dead—shot through the brain. The other dropped the inanimate form of Dora and fied, but the sound of pursuing footsteps nt upon his ear. hen Dora awoke to consciousness, the mur- mur of rippling water was the first sound that broke upon her ears, Then through the tree-tops overhead she saw the light of day, and a shad- owy form hovering over her, She felt the gen- tle touch of a hard, cool hand that thfilled her with a new life and strength. And then she soon became conscious of a fair, boyish face, beaming with anxiety and admiration, bending over her. Who was it? She tried to recall her situation and a remembrance of the face hover- ss, ae her so tenderly, but without avail. hen a footstep sounded near. The boyish face turned aside and a voice asked softly: “Did ye git the lopin’ varlet, Prince? Ah, yes! I see you did, Throw the bloody thing away—she’s returnin’ to life and ‘ll sigh , of it. But I tell ye, Prince, she’s an angel! een-Knife removed the scalp from his girdle pari tossed it aside, then advancing nearer, said: “Yes, she is very beautiful, Bold-Heart, and brave, too; but I fear they have had trouble at the camp.’ : 4 _At sound of his low, musical voice, Dora’s bewildered senses came back, and soon she was enabled to sit up. Then she recalled the past, and acquainted her rescuers of the manner of her capture. : Keen-Knife rg gd shook the folds of his re- covered mantle, as if to dispel an evil spirit from it. ) “Tet us hurry to the camp. We may be needed there,” he said. ; . : - Yes; the woods may be full of the skulkin’ knaves,” added Bold-Heart. ; “Can you walk, fair girl?’ questioned the young £ NS »’ ‘ HalfDime Library. Speke aecieeqntgenatinenibntaetdes sae tapanintiaanta ieee Seyekanceagaians cken at, eR ee ee | “Yes; I feel strong as ever, now,” she re- plied. Then she arose to her feet, and supported by the arm of Bold-Heart, they set off on their re- turn to the camp, Keen-Knife leading the way. CHAPTER XIV. BOLD-HEART AND THE MAJOR IN CONSULTATION. WHEN the young hunters, Keen-Knife and Bold-Heart, reached the Peninsula with Dora, they found the emigrants in a state of great ex- citement. A party had been formed and was} just on the eve of geratac. in pursuit of Dora’s! captors, when they arrived. he young men were received with great re- joicing, and words of kindness and heartfelt thanks were poured upon their heads by Major: Tom for the restoration of his little ward. And P none seemed more joyous over her rescue than — did Mildred Cleveland. The major now took Bold-Heart into his tent, and proceeded to question him in regard to the maiden at the Lone Estate. ‘No longer than yesterday I met the gal at the Lone Estate,” said the youth, in reply to a question of the major’s. > Aa ‘Did she tell you her name?” ‘She said it war Camilla La Mort.” “Do you think that she resembles La Mort— that she is his own daughter?” ‘“‘She don’t resemble him, major, more than one of your niggers resembles the moon. And I’m satisfied that she’s not his child, though she called him father, Thar’s other white women *bout that ranch, but I never see’d one of ’em square in the face. La Mort and me had a little difficulty yesterday bout the gal. I met her ridin’ out and a little talk with her. She said her father was a villain, and promised, if I'd newer tell whar I got the news, and would carry & message to some one far away—a lover, I suppose—she’d tell me all about. the old man’s b’siness. I promised I’d do as she requested, and so she war about to tell me, when wko should step out of the thicket near by but Don La Mort! He had. heard all we said, and undertook to tan my: ae but I grabbed his whip and give him) he blind gers quick asa wink. I know he’s. a Villain, major, and in league with the Indians: and Rubal Ryan’s prairie-pirates. Ive been a” threatening to report him to the authorities, but T hate to on account of that innocent little gal,. Camilla. But, major, La Mort has my path, and, boy though I be, he’ll have to polly- gise or leave the country, and that soon.” “‘Do not be in a hurry, Bold-Heart,” said Ma- jor Tom, ‘‘for I have eae, reason to believe: amilla La Mort is my daughter.” Paid iad fue? © “‘ Your darter? ‘The dickens! how’s that, ma- __ jor?” asked Rob, in his free, familiar manner. “ Years ago,” said the major, with a sigh, “I had a child stolen, and years of search ved. . fruitless. About the time she was missed, a vil- lainous Spaniard—and a bitter enemy of mine: —left the neighborhood and was never heard of more. And now, although it is not the nam have been led to think La M e, I Mort is Gaspard La Muerte, himself; and she who gives her name as- Camilla, my child.” ‘Tt may all be, major,” returned Bold-Heart,. — “for I know an angel can’t be the offspring of a demon, and Camilla is the one and ort the othe.” “Does Camilla resemble that, Bold-Heart?” asked Bronson, taking from his breast-pocket ~ likeness of a child some six or seven years old and handing it to the youth. “By the blue blazes, major!” he exclaimed. the instant his eyes fell upon the fair young face, ‘‘ that’s Camilla’s eyes and features toa eady heel, though she’s got long hair now, and _ ooks older and more womanly than the picter.”” _ “That is very probable, Bold-Heart, for it — has been ten years since this picture was taken.” “Tt may be your gal then, major.” . “Tt must be!” repeated the oldman, asthougl loth to believe otherwise; ‘‘but, Bold-Heart, | how long can you remain with us?” i “Tf thar’s need for me, I can stay as long as wanted.” Pe “T do want you, Bold-Heart, at least until F is) A have seen and talked with Camilla La Mort. f will doubly satisfy you for your loss in being — absent from your traps and hunting.” f “Never mind the pay, major,” replied tha | ! % p f. outh, as his mind reverted to pretty Dora | Ae: *‘T shall be glad toserve you for the © sake of—of bein’ in your camp.” “Name i.” iy, ‘That you keep a close watch upon the move. ments of eve rson in this camp. Keene Knife told'me fast | last night, there was a eraitor’ i ae ‘Then I have one request to make to you.” - arg if ies os ‘ Pay > bend : \ /
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pate ea Peaeiese jee * an intercepted dispatch that was being sent in an air-tight bottle on the river to some one out- side of camp. He did not say who the traitor was—it may be he did not know. But I want you to try and find out. Say nothing of your intentions to any one—not even Keen-Knife. : “Your request shall be granted, major,” said Bold-Heart: “Then I shall resign to you the defense of our camp, for our experience in Indian cunning is limited, and we have felt greatly the need of an efficient scout and guide,” Bold-Heart felt greatly elated by the confi- dence bestowed upon his experience, and the responsibility imposed on his young shoulders; nevertheless, he aecepted them with thanks and manifest pleasure, and at once repaired to his ht = ee = ’ ~~ SS —— = SSS duty. ™ He wandered about camp, carefully noting | the advantages and disadvantages of its loca- tion, the horses, cattle and wagons with an eye of critical admiration. But when he came to the two-wheeled vehicle with its broad tires and long, narrow box tightly closed, he found some- thing that puzzled him. He could not, for the te life of him, make out what it contained, and Coe why it was kept guarded so closely; and like ; Ri ildred, he did not like to inquire into its con- fF tents for fear of being considered inquisitive. While Bold-Heart was thus occupied, Keen- Knife and Frank Heyward were ensconced in the latter’s tent, deeply engaged in conversa- tion. “ Keen-Knife, I want your service to-night in a little matter which I want to keep secret from the rest of the emigrants until it is over with,” said Frank. : : ‘¢ What is it?’ asked the Prince, as his mind reverted to the person he had seen abroad the night before in the vicinity of the Lone Estate. ‘There is a maiden,” Frank replied, “at the Lone Estate whom I ae ing there to meet. Last night I was near the place and left a letter for her in a tree. If she gets it, she will either leave an answer or be there herself. If she is there, she will come with me to camp, for she wishes to escape from La Mort.” This explanation removed all suspicion from the Indian’s mind of what he had seen the night _ before, and he at once replied: “Then you know the maiden of the dark- browed man?” “Yes, Prince; six months ago I met her in the woods near the Lone Estate. I was in the country then with three others on a hunting ex- cursion; and I would have gone to the maiden’s ‘home, but she begged me not to on account of - her father, who was a bad man. I met her sev- eral times after that, and then when she was for- bidden to take her daily ride through the forest, we carried on a correspondence by letter, using a forked tree near the place asa post-office, By ‘this means I learned that she was unhappy, and in doubt as to whether Don La Mort was her father. From some facts that I eeeenety and . others which I already , 1 had some reason to believe she was the daughter of Major Tom Bronson, an old friend of mine. He hada child stolen years ago, and from the description I gave him of her, he believes Camilla is his daughter. But, now that he isso near her, he REN Fog 3s in painful doubt as to whether he would rec- ognize her. She was but a little child when sto- _ Jen. So I wish to go to the Lone Estate to-night, - unknown to any one but you and I, and if possi- eg Rare Prager to our camp, and present her to the major without telling him who she is, and «see if he will recognize her as his lost daughter row rece waa long years of cruel se; tion. . eae > shhh earbot © young man beats with kind- _ ness,” said Keen-Knife, “ and I will assist him iy > - to do the good work he proposes.” Rea “Then an hour before midnight, call at my terit.” F “Let my white friend be ready. Keen-Knife 2 will be there.” » es ae CHAPTER XV. Me" AT THE HOUR OF MIDNIGHT. eat ' ALTHOUGH Cans La Mort had been abso- fused the pri wee Se mitientod by the mistress of Don La Mort, a dark-eyed fats 8 of fiery em cane | passi e was not a little an Sepals rach when her father rescinded that a of limitation, on the morning following the arrival of Captain Rubal and his men at the ‘Lone Estate. He gave her permission to take her accustomed wali in quest of such pleasures as her nature longed for, but under no circum- stances was she to go beyond the limits of the estate, Bs ee Cam? a thought strange of her father thusre- 4 ; \ ; a RE meee a Bi a = = ~ 3 Phe a Si Ak. a . om ee te sess * ; = of leaving her room,. u ee ea «BE in ie re th til. iil ay al 4 Man CEE os — oo eS . ’ Keen-Knife. in camp, and confirmed the fact by producing | voking his previous order, and wondered to what influence was owing the change of heart. She little dreamed, poor girl, the meaning that lay hidden like an adder behind the act of ap- parent kindness, Anxious to get beyond the dark, prison-like walls of her room, Camilla donned a light shawl and wandered forth at an early hour to enjoy the cool morning air within the shadow of the little wood that skirted the river. She seemed grave and thoughtful, yet from the fixed ex- Sbapoogen of the eye, it was plainly evident that er thoughts were not upon any thing around her, but something far away that gave her both joy and pain, as an occasional smile or sigh bore evidence. But she little dreamed that every move- ment she made—every expression of the face and glance of the eye, were being closely watched and noted by her father’s half-breed scout, Snake* Asshe had been accustomed to do for the vast two months, Camilla made the Forked Jottonwood a resting point in her,morning walks, She did this more through a longing desire to find there a communication from the lover to whom she had betrothed herself months before, and who was entirely unknown to La Mort. The lover had promised to return and carry her away from her prison home, and: he had requested her to watch their secret post- office closely, for he did not know how soon he’ might return with a force of sufficient strength 0 release her, in spite of the minions of Don La ort. So, upon the morning in question, when she went to the old trysting-place and there found a delicate little bouquet of flowers, her heart fluttered wildly and tears of silent joy filled her eyes. ‘She kissed the flowers and pressed them to her heart. There was no mistaking who they were from. Intuition told her this. had come back, and now her life of misery would be over, and her marriage with the outlaw, Rubal Ryan, averted. This was a ay a realization. She knew where to look for the letter, and when she had secured it, and read it, she knew not whether to cry or laugh, her emotions of joy and happiness were so great. She read and reread the delicate missive until committed to memory, then for fear it might fall into the wrong ‘hands, she tore it into pieces and threw them into the river. The Snake saw all these movements and emo- tions of joy, and when she went back to her room, he went directly to Don La Mort with the news of his observations. La Mort and Ryan chuckled together over their devilish cunning. d during the day they remained in close consultation, plotting not only for the capture of Camilla’s lover, but the destruction of the emi t camp for the sake of the plunder and gold which, their Spy had informed them, was no little sum The Snake was still set to watch Camilla, up- on whose freedom, and access to and from whose room, there was not.the least restriction. The day wore away and at dark Snake ni, inl ed that Camilla had put no letter in the " From this La Mort knew she intended to reply Lad lover in person, and no doubt flee wit. In fact, this was just what Camilla had de- cided upon doing, and ‘to allay all, or the least suspicion, she retired, as usual, to her bed- chamber shortly after dark, But shedid not go for sleep and rest, as usual. There was no light in her room, nor was there one to be seen in all the house, As hour after hour wore on and the time for her meeting with her lover drew near, Cami restless, and a feverish impatience, min- grew gled with fear and hope, took on of her. All was still in the house. e repulsive voice and ribald laugh of Rubal Ryan and his men could not be heard, as on the previous ahah in paernen revel with the master of the place, Don ort. Camilla knew|by the stars, which she had studied in her lonely hours, that it was near midnight, and having first implored the Divine protection and guidance of the steps she was about taking for better or worse, she arose from her humble position and threw a dark cloak hood-like over her head and shoulders. med she opened the door and passed on tip- toe out into the narrow hall, along which she stole to the rear entrance. Here she paused and listened, All was still. She o den, then by a circui reach Forked Cottonwood. ae rane eee She could scarcely restrain a cry of disap- pened. the door and passed out into the gar- | tumult in its throbbings. ~ > se ; Th op 11 es rare rreramennee ety —nrnres -—— pointment when she found her lover was no’ there. Still she thought it might not be mid- night, and*so quieted her emotions with the be | lief that he would yet come, She seated herself and listened—listened so in-- tently that her own heart seemed to create a: Once she was sure she heard the rustle of a leaf—then the low, sup- pressed breathing of powerful lungs; but all this. she accorded to the feverish excitement of her mind, as fancy. Suddenly a light footstep fell upon her ear, then she saw the figure of a man approaching; her through the gloom. Love’s memory instantly recalled the famili-- arity of that footstep and that pene form, and. with heart throbbing joyously, wildly, she arose a to meet her lover? — to her feet and advance ** Camilla !” “ Frank {?? , CHAPTER XVI. CLOSETED WITH THE DEAD, In due time Keen-Knife called at Frank Hey~ ward’s tent. He found Frank armed and cloak-- ed for his midnight journey to the Lone Estate;: and without delay, they took their departure from the camp, carefully eluding the guards and. Bold-Heart, whom Keen-Knife knew was scout- f ing. about the Peninsula. he Friendly led the way through the dark. forest, and at such a rapid speed that Frank could hardly keep pace with him. However, it _ was not long until they found themselvesin the —s| immediate vicinity of La Mort’s cabin, Frank’s emotions now became aroused, Anx-. iety, hope and love were crossed with fear and’. uncertainty. } When they had gained a point not far from: the cabin of La Mort, he and his red com my came to a halt in order to interrogate the sur- roundings. All was quiet about the place—not a sign of life could be seen nor heard, not even the flash of fire-fly, nor the chirp of a cricket. All and every thing about the premises seemed’ Maks 2 go in profound slumber. re mk oy: will remain here, Prince,” Frank fin-- ally said, ‘‘I will move on to the Forked Cot- tonwood and see if Camilla bas left a note, or is. there in person, In either case I will rejoin you in a few minutes, unless I should get into trou-- ble, then a sharp whistle will be my call.” “a “ Keen-Knife will remain here,” said the | Prince, seating himself upon a ae log, ‘and will come to your assistanceif needed. Go bring” the a en that the heart of my friend loves. so well, Frank turned and moved over. toward the’ SERN, which wasabouttwohundred yards i . : a Keen-Knife now rela into caren fg 2 (a\9 every faculty on the alert. Accusto as he. had been from infancy to the signs of the wil-. derness after nightfall, there was no er Bag \Z his sense of hearing. If there were nothing a q all to be heard of animate nature, it was a cer- tain, infallible sign that danger was abroad im some form or other; and this he believed to be- the case at the present mcment. He was concealed in a narrow i of woods: skirting the river, and with the true Indian pre- caution and ne , he made as careful a peed of his s on as the darkness would! mit. The log upon which he had seated himself was a linden of immense size. The white ends. showed that it had been quite recently chopped down. It had, also, been cut in two, the por- tion upon which Keen-Knife sat being about thirty feet long, and entirely free of limbs or knots. The Friendly supposed it had been cut _ —by 14 ae negroes a eagle the pur- pose of making a canoe, by the natives calleda dugout. “But in further gratifying his Indian — curiosity, he discovered that the lo Mag apc eipgy at one end—in fact, was a mere shell. ing: thus rendered unfit for a dugout, he could f is no idea for what it wasintended. | et ah eons tne doum to the rivets lniok. et sl own e river’s brink, a “8 Seok caretel about it when he realized what ‘ag a little power it would take to send the pros. | trate monarch rolling down the slope into the: — Something like ten minutes had passed after) Frank had left him, when Keen-Knite suddenly caught the light tread of feet mingled with the: 5 sound of aay ‘gee ae goat e- e alarmed, not for his own safety but that of his friend. He knew by thesound _ it was not Frank returning with the maiden. He—Frank—would not have been so thoughtless of the surrounding dan as to have BO loud in speech at pees eng pha Roe ri Ne river.
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wt meving under a weight, and the voices were ia coarse and husky. ie, The Indian quickly threw himself upon the ground to make a more careful examination of it is situation. He now saw fully a half-dozen > ‘forms coming directly toward him from the di- ‘rection of La Mort’s ranch. From their move- 4 ments and talk he knew they were white men— h a party of outlaws without a doubt. ‘o elude discovery, Keen-Knife slipped him- self quickly backward into the hollow foe some : ten feet Here he lay in i breathless silence an ‘ _ing footsteps. ‘a The party came on and he was not a little sur- _prised avhen he found they had stopped near the r. og. Here they engaged ina brief consultation a inaudible to the Prince, but which was followed by a slight commotion; then the Friendly saw Q the mouth of the log closed up, and at the same time he became painfully conscious of the fact that something or some one was either cray ling i ‘into the hollow, or was being forced into it. a The log was over three feet in diameter, and ) there was ample room within it for the Indian to sit erect; and no sooner did he hear and feel “the movements of the creature—whatever it __-was--entering his retreat, than he raised him- self to a sitting posture ard drew his knife for » defense, But, to his peace of mind, the sound, soon «teased, and then he saw a faint glimmer of \ light again at the entrance, u te listened, and heard a strange voice say: | _ “That’ll do, boys. I presume no one will ever . ‘find it ip there.” Y ; |. **Who cares if any one does, captain?” asked | -@ Second voice. ‘Not me for one. Now block the entrance ‘boys, and let’s heave her in,” said the first r. { Keen-Knife started. _He knew the persons | _-were villains—no doubt La Mort and his accom- ‘ ices. But what had they deposited in the log? § e bent low and tried to ascertain, but the darkness was too intense. And what did they | mean by blocking the entrance and heaving her rn a Ne nt _ The one he felt almost certain meant the clos- | ing of the log, and he experienced no little un- a is ae her he sus Bee 8 the ora might possibl 6 first he soon fo _ he was corrects saw the entrance of the ii A closed ap a block of wood, | taking all ai 4 kness within the place. | This was followed by a heavy pounding at the : entrance, and it was then that the Prince real- | ized more fully that he had been entrapped, and | thatthe block was being wedged fast in the end of the log. However, he did not permit his fears | to betray his presence. Such anact would have | been a mark of cowardice to him, and he would | rather have perished in the log that to ask | mercy at the hand of the outlaws. But he had little fear of perishing in the log, for with his | damife he could soon chip his way out. a As soon as the pounding ceased, all became | . quiet, and the entrapped Prince heard the sound } of retreating footsteps. But a moment later he heard them approaching again, and felt a vibra- tory shock ae the log, and heard a stentorian voice cry out: “Now! all Yi benna yea-he-o!” Keen-Knife felt the log move, and the next in- stant he was barely conscious of whirling in rapid evolutions within the log. Losing all con- ‘trol of If, he was dashed with almost stun- rom the opening. listened to the approach- t | | ating violence against the sides of his narrow prison. Butthis did not lastlong. The log soon ceased its rapid motion by rolling, with a thun- _ derous splash, into the river, and for a moment was buried beneath the waves. i _ It was several moments before the Prince could get himself aright and collect his thoughts -) sufficiently to realize the magnitude of his dan- ot, r..\ ee lis first fears were of the log filling with water, for already he could hear it creeping in hee the crevices at the entrance. He could scarcely, however, keep his balance sufficiently to make any efforts at escape, for the log pr such a res uous rolling and dipping in the water as | eet him prostrate, But at length it bec: be aie , and t abled to re; x ah on the thore was little ho » o> oP > beet, rand, however, t iat he had not it tgndin w ow end ; . _ oY " . maeat ys wagon E tate the tread was heavy, like that of booted feet | e ‘denoted excitement, said: | ner What did they intend to do with him?” Half-Dime Library. surface of the water. This he discovered from not only the inclined position of the log, but the more agreeable fact that no water entered the log after it had become settled, He could feel that he was floating at the will of the current, and by remaining perfectly quiet } ———- —< ‘‘Don’t know, Spy,” returned the Indian. “Tell Don Manuel, for the sake of her who loves Frank Heyward, to spare his life, for the dagger that takes hts life will reach the heart of Faye La Mort!” “Tl tell him, Spy,” replied the Indian, ‘‘ but the log would neither dip nor roll in the water. | tc-morrow,Inkpaducah and a hundred warriors But to remain quiet altogether was to remain inactive, and this the Prince could not do when he thought of his young friend Heyward and | hour when the emigrants are a the dangers to which he would be exposed. He felt confident the outlaws knew nothing of his presence in the log, but what had they put within it? He had scarcely asked himself the question when his ears were greeted by a low gasp, that was followed by a slight movement at the end of the log. He was startled by the sounds, and listened for a repetition of them, but all was silent as the tomb, save the light, swash of the waters over the outside. The Prince, however, was not satisfied with this silence, and resolved to make some investi- gation in his prison-barge. ‘ He turned and slowly put his hand out before him toward the mouth of the log, and he start- ed*with a low cry when it came in contact with something, which, upon closer examination, he found to be a human body! This was what the outlaws had put into the log, which they had rolled into the river to con- ceal the evidence of their crime. A shudder of horror thrilled the form of the Indian when he realized that he was fastened up in the tomb, as it were, along with its silent, ghastly occupant! CHAPTER XVII. BOLD-HEART ON THE ALERT. Boip-Heart, true to his promise made to Ma- jor Tom, kept a close watch over the camp during the night; but, despite his vigilance, Keen-Knife and Frank Heyward had made their way out of camp unobserved. However, they had been gone but a short time when he discovered their absence, and was on his way to report the fact to the major when he saw a cloaked figure, with muffled head, steal out from the-group of tents in a crouching attitude. He tried to identify the form, but failed. Yet from the stealth of its movements, he knew it was being actuated by some forbidden motive, whoever it was; and so he followed it up, determined to see where it went to. It crept to the two-wheeled vehicle and ex- amined it closely over and over, then moved on. On the banks of the river it stopped, and crouch- ing down, turned its head up and down the stream as if looking for something or some one. In this attitude it remained for several minutes, na it started up and began moving down the ver, Bold-Heart glanced after the figure and saw some distance beyond it the quick flash of a blue light, which he belieyed was a preconcerted sig- nal understood by the skulking form who was moving toward it. 14 9st By a circuitous route the Boy Hunter got in peer of the figure in hopes of finding out who it was, He threw himself in the tall prairie-grass un- der which he cunningly concealed his form from the most penetrating eye. . To his surprise the fi came on and stopped within arm’s length of him. Here it was joined y a second person who stood dimly outlined against the starry sky and who he saw was an Indian. The young hunter listened intently to catch the words that between them. They spoke in a low, hurried tone, glancing warily around them in the mean time. ‘* What news?’ asked the Indian of the cloaked figure, in a tone just loud enough to reach Rob’s picion is aroused,” replied the fig- ure, ‘‘ you'll have to be quick, The money, I’m sure, is in a ,rude box on a two-wheeled vehicle, probably in an iron safe. The tent of the two girls, Dora Barnwell and Mildred Cleveland, is near the center of the camp. Keen-Knife and the Boy Hunter both are about. What news from the ranch?” ‘“‘ A letter was found in the Forked Cotton- wood last night written to Camilla by a lover signed his name Frank Heyward. But the Their that letter was put back and Can , receive it. They’re goin’ to run off to-night— that is they intended to—but the Don Ru- bal Ryan are goin’ to kapter him.” _ The cloaked figure started, and, in a tone that a illa permitted to | | will be in the vicinity, and to-morrow night the attack is to be made on the encampment, at the wrapped in slumber.” ‘But how will you know when that hour comes?” ‘* You are to give the signal. Here is a bottle filled with phosphorus, and at any moment after midnight, when you stand on the bank of the river and toss it into the air, it will be seen and the attack commence. But you'll have to be careful, Spy, if you elude the cwoning foxes, Keen-Knife and Bold-Heart.” ‘*From what direction 1s the attack to be made?” ‘*Before midnight the Indians will descend the river in canoes to within a short distance of the camp. Then they’ll take their canoes from the haacanip oe ’em around through the woods and approach the opposite bank, The instant the signal is given, the party will rash from their ambushment—launch their canoes—cross the river and attack the place before the men can seize their arms, Now remember.” So saying the Indian scout turned and glidoA away, while the cloaked figure glided back camp so rapidly that our friend was unable te follow him and see which tent he entered. The youth admitted himself somewhat out witted. He was fully satisfied that there was 3 traitor in camp, and had he been better acquaint ed with all its members identified the voice. However, he went forth with tothe major’s tent and arousing him, made... known all that had transpired under his obser: vation during the night. The major was greatly surprised and scme — what excited by the youth’s story: but he felt: thankful that Frank Heyward had been cleared of all suspicion of being a traitor. was the traitor? Rob described the figure as being tall, and covered from head to foot with a long blanket or cloak, The voice was neither hoarse nor soft, ' but rising and ptt Sr a quick, excited tone. “Great God!” exclaimed the major in great agony of 9 hich of the friends that I have always con- sidered a firm, tried friend is betraying our camp into the In can have, if they will only spare the lives of, my friends and ay two darlings, Dora and Mil- dred. No, no, Bold-Heart, they must not have my girls! I will die in their defense! But go, young man, and keep a close watch over our camp, and your reward shall be whatever you name. To-morrow night we will be prepared _ for Inkpaducah and his minions. And then we must slay the traitor that’s bartering our lives away. Oh, it is awful to talk of slaying a friend! Surely it canot be Ethan White, for he has a family that would be in danger. Bo, no, it cannot be any of the whites. It must be one of the blacks—probably Vasco--Frank Hey- ward’s servant, a tall, powerful man, who has seen much of life as a Mississippi boatman and has made several overland trips from St. Louis to Santa Fe. Yes, it must _be Vasco, although he has always seemed kind-hearted, honest and faithful. Go, Bold-Heart, and let your vigils be unceasing over our camp, Remember, over fif- ty lives are intrusted to your care.” Bold-Heart turned and left the tent, while — Major Tom returned to his couch to brood over the increasing dangers, but not tosleep. | The night wore away and morning dawned. All were early astir, filled with new life and vigor. The major concealed his emotion as best he could, and went forth, hoping to read in the face of the traitor, whoever i his heart. But he was disappointed. The face of every one seemed as ee and innocent as oe sweet, fair faces of two pets, Dora and Vasco was there, full of life and honest mirth as ever; and it was he who first discovered the absence of his young master and Keen-Knife from the a ’ : Much speculation was entertained over their The cry distress, and was faint at fied Dat ne We cortipined tepeal Ont egaineends ie again, it 1 arta ha amet he probably would have é But who | irits, ‘‘who can that traitor be? — dians’ power? ‘The money they. e was, the evil of |
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'—Frank Heyward, Dico?” “ ’ of emigrants camped. We can seek safety come: _ house, they — - — - _ - . encessiatipsion _ é from lip to ar But the only answer that came to their ears | was another cry, that seemed to issue from be- neath the silent bosom of the river. CHAPTER XVIII. THE FUGITIVES. “CAMILLA.” “Frank.” The hearts of the lovers, Frank Heyward and eas ron ‘What is it?” was the question that passed | | Camilla La Nort, were too full of joy for fur- ther utterance, and they clasped each other in one fond, lingering embrace. The silence that followed spoke plainer than words could have done of the love-communing of those young hearts. . It was several moments before either spoke, but finally Frank breathed into the ear of his darling a renewal of his love that found an echo in Spe ili heart. ey spoke briefly of their long separation, then Frank asked: " hts “Have you decided to go with me, Camilla, to the camp of the emigrants?” “Would such a. course be .prudent, dear ‘Frank?’ “T would not ask you to go, if it were not, sweet Camilla.” ' i “Then I will go, Frank, for within a few ) days, | was to become the unwilling bride of Rubal Ryan, the Outlaw captain.” y “Thank Heaven!” cried Frank, ‘‘I am in time to prevent it! Come, Camilla, come.” “Oh, Frank! See those dark forms!” Before another word could be uttered, a num- bér of dark forms glided from the thicket sur- rounding the tree, and the next instant blankets were thrown over the lovers’ heads, Gealg ea them from crying out. Frank was then felle unconscious to the earth under a crashing blow of a elub, while Camilla was lifted in a pair of strong arms and borne swiftly back toward the cabin. She struggled desperately for freedom, but all in vain, She had ‘stim carried over a hundred Loh when she heard the quick rush of feet, fol- owed by a dull, crunching blow. Then she felt the arms of her captor relax their vice-like gripe from around her form, and she sunk to the Quickly she threw aside the heavy blanket - that envelopéd her form and sprung to her feet. Before her stood one of her father’s negroes, t ile I couldn’t see young missus "bused by the furnal bad men.” ‘Do you know what they have done with him asked Camilla, Don’t know who he'yar, chile; but de ole master and de cap’n’s men are doin’ debbiltry da wn dar ” own dar. - “Oh, my God, Dico! I fear they are doing murder!” “Oh, oh!” groaned Dico, ‘‘and s’pects dis. nigger il have to die, too, fur strikin’ de cap’n wn. ‘*Dico, you can save your life and mine too. On the river below here there is a large party ere. » Let us flee.” ; ; ; “Oh, de good salvashun!” exclaimed Dice, clapping his withered “oak with joys “den iss Milla, and let’s hurry off.’ Old Dico hurried away by a circuitous route so as to avoid the cabins, Camilla following close behind him. Entering the cornfield at the rear of the threaded their way across the inclosure and entered the forest a mile east of au . andered on and on, and at last the enough Camilla, whose spirits he , h | he had discovered that the form was that of Keen-Knife, pe pe At length they seated themswives on the trunk of a fallen tree to rest and listen. They were upon an elevated ridge, and far away through the woods they saw a number of lights bobbing about in the vicinity of the Lone Estate. ‘They are searching for us, Dico,” said Camilla, sadly. “*Spect so, Miss Milla. But many’s de time dis ole slave hab heard de bay ob de blood- hound when hid in de swamps ob ole Lou’sanna. But dar’s no hounds now, Miss Milla, and we needn’t be much ’fraid, but it’ll be death to ole Dico if ebber cotched again. He’s gittin’ ole and feeble and can’t do much work, and so de master wouldn't lose much by my death.” “But, Dico, it will be worse than death for me if I am taken by my father again,” said Camuilla. ‘** Lor’, Miss Milla, if ye knows jis’ what dis ole nigger does, you’d nebber call de ole massa La Mort father again.” Camilla started, and laying her hand upon the darkey’s, asked, excitedly: “Why, Dico, is not Manuel La Mort my father?’ **Lor’, Milla!” returned the darkey, ‘I’se *feared these trees hab ears and ll bear witness ’g’inst ole Dico, den he'll hab to die if taken by de ole master.” *““‘You need have no fear, Dico. There is nothing about us that bas ears to hear, pe pone good Dico, and tell me what you know of my parentage.” De ole master promised to kill me if I ever told it, Miss Milla, but den I hab nebber live happy wid de secret on my ole heart. No, no, Miss Milla, you’se not de chile ob Don La Mort, but de chile ob a gentleman who lived wid -his invalid wife at San Augustine, in Floridy, long time ago.” ‘“ How do you know this, Dico?” ‘God bress ye, chile, it war ole Dico dat carry ye one whole long night in his arms when de ole master stole ye from de bower in de grove ’mong de magnolias and orange trees.” ‘*Oh, Dico!” moaned Camilla, ‘‘ why haven’t you told me this before?” ‘Case de ole master promised to flog me to death if ebber I told it, and, Miss Milla, life am sweet even toan ole nigger who hab toiled un- der de lash fifty ong ears.” “Yes, yes, Dico, life is sweet to all. I know the power that has kept you silent. Manuel La Mort would have kept his word. But do you know, Dico, what my father’s name is?” “No, Miss Milla; you was a little chile when stolen, and cried heap for papa and mam- ae pitiful dat dis nigger’s heart was almos’ roke. Camilla was silent for several minutes, try- ing to recall the days when she had known a kind father and mother, other than La Mort and his wife. But in the continual change and excitement that must have followed her abduc- tion, her young mind had failed to retain a re- membrance of anything beyond her life as Camilla La Mort. ig They conversed awhile longer, and as they could still see the lights flitting about the Lone Estate, they arose and continued on, as Camilla supposed in a direction that would eventually bring them to the camp of the emigrants. CHAPTER XIX. AFLOAT ON THE RIVER. | Kazen-Knirr’s feelings were anything but pleasant when he realized that he was fastened up with a human corpse; and drawing his knife, he crept as far away from the body as ible and began a an outlet overhead. But this was an undertaking of no little magnitude, and one that would require hours of labor to sh He worked away diligently, his mind occupied solely by the object of acai from the log ena the loathsome thing within reach of him. The log retained its balance well and he could just feel motion enough to tell that it was float- ig omy onward, | ddenly the Prince was startled by a low moan within the log, and there was something in the sound that seemed familiar to him—some- thing that aroused a dark suspicion in his breast. for he knew that the sound must have issued from the lips of the supposed corpse, / ‘Leaving his work, he ore back toward the body, and when it was reached, he fingered the face and head over carefully, then continued his Seg aig the body until he came to the Then a cry of surprise burst from his lips for Frank Heyward. _ nantes All the sympathetie amxiety of the Indian was , cy Se IEE Bel Leal oe ge SST Gs Se ek, on Biel ie ee eee ee ee eee sss just way, know aught of our money, ovecenteheemmntpe eee ee ee ee eH aroused, and the next moment he was bending over the motionless fo of the unfortunate young man, who he had discovered was nod dead, as he could feel his heart beating and. hear his long, labored pecans: For over an hour the kind-hearted Friendly worked with the unconscious man. But his ad- ministerings were not in vain. He soon had the joy of hearing him speak—inquire about his. — situation and where Camilla was: but his words — were vehement and disconnected, showing that he was still slightly delirious. ¥ Keen-Knife, after many attempts, finally suc- eeeded in giving him a comprehensive under- standing of his situation, and the manuer im which he had come there. As to Camilla, he could tell him nothing. r The half-unconscious Heyward groaned im - spirit and tossed in agpny. \ : Keen-Knife succeeded in pacifying his spirit,. and in learning the extent of his injuries. He had only been wounded on the head—stricken. unconscious by the blow of a club, And then when Frank was found to be in no serious dan- ger, the Prince returned to his work of cutting through the log. But his progress was slow. The side of the log was over three inches thick, and by the time lh” had made a hole ny large to see out, h saw it was growi ight. aN Still he labored on, aid by day’ the hol was increased in size sufficiently to enable hii, to run ‘his hand out, ONS ““T should judge we were nearly down to the — ocean by this time, Keen-Knife,” Frank finally remarked, : “The log floats slow,” replied the Prince; then applying his ear to the hole, he listened. low ery escaped his lips. ie *: Me is it, Prince, what is it?” asked Frank,. eagerly. near the emi ts’ camp.” ‘Ts it possible?” * Yes. I will call to them to ae us out.” Then he placed his mouth at the hole, and shouted at the top of his lungs repeatedly, Several minutes passed in intense silence, then they heard the murmur of voices, followed al- most immediately by the dip of oars. 2.9 ee the matter here?” a voice suddenly as 5 f " Frank the voice and answerell; == ¢ + pele eyes paged, spaior and for God’s sake get an ax and cut us out of this log!” 4 yi ee The canoe ran back to shore, and proc an the blows of a chopper were heard those within the log: ax, was soon alongside of the floating clog, i ' np i , and soon pet gl NE es was made in the floating prison, and its inmatee = rescued therefrom. Great curiosity and excitement Roa over the situation in which they were found, and not. without giving a complete hi of their move- ments, the object of their leaving camp so se- cretly, and so forth, could Frank explain the redicament into which they had fallen. So he old the whole story from beginning toend. = Then for the first time most of the emigrants learned that Frank had been in the country but a few months before, and that Major Tom’s ear Weet was through a hope of recovering stolen from bim years before. ee upon their guard a as ) is e emigrants were now, for not until they hi ard were they aware of their proximity to the Estate, which as well as the Mut Rtn} hunters, had previously pronounced the hot-bed = of outlawry. r Ma Frank that there was a their eam and of the preconcerted attack to be coming nig traitor is?” asked jane stor No. to heel in a long blanket, and who uptime 2 ared sng the tents before the scouts could ave time to that enters the camp know of no one upon whom I could unless it is your servant, Vasco.” 4 ‘Never, major, never!” exclaimed Frank; “there is not a truer heart in this camp than Lew Vasco’s.” Po) ut _ ‘Then, in Heaven’s name, who is the traitor?” _ r hearing the ma- ollow it up. fa Cee Soe ht.” “* But how would a spy, & - intl A and which ten is occupied by my darlin ,and Mildred ios hn wecahaing Mildred Hear voices. Ugh! heap good, for we're: : “fi heard Frank’s ery - | ‘Tom took ‘the first opportunity to tel A aitee es TONY eat, 2 5 made the “ And could neither of the scouts tell who the Frank, after It may be some one after dark, but if not, I _ My suspicion, | “oe iF tt was a tall person, muffled from head ir a hia ~ y oe Aq Trae! ' 4 % mA oa td - i
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: y '. Frank, seouts ere ig _ _ No doubt of it, no doubt of it, | Byan, st She same tne undging 14 a v w —— Half-Dime ®me traitor is one of gur party, and _holds secret | “There is one whose scalp will not be there interviews with outside friends, The arrange- ment for the attack confirms the fact. The ‘traitor is one of our party! To-night I hope we avill find out who it is; and now, Frank, we have . got to prepare for the preconcerted attack. Let us keep the whole terrible truth-from the women and children, for fear of undue excitement. . But let us take each man aside and inform him f the truth, that he may be prepared for the »nflict. We'll have to get the two-wheeled art around close to the river, with the monty 4» devils so greatly covet, and which theyll get with a vengeance if they attempt to cross the viver. : “Tf we succeed in defeating them, major, we should follow up our victory, and push on to the ‘Lone Estate and rescue Camilla at once, for fear she may be spirited away. Rubal Ryan, ~*he prairie-pirate, is there, and Camilla said she Mer to become his unwilling wife within three walays. ajor Tom groaned in spirit. . . ‘*T hope,” he said, ‘‘ we can rescue her, Frank, ‘for even if she is not my child, I am anxious to deliver. her from such a nest of devils, because you love her, Frank.” ** (tod. bless you, Major Bronson!” exclaimed _ Here the conversation ended and the two friends separated. The major sought each of his fellow-travelers and acquain them with their coming danger. Preparations at once be- gan to put the camp in a state of defense. Never did men work harder than did they that day, and before the sun went down, the ‘lower section of a block-house was completed. ‘This would afford the women and children a gate retreat. The wagons were all arranged around the “tents on the outside of the building as a defense, while the two-wheeled cart, with its secret con- tents, was moved ’round close to the river-bank, pine the point from whence the attack was to By dark ell was pre for the conflict, and the preparations had been made so quietly and with such little outward concern that not one of “the women suspected what was up; for, as .the major had requested, not a man had hinted, to any of the women, of their threatened dan- eer,» The women and children were sent into the block-house that night to sleep, while for want of room the men took to the tents on the out- side. » At dark a number of guards were posted, and Keen-Knife and Bold-Heart put on the scout. The hours worn on. Not « moment's sleep «losed the eye of a man, but with throbbin, -hearts they lay and waited for the signal, call- ing them to the conflict. CHAPTER XX. THE ATTACK. Art the silent hour of midnight, fully a score “of canoes, containing, at least, three occupants each, put out from the east shore of the river “near Lone Estate, and dropped silently down the stream. Not the sound of a voice could be heard; only ‘the pense rippling of the water broke the silence of the hour. — ee Grim and silent sat the painted and plumed voyager, each clutching a rifle or tomahawk. here were whites in the party, however. In “a canoe in the rear of the main fleet, as it were, were three uwo of whom were whites. The latter were Manuel La Mort and Rubal : an, person was the Sioux chief Inkpaducah. Poke three leaders were discussing in an un- dertone the probability of their ition being both there, and als are not on the border.” = j f ‘their al le pol art and Koon Kaite aro Cunnig dog and their scalps will hang at the girdle of the la Mort in ‘3 we 7 to-night, I presume,” said La Mort. ‘You mean my rival, Frank Heyward.” ‘““Yes, If he is still on the float he must be near the Des Moines ere this.” “Well, now, La Mort,” said Rubal, ‘you have said Heyward will not be there; probably you can say whether Camilla and the devil that knocked me cold last night, will be there or not. *‘T feel certain we'll find them both in the emigrants’ camp. If so, Dico shall be whipped till there is not a grease-spot of him left; and that girl, PU—” ; ~ Maver mind that girl, my dear Manuel. She belongs to me,” interrupted the prairie-pi- rate. ; ‘Suppose we capture those two beautiful girls at the emigrant camp, whose will they be?” Rubal Ryan laughed softly. **-You know the spoils of this es peas are to be divided equally, Don Manuel, do you not?” ** Oh, certainly,” replied La Mort. And so the conversation ran on. In the mean time, Major Bronson sat alone in his tent, wrapt in darkness and silence. He was waiting the return of Keen-Knife whom he had sent up the river to watch the movements of the Indians, Suddenly, as the hours wore on, a step was heard without, Then the door was darkened by a shadowy form and the Prince of the Prairies stood before him. ‘* What news, Prince?’ the major asked. “Three score of Indians are at this instant concealed on the opposite side of the river, wait- ing the signal to attack our camp.” ‘Then go, Prince, and keep a close watch for the traitor! Let him give the signal, then watch out for the foe. If they make their ap- pearance, give the signal, and 1 will repeat it by a blast upon this horn.” Keen-Knife glided from the tent, and even at that instant he saw a tall, shadowy form emerge Srom the door of the block-house! It men ba and gazed around, then crept on tow the river. ‘The Prince knew it was the mysterious Spy and traitor, but what was it doing in the block- house? How came it there? _ The Friendly stole around, to the right and reached the river-bank above the cloaked figure just ea bate aut ball of fire ae the cmt Quickly he bent: bis upon the op shore, from whose pe. baal he saw a number of dark forms emerge. Then he heard the foe launching their light —e and a moment later the soft dip of pad- es. The Indians are coming! A low cry like that of a hawk issued from the lips of Keen-Knife. This was quickly followed by the sharp twang of a horn; then forth from their tents rusher the men, rifle in hand. Down to the bank they ran, and clr a line poured a deadly fire into the approaching canoes, giving vent to a loud, triumphant shout that seemed issue in chorus from a hundred throats. The sav: foes were appalled—terror- stricken, and recoiled like a wave before the begcy fire of our friends. High upon the midnight air rose the din of battle—the crash of fire-arms, shouts of victory and ‘of the wounded. Some of the savages plunged into the river to try and escape what they believed an inevitable death, while high above the confusion of the moment could heard the voice of La Mort and Rubal Ryan trying to rally the panic-strick- en savages. Vain attempt! In two minutes not a savage nor outlaw, save a number of dead and wound- ed, was upon the river. reat excitement, however, had been created at the block-house among the women and chil- dren. Major Tom and hurried thither to Ertan them, and just as they reached the building they heard a woman’s scream a short distance east of them, They hurried on to see what was wrong, but could hear nor find noth- ing. , Fastening back to the block-house they suc- ceeded in quieting the fears of the women and children, and it was then that they learned Mildred Cleveland was gone. “That must have been her scream, major,” “Yes, yes. Some prowling devil of a red- skin has be rescued. Library. | captured her. But by my soul she shall | mY how came she out of the block-house?” d one of the women. eo ie, ‘“‘ How came you all out? She has started it» from her sleep and rushed out, as the door was unbarred, with affright.” ‘*She was gone,” said Dora, with whom Mil- dred had slept, ‘‘ when I awoke.” “Poor girl!” sighed the major. ‘‘ I will hunt up Keen-Knife and put him on the trail.” CHAPTER XXII. LA MORT’S FLOATING Fort. To describe the rage and disappointment of the three villains, La Mort, Rubal Ryan and Inkpaducah, would be quite impossible. La Mort swore and raveddike a madman; the chief gave vent to his emotions in deep gut- turals, while the recklesss Rubal Ryan laughed at them in a half-rejoicing manner. With him pa was little care whether the battle was won or lost. But they returned to the Lone Estate only to plan anew for the capture of the camp, and it was soon apparent what was next to be done, for all hands set to work and soon a hea ony’ raft was _ constructed, on which a bastion of logs was — erected and thus a literal floating fort was ready by noon, At two o’clock this formidable structure was manned by some fifty Indians and outlaws under Ryan and La Mort; and then, by means of long poles, it was pushed out from the bank and permitted to drop, at the will of the cur- rent, down the stream. } So certain were they of the destruction of the — camp that Inkpaducah, with a number of war- riors, had gone around upon the prairie to cut off the retreat of the defeated emigrants in that direction. / ; But what would have seemed the most singu- lar to a casual observer, who knew whither the savages were going, was the fact of there bei a beautiful young white woman aboard the with rifle in hand, as if ready for the coming conflict; and with whom La Mort was oceasion- wa Mes in consultation, - as ho was she? and why was she there? The raft drifted slowly and steadily on. CHAPTER XXXII, THE SECRET OF THE TWO-WHEELED VEHICLE. . THE work on the block-house was and every defensive point strengthened. About noon some excitement was raised over the discovery of two persons far out upon the rairie. They were on foot and approaching he Peninsula. By aid of the major’s field-glass they were en- abled to distinguish them as a man and woman and they saw the latter waving a white object as if pyrceting fet, assistance. i “Tt must Mildred,” cried the major; ‘Frank, you and two or three others come with me to their assistance. They must be aidedsfor they seem in great excitement and distress, eanibenls | Frank and others, the major ran to the corral, and mounting the fleetert animal there, dashed furiously away across the plain. The others followed on as fast as possible, but when themajor reached the fugitives his com- panions were over v “juarter of a 1.i}* bebind. To Bronson’s surprise he found that the two Sel onal the Otic ap gal AT girl, and the other an nepro, tire’ and travel-worn. z It was Dico-and Camilla La Mort! As the major drew rein before them, a low exclamation bur~* from the darkey’s lips, and he started back a. °~vith sudden affright. r s “Who are you,’ usked Bronson, eyes upon the shrinking negro. “ Pugitives from the power of Don La Mort,” replied Camilla. : th seeming eee. “young > ‘Major Bronson started at the sound of her ~ voice as ents he had been struck with a dag ger. He fixed his eyes upon the maicen withs wild gaze, and his breast heaved as though volcano was surging within it. ‘Great heavens!” he exclaimed, as he threw himself from his.horse, ‘it is her voice and hrr image ay, sainted wife—my dead of ‘ >S5 major, “you mush. God, yes, you are mine owo \ Ste \ i >) | : hh ns oe ome ee: ie ae | - o i. _ 4% er ig 5 ‘ he i Ae oe ae
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‘some hope that his child was found in Camilla 1 Tia Muerte. h __. As the day wore away, Keen-Knife left the the bend of the river, a um { and j ogee ht of the enemy, while Major ] _- Heyward were busily engaged about the vehi- CT nanan a 2 Ae 2. iat Se ted ORS RT daughter—mine own Annie! You bear herface —her voice—her eyes,” The old major clasped the maiden in his arms | and poured a shower of kisses upon her. Intu- | itive love told him that she was his child, yet | there was nothing positive—an uncertainty more agonizing than the pangs of death tor- tured him. Frank and his companions came up. ’ Then occurred another joyous meeting—that: of Camilla and Frank—which I will not attempt to describe. : The party refurned to camp. Camilla was received with much kindness and every thing done to make her comfortable. The major received from Dico’s lips the fact that Manuel La Mort’s true name was Gaspard La Muerte, and that he—Dico—had assisted his | master to abduct Camilla from her parents ten years before at San Augustine. : He narrated the circumstances under which she was stolen, so in accordance with facts known to Major Bronson, that it left not a ‘sin- | a nee in his mind, but that Camilla was his child. He had known Gaspard La Muerte as a bitter enemy, who hesitated at no crime when inspir- ed with revenge. When the major was sojourn- ing at San Augustine with his invalid wife and little child, the latter suddenly disappeared and could not be found, not even the faimest trace of it. But Major Tom had more than one good reason to believe that La Muerte had stolen the child, for about this time the villain disappeared and was never heard of more, until Frank Hey- ward returned from the West and gave him camp and stole away into the woods, but ere long ddeoly burst into the camp ina state of great excitement, never halting until be stood in the presence of Major Tom Bronson. “What now, Prince?” “The Indians are coming again, this time upon’a big raft! Walls protect them from which they cannot be dislodged with our rifles.” Instead of going into a fit of excitement, the major only smiled. “When the white-haired chief sees the raft he will not smile. And if he will look eastward over the prairie he will see a party of Sioux aug Si cut off our retreat from the river.” | ell attend to them, Keen-Knife,” said Major Tom, composedly; then turning to his friends who had gathered around, he said: _. “Boys, the red-devils are coming, and we . have got eens vo meet them. We will have to open the money-box on the cart. Ah! there she comes now—a regular floating bat- te p? et eaicetaes turned up the river in an in-, stant, and beheld a huge raft slowly rounding ut four hundred yards of the defense, upon it d painted who set up a tri- as soon as they away. Above the to they saw f ly fifty plumed heads an faces of the Indian warriors demoniac yell came in sight. _ “To the monsy-cart, boys, to the money-cart!” shouted Major Bronson, turning toward the two-wheeled vehicle, “and let us send them a ‘bank-check on the happy hunting-grounds.” The men, with rifles in hand, hastily gathered in a circle about the vehicle, that stood near the river-bank, completely screening it from _view om and Frank cle, inside of the circle of men. | ; On came the huge raft, but as it was not with- in rifle-shot yet, t yous, jeering savages did not withdraw behind their works. A dead silence reigned in the camp. A set- tled expression of anxiety and impatience was written upen every face. : “ Fall back, boys, a Seal a voice suddenly rung sharply out on the air. ; te was fe command of Major Tom, and scarcely had it boen uttered before'the men fell back, revealing a small brass cannon mounted the two-wheeled vehicle, and Major Tom 7 nm L eanaine with laniard in hand ready to fire it. This was the seeret contents of the cart. __ The next instant there was a puff of white smoke, a thunderous roar, and a solid cannon ball went skimming along the surface of the river, sending up great sheets of spray and strik- ing the advancing raft nedr the center in front, throwing a cloud of splinters and sand into the wad teasing’ edad in the wall that Don Mo | pronounced impregnable. tA yal peg went up from tho raft, and apa ens Sestenis alt the savages had disappeared ‘works yours, "iy NSN , La Load, and give them an- | other.” Again the howitzer was charged with a solid shot, and brought to bear upon the raft. Another breach was torn in the wall of the floating fort, sending the sand and timber in a perfect cloud | overhead, and death and confusion into the ranks of the enemy. And now, while Frank and the major con- tinued to load and fire the howitzer, their friends opened a destructive fire with their long-range rifles, upon, the enemy whom they could see through the broken wall. A perfect crash of firearms rent the air, min. | ged with the occasional roar of the howitzer. ut the conflict was altogether upon one side. Before the savages could fire a shot, terror took possession of them. Their leaders tried in vain to rally them, but | those that were not killed or wounded took to | the river and swam ashore. In five minutes the floating fort, as La Mort . termed it, was a perfect wreck, and cleared of | all but the dead and dying. But these companer | | | | the greater part of the enemy’s force, and now their cries of pain and agony rent the air. Scarcely had the firing ceased when the mount- | ed Indians on the prairie were seen approaching at a sweeping gallop. They were not far awa “Ay and in less time than it takes to write it, the | major had his howitzer trained upon them, and | sent a solid shot plowing through their ranks. This terrible and unknown messenger of | death, tearing both warriors and ponies to pieces | almost, sent terror to the heart of every savage, and amare the Sioux fled faster than they had approached. his ended the conflict. The savages had re- ceived a chastising never to be forgotten; but | now that the battle was over, its horrors stared the emigrants in the face. The disabled raft had floated down and lodged against the bank, just opposite the cammp, where every wail of the dying could be heard. Our friends, however, were not wanting in Christian humanity, and with hearts that knew no wounded foe, but suffering creatures, they Mi ita soon aboard the raft administering to em. Over thirty forms lay prostrate upon the bloody, wig ig logs, half of whom were dead, and lying all conceivable attitudes. Some bore no wounds at all, but the awful i of the 5 features showed, that they solutely the flying logs. The spectacle was a terrible one, and almost the first face that Major Tom’s eyes fell upon was that of Don La He was dead, yet his face wore a natural and calm expression. iiepite tas r od The grim monster had seized him so suddenly | We will pass over two G9 beer apne a Ae that he had scarvely left his ghastly seal upon | in the history of the little band of colonists, © the wicked man’s features. ; ; Faye uerte, the beautiful traitress, 0. = ‘‘ By Heavens!” the major exclaimed, ‘‘that | Mildred Cleveland, as we have known her, was is the face of d La Muerte!” “Yes, or Don La Mort,” replied the Boy Hunter. ‘ Heaven bas meted him his reward at last,” said Bronson, ‘‘ but here is another white face.” “Ah!” exclaimed Bold-sieart, upon the grim, contorted face; “ Rubal Ryan, the notorious Prairie-Pirate. “ Ma-jor—Bron-son!” The cry came ‘from the further extremity of the wreck, and every one that heard it started | with surprise and excitement—not because its in- | heres down at, major, is tonations bore the unmistakable evidence of death, but because it was the voice of a female, and one that sounded strangely familiar. Hurrying across the raft in obedience to the man halfeitting and hetfrcdininy Longe ie rk Ph rachini " ) oben wall alf-rec z t the Masses of long le black hair fell over her breast and concealed A groan burst from the major’s lips, and h started back with Pa pom favor Ni 4 Tes it is Mi prvctel es cert e dying woman s slightly, and in feeble voice she said: . hey % No, mao Tam not Mildred Cleveland! I ‘ Muerte—the spy that has been in am Faye ; your camp. ame — burst eae Sp gal a reality +—oh, surely not! surely not!” he exclaimed, * "Tt 1s, ce. peel weg the dying traitress. ‘I havo i being parsued into yeur : ‘ Nal’ 9) rt ne = gad “ mer Lo ty ta} ait {i = Hes ree te reek Fy Be akc eg Oe SPE | aspy that had known you in the South. d ab- a n frightened or stunned to death by | she had composed | < iy | The corony, planted on the Peninsula, pros | i fe a a wicked part against. you and Mee 1) | 4 . <4 . . . , | “Ah, major!” exclaimed Frank, “you are a | Indians was all a farce. The Indians were Ra- | capital artillerist. ° bal Ryan’s prairie-pirates. And my ‘story of being the daughter of Orville Vane caevalon of course, was untrue—told to ingratiate myse into your confidence, and learn the point of your - | destination and whether you had any valuable stock, or amount of money in your party. Fath- er knew that Orville Vane Cleveland was a dear . | friend of yours, hence my knowledge of such ‘ a person.” : “Then” your father knew that I was coming ‘ into Fae country, did he?’ asked the major. ‘Yes, Lone Estate, he has than the fact was communicated to him Mee 3 Lhe first night that I stayed in your camp, I held an interview with a sp that was about, and sent word to the Lone Estate of your proposed colo- ny and the point of its location. Father hated you, and resolved to destroy your whole band. But he has failed—we have all failed. That two-wheeled vehicle—which I supposed contain. ed your money—is what misled me, and thereby have I led all to death and destruction. Oh, what a life Ihave led. But I was trained _ to it from infancy, and I BOpe Heaven will for- give my sins. But, Major Bronson, you had © child stolen from you once, had you not?” ‘Yes, yes!” gasped the major; ‘‘ what of her, what of her, Mildred?” ! ‘Father abducted her from your homein San - a ee years ago, and—” “Where is she now?” “Tecan not say. Two evenings ago she escap- _ ed from the Lone Estate. We ed her Ca-. a,’ hy “Thank God! thank God! Camilla is my ~ child!” cried the major, ; “Then you have found her?” said the dying “Veg.” : “Heaven be thanked!” murmured the girl. But you must have your wound attended to, Mildred,” said the major. ‘Here, me m, bear — this poor girl tenderly to the camp and let Dr, Pritduard’ dress ‘3 i eviate her See miaty Cadantivet suffering. er r a Frank Heyward adh Bold-teary lifted her in their arms and bore her asnore and to th a But, when they had laid her down upon t couch, peeparne for her by Dora and Camilla, CHAPTER XXIII. buried by the side of her father, in a little (on glade in the woods not far from the Pen them, The little band of colonists were molested no more by the red-skins. The brass howitze: proved a greater terror to them thanathousané armed dragooys would have done. : The domains of the Lone Estate were take Se a ion of, a few jo after the fall of ort. It was found entire one of the arg ever heard e family of the outlaw. pered and grew to prominence, The a acres were soon marked by the hand of man, and vast herds were seen upon its Although father has made an out . ward show of vagene Ce the cultivation of the een in direct communica- | tion with the Indians and prairie outlaws. And _ * no sooner had you set foot within the territary — ? el ie Fp e 7 oy insula. fe The dead and wounded Indians were given | up to their red friends, who pL aud undera flag of truce the day after the fight, asking for ly deserted, and not ; “ of ‘hanes tat , oy ae ww 4 Fe) 4 ¥ a 2 - sr re ’ ny Rey are fe he never d occasion to regre e A fae Meee no ng had h Yh his lost An- nie an - was } L again, by ; Frank Hey: N nike. 18 fe, th Prince ; of the Prairies, , spent, much of his time, when not out on the te aalt his young wife; pe i and went often to v r old com Antelope Abe, and talk over their adventures pai when mere boys. oe met Old Dico lived with Frank and Can faithful, duty-loving old servant until his de: 1 <
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+ * hy BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, Deadwood Dick Novels, 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. 20 Deadwood Dick’s Detiance; or, Double Daggers. 28 Deadwood Dick in Disguise; or, Bulls. ten 85 Deadwood Dick ia His Castle. AZ Deadwood Dick's Bonanzay or, The Phantom'Miner. 49 Deadwood Dick in Danger; or, Omana Oll, 57 jPeadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar, zB ead wesa 4 ph aa peas’ a c gone es 4 was e Heroine e¢ end Woot ¢k's Last Aets or, Corduroy arlie. 100 Deadwood Dick In Leadville, | : 104 Deadwood Dick’« Device; or, The Double Cross Sign. 109 Deadwood Dick aa Detective. 120 Deadwood Dick's Double; or, The Gorgon’s Gulch Ghost. Ltd pendwond Pek pete Bete ga A ay é eadwoox ek’s ge Strike; or, Jame of Gold. 166 Deadwood Dick of bcadwood: or The Picked Party. 195 Deadwood Dick’a Dreamy or, The Rivals of the Road, 201 Deadwood Dick’«a W ards or, The Black Hill’s Jezebel. ore grand w ced cate he poo ee Cee J Jane’s Adventure. 7 Deadwoo ck’s Dead Deal, 221 Deadwood Dick’s Death-Plant. R82 Gold-Duat Dick. A Romance af Renahs and Tovghs, 44 ene hal pine shiyide or, The Spirit of Swamp Lake. ecadwook k's oath Trail, 809 Deadwood Dick’sa VDealys or, The Gold Brick of Oregon, B21 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen; or, The Fakir of Phantom F 847 D * $ or, , m Finte tay end wood Dick’s Duenta; or, Days in the Diggings. Senieaiveed Winer Uiint re ondelte, 405 Deadwood Dick In Dead City. 410 Deadwood Dick's Dismenta.. 421 Deadwood Dick in New Vorks or, A “ Cute Case,” 0 Deadwood Dick’ Dust; or, The Chained Hand. 35 penawood Picks srt xii 8 Crimson Crescent Sign, end wood ck r."*, Definnee, dee Bicivesd Bienes pal nent, Yr. - -Up. 465 Deadwood Dick Irie Racket nt Claim 10, 471 Deadwood Dick, Jr.%« Corrals or, Bozeman Bill. 476 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dog Detective, ESE Uesdwoed Wick’, sete, Comments ye ek, Jr.%a, C net. 496 Deadwood Dick’ Jr’a: Inheritance, pa eg Bene Bick Jr.'s fi ings. endweod Dick, Jr.’a, Deliverance, Bis eadweod Wick’ 5y.'s Protegee. 522 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Three, 529 Veadwood Dick, Jr.’#, Danger Ducka, 5684 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«) Death Hunt. Bit Reaweod Ok? sro ip win, t Vidoog > as i e feat V' 549 Deadwooa Dick, Jr, on Mia Mettle, B54 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Gotham, 5661 Deadwood Dick, Jr., In Boaton, 567 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Philadelphia. Boa qonaweod Le mo gr ia Chicago end woo wk, Ores oat. 53% Deadwooo Dek. ors in Denver. Bos Wendwood Dick. Br. in feclsebub? > DPendwoo « r. in Reelzebub’s Basin, €00 Deadwood Dick dr. at Coney Island, , 606 Deadwood Dick, Jrv.%s, Leadville Lay. 612 Deadwood Dick, Jr., In Detroit. 618 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Cincinnati. G24 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Nevada, 680 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in No Man’s Land, 686 Deadwood Dick, Jr., After the Queer. GAZ Weadwood Dick. Jr... tn Buffalo, Bee lactocsd Pick, dus Aconrtheteoesiecn Bee dra hik, fr eee 666 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Back in the Mines. ate Deadwood Dick, Jdr.5 ta-Durango} or, “ Gathered In.” ineived tee alee et e ra Dagazle, $80 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s. Dollars. 05 Deadwood Dick Jr., at Danger Divide, | T00 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Drop. 704 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Jack-Pot. 710 Deadwood Dick dr. in San Fran 716 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’« Still Hunt. 722 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’4 Dominoes. 728 Deadwood Dick, Jdr.’s Diagulac. 84 Deadwood Dick. Jr.’ Double Deal, 40 Deadwood Dick Jr.’«. Deathwatch. 47 Deadwood Dick Jr.'s, lroublet. 52 Deadwood Dick Jr.’s, Deathblow, 758 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s Desperate Strait.’ 4 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«; Lone Maud, 70 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s Detent. 776 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Reanrrection, 782 Deadwooa Dick. Jr.’4 Dark Daya. 87 Deadwood Dick Jr., Defled. 92 Dendwood Dick, Jr.’a, Double Device, Eee posawses pies ¥ Pay Peoporase y enters: 807 Deadwood Dick Jr?s, Royal Flush, 812 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a Mead-off, 816 Deadwood Diek, Jr.’«, Rival. 822 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Boom, $28 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’4, Scoop. 884 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Proxy. 840 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Clutch, 45 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, High Horse, 52 Deadwood Dick Jr,, at Devils Gulch, oa: ead wood pies ar peasnNale Hustle cad wood ck, Jdr.’s Bom e 870 Deadwood Dick, Jr.. in Mextieo, S76 Deadwood Dick, Jr’a Decoy Duck. 882 Deadwood Dick, Jr, in Silver Pocket. 91 Deadwuod Dick, Jr.'s, Pead.Sure Game, 98 Deadwood Dick, Jr’a, Pouble Drive. 904 Deadwood Dick, Jr’a, Trade-Mark. 910 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Tip-Top. 916 Dendwood Dick, Jr.'s Double-Decker.: 928 Deadwood Dick, Jr. at Dollarville. ecadwood Dick, Jr.. at Flash Flata, 940 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Shake-up. 946 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Double Drop, 951 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Right Rower. 957 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Ten-Strike. 965 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Gold-Duat. 971 Deadwood Dick Jr,’a, Qath, OTT Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s; Death-Doom, 986 Deadwood Dick, Jr2s, Beat Card, 992 Deadwood Dick, Jr, at Gold Dust, 99S Dendwood Dick, Jr.'s, Big Play. 1005 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Branded. 1011 Deadwo 4D ck, J's. Dotch Pard. 1048 Deadwood Dic , J .’s, Big Four. _ BY ROBERT R. INMAN, 1086 Pandy Pick’« Double, 1024 Dandy Dick, Detect:ve. BY MAROTS HH. WARING. O48 The r+ oat aoate “ra? Wetrd Hunt © re orters e . 1058 The Three Spotters’ Dead Mystery. $e ee & s -1088 You Bet Bob’s Cireus, Other Novels by BE. L. Wheeler. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nuget Ned, the Knight: 84 Rosebud Kob on Hand; or, Idy), the Girl Miner. 88 Rosebud Rob's Reappenrance; or, Photograph Phil, 121 Rosebud Rob's Challenge; or, Cinnamon Chip. 277 Denver Poll, the Detective Queen; or, The Yankee’s Surround 281 Denver Doll’a Victory; or, Skul! and Crossbones, 285 Denver Dolls Decoy ; or. Little Bill’s Bonanza. sac mauves verve. Drift ; or. The Road Queen. ' reka m, the Gold therer} or, The Life Lottery, 872 Yreka dim’s Prize; or, The Wolves a WekecUee ? 885 Yreka Jim’s Jokers or, The Rivals of Red Nese. 894 Yreka Jim of Vuba Dam, 209 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective; or, Dot Leetle Game, 218 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventriloquist Hunter 244 Sierra Sam, the Frontivr Ferret; or, A Sister’s Devotion, 248 Slerra Sams Secret; or, The Bloody Footprints, 258 Slerra Saw’s Pard; or, The Angel ot Big Vista, 255 Sierra Sam’s Seven ; or, The Stolen Bride. 884 Kangaroo Kit; or, The Mysterious Miner. ’ 889 Kangaroo Kit'’s Racket; or, The Pride of Played-Out, 89 Death-Face, Detective; or, Life in New York. 96 Watch-Eye, the Detective; or, Arabs and Angels, Gilt-Edged i 61 New ¥ 226 The Arab Detective ; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. 291 Turk the Boy Ferret. B25 Kelley, Mickey & Co., the Detectives of Philadelphia. 848 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Detective. 400 Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective. 416 Wigh Mat Harry, the Base Ball Detective, 426 Sam Slabsides, the Bogpas-Bos 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. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix. 61 Buckhorn Billy or, The Red Rifle Team 92 Canada Chet; or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s-Camn. 1 7 Nobb 1 Wild 880 Little Quick-Shot 3 or, Nhe Dead Face of Daggersville, 858 First-Class Fred, the Gent trom Gopher. 878 Nabob Ned; or, The Secret of Slab City. B82 Cool Kit, the King of Kids; or, A Villain’a Vengeance, 8 Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher; or, A Son's Vengeance. 486 Sealakin Sam, the Sparkler; or The Tribunal of Ten, 918 Kit Kelth, t e Revenue Spotter. 922 Sol Sharpe, the New_York Night-Hawk. 948 Old Hayseed Among Bunco Men, 3001 Banty, the Denver Bootblack, BY J. C. COWDRICK. Billy’s Brand, filly at Santa Fe; or, The Clever Deal. 720 Broadway Billy’s F'ull Wand; or, The Gamin Detective, 785 Broadway Billy's Buainess. 88 Broadway Billy’s Curlousa Case. 58 Broadway Billy tn_Denver. 62 Broadway Billy’s Hargalns or, The Three Detective. 69 Brondway Billy, the Retriever Detective, 75 Broadway Billy's Shadow Chase. 8 Broadway Billy’« Beagles; or, The Trio’s Quest. 786 Broadway Billy’s Teams or, The Combine's Big Pull. 790 Broadway Billy’s Brigade; or, The Dead Alive, 796 Broadway Billy’« Queer Bequest. Billy Batled, 805 Brondway Billy’s Blgnal Scoop. ™ Wipe Out. lly’s Bank Racket. e cafe ente r 3 Th ily Amon ersey nga. Muy’ nid, : 889 Broadway Billy's Big Boom, 1 sily’s £100,000 Snap. vin Tain 2 BO =" _ - -_ “~ = ¢ i = = “ ra be be be be bed ~ Pa 606 Redlight Ralph the Prince of the Road. 524 The Engineer Detective; or, Redlight Ralph’s Resolve &71 Alr-Line Luke the Young Engineer; or, The Double Case 592 lhe Boy Pinkerton; or, Ronning the Rnscals Out. S87 Battery Bob. the Dock Detective, $94 Arizona Dick’s Wipe-Out. 900 Jumping Jack's Jubilee. 906 Satety Sam, the Cvele Sport. 912 Train Boy Trist’s Wot Muatle, 918 The Trump Dock-Boy. 924 Big Roots Bob, the Fire-Laddle. 980 Kustler Ralph, the Boy Spotter. 985 The Ex-Newsboy Detective’s Cham. 941 The Bowling Green Detective’s Drop. 944 Cowboy Charlile’s 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 Sporty or, Fiver Fred’s Clear Case, 967 #1000 Rewards; or, The Rival Reporters’ Sleek Scoop, 978 Bantam Billy, the Corker-Ferret. 978 Plucky Pat, the Street-Boy Detective. 989 Bleycle Bob’s Wot Scorch. 997 Scoreper Sam, the Detective on Wheels. 1004 Seorcher Sam’s Sweep-Stake sa 1009 ‘Vue Girl Cy clis.’s W.nning Hand. BY ARIZONA OY. 1048 Vou Ret Bob from Cruss Crick. EE ee ee ee reas ee a eee ee ee Re eS REE SS AE EO ete EES SE ec ee 4 e BEADLE’S* H ALF- DIME+ | IBRARY. Published Every Tuesday. Hach Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents, by all Newsdealers.. BUFFALO BILL NOVELS. BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, 1052 Ruffalo Billin Hisguise. 1046 Goid Plume, the Boy Bandit, or, Buffalo Biil, the Pony Express Rider. 1042 2 ittle Grit, the Pony Expreers Rider. 1040 Bulfalto BIlPs Pony Patrol. 1018 Buffalo BUD«s Texas Team, 1007 Bnifalo Bill's Sure-Shota, 1000 Buffalo Kills Decoy Boya. ‘ 995 Buffalo BUl's Drop; or, Dénd-Shot Ned , the Kansas Kid. 988 Buffalo Bill's Lasso Throwers, 981 Buifalo BUl's Fighting Five. 975 Buffalo Bill’« Kifle hots, 968 Buffalo Bills Kush Ride; or, Sure-Shot, the High-Flyer- 964 Buffalo BUVs Decoy ; or, The Arizona Crack Shot. 9558 Buffalo BUl’s Mazeppa-Chase, ‘ 948 Buffalo BUl’s Snap-Shot ¢_or, Wild Kid's Texan Tally 942 Buffalo Bill's Tough Tussle. 986 Buffalo Bill’s Boy Maxcoty or, Joe Jarvis’ Hold-up, 929 Buffalo Bill's Crack-shot Pard, 650 Buffalo Bill's Boy Pard; or, Butterfly Billy. 216 Kinon Bill, the Prince ot the Rema, 222 Bison Bill's Oluez or. Grit, the Bravo Sport, BY BUFFALO BILL. 55 Deadly-Eye, the Unknown Scout; or, The Banded Brotherhood 68 Border Robin Hood; or, The Prairte Rover, 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, Tho Trapper’s Trust, 1029 The Phantom Spy. 1088 Kansas hing; or, The Red Right Hand. BY CAPT, ALFRED B, TAYLOR, U. 8. A, 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bnllwhacker, 194 Buffalo Bill's Bet: or, The Gambler Guide. BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, 1087 The Ariiat Detective. 1084 The Gold Witch’s Shadower. 1081 The Texan Hustlers in Cuba. 1027 The Cowboy Raiders in Ouba 1025 The Flying } ankee or, The Ocean Outcast, 1028 The Cowboy Clan In Cu' a. 1016 The Boy Bugler in Cuba, ys F ‘ 982 New York Nat's it or, Ex-Ferret Sykes’ Bold Game 926 New York Nat and the Traitor Ferret. y 920 New York Nat Trapped. ¥ 914 New York Nat’s ‘hree of a Kind. 908 New York Nat's Double. 902 New York Nat's in Colorado, 896 New York Nat in Gold Nugget Camp. 889 New York Nat’s Deadly Deal. S88 New York Nat’s Crook-Chase, S77 New York Nat’« Trump Card. 871 New York Nat and, the Grave Ghouls, 865 New York Nat’« Masked Mascot, 859 New York Nat, the Gamin Detective. 858 Dick Doom’s Kidnapper Knock-Out. 847 Dick Doom’s Ten Strike. 842 Dick Doom’s Flush Hand, ’ 772 Dick Doom’a Death-Grip; or, The Detective by Destiny T7277 Dick Doom’s Destinys or, The River Blackleg’s Terror. 284 Dick Doom; or. ‘ihe Sharps and Sharks of New York, 788 Dick Doom in Boston; or, A Man of Many Masks, 793 Dick Doom fn Chicage. | 298 Dick Doom fn the Wild Weat 808 Dick Doom’s Clean Sweep; &r, Five Links in a Clue, 808 Dick Doom’s Death Clue. 818 Dick Doom’s Dinmond Deal, 819 Dick Doom’s Girl Mascot, 829 Dick Doom’s Shadow Hunt. 885 Dick Doom’s Big Heul. 749 Dashing Charliet or, The Kentucky Tenderfoot’s Fint Tralig 756 Dashing Charliie’s Trestiny; or, The Renegade’s Captives 760 Dashing Charlie’« Pawnee Pard, 766 Dashing Charlie, the Rescuer, 497 Rack Taylor, King of the Cowboys. 787 Buck Taylor, the Comanche’s Captive, , ; 748 Buck Taylor's Boys; 0, The Fed Riders of the Rio Grande, And Fifty Others. BY LIEUT. A. K. SIMS. 689 Tom-Cat and Pard; or, The Dead Set at Silver City. 622 Tom-Cat’s Triad; or, The Affnir at Tombstone. 681 Tom Cat’« Terrible Task; or, The Cowboy Detective 688 Tom-Cat’s Triumph; or, Black Dan’s Great Combine. 546 Captain Cactus, the Chaparral Coch; or, Josh’s Ten Strike, 568 The Dandy of Dodge; or, Rustling for Millions, 576 The Silver Sports or, Josh Peppermint’s Jubilee, 688 Saffron Sol, the Man With a Shadow : 601 Happy Hana, the Dutch Vidoeg; or, Hot Timeaat Ronnd-Ups 611 Bildad Barnacle, the Detective Hercules. 646 Cowboy Gid, the Cattle-Range Detective. 657 Warbling William: the Mountain Mountebank, 665 Jolly Jeremiah, the Plains Detective. 676 Signal Sam, the Lookout Scout. x 689 Thily the Gypay Spy: or, The Mystery of Two Lives. 699 Simple Sim, the Rroncho Buster: or, For g Stakes, 712 The Meamerlat Sports or, The Mystified Detective, 788 Toltec Tom, the Mad Prospector. f& Kanaaa Jim the Cross-Cat Detective. 61 Marmaduke, the Mustanger Detective. 78 The Rustler of Rolling Stone. 85 Lone Hand Joe the Committee oi One, 01 Kent Kirby, the High-Kicker from Killbuck, 82 The Doctor Dete etive In Texas. 878 Two Showmen Jetectives in Colorado. O87 The Texan Firebrand: or, Brazos Billy’s Suap.Shot, y NEW ISSUES, Pandy Dick Decoyed. By Robert R. Inman. $e So hot Seth, the Boy Riflemen, By Oll Coomes. 86 €o boy Chris, the Des rt Centaur, By W. W. Wilder, 1 : 1067 You Bet Bob’s Jangle._ By Arizona Cy, 10 10 1 = 68 The Crutse of the Sen Wo f. By Col. Ingraham. 69 On Land and fea. By Braceb/idge Hemyng ' ; O70 Nat Todd; or, The Fate of tue Siorx Captive, By Ellis, 1071 Dandy Dick’s Decoy, Ry Robt. R, Inman, 107% Keen Knit, Prince of tho Prairies. By O11 Coomes, JUST ISSUED. 105% Red Raven’s Redskin Ruse. By Col P. {ngraham 1056 Cowboy Chrisin Cinnabar, By Wm, W. Wilder, 4067 Gold Rifle, the Sharprhootcr. By Ea. L, Wheeler, 1058 Roderick, the Hover. By? J, Flanngan 1059 Ned Wylde, the Boy Scout.” By T xus Jack. 1060 Marlo, the Renegade. By © ‘ol. Prentiss Ingraham, 1061 Silver Star, the Boy Knight. By O!l Coomes 1062 Tho Left-land Athlete. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 1068 Wild Bill’s Weird Foe. By Wi. G Patten, A New Issue Every Taesday. , is for sale by all newadealers, five Wn hacronsh ae eons ceetbl ot Me cents each. ‘BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 92 William Street, New York. i