Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1104) (1900 08)
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| ! cll \\\\ SE ae g- — —_~ ss Bl tees AURA LA Ti Viet need gee ~a Copynricurt, 1877, 1 im BY BeaDLe & ADAMS, Published Every Month, [| | SETH JONES; The Captives of the Frontier, BY EDWARD S. ELLIS. CHAPTER I THE STRANGER. | Tre clear ring of an ax was echoing through the | arches of a forest, three-quarters of a century ago; and an athletic man was swinging the instrument, burying its glittering blade deep in the heart of the mighty kings of the wood. Aifred Haverland was an American, who, a num- ber of years before, had emigrated from the more settled provinces in the East, to this then remote spot in western New York. Here, in the wilderness, | he had reared a humble home, and, with his loving partner and a sister, laid the foundation for a settlement. True, this “settlement ’’ was stillsmall, consisting only of the persons mentioned, and a | beautiful blue-eyed maiden, their daugh- ter; but Haverland saw that the tide of emigration was rolling rapidly and sure- ly to the west, and, ere many years, that villages and cities would take the place of the wild forest, while the Indians would be driven further on toward the setting sun, The woodman was a splendid specimen of ‘“‘nature’s noblemen.’ His heavy coat lay upon a log a short distance jaway, and his swelling, ponderous chest lwas covered only by a close-fitting un- der-zgarment, with ‘the collar thrown open, showing the glowing neck and hearing breast. Substantial pants met the strong moccasins which incased_his feet. A small raccoon-skin cap rested on ithe back of his head, exposing his fore- |head, while his black hair swept around | ais shoulders, His features were regu- jlar, and strongly marked, The brow |; was rather heavy, the nose of the Ro- }man cast, and. the eyes of a glittering |blackness. So he stood with one foot | thrust forward; his muscles, moving land ridging as they were called into play, betrayed their formidable strength. | Stillthe flashing ax sunk deeper and | deeper into the oak’s red. heart, until it {hed gone clean through and met the breach upon the Sf Regie side. Then the grand old forest-king began to tot- ter. Haverland stepped back and ran | his eyes to the top, as he noticed it yield- ing. Slowly it leaned, increasing each +second, until it rushed seemingly for- | ward, and came down to the earth with a thundering crash and rebound. He | stood a moment, his hot breath issuing ‘like steam from his chest, and then |moved forward toward its branches. At that instant his trained ear detected |a suspicious sound, and dropping his lax, he caught up his rifle and stood on | the defensive, “How de do? How de do? Ain't frightened, I hope; it’s nobody but me | Seth Jones, from New Hampshire,” sai the new-comer in a uliar accent, As the woodman looked up he saw a curi- }ous specimen of the genus homo_before him. He is what is termed a Yankee, being from New Hampshire; but he was |such a person as is rarely met with, and | yet which is too often described nowa- days. He possessed a long, thin Ro- man nose, a small, twinkling gray eye, with a lithe, muscular frame, and long | Saneling lixbs. His feet were ircas | dubious times—no eg oe that, and "NEW YORK Viva : Bh Enterep as Szconp Ciass MATTER AT THE New York, Mm. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, (JAMES SULLIVAN, Proprirctor), 379 Pearl Street, New York, N. ¥., Post OFFICE. August, 1900, PRICE 5 CENTS. Vol XUV 50c. a Year. r) ’ in well-fitting shoes, while the rest of his dress was such as was in vogue on the frontiers at the time of which we write. said to be “changing.” When excited, it made sounds singular and unimaginable, The woodman, with characteristic penetration, read the man before him at a glance. Changing his rifle to his left hand, he extended the other. “Certainly not, my friend; but then, you know, these are times in which it behooves us all to use caution and prudence; and where one is placed in such a remote section as this it would be criminal to be careless, when more than one life is dependent upon me for support and protection.” “Very true, very true; you're right there, Mr.—ah! I declare I don’t know your name,”’ * Haverland.”’ “You're right, as I said, Mr. Have-your-land, or Haverland, as the case may be. I tell you these ave was consid- erably s’prised when I heard the ring of an ax down in these parts.” u SS eleleT iL Us ag 0 sae i: bag : AH A Nap /| - = SETH JONES. 1 His voice was in that peculiar, un- | certain state, which is sometimes seen when it is | | mence “And [ was equally surprised to meet your visag7 when I looked up. Jones, I believe you said was your name?”’ ‘*Exactly—Seth Jones, from New Hampshire The Joneses are a numerous family up there- | rather too many of them for comfort—so I mi- rrated, Mought be acquainted, perhaps?” “No, Ihave no acquaintance to my knowledge in | that section.” ‘Haven't, eh? Thought the Joneses were pretty generally known through the country. Some re inarkable geniuses have sprung from the family But what under the sun keeps you out in this heath. | €n country? What brought you here?” _ “Enterprise, sir; I was tired of the civilized por- tion of our country, and when such glorious fields | were offered to the emigrant as are here spread be- fore him, I considered it a duty to avail myself of them, and I have done so, And now, sir, be equally frank with me, and let me know what induced you to visit this perilous region when you had no reason to suppose that a settlement had yet been com- by the whites, You look to me as if you were an Indian-hunter or scout, “Wal, perhaps I am. At any rate I have been, I was a scout among the Green Mountain Boys, under Colonel Allen, and stayed with them till the Revolution was finished. After that I went down on the farm and worked a while with the old man. Something oc- curred in our neighborhood that led me to think it was best for me to leave: I won't say what it was, but I will say it was no crime I committed. I stopped at the settlement down the river a few | days, and then come to the conclusion to take a tramp in these parts.” *“T am very glad you have come, for it isn’t often we, get sight of a white face. Ihope you will take the weleome of a backwoodsman, and make your home with us as long a time as you can —remembering that the longer you ste, the more welcome you will be,’ ; “T shall probably stay till you git tired | of me, at any rate,” laughed the eccen- tric Seth Jones, *“As you are from the East, probably Age Aen give information of the state of eeling among the Indians between that section and us. From your remarks, I should infer, however, that nothing very serious threatens."’ “Don’t know ‘bout that,’ repled Seth, shaking his head and looking to the gr und. “Why so, my friend?” “I tell you what, you, I heerd orful stories ‘long the way. They say since this war, the darned red-coats have kept | the Injins at work. Leastways, it’s | pretty sartin they are at work, anyhow.” ** Are you sure?” asked the woodman, betraying an anxiety in his ore ‘*Purty sure. There’s a little settle- ment down here some miles, (I have eee the name,) sot on by the imps and burned all up.” “Is it possible? Reports have reached | me during the past three or four months of the deadly hostility existing between | the whites and reds, but I was glad to doubt it, Although I sometimes felt it was wrong.” “Twas so; and if you vally that ar' wife of your bussum, and your little cherubims, (as I allow you've got,) you'd | better be makin’ tracks for safer quar- | ters. Why, how have you stood it so long?” “My conduct toward the Indians has | ever been characterized by Sarwan and | ‘ood-will upon my part, and they have ne veinetd: & friendly feeling toward | me and my helpless ones. I place great reliance upon this state of feeling-in fact. my only relianee.
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2 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “Just so; but I tell you, it won't do to trust an | Go to put your finger Injin. They're obstropertous, Jest so, by gracious.” on them, and they ain’t thar. | present day. Her small feet were incased in tiny | *T fear there is too much truth in your suspicions,” | replied Haverland, in a saddened tone. ‘I’m glad I’ve tumbled onto I'll stick to you, bein’ I’ve found you. ou, coz I begin to git | skeerish, and I like to do a feller a good turn, and | | entered. Haverland introduced his friend to his sister and | | ‘‘Thank you, friend, and let us now proceed home- | ¥ intended to.spend the day in work, but ’ ward. your words have taken away all desire.’ “Sorry to do it; but it’s best, ain’t it?’ * Certainly; it would have been wrong had you not warned me of impending danger. Let us go home.” So saying, Alfred drew on his coat, slung his rifle and ax over his shoulder, struck into a path in the | forest, which he himself had worn, and with a thoughtful tread, made his way homeward, Close behind him followed his new-made friend. CHAPTER II. THE DARK CLOUD. Durine the walk homeward, Haverland spoke but few words, although his loquacious friend kept up a continual unremitting stream of talk. The wood- man’s heart was too heavy to join him in his humor- ous, pointless words. Although dark and fearful suspicions had flitted before him, he had closed his eyes upon them until he could no longer shun them; ey appeared at every turn, and now assumed a terrible certainty. Although at the time to which we refer, the Revo- lutionary struggles of the colonies had closed, and their freedom was placed upon a firm basis, yet uni- versal peace by no means reigned. Dark, sanguin- ary and bloody tragedies were constantly enacted upon the frontiers for a generation afterward. The mother country failing in her work of subjugation, continued to incite the Indians to revolting barbar- ities upon the unoffending inhabitants. them too-willing instruments, and, instigated b them, a protracted war was long maintained; and, when the inciting cause was removed, the savages still continued the unequal conflict. As every one acquainted with our history must know, the war on the frontiers has been an almost interminable one. As the tide of emigration has rolled westward, it has ever met that fiery counter-surge, and only overcome it by incessant battling and effort. And even now, as the distant shores of the Pacific are well-nigh reached, that resisting wave still gives forth its lurid flashes of conflict. In a pleasant valley stood the humble home of Al- fred Haveriand His own vigorous arm had cleared off a space on all sides so that his residence stood at some distance from the forest, which rolled away for miles. In the clearing still remained the stumps of the fallen trees, and in some places the rich vir- gin soil had been broken, and was giving signs of the exhaustless wealth it retained in its bosom, waiting on. for the hand of man to bring it forth. 6 house itself was such as are generally found in new settlements. A number of heavy logs, placed com ly together, withan opening for a door, and one for a window, were all that could attract atten- tion from the outside. Within, were two apartments. the lower and ag a The former was used for all Purposes except that of pra) porn which, of course was done in the upper. In building it, Haverland hed made little preparation for defense, as he fond} hoped it would never be needed for such, and ‘it med to him that the idea of danger would ever be Eetore him, should he construct it thus. And, be- sides, should he use his utmost skill in the purpose | mentioned, he knew it would avail him little. He had ; means of withstanding a protracted siege, and a handful of assailants could bring him to any terms, As he stepped forth into the clearing, Ina, his daughter, caught sight of him, and bounded out the cabin to meet him, “Oh, father! I am glad you have come back so soon, but dinner isn’t ready. Did you think it was? Iwas just telling mother—” She paused suddenly, as she caught sight of a stranger, and with her hand on her mouth, stood, fearing to approach, and afraid to yield to the im- | ulse of turning, and running into the house again. “No, I didn’t think dinner-time had come, but as I had a friend to visit me, I thought I could entertain him at home better than in the woods. But where is your kiss, dear?” The father stooped, and touched his lips to the ruby ones of his blooming child, and Sekitige her hand, moved forward toward the cabin. “Whew! if that ain’t a purty flower, then kick me!’ exclaimed Seth Jones, in admiration. ‘ Was she originated in these parts? Darter, I s’pose? Per- haps not, though?” Yes, she is my daughter, although she was not born in these parts.” “Dew tell. Darned if she ain’t a beauty, and that makes what I said—”’ The father motioned to him that the theme was Extiaten, and they walked silently toward the ouse. It was no wonder that Ina Haverland drew forth such encomiums from Seth Jones. She was, indeed, a beautiful creature. She had seen some fifteen or sixteen summers, several of which had been spent in the wilderness, which was now her home. She was rather small In stature, but graceful as a gazelle, free from the restraints which the conventionalities of life impose on those of her age. She had dark hair, gathered in a roll behind, fine expressive blue es, & perfect Grecian nose, thin lips; and a full ‘ rendering the profile perfectly straight from the forehead downward. Her face was oval, and her gomplexion almost too light for a full enjoyment of Her dress was a semi-civilized one, consist- ing of a short skirt, with leggins beautifully wrought, and a loose sack, similar to the ones worn at the moccasins, elaborately wrought with beads and In- dian ornaments, anc around the neck. She led the way toward the house, and the three wife, as aman who had chanced down in this direc- tion, and who would probably tarry a few days. But | | off, he saw a canoe rapidly moving down-stream, | the quick eye of his wife caught the thoughtful ex- They found | | pression upon her husband’s face, and she felt there was something yet unrevealed—something deeper and more important that was to be disclosed. She, however, forbore questioning or hinting, knowing that he would commnnicate what was necessary when he deemed the proper time had come. A commonplace conversation was maintained un- til the meal was prepared by the busy housewife, when they all gathered around the board. An earn- est blessing was invoked upon the humble food, and it was partaken of in silence. “Wife,” said Haverland, tenderly, “I will depart | awhile with this friend here, and ee and Mary may | busy yourselves as you think best till I return. | Probably I will not be back until toward night. Take no anxiety upon my account.” ‘*T will endeavor not to; but, dear husband, go not far from home, for strange fears have come over me since morning.” Even the usually staid and calm face of Mary be- trayed an unusual expression of anxiety. “Wear not, wife, I will not go far.” Haverland now stepped outside, where he saw | Seth, all agape, gazing at Ina, as she passed.to and fro in the house, ** By gracious, you, I’m goin’ to fall in love with that gal. No ’bjections, hope?” “No,” answered Haverland, with a faint smile, ‘her heart is unfettered and I hope it will remain so for a long time.”’ “Oh! I don’t mean to love her as A dew yer old woman—yer wife. I mean jest as I would my dar- ter, yer know. She’s too small to think about lov- ers vit. Don’t you let sich a thing git inter her head or five years or more.” “Tl try not to; but let us take a walk. Ihave something to say, which I would that they should not know for the present.”’ * All right—but jest hold on a minute.” At this ‘ete Ina appeared with a small vessel, as if she intended bringing some water from some spring nigh at hand. * Hold on a minute, gal, my beauty,’’ said Seth, stepping forward, and reaching for the pail. ‘‘ That’s too big a load for you to carry,” ‘* No, [have done it often, thank you, but it is no work for me.”’ * But jest let me fetch it ‘his time, if only to show my good will, and my activity.” na laughingly yielded the vessel, and watched him as he took long, awkward strides toward the point where the path led into the forest. ** How far is it off?’ he asked, turning round, as he reached the point mentioned. “A short distance,’ answered Haverland; ‘the path leads to it.” Seth made some unintelligible answer, as he jerked his head back and disappeared. This simple occurrence that we have just narrated, although trival in itself, was one of the circumstances which often control important acts, and which seem to show that an all-wise Ruler orders them to suit his por poses, and to bring about good in the end. Seth ones had no object other than a little amusement in his course, yet before he returned, he saw how fortunate it was. He strode rapidly forward, and after passing a short distance ~eached the spring. As he stooped, he was sure he heard a movement in the bushes be- os and, as he was about t6 dip the vessel, he saw, n the smooth face of the water, a movement in the shrubbery. He had too much cunning and prudence to affect knowledge of it, and he filled the vessel without betraying any signs of suspicion. As herose to the upright position, he gave an apparently care- less sweep of his vision, and not twenty feet distant he saw the crouching forms of two Indians! As he turned his back, there was a peculiar, uncomfortable feeling, as he knew that it was the easiest matter in the world to receive one or two cold bullets. He, however, quickened his steps not in the least; and manifested no uneasiness, as he came to view in the clearing and laughingly handed the water to Ina, ““ Come, let us go,” said Haverland, moving toward the spring. a Not that ar’ way a meaning shake o his head. * Why not?” “1°l] tell you, purty soon.”’ ‘“‘Let us to the river, then.” 7 “That'll do, ’specially as i ain’t fur from your ouse!”’ Haverland looked searchingly there was a deep meaning behind those words, yet he said nothing, and led the way toward the river. This stream was but a few hundred yards from the house, and flowed in a northerly and southerly direction. It was very smooth at this point, and not very wide, yet a mile or so further down it debouch- ed into a large, broad, and deep river. The banks were lined, most of the distance, by close, impene- trable shrubbery, overarched by lofty trees, which were the edges of the almost interminable wilder- ness that then covered this part of the State, and of which great portions remain unto the present day. Haverland moved to a spot where he had often stood and conversed with his wife, when they first entered the place, Resting his rifle upon the earth, a string of wampum hung | by a long shot,” said Seth, with | at him, and saw | and folding his arms over the muzzle, he turned around and looked Seth full in the face. “What did you mean by telling me not to go fa7 from the house?” ‘- Jest hol’ on a bit,” replied Seth, bending his eat as if to listen, Haverland watched him earnestly, and he also heard something unusual—as if some one were rowing a canoe in the water. His com- panion then stepped down to the water’s edge, and signaled for him to approach. Haverland did so, and looked down the river. Some hundred yards | impelled by the oars of three Indians. | thunderin’ soon. | nor no time. “That is what I meant,” said he, in a whisper, aig back. “Did you see them,’’ asked Haverland. | “Treckon I did. They were at the spring watch- ing for your gal to come, so that they mought run oft with her.”’ CHAPTER II, THE DARK CLOUD BURSTS, “ARE you certain?” asked Haverland, with a pain- ful eagerness. ‘*As sure as I live!” ‘“How? when? where did you see them? Pray, an- swer quick, for I feel that the lives of precious ones stand in peril.” “The facts are few—they are. When I went down to the spring, I see’d them pesky varmints thar, and I knowed they war waitin’ for your little booty, cause if they wa’n’t, ‘they’d have walloped me, I see’d ’em sneakin’ ‘round, and urtended as though I didn’t s’picion nothin’. They've ‘ound I’s about, and have gone down for more cf They'll be back here to-night with a whole pack. Fact, by gracious!”’ “You speak truly; and as matters stand thus, it ia time for action.” ‘Exactly so; and what is it you propose to dew?” “As you have offered me such signal aid thus far, | I must again ask you for advice.” ‘“*Pshaw! don’t you know what to dew, man?” **T have a plan, but I would hear yours first,” “Wal, I can give it purty soon. You knew weil enough you’re in tight quarters, and the best thing you can do is to git away from here a leetle quicker You know the settlements ain’t more nor twenty miles off, and you’d better pack up and be off, and lose no time, neither.” ‘That was my plan, exactly. But hold! we must go by water, and will it not be best to wait and go by night, when we will have the darkness to protect us? We have just learned that the river contains enough | enemies to frustrate our designs, should they | stream, lest their enemies mig known. Yes, we must wait till night.” “You're right there; and, as there is no moon, we'll have a good chance, especially as we have to go down-stream instead of up. I tell yeou, the war is going on. When I left home, I had an idee things yout be fixed so as to stop these infarnal red-skins from committin’ on their depredations, although they looked mighty squally; but ‘tain’t no use, anf, it won’t do to trust these critters.” Shortly after, Haverland turned and entered the house, followed by Seth. He called his wife and sts ter in, and explained, in a few words, the circum- stances, It was but a realization of the fears enter tained, and no time was lost in useless laments. Preparations were immediately made for the re- moval. The woodman owned a large boat, somewhat | similar to the flatboats seen at this day upon the western waters, This was hauled in beneath the shrubbery which overhung the bank, and into thi« their things were placed. iring the removal Seth remained along the river-bank, keeping watch of the ‘ ht return unawares. The removal occupied most of the afternoon, and | it was not until the shadows were lengthening across | the river that the last article was | This completed, all seated themselves in the boat, laced on board. and waited for the rapidly-approaeching darkness, to glide out into the stream. “Tt is hard,” said Haverland, somewhat moodily, ‘*to leavs one’s home after all the difficulty in rear- ing it is finished.” ‘Wact, by gracious!” added Seth, whom Mary eyed very closely, as if not satisfied with the fellow’s ways and looks. “But it is best, dear husband. Let ms hope, now, that the war is ended, and that, as we have passed through as great dangers as those that now threaten us, the time is not far distant when we may return to this spot with safety.” “We can die but once,” said Mary, abstractedly, “and I am ready for any fate.” Seth studied her face with a ete keen glance then smiled, and said: ‘‘ Oh, you look a-here now, am captain here, by your leave, my dears, and I ain't Sag to allow any sick stomachs in this here crew.” is sunny face seemed greatly to encourage the lit- tle band. “TI wouldn’t fear to remain here now,” said Ina, bravely; ‘I am sw7e we soon may return. I feel it.” Haverland kissed his child, but made no further | reply, and all relapsed into stillness, and ceased fur- ther conversation, There was something in the gath- ering gloom around, something in the peculiar situ- ation in which they were placed, that imparted a despondency to all. The boat was still fastened to the shore, and the time for loosening it was close at hand. Mrs. Haverland had within the rude cabin, the door of which remained open, while Seth and the husband remained in the stern. Ina sat near at hand, and had fallen into the same silence that rested upon the others. = “Doesn't it look dark and awful, back there?” she ert in a whisper, of Seth, pointing toward the shore,
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} ¥ owe _—* “Tt does, somewhat, I think.” : “And yet I wouldn’t be afraid to go back to the house.” “You'd better stay in the boat, young ’un.”’ “You think I am afraid, do you?” she said, bound- ing out the boat to the shore. ‘Ina! Ina! what do you mean?” asked the father, sternly. “Oh, nothing; only I want to take a little run to ease my limbs.”’ ‘*Come back here, instantly !”’ ‘“Yes—oh, father! quick! quick! come and take me!”’ ‘Seize the oar and shove out!’’ commanded Seth, springing into the water, and shoving the boat off. ‘* But, for God’s sake, my child!” ** You can't help her—the Injins have got her. I see "em; drop quick, they’re goin’ to fire! look out!” At that instant there was the sharp crack of sever- al rifles from the shore, and several tongues of fire | flamed from the darkness, and the wild yell of a number of Indians pealed out in horrid strength. Had it not been for Seth all would have been lost. He comprehended everything in an instant, and saved the others, “Oh, father! mother! The Indians have got me!” came in agonized accents from the shore, “Merciful God! must I see my child perish with- out heeding her cry?” groaned Haverland, in spirit. ‘*No, they won’t hurt her, and we must take care of ourselves while we can. Don’t stand up, for they can see you.” ‘Father, will you leave me?” came again in heart- rending tones. “Don’t be seart, young ‘un,” called out Seth; “keep up a good heart, I'll git you ag’in ef you be- have yourself. I will, as sure as I am Seth Jones. Just gs up pluck, little one.’’ The last words were shouted loudly, for the boat was fast gliding into the stream. The mother had heard all, and said nothing... She comprehended it, and with a groan sunk back upon aseat. Mary’s eyes flashed like a tigress at bay; and she did not cease to cast looks of indignation at Seth, for leaving the child to her horrid fate so coolly. But she said peng ae as quiet and pale as a statue. Seth eyed her like a lynx; his eyeballs seemed like fire. But he was as cool as if at his ease 4 “orkecr ne and he quickly made all feel that he was rn for such appalling emergencies. They were flow in the center of the stream, and moving quite rapidly. The darkness was so great that the shores were now vailed from sight. And with hearts in as deep a gloom, the fugitives floated downward, CHAPTER IV. THE LOST HOME AND A FOUND FRIEND. Ir was on the morning of the day which we have just seen close. As will be remembered, the air is clear and the day one of the most beautiful and pleasant of the year. The air was perfectly still, and had that peculiar, bracing sharpness which is only felt when it is in a perfect state of rest. It was such a morning as would make every healthy person feel that to merely live was pleasure. That part of the State of New York in which the first scenes of this life-drama are laid, was a coun- try at this time cut up and diversified by numerous size, but a few of considerable magnitude. irting and between these were thousands of acres of thick luxuriant forest, while in some places were plains of great extent entirely devoid of timber. It was about the middle of the day referred to that a single horseman was reget skirting one of these open patches of country, a few miles distant from Haverland’s home. A mere glance would have shown that he had come a great distance/and both he and the animal he bestrode were jaded and well- nigh worn out. He was a young man, some twenty or twenty-five years of age, attired in the costume of a hunter; and, eee ges ns Hane with his long ride, the watchfulness of his motions would have shown any one that he was no stranger to frontier life. was rather prepossessing in appearance—had fine dark eyes, curly hair and whiskers, an expressive Roman nose, and small and finely-formed mouth. In front, a long, polished rifle rested across ‘the saddle, ready for use at a second’s warning. His horse’s sides were steaming and foamy, and the animal made his way along with painfully evident weariness. As the day waned, the traveler looked about him with more interest and eagerness. He carefully ex- amined the streams he crossed, and the pieces of wood, aS though searching for some landmark or habitation. At length he manifested a pleasure in what he saw, as though the signs were as he wished, and hurried the lagging of his animal. “Yes,” said he to himself, “‘ the woodman’s house cannot be far from this. remember this stream, and that wood yonder. I shall then be able to reach it by night. Come, my good horse, go ahead with better spirits, for you are near on journey’s end,”’ A short time after, he crossed a small stream that dashed and foamed over its oy bed, and entered the broad tract which led to the ¢ in front of Haverland’s door. But although he had a gon oa | correct idea of his situation, he had sadly miscal- culated the distance. It was already dusk when he struck the stream several miles above where we have seen the fugitives take it. This river, or creek, he knew led directly “a the cabin he was seeking, and he determined to keep it until he had reached his destination. His progress was now quite tardy, from being often obliged to pass around the thick undergrowth which lined the river; and, when he reached a point that he knew was a mile distant from Haver ’s cabin, it was far in the night, ge, gt ~— — XR tema h pee Lagat ss He | engl | shoot high into the heavens. | and amazement, good horse, we have had a longer expected, but we are now very near Heigh! what does | “Come, m tramp than the termination of our journey. that mean?” | This last exclamation, or question, was caused by | seeing directly ahead of him, a bright, lurid glare **Can it be that the woodman’s house is fired? Im- | possible! and yet, that is the precise spot. Heavens! | something is wrong!” Agitated by strong and painful emotions, Everard | Graham (such was his name) now hurried his horse toward the spot from which the light emanated. In | a short time he had te cae as far as he dared | with his horse, then dismounting, he tied him, and | made his way cautiously eee ew foot. The light was so strong that he found it necessary to pick his way with the greatest care, A few moments sufficed to show him all. He saw the house of Haverland, the one in which he expected to pass the night, but one mass of flame. And around it were a seore of dark forms, leaping and dancing, and appearing, in the ghastly light, | like fiends in a ghostly revel. Graham stood a moment spell-bound with horror He expected to see the reeking bodies of Haverland and his family, or hear their | groans of agony; but, as he continued gazing, he be- came convinced that they were either slain or had escaped, as there were no signs of their presence, He could not think they had escaped, and was com- pelied to believe they had been tomahawked, and ad perished in the flames, It was a ghastly and almost unearthly sight—the small cabin, crackling and roaring in one mass of liv- ing flame, throwing strange shadows across the clear- ing, and lighting up the edges of the forest with a brightness almost as great as the sun at noonday— the score of dusky beings, leaping and shouting in wild exultation, and the vast wilderness, shutting down like an ocean of darkness around. : Gradually the flames lessened, and the woods seemed to retreat into the gloom; the shouts of the savages ceased, and they, too, disappeared; and the building, which hitherto was a mass of crackling fire, was now a heap of slumbering coals and em- bers, which glowed with a hot redness in the dark- - An hour or two afterward, a shadowy form could have been seen glidir the glowing ruins. e appeared like a specter as seen by the reflected light of the slumbering coals, or might have been taken for the shadow of some ruin of the building. ened as though he half expected to hear the footfall of some one, and then/again continued his ghostly march around the ruins. Several times he stopped and peered into the embers, as though he supposed | the whitened bones of some human being would greet his vision, and then he recoiled and stood as if in deep and painful thought. It was Everard Graham, po gig for the remains of Haverland and his amily. “T see nothing,” he said, musingly, “‘and it may be that they have escaped, or their bodies are now cook- ing in that heap of coals, and yet something tells me that they are not. And if it’is not thus, what can | have become of them? How could they have eluded streams—the greater number of comparatively small | | gazed around. A few yards off he could just dis- | contemplating himself. i the malignant venigpenpe of their savage foes? Who could have warned them? Ah, me! in spite of the | unaccountable hope which I feel, my own sense tells me there are no grounds for it, Sad is the fate of the unprotected at this time.” fact, by gracious!” Graham started as though he had been shot, and cover the outlines of a man standing as if he were “And who are you?” he asked, ‘‘ that appears upon this spot at such a time?” “TIT am Seth Jones, from New Hampshire. Who mought be you that happens down in these parts at this pertickler time?” ‘““Who am I? I am Everard Graham, a friend of the man whose house is in ruins, and who, I fear, has been slaughtered with his family.” “Exactly so; but don’t speak so loud, There mought be others about, you know. Jist let’s step back here, where ’tain’t likely we'll be obsarved.”’ The speaker retreated into the darkness, while Graham followed him. At first he had some slight misgivings, but the tones and voice of tl e stranger reassured him, and he followed him without distrust or hesitation. : “You say you’re a friend of Haverland’s, eh?’ asked Seth, in a whisper. “Tam, sir; I was acquainted with him before he moved out in these ate. He was an intimate friend of my father’s, and I promised to pay him a visit as soon as I could possibly do so, and I am here for that purpose.” “Jest so; but you took a rayther ticklish time for it, I reckon.” ‘*So it seems; but, if I wished to wait till it would be pen safe, I am afraid my visit would never made.” “Fact, by gracious!” S At intervals he paused and list- | eb — 3 ** A dozen miles, p raps, though it movght be more, and then ag’in it mightn’t.”’ “Well, let us then hasten to them, or, let me, at | least, as I have nothing to detain me here.” “I'm willing,” said Seth, moving forward, “but I | forgot to tell you the darter’s "mong the Indians, I | didn’t think of that.” Graham started; for, perhaps, the shrewd reader has already suspected he had more than a passin interest in the fate of Ina. Visions of a fair, childis: face had haunted him, and his perilous journey was owing much to their enchantment. He had played with her in childhood, and while they were yet chil- dren they had separated; but they had pledged their hearts to each other, and looked hopefully forward to areunion in later years, Graham had dreamed of this meeting a long time; and, now that it was so cruelly thwarted, he felt agonizedindeed. Years bee fore, when still a boy, although quite a large one, he visited this section, and the memory of that visit ever been a bright dream in the past. He maste his emotion in a moment, with a strong effort, a | asked his companion, calm] stealthily and silently around } ‘What tribe has ca ured ina?” “Them infarnal Mohawks, I believe.” j ‘* How long ago did it occur?” ‘*Only a few hours, as you can see by them coalg there.” : ‘* Will you be kind enough to give me the partioue ars?” ; “Sartinly.” eth And thereupon Seth proceeded to narrate the inci» dents given in the preceding chapter, adding, how: | ever, that the parents and sister were safe. e had | accompanied them himself down to the settlement | mentioned, where, leaving them, he had made all | haste back again, and had arrived just in time to meet Graham, At first, he said, he mistook him for a savage, and as he was alone, he came very near shooting him; but, as he heard him communing with himself, he discovered at once that he was a white man. “ And what has brought you back here?’ asked Graham, when he had finished. “That’s a pooty question to ax me, Iswow! What has brought me back here? Why the same thing, I cac’late as has brought you—to find out what is to be found out "bout Ina, that purty darter.” ** Ah—pardon me, friend, am glad to hear it, and Iam free to confess that that inducement has had more in Lee me here than anything else. From your starting alone to rescue her, I presume you en- tertained hopes of recovering her, and, as you, alone, entertained such hopes, I judge there is greater room for them, when another one joins you.”’ “Did I say, stranger, I ‘spected to git that gal again?’ asked Seth, in a low tone. **- You did not say so in words, it is true; but from what you said, I judged such was your intention, Was I mistaken?” ‘‘ No, sir; that’s what I meant.” “T see no reason why we should not be friends, as we are both actuated by a desire to rescue an unfor- tunate one from the horrors of Indian captivity, and I trust, without that fact, we would find nothing dis- tasteful in each other.” ‘ sy te my sentiments, ‘zactly, Give us your and.’ The two closed hands with a true friendly gripe, and could each have seen the, other’s face in the dark- ' ness, he would have beheld a radiant expression df | friendship. They then retired further in “But allow me to ask whether you know anything ofthe pie i cin ble I reckon t, perhaps, it mought be possible I | do, seein’ as how ive Nodar ‘around these times,” Are they slain, or captives?” “To te pousibl they have esca 8 it possible they have iM ** Jest so. Thelped em off opal. “ne Pracr ie Where a tN own the river, at oné of the settlement: “ How far distant is it?’ : the wood and continued the conversation. We may mention in this place, that the Indians who had captured Ina were, as Seth had remarked, members of the Mohawk tribe. This tribe itself was a member of the ‘Five Nations,” including with ‘ them the Seneca, the Cayuga, Onondaga, and Oneida tribes, which have become quite famous in history. They are known among the I’rench as the Jroqguois, and among the Dutch as Maquas, while at home they are called the Mingoes, or Agamuschim, signifyin the United People. The Mohawks, or Wabingi, firs’ existed separately and alone. The Oneidas then joined them, and these, in turn, were followed by the Onondagas, Senecas, and Cayugas. In the be- nning of the last Lana & the Tuscaroras of the uth joined them, after w rich they took the name of the Six Nations. Of course, they were all united, and war made upon one tribe, was made upon all. They were truly a formidable confederation, and the Revolution testifies to what deeds they were suf- ficient when instigated by the British. During the ecard warfare which long existed upon the Old ontier, the white settlers relied mainly upon strata- gem to outwit their foes, and it was by this means ane that Seth Jones hoped to rescue Ina from their nds, CHAPTER V. ON THE TRAIL, AND A SUDDEN DEPARTURE FROM IT BY SETH. y “Tae Mohawks, you say, have then captured her?” remarked Graliam, after a moment’s pause, ~ ‘Yes; I know it’s them.” “Did you get a glimpse of them?’’ “I came up as soon as possible, and they were leaving at that moment. Isaw one or two of them, and know’d it was them, sure’nough, Howsumey- er, that don’t make no difference, whether it’s the Mohawks, Oneidas, or any of them blasted Five Na- tion niggers. They are alla set of skunks, and one would just as lief run off with a man’s gal as not, There ain’t any difference atwixt ’em.” “T suppose not. Thesame difficulties would have to be surmounted in each case. The point is not whether one shall make an attempt at a rescue, but how shall it bedone. I confess Iam ina maze. The Mohawks are an exceedingly cunning people, (Sha 4 ere
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4 ———- Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “ That's a fact—that needn’t be disputed.” *But then, you know, if we outwit them, we will not be the first whites who have done such a thing in their day!” “That's a fact, too. Now, jest hold on a minute, while I think.” Graham ceased talking for a moment, while Seth remained asif in deep and anxious thought. Sud- denly lifting up his head, he remarked: “T have it.” ‘Have what? The plan which must be pursued by us?” “T ca’c’late I have.”’ “ Well, out with it.”’ ‘Why, it’s this. We've got to git that gal, an’ no mistake.” Despite the gloominess which had been upon Gra- ham, he could not help laughing outright at the seri- ous tone in which this was uttered. “What are you laughing at?’ indignantly de- manded Seth. “Why, I thought we had arrived at that conclu- sion long since.’ ~ “I didn’t think of that; so we did. Howsumever, I’ve thort further—hey, what’s that off yonder? *Nuther building burning?” Graham gazed in the direction indicated, and saw that day was breaking. This he remarked to his G) eom n. ‘* Yes, so ’tis; and I’m glad of it, for we want some i. on this subject.” a short time, the sun appeared above the forest, and poured a flood of golden light over the woods and streams. Birds were singing their morning songs in every part of the wood, and peti om. wore as gay a look as though no deed of blood h been committed during the night. As soon as it was sufficiently light, Seth and Graham made their way toward the stream. *“As we shall shortly start,’ remarked the latter, “T will attend to my horse, which I brought with me. Heis but a short distance away, and I will be back in a moment.” So saying, he departed in the wood. He found his horse completely worn out, asleep on the ground. He unloosened his fastening, and as there was abuti- dant provender around in the shape of young and tender twigs and luxuriant grass, he removed the waddle and bridle, and concluded to allow him free a? of the wood until his return, trusting to the rather doubtful chances of ever recovering him ain. This done, he returned to his companion. e found Seth leaning upon his rifle and gazing meditatively into the silent stream flowing beforo him. Graham looked curiously at him a moment and then said: “Tam ready, Seth, if you are.” The individual addressed turned without a word and strode toward the clearing. When the ruins of the house were reached they both halted, and in an undertone he said: “* Hunt up the trail."’ Bach bent his head toward the ground and,moved ina circle around the clearing. Suddenly Graham paused and proceeded quickly several yards in the wood, halted and exclaimed; “* Here itis, Seth.” The latter hastened to his side, and stooping a mo- ment, and running his eye along the ground, both forward and backward, replied: “This is the trail! They ain’t very keerful ‘bout it now, but I reckon it’l]) make us open our peepers wider to see it, after we get into the wood.” ‘Well, as the starting-point is now reached, we must perfect our arrangements. You must take the lead in following this a . “Can't you?” asked Seth, looking up in his eyes. ** Not as well as you. From what little I have seen of you, I am sure you excel me in the knowledge of the forest. Ihave had some experience in Rent ing, but very little in tracing a foe through such a willernesa as this.” “Don’t say? That’s just where you an’ I disagree. I was always the one to track the tories or red-coats for old Colonel Allen, and I remember one time—but I guess I won't go to telling stories now, being as I haven't much time; but I can say, though p’raps I oughtn’t to, that I can foller any red-skin as far as he can go, and I don’t care how much pains he takes to cover up his tracks. You see, if I undertake to foller this, I've got to keep my nose down to the ground, and won't be likely to see any danger we’re running into; that’ll have to be your business. You just hang close to my heels, and keep your eyes raveling all over.” ‘“TPll endeavor to do my part, although I shall ex- t some aid from you.” “TI may give some, as I @anitell purty near ’bout when the imps have gone over the tracks I’m look- ing at. And now we must start, I promised Haver- Jand that I wouldn't show myself again until I could ‘tell him something about darter, and I swow, I won't, Come ahead.”’ With these words, Seth started ahead on a rapid walk. He was sli htly inclined forward, and keen gray eye was bent with a searching look upon the ground. Graham followed him a few feet dis- tant, with the barrel of his rifle resting. in the hollow of his left arm, while the stock was held in his right, 50 .° to be ready at a moment’s warning. The signs that led Seth Jones forw were faint, and to an ordinary observer, invisible. The Indians, although they had little fears of pursuit, were yet too cunning and experienced to neglect any caution that would mislead what enemies might be disposed to follow them, They traveled in Indian file, each one stepping in the track of the one before him, so that, judging from the tracks made, it would appear . rant but a single savage had yeen jena re in these varts. Ina was compelled to walk in this manner, and more than once when she inadvertently made a misstep, a cruel blow warned her of her task. Sometimes the leaves, as they lay, appeared per- fectly devoid of the slightest depression or disturb- ance, yet, had one stooped and carefully scrutinized the ground, he would have seen the faigt ontlines of a moccasin defined upon it, or observed that a leaf had been displaced, or perhaps a slender twig had | “IT don’t see any other way. There ain’t any chance to skirt it, cause it appears to run up and down about four thousand three hundred miles, | while you can see the other side.” not yet recovered the position from which it had | been forced by the passing of human feet. All these were trifling indications, it is true, yet they were unerring ones to the practiced eye of the hunter, | and as plain as the footprints upon the dusty roads. Soon Seth paused, and raising his head, turned to- ward Graham. * We are gaining on ’em.” ““Ah—are we? Glad to hear it. able we shall overtake them!” “Can't exactly say, but not for a considerable time yet. They are tramping at a purty good gait, and they only halted last night to rest Iny now and then, Darn ’em! she’ll want rest, I ca’c’late, more’n once afore she’s done with ’em.”’ **Can’t you conjecture their number?” ** There's somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty When is it prob- of the best warriors of the Mohawks. Ican tell that by their tracks.” cae is that? They make but a single one, do they?” ‘*Of course not, but I rayther ca’c’late they make that a little different, fur all that, from what one would. Are you hungry?” “*Not at all; I can stand it till noon, without the least inconvenience.” “So can I; keep a good look-out, and now ahead we ith these words, Seth again plunged into the | woods, and the two prosecuted their journey much as before. The sun was now high in the heavens, and its warm rays pierced the arches of the forest at scattered over the travelers they crossed small, sparkling streams, where some- times could be seen signs of the pursued having | slaked their thirst, and more than once the frighten- ed deer bounded ahead, and paused and gazed in wonder at them, then leaped away again. Graham could hardly resist the temptation of bringing one of them down, especially as he began to feel a desire to taste them but he too well knew the dangerof risk- | ing a shot, when it might bring down their most | mortal enemies in a moment upon them. All at once Seth halted and raised his hand. ‘What does this mean?’ he asked, gazing off in a side direction from the trail. = “What is it!’? queried Graham, approaching him, ‘*The trail divides here. They must have separa- ted, though I can’t see what has made them.” “Isn't it a stratagem of theirs to mislead pur- suers?”’ “*T believe it is! Here, you follow the main trail, while I take the side one, and we’ll soon see.” Graham did as directed, although it cost him con- siderable trouble to perform his part. It proved as they expected. In a short time, the two trails united again. ‘““We must look out for such things,” remarked Seth. ‘‘I’ve got to watch the ground closer, and you must look out that I don’t pitch heels over head into a nest of hornets.” They now proceeded cautiously and rapidly for- ward. About the middle of the afternoon, the halted beSide a stream of considerable size. Seth sroduced a quantity of dried venison, which he had brought with him from the settlement, and of this they made a hearty meal. This done, they arose and again proceeded on their journey. “See there!” said Seth, pointing to the middle of the stream. ‘Do you see that stone there? Notice how it is marked, and observe that print of a moc- casin beside it. One of their number has slipped off of it. Let us be keerful.”’ ‘ He stepped into the water, and made his way care- fully across, followed by Graham, When they, step- ped upon dry land again, the shades of evening were gathering over the forest, and already the birds had ceased their songs. There was, however, a bright moon—in fact, so bright, that they determined to keep up their pursuit, The progress was now necessarily tardy, as it re- uired the utmost straining of Seth’s vision to keep the trail, and had it not been for the friendly open- ings in the wood, where it was as plain as at mid- day, they would have been compelled to abandon it altogether until the morning. Several times Gra- ham was compelled to stand, while Seth, almost on his hands and knees, searched out the “ signs.’ They came across no evidence of the Indiams having en- camped, and judged from this that they either in- tended reaching their tribe before doing so, or that they were somewhere in the vicinity. The latter was the most probable supposition, and prudence de- manded them to be cautious and deliberate in their movements, Suddenly Graham noticed the woods appeared to be growing thinner and lighter in front, as though an opening was at hand. He called the attention of Seth to this, who remarked that it was very prob- able. In a few moments the flowing water, and immediately after stood upon the bank of a large creek, or more properly a river. The current was quite rapid, yet, without much hesitation, they plunged boldly in and swam across, The night being warm and moderate, they suffered little in- convenience from their wet and clinging clothes, as the exercise of walking kept them sufficiently warm: As they ascended the bank, they stood upon a vast and treeless plain, over which the trail led, ** Must we cross this?’’ asked Graham. heard a noise as of | This was true—that is, the latter part of his asser- tion, The plain before them, from all appearances, was a prairie of great length, but comparatively nar- row breadth. The dark line of the woods upon the op- posite side could be plainly seen, and did not appear more than a good hour’s walk away, “I don’t see any other way,’’ repeated Seth, mus- ingly, to himself. ‘‘It’s got to be crossed, though it’s a ticklish business, I swow!”’ “Wouldn't it be better to wait until morning?” asked Graham. “Why so?” “We may walk into danger without seeing it, in the night.”’ ** And how do you s’pose we’re going to walk over here in daylight, without being targets for all the Injins that are a-mind to crack away at us?” ‘Can we not pass around it?” “Stars and garters! hain’t I told you it reaches five thousand miles each way, and it would take us three years to get half-way round?” “T was not aware that you had given me such in- teresting information, until just now; but, as such is the case, of course nothing is left for us but to move forward, without losing time talking.”’ “The trail goes purty straight,” said Seth, turn and looking at the ground, ‘‘and I’ve no doubt i heads straight across to the other side. Hope so, *cause it'll be convenient.” ‘“You must help me keep watch,” said Graham; “vou will not n to watch the ground all the time, and you will need to keep a look-out elsewhere.” As might naturally be supposed, our two friends, . although quite experienced backsrcodaiiga. had mis- calculated the distance to the opposite side of the | prairie. It was full midnight ere they reached its many points, and there were golden patches of light | path, Several times | | stealthily entered the wood ma . All was silent as death, as they cautiously and é ! again. Not a breath of wind stirred the pone on the tree-tops, and the soft murmur of the river had long died away into silence. There were a few flying clouds that obscured the moon at intervals, and rendered its light uncertain and treacherous. Seth still pressed forward, They had gone a few hundred yards, when they heard voices! Cautiously and silently they picked their way, and soon saw the light of a fire reflected ayainst the uppermost limbs of the trees. The fire itself was invisible, although it could not be far distant. Seth whispered for Graham to remain quiet, while he moved forward. He then stepped carefully ahead, and soon reached a massive embankment, up which on his hands and knees he crawled. He red care- fully over this, and saw, down in a sort of hollow, the whole Indian encampment! There were over twenty gathered around, most of whom were ex- tended upon the ground rg while several sat listlessly smoking and gazing into the fire. Seth looked but a moment, as he knew there were watch- ful sentinels, and it was fortunate that he had not been discovered, as it was. Carefully retreating, he made his way down again to Graham. ‘*What’s the news?” asked the latter. "Sh! not so loud. They’re all there.” ** She too?” ‘*Ts’pose, though I didn’t see her.” ** What do you intend doing?’ “T don’t know. We can’t do nothin’ to-night; it’s too near morning. If we git her, we couldn't git a good ‘nough start to give us a chance. We've got to wait till to-morrow night. There’s a lot of ’em on the watch, too. We've got to lay low till daylight, and foller ‘long behind ’em.” The two made their way off in a side direction, so as not to be likely to attract notice in the morning, should any of the savages take the back trail. Here eae remained until daylight. ey heard the Indians, as soon as it was fully light, preparing their morning meal; and as they deemed they could see them without ineurrin eng agin they determined to obtain a glimpse of them, n order to assure themselves whether Ina was amo them or not. Each had suspicion the company hat separated, and tliat their trail had been overlooked in the darkness. AOGOREEDER, the two crept noiselessly to the top. There was a heavy, peculiar sort of brief growing on the summit of the embankment, which was fortu- nately so impenetrable as to effectually conceal thetr bodies, Seth pressed against this and peered over. His head just came above the undergrowth and he could pee see all that was transpiring. Graham, with an unfortunate want of discretion, placed his arm on Seth's shoulder and gaz d cver INm/ Yet, giaguleny. enough, neither was seen. Graham was just in the act of lowering his head, when the briers, which were so matted together as to hold the pres- sure against them like a woven band, gave way, and Seth rolled like a log down the embaaimerth ct- ly among the savages! CHAPTER VI. RUN FOR LIFE. event just.chronicled i place, and Seth made a rather unceremonious entrance in- to view of the prt as Graham felt that he too was in peril, and his life depended upon his own exer- tions. To have offered resistance would have been madness, as there were fully thirty Indians at hand. Flight was the only resource left, and without wait- ing to see the fate of Seth, our hero made a bound down the embankment, alighting at the bottom, and struck directly across the plain, toward the timber that lined the river. He had gained several hundred yards, when several prolonged yells told him that he was discovered, and was a flying fugitive. Cast A WHEN the sad
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-_— ing his eye behind him, he saw five or six Indians al- ready down the embankment and in full chase, And now commenced a race for life and death. Graham was as fleet of foot as a deer, and as well trained and disciplined, but his pursuers numbered five of the swiftest runners.of the Mohawk nation, and he feared he had at last found his match. Yet he was as skillful and cunning as he was sinewy and fleet of foot. The plain over which he was speeding was perfectly bare and naked for six or eight miles before him, while it stretched twice that distance on either hand before the slightest refuge was offered. Thus it will be seen that he took the only course which offered hope—a dead run for it, where the pur- suers and pursued possessed equal advantages. He was pretty certain that his pursuers possessed greater endurance than himself, and that in a long run he stood small chance of escape, while in a short race he believed he could distance as living Indian. So he determined to try the speed of his enemies. As he heard their yells, he bounded forward al- most at the top of his speed. The pursuers, however, maintained the same regular and rapid motion. Graham continued his exertions for about a half- mile, making such use of his arms and limbs as to ve the impression that he was doing his utmost. ‘oward the Jatter part of the first mile, his speed be- gan to slacken, and his dangling limbs and furtive lances behind him would have convinced any one at he was nigh exhausted. But this was only a stratagem, and it succeeded as well as he could have wished. The Indians believed he had committed a common and fatal error—that of calling into play the uttermost strength and speed of which he was master at the outset, and that he was wearied out, while they themselves were just warming into the glow of the chase. Seeing this, they sent up a shout of exultation, and darted ahead at the top of their speed, each endeavoring to reach and tomahawk him before his companion, But their surprise was unbounded when they saw the fugitive shoot ahead with the velocity of a race- horse, while his veins, too, were only filling with the hot blood of exertion. They saw this, and they saw too, that should such speed continue long, he would be far beyond their reach, and all now ran as they never ran before. We say Graham’s stratagem succeeded, It did, and it gave him the knowledge he wished, It showed him that he had met his match! His pursu- ers, at least one or two of them, were nearly as fleet as was he; and, although he might distance them foratime, yet ere half the race was finished he would inevitably lose his vantage ground! Could one have stood and gazed upon this race of life, he would have seen a thrilling scene, Far ahead, over a vast plain, a fugitive white man was flying, and his swift, steady gait showed that his limbs were well trained and were now put to their severest test. As his feet doubled with such quick- mess beneath him as to be almost invisible, the ground glided like a panorama from under them. Behind were a half-dozen savages, their gleaming visages distorted with the passions of exultation, ven- geance, and doubt, their garments flying in the wind, and their strength pressed to its utmost bounds. They were scattered at different distances from each other, and were spreading over the prai- rie, so as to cut off the fugitive’s escape in every di- rection. ; Two Indians maintained their places side by side, and it was evident that the pursuit would soon be left to them. The others were rapidly falling be- hind, and were already relaxing their exertions. Graham saw the state of things, and it thrilled him with hope. Could he not distance these also? Would they not leave him in such a case? And could he not escape ere he was compelled to give out from ex- haustion? 2 “ At any rate I will try, and God ner me!” he ut- tered prayerfully, shooting ahead with almost su- rhuman velocity. He glanced back and saw his ollowers, and they seemed almost standing still, so repay did he leave them behind, ut as nature compelled him to again cease the terrific rate at which he was going, he saw his un; wearied pursuers again recovering their lost ground. The parties now understood each other. The In- dians saw his maneuvers, and avoided the trap, and kept on in the same unremitting, relentless speed, fully certain that this would sooner or later compel him to yield; while Graham knew that the only chance of prolonging the contest rested in his drop- ping into and continuing his ordinary speed. ey now sunk into the same steady and terribly monotonous run. Mile after mile flew beneath them, and still so exact and similar were their relative . rates, that they were absolutely stationary with re- gard to each other! The two Indians now remained alone and they were untiring—they were determined to hold out to the end! At last, Graham saw the friendly timber but a short distance from him. The trees seemed beckon- ing him to their friendly shelter, and, panting and gasping, he plunged in among then— Fraga right ahead till he stood upon the bank of a large and rapidly-flowing stream. | en the Anglo-Saxon’s body is pitted against that of the North American Indian, it sometimes yields; but when his mind takes the place of con- testant, it never loses, Graham gazed hurriedly around him, and in the space of a dozen seconds his faculties had wrought enough for a lifetime—wrought enough to save him. Throwing his rifle aside, he waded carefully into the stream until he stood waist deep. Then sinking upon his face, he swam ate upward until he had gone a hundred yards. Here he struck out into the ehannel, swimming vj-stream as well as across it, so as not to reach the bank at a lower point. The cur- Seth: J ones. rent was very swift, and required an exhausting out- lay of his already fainting frame before he reached the Si eigen bank. Here he immediately sprung upon the shore, ran quickly a short distance down the stream, making his trail as plain as he could; and then springing into the water, swam er up- ward, remaining as close to the shore as possible, so as to avoid the resisting current. The reason of these singular movements will soon be plain. e shore was lined thickly by overhanging bushes, and after swimming until he rot pee it time for his glared to come up, he glided beneath their friend- , shelter, and awaited the further development of things. Almost immediately after, both ap ared upon the opposite bank, but at a point considerably lower down, Without hesitation, they sprung into the stream and swam across. As they landed, they commenced a search, and a yell announced the dis- covery of the trail. Instantly after, another yell proclaimed their disappointment, as they lost it in the river. The savages supposed that the fugitive had again taken to the water, and had either drowned or reached the other side. At any rate, they had lost what they considered a certain prey, and with feelings of baffled malignity they sullenly swam back again, searched the other side an hour or so, and then took their way back to their companions, CHAPTER VII. » THE EXPERIENCE OF SETH. “ By gracious! stars and garters! &c.! &c.! This isa new way of introducing one’s self!’ exclaimed Seth, as he sprawled out among the savages around the council-fire. The consternation of the Indians at this sudden apparition among them may well be imagined. The crackling of the undergrowth above had aroused them, yet the advent of Seth was so sudden and almost instantaneous that ere they could form a sus- picion of the true nature of things, he was among them, Their habitual quickness of thought came to them at once. Graham was seen as he wheeled and fled, and as has been shown, a number sprung at once in pursuit, while a dozen leaped upon Seth, and | as many tomahawks were raised. “Now jest hold on,’’ commanded Seth; “there | grew low upon the neck, ain’t any need of being in a hurry. Plenty time to | ’ take my hair. Fact, by gracious, His serio-comical manner arrested and amused his captors. They all paused and:looked at him, as if expecting another outburst, while he contented himself with gazing at them with a look of scornful contempt, Seeing this, one sprung forward, and clenching his hair in a twist, hissed: “Oh! cuss Yankee! we burn him)!” “Tf you know what's best, ole chap, you'll take yer paw off my head in a hurry. Ef you don’t you mought find it rather convenient to.” The savage, as if to humor him, removed his hand and Seth's rifle, too. Seth gazed inquiringly at him | their captive’s countenance. a moment, and then, with an air ef conscious supe- | riority, said: “T’}l lend that to you awhile, provided you return it all right. Mind, you be keerful now, ‘cause that ar’ gun cost something down in New Hampshire.” From what has just been written, it will doubtless be mapecven that Seth’s conduct was a part which he was playing. When thrown into peril by the impa- tience of his companion, he saw at once that an at- tempt at flight was useless. Nothing was left but to submit to his misfortune with the best grace possi- ble; and yet there was a wayin which this submis- | sion could be effected which would result better for himself than otherwise. Had he offered resistance, or submitted despairingly, as many a man would have done, he would doubtless have been toma- hawked instantly. So, with a readiness of thought which was astonishing, he assumed an air of reckless bravado. This, as we have shown, had the desired result thus far. How it succeeded after, will be seen in the remaining portion of this history. Seth Jones was a man whose character could not he read in an hour, or day. It required a long com- panionship with him to discover the nicely-shaded points, and the characteristics which seemed in many cases so opposite. United witha genial, sport- ive humor and appareni frankness, he was yet far- seeing and cautious, and could read the motives of a man almost at a glance. were deceptive; and, when he chose to play a certain vole, he could do it to perfection. Had any one seen him when the conversation above recorded took place, he would have unhesitatingly set him down as a natural-born idiot. “How you like to burn, eh, Yankee?” asked a savage, stooping and grinning horribly in his face. *“T don't know; I never tried it,” replied Seth, with as much nonchalance as though it was a dinner to which he was referring, ? ‘*R-e-e-e! you will try it, Yankee.” Ses “Don’t know yet: there are various opinions about that, p’raps. When the thing is did I mought ) him, and erserlae his arm pressed moderately, | Indian gave a scornful grunt. ” believe. a “You sizzle nice—nice meat—good for burn! added another savage, grasping and feeling his arm. “ Just please do not pinch, my friend.” The savage closed his fingers like iron rods, and clenched the member till Seth thought it would be crushed. But, though the pain was excruciating, he manifested not the least feeling. The Indian tried again, and again, till he gave up and remarked, expressive of his admiration of the man’s pluck: “Good Yankee! stand pinch well.” ‘Oh! you wa’n’t pinching me, wasyou? Sorry, I didn’t know it. Try again, you mought p’raps do | better.” The savage, however, retired, and another stepped forward and grasped the captive’s hand. With a countenance which | seemed made expressly to vail his soul, his very looks | | roots at the temple. | jerked it forth by the roots, Seth 5 “Soft, like squaw’s hand—let me feel it,’ he re- marked, shutting his own over it like a vise. Seth winced not in the least; but as the Indian in turn was: about to relinquish his attempt at making sport for his comrades, Seth said: ‘Your paws don’t appear very horny,” and closed over it with a terrific gripe. The savage st ke & martyr, till Seth felt the bones of his hand actuall displacing, and yielding like an apple. He determined, as he had in reality suffered himself, to be revenged, and closed his fingers tighter and more rigid till tl poor wretch sprung to his feet, and howled with pain! ““Oh! did I hurt you?’ he asked, with apparent s6é- licitude, as the savage’s hand slid from his own with much the appearance of a wet glove. The discom- fited Indian made no reply but retired amid the jeers of his comrades, Seth, without moving a mus- cle, seated himself deliberately upon the ground, and coulis pane a savage to lend him a pipe. It is known, that when an Indian sees such barithood and power, as their captive had just evinced, he does not endeavor to conceal his admiration, Thus it was not strange that Seth’s impudent request was complied with, One handed him a well-filled pipe, with agrin in which could be distinctly seen admiration, exulta: tion, and anticipated revenge. From the looks of thé others, it was _ they anticipated an immense deal of sport. ur present hero continued smoking, lazily watching the volumes of vapor, as they slows rolled before and around him. His captors sat about him a moment, conversing in their own tongue (every word of which, we may remark, was perfectly under- stood by Seth), when one arose and stepped forward before him. “ White man streng; him pinch well, but me make him cry.” So saying he stooped, and removing the captive’ cap, seized a long tuft of yellow hair which had ita A stab in the eye would nog have caused an acuter twinge of pain: but, as ha ave not the slight- est indication save a stronger whiff at the pipe. Tha savages around did not one & murmur of ads miratio *, Seeing no effect from this torture, the tor. mentor again stooped and caught another tuft that ; Each single hair felt like the point of a needle thrust into the skin, and as it came forth, the Indians seated around noticed a livid paleness, like the track of a cloud, quickly flash over He looked up in his tormentor’s eyes with an indescribable lock, For a moment he fixed a gaze upon him, that, savage as he ty caused a strange shiver of dread to run through um. To say that Seth cared nothing for these inflicted agonies would be absurd. Had thesavage dreamed what a whirlwind of hate and revenge he had awakened by them he would not have attempted what he did. It was only by an almost unaccounta- ble power that Seth controlled the horrible pains of both body and mind he suffered. He felt as though it was impossible to prevent himself from writhing on the ground in torment, and springing at his per secutor and tearing him limb from limb. But he hai been schooled to Indian indignities, and bore then aa ning: His temple had the appearance of white parch- ment, with innumerable bloody points in it, as he blood commenced oozing from the wound, and his neck seemed as though the skin had been screped off! His momentary paleness had been caused b the sickening pain and the intensest passion, His look et the savage was to remember him. After the events which have just transpired they reraained seated a moment in silence. At last one who ap- peared to be the leader, addressed, in an undertone, the Indian whom we have just seen retire from the post of tormentor. Seth, however, caught the words, and had he not, it is not probable he would have successfully undergone the last trying ordeal. The same savage again stepped forward in the | circle before the helpless captive, and removing the cap which had been replace low locks in his left hand and threw the head back- ward, Then whipping out his scalping-knife, he flashed it a second in the air, and circled its cold edge around his head with the rapidity of lightning. The skin was not pierced, and it was only an artifice. Seth never took his eyes from the Judian during this awful minute. The tormentor again retired. ‘The savages were satisfied, but Seth was not. He handed his pipe back, replaced his cap, and rising to his feet, sur- veyed for a few seconds the group around. He then addressed the Jeader, ¢ Soe the white mannow try the red-man’s cour- e “eThe voice sounded like another person’s. Yet the chief noticed it not, and nodded assent to the re- clinched ~he long yel- | quest, while the looks of the others showed the eagerness and interest they felt in these dread- ful proceedings. } The savage who had inflicted all this agony seated himself directly beside the chief. Seth ste La e Seth then. stooped took the tomahawk from his belt. He raised it slowly on high, bent down till his form was like the crouching panther ready to spring, The glittering blade was seen to flash as it circled through the air, and the next instant it crashed clean through the head of the unsuspecting savage! CHAPTER VII. os AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. Weartep and exhausted, Graham crawled forth from the water, and lay down awhile to rest himself upon the soft, velvety carpet of grass. Here, overcome by the terrific strain which hig system had undergone, he fell into and gently
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gr a 3 a 6 ih | ————$S$ —— —— Sp. the day and ewe, 4 he commenced debating with himself upon the alonerin the great wilderness, and what step should | he next take? Should he endeavor to hunt up his friend Haverland, or should he press on in the pur- suit of the object which had led him thus far? While these questions were yet unanswered, he mechanically cast his eye u a distance from him. He had just time to see that there were two beings in it, when prudence warned him to make himself invisible. ed with e. ers. er interest the approach of the new-com- abreast of him. He saw that the two occupants were white men, and he scanned their countenances with deep interest. The stronger of the two was seated in the center of the light vessel, and dipped the ashen blades deep into the water at every stroke. The other, seemingly an older man, was seated in the stern, and while he controlled the actions of tre other, scanned either shore with the experienced eye of the frontiersman. Graham believed, though se knew he had been careful, that his presence was sus- pected, as the canoe, apparently without any intent of its occupants, sheered off toward the opposite shore. He remained concealed until it was directly abreast of him, when a sudden suspicion flashed over was so long since he had seen him that it was im- possible to satisfy himself upon that point without a closer view. However, they jvere white men, and he determined to risk the probabilities of their being friends. In a subdued voice, without coming into view himself, he called to them. He knew he was heard, for the man at the oars halted a second, and glanced Seavey: toward the shore; but at a slight sign from the other he again bent to them, and they both continued, as though they suspected no danger. “Hallo, my friends!” called he, in a louder tone, but still concealing himself. There was no notice, however, taken of him, save he fancied a quicker ropulsion of the boat forward. He now stepped Idly forth and called: **Do not be suspicious; I am a friend.” This brought them to a pause, while the one in the stern spoke: ““We are not satisfied of that: for what business have you here?” we might with equal justice put that question to ou?’ “Tf you choose to give no answer, we can’t wait to bandy words with you. Go ahead, Haverland.”’ * Hold! Is that Alfred Haverland with you?” “Suppose it is? What is that to you?” ‘He is the man whom, above all others, I wish to | see. I am Everard Graham; and, perhaps he re- | The woodman now turned to- | A minute | members the name.’ ward the shore with a stare of wonder, sufficed. ‘**Tt’s he, Ned, sure enough.” With these words he turned the canoe toward shore. A few strokes sent it up against the bank, on me sprung out and grasped the hand of his young riend. ““Why, Graham, what in the name of the seven wonders has brought you here? I forgot—you did promise me a visit somewhere about this time, but 80 many other things have transpired as to make it slip my mind altogether. And I can assure you, I have had enough to break the heart of any ordinary mortal,” he added, in a choking voice. Explanations were then given; and the wonder, | gratitude, and apprehension, that followed Graham's story, may be imagined. Before these were given, Haverland introduced his companion, Ned Hal- idge. ‘Seth promised to bring Ina back,” said he, ‘‘ but I could not bear to remain idle while he alone was searching for her. This good friend here, who has had much experience in border warfare, willingly joined me. I suppose you would like to see the mother; but if you did, you would see a well-nigh broken- have learned more of our darling@aughter.”’ “And if them cowardly Mohawks don’t rue the Haldidge is mightily mistaken!” exclaimed that in- dividual, warmly. “T don’t know,” smiled Graham, “ but that with our present number and present feelings, we might make an open attack upon them, especially as we | have a friend in the camp.” “No, sir; that'll never do!” replied the hunter, with a shake of the head. ‘‘ They can never be over- come in that way. We could have brought a dozen mep with us who could have blown the cowards to atoms, but ‘twouldn’t do.” ““You then rely wholly upon stratagem, eh?”’ ** Nothing else will do with them critters.” “And Heaven only knows whether that will,” re- marked Haverland, in a desponding tone, * Ah! don’t give way, Alf; wait till it’s timé.”’ ~ You must pardon my exhibition of weakness,” Said he, recovering himself. “Though I feel the strength of an army in these limbs of mine, yet I have the heart of a father in this bosom, and I can do any thing for the recovery of =f darling daugh- ter. Oh! I can hear her screams yet, from us on that ier. ms Graham and Haldidge remained silent, respecting his deep and moving grief. Soon the father spoke Beadle’s single effort may save her?” ‘ the river, and started | as he saw a small canoe coming around a bend quite | The light canoe shot rapidly over the placid | surface of the river, and in a few moments was | | not gain a glimpse of the fourth person. | stant] day they commenced their infernal work, then Ned | | a second ' got: to hold on till it’s fairly down on us. | eals catch a glimpse of us before, they'll give us the as she was torn | c : | favor of dashing ahe. _ ann this time his voice and manner were | ‘*But why stand we here idle? Is there nothing for us todo? Are we to remain desponding, when a That’s just what I’ve been thinking ever since we stopped here,” replied Haldidge. ‘‘I don’t see any use in waiting, especially when there is use in doing something.” “ Let us depart, then, course, Graham?” ** Certainly; but I should like to inquire your in- tentions?’’ asked he, pausing on the bank a moment, as the others seated themselves. **T should think you would remember we can have but one intention,’’ answered Haverland, in a tone of You wail accompany us, of | slight rebuke. He stepped behind | the trunk of a massive king of the forest, and watch- | “That is not exactly what I meant. Of course, I knew your ultimate intention, but I wished to inquire what course you intended to pursue.”’ ** Oh, that’s it!” replied Haldidge. ‘“I’v been con- siderable among the red-skins of this region, and know that they can be sooner reached by going down the river some distance further—several miles below this bend—and taking the land.” ‘But my experience tells me you are mistaken this time. Ina’s captors are now at no great dis- tance, and the shortest course to them, you will find, is a direct line from here, across the open prairie, the other side of the river.”’ “At any rate, we will cross to the opposite bank; | soewstep in.” “Wait a minute. What does that mean?” As Graham spoke, he pointed quickly up the river. | From the position of the two within the boat, they | could discern nothing, him that one of the men was Hayerland, although it | quick, and pull the boat out of here’s something afoot, and you mustn't be exclaimed Graham, excitedly, in an under- ad ae ashore, sight. 1 seen,” | tone, as he stooped and grasped the prow of the | canoe. The men sprung ashore, and in an instant the vessel was hauled up out of sight, while the three | made themselves invisible, and from their hiding- places eagerly watched the river. The object which had arrested the attention of Graham was a second canoe, which was just | ppRbereee round the bend above, which h | first | of about the same size, and could be seen to hold | either three or four persons. rought his friends to view. This latter one was The dark-tufted heads of the occupants, rising like statues in the boat, showed unmistakably that they were Indians. As it came nearer and nearer, Haldidge whispered there was a fourth person in the stern, and she was a Jemale. Haverland and Graham breathed hard, for a wild hope filled the heart of each; but as the canoe came abreast of them, while they could plainly dis- tinguish the features of the three savages, they could 7 She was covered by an Indian shawl, and her head was bow- ed low upon her bosom, as though in painful thought. * Let us fire and send these three dogs to eternity,”’ whispered Graham. Haldidge raised his hand, “"Dwon't do; there may be others about, and if that other one is Ina, it may only be the means of her destruction. Alf, do you think that is her?” “T can’t tell—yes, by Heaven, ‘tis her! Look! she has moved her shawl. Let us rescue her at once!” exclaimed the father, rising, and about to start. ** Hold!” imperatively and half angrily command- ed Haldidge, ‘‘ you will spoil all by your rashness. Don’t you see it is near night? They are now below us, and we cannot get them in such a range as to in- sure us each of them. Wait till it is darker, and we will pursue them. I have a plan which I think ean- not fail. Just restrain yourself a short time, and I will bring things’ about in a manner that will sur- prise them as much as it will you.”’ = Haverland sunk down again beside the others. The night was now fast coming on, andin a few minutes the light birch canoe was shoved noiselessly into the water, and the three made ready for the race for life and death, CHAPTER IX. THE CHASE. THE night was even closer at hand than our friends suspected. In the forest, where the withdrawal of : | the sun was almost simultaneous with darkness, it hearted one, and I cannot rine. meet her untill | came without much warning. The gloom was al- ready settling over the water, and Haverland in- shot the canoe from under the shrubbery out into the stream. There were rowlocks and oars for rson, and Graham took up a couple of them and joined his labors with his friend, while Hal- didge took the steering-oar. As they passed boldly into the channel, the canoe ahead was just: disap- pearing around a bend below, ‘**Come, this won’t do; we mustn't let them keep out of our sight,” said Haverland, dipping his oars deep into the water. A heavy darkness was fast settling over the river, ; and our friends noted another thing. A thick, pecu- liar fog, or mist, such as is often seen of summer nights, upon a sheet of water, was already begin- ning to envelop the bank and river. This, as will be evident, while it would allow the pursuers to ap- proach the Indian canoe much closer than otherwise, still gave the latter a much greater chance of elud- | ing them. Haldidge hardly knew whether to be pleased with this or not. “Tt may help usin the beginning, boys, but we've If the ras- slip as sure as fate. Just lay on your oars a few minutes. We can float down with the current.” “T allow it’s the oem age although Iam much in , and ending the matter at onee,’’ remarked Graham, nervously handling his | oars. *‘And while I think of it,” pursued Haldidge, “I don’t see as it would do any hurt to muffle the oars.” Before starting they had abundantly provided themselves with means for this, and in a few mo- ments a quantity of cloth was forced into the row- locks, so as to be able to give full sweep to the oars without making enough noise to attract suspicion from the shore, unless an ear was listening more in- tently than usual. By this time, too, the thick mist mentioned had enveloped the river in an impenetrable cloud, and they shot boldly into it. The light vessel flew as swiftly and noiselessly as a bird over the water, Hal- didge understood every turn and eddy in the stream, and guided the canoe with unerring certainty around the sharp bends, and by the rocks whose black heads now and then shot backward within a few feet of their side. In this way a mile was passed, when he raised hig hand as a signal for them to cease efforts for a mo ment, **Listen!’’ he uttered. All did so, and faintly, yet distinctly and distantly, they heard the almost inaudible dip of oars, and the click of the rowlocks. “Ts that above or below?” asked Haverland, bend- ing his head and intently listening. “T think we have passed them, sure enough,” re- plied Graham. The sound certainly appeared to come from above them, and all were constrained to believe that, row- ing as swiftly and powerfully as they did, they must have swept by them in the darkness without suspect- ing their proximity. “Can it be possible?’ questioned Haldidge, won- deringly and dentine. But such was the character of the river-banks at this point, that all had been deceived in listening to the sounds, and the Indians were all the time leaving them far behind. It was not until they heard un. mistakably the sounds receding in the distance that they became conscious of the true state of matters, At that moment, as they were dying out, they all heard them plainly enough far below. “We might have known it,”’ said Haldidge, in vexa tion. ‘ You've got to lay to it, to catch them now.” “But is there not danger of running afoul of them?” ‘“Not if we are careful, I think they will run in to shore, soon, and if so, it will be the eastern bank, [ will hug that closely, and keep my ears open,” The two now bent to their oars with redoubled powers. They dipped’the ashen blades deeply, and pulled until they bent dangerously, while the water arted in foam at the rushing prow, and spread away in a foamy pyramid behind. The effect of this was soon apparent. The rattle of the oars ahead grew plainer and plainer at each stroke, a’ d it was evident they were gaining finely. Haverland’s arm was thrilled with tenfold power, as he felt that he was rushing to the rescue of his only darling child, and he only wished he might have the chance to spring upon her abductors and rend them limb from limb. Graham’s heart beat faster as he reflected that, perhaps, in afew moments, he should be face to face with her who had hovered about his pillow, in visions, for many a night. Haldidge sat perfectly cool and ssessed. He had formed his plan and imparted it to the others; it was to pursue the canoe noiselessly until they were almost upon it, when the instant they were near enough to distinguish forms, they would fire upon the Indians, and dash ahead and rescue Ina at all hazards, This Haldidge, who has been introduced to notice in this chapter, was a middle-aged man, who ten years before had emigrated from the settlements along the Hudson, with a company which had formed the settlement from which he started, and where we saw Haverland and his wife and sister safely domiciled. He was a married man, and his cabin happened to be on the outskirts of the village. He joined and led the whites in several forays against the savages, when the latter became too troublesome; and in this way became a prominent object for the Indians’ hatred, His residence be- came known to them, and one dark, stormy night a half-dozen made a descent upon it. By the merest chance, Haldidge was in the village at that time, and thus escaped their malignant revenge. Being disap- pointed of their principal prey, they cowardly vented their hatred upon his defenseless wife and child, When the father returned, he found them both tom- ahawked, side by side, and weltering in each other’s blood. So silently had this onslaught been made. that not a neighbor suspected anything wrong, an were horror-struck to find that such deadly eril had been so near their own doors. Haldidge took a fear- ful vengeance upon the destroyers of his happiness. He succeeded, a~couple of years afterward, in dis- covering them, and, before six months were over. shot them all. As may be supposed, his natural aversion to the race was intensified by this tragical occurrence, and had become so distinguished, that his name was a terror to the savages in that section. This will account for his readiness in accompanying Haverland upon his perilous expedition. As was said, our friends were rapidly gaining upon the Indian canoe. At the rate at which they were going, they would be up to them in the course of half an hour. They were so close to the shore, as to see the dark line of the shrubbery along the bank, and several times an overhanging limb brush- ed over their heads. Suddenly Haldidge raised his hand again. All ceased rowing and listened, To their consternation not the slightest sound was heard. Graham leaned over, and placed his ear almost to the water, but detected nothing but the soft ripple of ee. we eed ———
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6 ye es ' Seth J ones. —eSe aA RR ee the stream against the roots and dipping branches | alongs Une sdvre. “Can it be?” he asked, with a painful whisper, as he raised his head, ‘* that we have been heard?” **T do not think ro,” replied Haldidge, apparently ‘in as much doubt as the rest. “Then they have run in to shore, and departed.” *T feur that has been dune.” »*But we have kept so close to the shore, would we hot have geen or heard the boat?” “Provided they landed at once. They may have run in this png minute, and may not be more than a few yards off.” “If so, we must hear them yet, and it won't do to slide down upon them in the manner we are now go- ing, or we shall find ourselves fn the same fix we ex- pected to get them in.” “Very true, and a good suggestion,” remarked Haldidze, and as he did so, he reached up and caught an overhanging limb, and held the canoe still, ** Now, boys, if you've got ears—” “Sh! Look there!” interrupted Haverland, in an excited whisper. Each turned his head, and saw what appeared to be a common lighted candle floating upon the sur- face uf the stream, »It was a small point of light whicb at intervals glowed with a fuller redness, and which for a time completely confounded our friends. On it came as noiselessly as death, gliding forward | with such a smooth, regular motion as to show that | it was certainly borne by the current. ‘What in the name of—” ‘Stop!’ cried Haldidge; “that’s the canoe we're after! It’s the light of one of their pipes we see. Are your guns ready?” “Yes,” replied the two, just loud enough for him to hear. **Make right toward it, then, and fire the instant you see your mark. Now!” At the same instant he released his hold upon the limb, and they threw all their foree upon the oars. The canoe bounded like a ball directly ahead, and seemed about to cut the other in twain. A minute after, the-shadowy outlines of three forms could be dimly seen, and the asenes rifles were already raised, when the beacon-light was suddenly ex- tingu’shed and the Indian canoe vanished as if by magic, “Tt’s one of their tricks!’’ excitedly exclaimed Haldidge. ‘‘Dash ahead! Curse them; they can’t be far off.”’ The two dropped their rifles, and again seized the oars, and Haldidge sheered it abruptly up-stream, for | he fancied they had turned in that direction. He bent his head forward, expecting each moment to see the forms of their enemies loom upto view in the mist, but he was mistaken; no savages greeted his anxious vision. He guided his boat in phd direc- tion—across the stream, up and down—but all to no purpose. They had surely lost their prey this time. fhe Indians had undoubtedly heard the pursuers— had muffled their own oars, and so proceeded as silently as they. ‘* Hold a minute!’’ commanded Haldidge. As they rested, they listened deeply and intently. “Do you hear an thing?” he asked, leaning breath- lessly forward. ‘There! Listen again.”’ They could distinguish the ripple of water, grow- ing fainter and fainter each minute. “They are below us again, and now for a trial of speed,” Phe two needed no more incentives, and for a time the canoe skimmed over the water with astonishing speed, The moon was now up, and there were patches in the stream, where the wind had blown away the fog, and being exposed to the light, were as clear as midday. Now and then they crossed such spots, sometimes but a few feet wide, and at others several rods. At these times the shore on either side was perfectly outlined, and they glided over with a sort of instinctive terror, as they felt how easily an enemy might be concealed. In crossing one of these, broader than usual, a glimpse of the Indian canoe showed itself, just dis- appearing Byes the opposite side. They were not more than a hundred yards apart, and they bounded towar it with great rapidity. The patches of light became more frequent, and the fog was evidently | known to them, CHAPTER X. A COUPLE OF INDIAN CAPTIVES, So sudden, so unexpected, so astonishing was the crash of Seth’s tomahawk through the head of the doomed savage, that, for a moment after, not an In- dian moved or spoke. twain (for an arm fired by consuming passion had driven it), and the brains were spattered over num- bers of those seated around. Seth himself stood a second to satisfy himself the work was complete, when he turned, walked to his seat, sat down, coolly folded his arms and commenced whistling. A second after, nearly every savage drew a deep breath, as if a load had been removed from his heart; then each looked at his neighbor, and in the scowl- ing, ridged brows, the gitvering eyes the distorted visages, the strained bregthing through the set teeth, could be read the fearf{@l intention. Every face but that of the chieftain’s was livid with fury. He alone sat perfectly unagitated. Three Indians arose, and, grasping their knives, stood before him waiting for the expected words. "Touch him not,” said he, with a shake of the head; “* him no right here.” As the chief gpare, he tapped his forehead signifi- cantly with his finger, meaning that the prisoner was demented. The others believed the same, still it was hard to quell the pent-up fire which was scorchin their breasts. But his word was law inviolate, an without a murmur, they seated themselves on the ground again. Seth, although his eye appeared vacant and un- meaping, had noted all these movements with the keenness of the eagle. He knew that a werd or sign from the chief would be sufficient to hack him to a thousand pieces. When he stood before his in- human tormentor, with the keen tomahawk in his | hand, the certainty of instant death or prolonged torture would not have prevented him taking the savage vengeance he did. Now that it was over, he was himself again, His natural feelings came back, and with it the natural desire for life. The words of the chief convinced him that he was regarded as eith- er insane or idiotic, and consequently as not deserv- ing death. Still, although saved for the present, he ever stood in imminent peril. The fallen savage had living friends, who would seize the first opportu- nity to avenge his death. At any rate, let matters stand as they might, Seth felt that he was in hot quarters, and the safest course was to get out of them as soon as possible. It was perhaps ten minutes after the horrid deed, that the savages commenced bestirring themselves, Several arose and carried their comrade to one side, while the others commenced preparations for taking up the day’s march. At this moment the runners who had pursued Graham to the water's edge, re- | turned, and the tragical occurrence was soon made A perfect battery of deadly, gleam- ing eyes were opened upon Seth, but he stood it un- flinchingly. The Indians would have relished well the idea of venting their baffled vengeance upon the helpless captive in their hands; but the command- ing presence of their chief restrained the slightest demonstration, and they contented themselves with meaning looks, One thing did not escape Seth’s notice from the first, and it was an oecasion of wonder and specula- tion to him, Nothing could be seen of Ina. In fact, the appearance of things was such as to lead one to believe that the savages knew nothing of her. Could it be that he and Graham had been mistaken in the party? Could some other tribe have made off with her? Or, had they separated, and taken her in another direction? As he ruminated upon these | questions, he became convinced that the last sug~ disappearing. Quite a breeze had arisen, which was | fast sweeping it away. Haldidge kept close in to the | eastern shore, feeling sure that their enemies would land upon this side!- Suddenly the whole mist lifted from the surface of the water in a volume, and rolled off toward the woods, The bright moon was reflected a long dis- tance, and the pursuers gazed searchingly about, fully as, gd to see their enemies not a dozen rods away. But they were again doomed to disappoint- ment. Not a mppe disturbed the waters, except their own canoe. The moon was directly overhead, 80 that there was not a shadow cast along the bank, sufficient to conceal the slightest object. The In- (lians had evidently landed, and were far distant in the forest, . “It’s no use,” remarked Haverland, gloomily, they are gone, and we might as well be too.” * Tt is a sore disappointment,” said Graham. * And as much so to me as to either of you,” said Haldidge. ‘‘I have an old score against the infernal wretches that will take many years to wipe out. | I heped to do something toward it to-night, but have been prevented. There is no use of hoping more at this time; they have eluded us. that is self,evident, and we must try some other means. No doubt you gested thecertain answer. They could not have mis- taken the party, as they had never lost sight of the trail since taking it; and, moreover, he had noticed several slight occurrences, since his advent among them, that satisfied him, beyond a doubt, of the iden- tity of the party with the one which had descended pi the home of the woodman. Ww was plain they had some fears of pursuit; and to guard their treasure, a number had left them ata favorable point, intending to join the main body where pursuit was not to be expected, or where the pursuers had been sufficiently misled to warrant It, As he reflected, Seth was satisfied that this was the only and true explanation of her non-appearance. un, From the caution | hich the aggressors evinced in their flight, together | with the haste with which it had been conducted, it | The head was nearly cleft in | 7 The preparations were soon completed, and the | Indians commenced moving forward. If Seth had | entertained any doubts of their intention relating to are wearied in body as well as in mind, and don’t: | fancy particularly this remaining out in the river here, | a shot for any one who might possess the will; so le as go into shore, have a rest, and talk over things.”’ Dispiritedly and gloomily the trio ran the canoe to the bank and landed. | Seth’s suiferings were truly great. him, they were soon dispelled by his experience, It was n0t at all likely that he would be reserved as & prisoner, unless they intended to put him to some , use. Accordingly he found himself loaded down with an enormous burden, consisting mostly of food, | in the shape of deer’s meat, which the savages had brought with them. They buried their fallen com- rade, without the ceremony and mourning which might be expected. rarely gives way to his emotions, except upon Such occasions as the burial of one of their number, 4 “ war-dance,” or something similar, when the whole nest of devilish passions is allowed free vent. They indulged in no such ceremonies—if ceremonies they may be called—at this time. A comparatively shal- low grave was dug, and into this the fallen one was pee in an upright position, his face turned toward he east. His rifle, knives, and all his clothing were buried with him. The day was a suffocating one in August, and ; He was natural- ly lithe, wiry, and capable of enduring prolonged exertion, but, unfortunately for him, the savages had become aware of this and loaded him accord- The North American Indian | 7 in wire the arching tree-tops shut out the witherin ness, ‘‘ How Yankee like it?’ grinned a savage by his side, stooping and peering fiendishly into his face. “ Pirst rate; goes nice. Say, you, s’posen you try it?” “Ugh! walk faster,” and a whack accompanied the word, ‘**Now I cac’late, I’m going to walk just about as fast as I durned please, and if you ain’t a mind to wait, you can heave ahead. Fact, by gracious.” And Seth did not hasten bis steps in the. least. Toward noon he found he should be obliged to have a short rest or give out entirely. He knew it would be useless to ask, and consequently he determined to take it without asking. So, unloosing the cords which bound the pack to his back, he let it fall to the ground, and, seating himself upon it, again went to whistling. “Go faster, Yankee—you no keep up!” exclaimed one, giving him a stunning blow. ‘See here, you, p’raps you don’t know who it mought be you insulted in that way. I'm Seth Jones, from New Hampshire, and consequently you'll be keerful of tetching me.” The savage addressed was upon the point of strik- ing him insolently to the earth, when the chieftain “interfered, “No touch pale-face—him tired—rest a little.” Some unaccountable whim had possessed the sav- age, as this mercy was entirely unexpected by Seth and he knew not how to account for it, unless it might be he was reserving him for some horrible torture. The resting-spell was but a moment, however, and just as Seth had begun ‘to really enjoy it, the chief- tain gave orders for the replacement of the load. Seth felt Rispenes to tamper awhile, for the sake of prolonging his enjoyment, but, on second eee 9 concluded it the better plan not to cross the chief who had been s0 lenient to him thus far. So, witha considerable number of original remarks, and much disputation bout the placing of the burden, he shouldered iv at last and trudged forward, Seth was right in his ccnjectures about Ina. To- ward the latter part cf the day, the three Indian who had been pursued ey our other friends, rejoine the main party, bearing her withthem. She noticed her companion in captivity at once, but no commu nication passed Letweenthem, A look of melancholy relief escaped her as she became :ssured that her parents were still safe, and that only she and her new friend were left to the sufferings and horrors of captivity. But there was enovgh in that to’ damp even such a young and hopeful spirit as was hers, Not death alone, but a fate frcm the sensuous ca tors far worse than death itself, was to be apprehen ed. In the future, there was but one Hand that could sustain and safely Celiver them, and to that One she looked for deliverance, CHAPTER XI. STILL IN” PURSUIT, aT seems the devil himself is helping them imps!” remarked Haldidge, as they landed. oS i I trus Heaven is aiding us,” added Haver land. * Heaven will, if we belp curselves, and now as I’m in this scrape, I'm bound to see the end. Look for trail.” a ioe “It’s poor work I’m thinking we'll make, groping in this moonlight, ’ said Graham. “While there’s life there’s hope. Scatter ‘long the bank, and search every foot of land. I'll run up- ee & ways, as I've an idea they landed not fur on, The hunter disappeared, with these words, and Graham and Haverland commenced their work in an opposite direction, The branches overhanging the water were carefully lifted up, and the ce shore examined; the suspicious bending or parting of the undergrowth was followed by the minutest scrutiny, and although the heavy darkness was against them, it would have required a most guarded trail to Jave escaped their vision. But their efforts were useless; no trail was detected; and convinced that the savages must have landed upon the opposite side, they turned to retrace their steps. As the ant 80, a low whistle from the hunter reached the “TS, * What does that mean?” ssked Graham. * He has discovered something. Let us hasten,” “What is it, Haldidge?” asked Haverland, as they reached the hunter, ..,. Here’s their tracks as sure as I’m 4 sinner, and it’s my private opine they ain’t fur off neither. ‘ Aine we wait till daylight before we undertake © follow it?” “Tam much afraid we shall have to, as there may be signs which we might miss in this darkness, Day can’t be far off.” NS ‘Several hours yet.” Sag tee we will ae ourselves comfortable until en.’ With these words the trio seated themselves upon the earth, and kept up a low conversation until morning. ' As soon as the faint light appeared, they detected the Indian canoe a short distance up the bank, secreted beneath a heavy, overhanging mass of undergrowth, As it was during the summior sea-
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son, their pursuit was continued at an early hour, so the ae could have had but a few hours’ start at the most. With Ina they could not proceed very rapidly, and our friends were sanguine of overtaking them ere the day closed. The only apprehension the pursuers felt, was that the three savages, fully conscious now that their enemies were upon their trail, might hasten to re- join the main body, and thus cut off all hope. They could not be many miles apart, and must have made some preparation for this contingency. The trail to the hunter’s eye was distinct and easily foliowed. He took the lead, striding rapidly for- ward, while Haverland and Graham were continually on the look-out for danger. Haverland was some- what fearful that the savages, finding they could not avoid being overtaken, would halt and form an ambush into which the hunter would blindly lead them. The latter, however, although he appeared culpably rash and heedless, understood Indian tac- tics better; he knew no halt would be made until the pavages were compelled to do so. ic ee !—see here!”’ exclaimed Haldidge, suddenly using. ‘““What’s the trouble?’ queried Graham, stepping hastily forward with Haverland. “Their camping-ground; that is all.” Before them were more visible signs of the trail than they had yet witnessed. A heap of ashes was upon the ground; and as Haverland kicked them apart, he discovered the embers still red and glow- ing. Sticks were broken and scattered around, and the varied evidences of an Indian camp were to seen, again, the hunter taking the lead as before. The ursuit was kept up without halting until near noon. Yonscious that they were rapidly gaining upon the fugitives, it was necessary to proceed with the ex- tremest caution. The breaking of a twig, the fall- ing of a leaf, startled and arrested their steps, and not a word was exchanged except in the most care- ful whisper. Haldidge was some dozen yards in ad- vance, and the eyes of his companions were upon him, when they saw him sudden yy use and raise his hand asa signal for them to halt. They did so, and stooping downward, he commenced examining the leaves before him. A moment sufficed. He turned and motioned his two companions forward. at as I feared,” he moodily exclaimed, in a half whisper. s at’s the matter?” asked Haverland, anxiously. “ The two trails join here,” he answered. “ Are you not mistaken?” asked Haverland, know- ing that he was not, and yet catching at the faintest hope held out to him, “No, sir; there’s no mistake. Instead of three In- dians, we've got over forty to follow up now.” ** Shall we do it?” “Shall we do it? Of course we shall; it’s the only chance of ever getting a sight of Ina again.” “T know it, and yet the hope is so faint; they must know we are in pursuit, and what can we do against ten times our number?’ “No telling yet; come, strike ahead again.” With these words, the hunter turned and plunged deeper into the forest. Graham and Haverland si- lently followed, and in a few minutes the three were —— This was unaccountable even to the hunter, and for a few moments our friends stood perfectly non- plused. They had not looked for this, and knew not the htest reason for it. “This beats all creation!” remarked Haldidge, as he on examined the trail. : “Depend upon it, there is something meantih this,” observed Haverland, with an air of deep 2on- cern, “It is some stratagem of the imps which we 1aust understand before going further.”’ “They must entertain different ideas of us from what we thought. You may safely believe that ‘his is some plan to mislead us, and if there is ever a time when our wits shall be demanded it has now come.” During this fragmentary conversation, the hunter was minutely examining the trail. Graham and Haverland watched him a few seconds in silence, when the latter asked: “Do you make anything of it?” ‘Nothing more. The trail divides here; the main body proceeds onward in a direct line, while the minor trail leads off to the west. The division must have been very unequal, for as near asI can judge the smaller party does not number over three or four at the most. No efforts have been made to conceal their traces, and there is either a deep-laid scheme afloat, or they don’t care a fig for us.’ “* Very probably both,” remarked Graham. ‘They care enough for us to take good care to remain out of our reach, when they do not possess advantages over us, and have already shown their skill in not laying but in executing schemes,” GRAHAM WAS STOOPING BESIDE A FLAT STONE, ENDEAVORING TO DECIPHER SOME CHARACTERS UPON 1T.—Page 9, “Tow long ago was this place vacated?’ asked Graham. ** Not three hours.” “We must be close upon them.”’ “Rather, yes.” “Let us hasten forward, then.”* “You see by these coals that they didn’t start un- til daylight, and as that gal of yourn, Haverland, can’t travel very fast, of course they've had to take their time.” “ce Ver ed us thus far, I begin to feel a little of my natural hope return. I trust that this opportunity will not escape us.” “Ah! more signs yet,’’ exclaimed Graham, who had been examining the ground for several yards around, “What now?” “That's a piece of her dress, is it not?” And he held up a small, fluttering rag in his hands. The father eagerly took it, and examined it. “Yes; that is Ina’s; I hope no violence has placed it in our hands,”’ and several involuntary tears cours- ed down his cheek at the illusion. “Tm thinking she left it there on purpose to guide us,’ remarked Graham. “She must have seen us, of course, and has done all she could to guide us,” “Very probable}; but it strikes me rather forcibly that we are gaining nothing in particular by remain- ing here. Remember, the savages are going all the time.” Thus admonished, the three set rapidly forward f true; although disappointment has attend> proceeding as carefully and silently as before through the @ense wood. As yet our friends had partaken of nothing, and began to experience the pangs of hunger; but, of course, in the present instance, these were disregard- ed. Somewhere near the middle of the afternoon, they came upon another spot were the savages had halted. Here, if Haverland and Graham had any lingering doubts of what the hunter had said, they were soon removed, It was plain that a large Indian pery had halted upon this spot but a few hours be- ore, and it was equally evident that they had taken no pains to conceal the traces they had made, If ier had any suspicions of pursuit, they had no ap- prehensions of the consequences, as they were well aware of the disparity between the two forces, and scorned the whites. This was gratifying on the other hand to the hunt- | er. He knew well enough that as matters stood at present, he could hope for nothing except through his own cunning and stratagem; and, for this reason it was very probable that the Indians were satisfied no attempt would be made. They did not take into con- sideration that there was an enemy in their camp. Considerable remains of the meal were discovered, and served to satisfy the wants of our friends for the resent. The early time in the afternoon showed hem that thus far they had gained quite rapilly upon the savages. It was the earnest wish of the three that they should come up to the Indian party by nightfall; but this expectation was doomed to a sudden disappointment; for ina few hours they reached a point where the trail divided again. “Tf we could only give that Seth Jones an inkling of our whereabouts and intentions, I should feel pretty sanguine again,” said Haverland, “Very likely if that Jones could give us an inkling of his whereabouts and experiences, you would lose a little of that expectation,’ rejoined the hunter, with a meaning emphasis. ‘But this is a waste of time and words,"’ said Gra- ham; “let us lay our heads together and decide at once what is to be done. As for me, I'm in favor cf following the smaller party.” ‘* What give you that idea?” asked Haverland. “*T confess I cannot give much reason for the no- tion, but somehow or other it has struck me that Ina is with the smaller party.” ‘‘ Hardly probable,” returned Haverland. _ “Tt don’t seem so, I allow,” remarked the hunter, **but queerly enough the same notion has got inia my head,” ** Of course you can then give some reason.” “T can give what appears to have a show of reason tome. I have been doing a big amount of thinking for the last few minutes, and have almost reached & conclusion. I believe that the gal is with the small.» arty, and itis the wish of the savages that we sha}! ollow the main body. We will thus be drawn. ito ambush, and all further trouble from us would be removed.” “Tt seems hardly probable that the savages would run such a risk of losing their captive when there is no oceasion for it,’ remarked Haverland. “Zé don’t seem probable, but it ain’t the first thing they've done (providing of course they’ve done it), iM ny
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whe 4 40s0 «BCCI SGHOR. Jones. that would make you open your eyes. I ow these Mohawks are certain we won't suspect they’ let the gal go off with two or three of their num er, when there were enough to watch her and keep her out of the hands of a dozen such as we are. Feeling certain of this, I say they have let her go; and being sure also that we'll tramp on after them, they have made arran ements some distance away from here to dispose of us,’ “Sound reasoning, I admit, but here? something to offer on the other side,” said Graham, another fluttering rag from a bush. : “* How is that upon the other side of thes ‘queried the hunter. “Tf you will notice the bush from this, you will see it is upon the trail Of the larger pervs and consequently Ina must™have been with hat party to have left it there.” * Just show me the exact twig from which you took it,” quietly asked Haldidge. Graham led the way a few yards off and showed him the spot. The hunter stooped and carefully examined the bush. “T’m now satisfied,” said he, “that I was right. This rag was left there by a sav age for the express purpose of misleading us. We must seek Ina in an- bier direction.’ “Haldidge,”’ said Haverland, earnestly, “I place great reliance upon your skill and judgment, but it strikes me at this moment that you are acting capri- ciously against reason.’ “‘There’s but one way to decide it; will you agree to it?’ asked the hunter, smilingly. The other two expressed their willingness, and he produced his hunting-knife. For fear that some of our readers WITHOUT LOSING A may te apprehensive of the use to which he intended putting it, we will describe his modus operandi at once. ‘Stepping back a pace or two, the hunter took the point of his knife between his thumb and fore- finger, and flung it over his head, As if fell to the earth again, the point was turned directly toward the trail of the lesser party. * Just what It sonar * remarked the hunter, with another quiet smile. The mooted question w: 1S now settled to the satisfaction of all, and our three friends turned unhesitatingly to the w estward upon the trail of the smaller party. How much sometimes hangs upon the slightest thread! How small is the point upon which great events often turn! The simple fact of the direction in which the blade of the hunting-knife remained when it fell, decided the fate of every character in this life-drama. Had it pointed to the northward, an hour later the threes would have walked into an | ambush intended for them, and every one would have been massacred. The hunter was right. Ina Haverland had gone with the smaller par ty. CHAPTER XII. PENCILINGS BY THE WAY. We have said the hunter was right. By the acci- dental turning of the hunting-knife, he had not only saved his life, but his efforts had been turned in the right direction. It must be confessed that Haverland himself had some misgivings about the course which they were taking. He could not believe that the savages were short-sighted enough to place a captive, who was se- MOMENT, cure in their ssion, into the hands of one er two of their number, when they - were conscious they | were pursued. But the decision of the hunting- knife could not be appealed from, and in a moody si- lence he followed in the footsteps of the hunter. It was now getting far along in the afternoon, and the pursued savages could be at no great distance. Their trail was plain, as no efforts had been made to | conceal it; but, although Haldidge strove his utmost | to detect signs ‘of Ina’s delicate moccasin, he failed entirely, and was compelled, in spite of the assur- ance which he manifested at the start, to take some misgivings to himself. 1e hunter, notwithstandin ning and skill he had shown thus far in tracing u the savages, had made one sad mistake. He hac been misled ‘altogether i in the number of the smaller party. Instead of three or four Indians, there were six: he began to think he had undertaken a more difficult matter than he anticipated. Still, there was no time for halting or faltering, and he strode reso- lutel, forward. h—some more signs,”’ exclaimed he, stopping suddenly. if What are they ?”’ queried his companions aay: “ Just notice this bush, if you please, an 1 me what you make of it?”’ The two friends did so, and saw that one of the branches of some sprouts of chestnut, growing round a stump, had been broken short off, and lay pointing toward the trail. “T make it favorable. us,”’ said Haverland. ‘*My opinion exactly,” added Graham. the consummate cun- Ina has done this to guide HE RAISED HIS RIFLE, TOOK QUICK BUT SURE : i are mistaken about one thing. Jna did not do it.” “Did not do it?” did theny”’ *'That’s the question. I’m of the opinion that that white man you have told me about has done it.’ ** But it cannot be that he is with them too.’ ** Surely it is impossible that the Indians would al- exclaimed the others; “‘and who | low both of their captives to be in charge of two or ” three of theix number at the same time. “As for tivo or three, there are six painted Mo- hawks ahead of us for that matter. I haven't de- tected the trail of the gal yet, but have diScovered several times pretty convincing evidence that awhite man is among them, If you will look at that stick again, you will see that it is not likely your gal broke it. Inthe first place I don’t believe she is able; for notice how thick it is; and, if she could have done it, it would have taken so much time that she would have been prevented.” “Very probably Seth is among them, although it is singular, to say the least. Some unaccountable whim has take possession of the Indians,” “ But you say you discern nothing of Ina’s trail?” asked Graham. ‘* Not as yet.”’ ss ae you think she is among them?” pide 2 (oy ‘* Where is her trail, then?” _. “« Somewhere on the gr Si I suppose.” “Well, why have we not seen it, then?” ‘“‘T suppose, because it has escaped our eyes.’ “A&A good explanation,” smiled Graham; “ but if =e we have failed ‘esti thus far to detect it, is it probable that she is among them?” “T think so. You must remember that these half- dozen Mohawks are walking promiscuously and not in Ingin file, as is generally their custom, It is very robable that the gal is in front, and what tracks her ttle moccasin might make would be entirely cov- ered up with the big feet of the Ingins.’ ‘“T hope you are not mistaken,”’ returned Haver- land, in such a tone as to show that he still had his lingering doubts. That matter cannot be decided until we get a peep at the dusk vit cowards, and the only course is for us to push ahea “It strikes me that they can be at no great dis- tance, and if we are going to come upon their camp~ fire to-night, we have got to do it pretty soon, ‘*Come on, then.”’ With this, the hunter again strode forward, but with more stealth and caution than before. He saw in the different signs around them unmistakable proof that the Indians were at no great distance, Just as the sun was setting, the trumvirate reached a small stream which dashed and foamed directly across their trail. They halted a moment to slake their thirst, and the hunter arose and moved for- ward again, But Graham made it a point tosearch at ev nL halting-place for guiding signs, and he call- ed out to his companions to wait a moment, “Time is too precious, ” replied he, won't find anything here.” “Won't find anything here, eh? Just come and look at this.’ The hunter stepped back over the stones in the “and you AIM, AND FIRED.—Page 12. | brook, and with Haverland approached Grahanz The latter pointed to a broad, flat stone at his feet’ | Upon it was scratched, with some softer stone, the folowing words: “Hurry forward. There are six Indians, and they have got Ina with them. They don’t suspect you are following them, and are hurrying up for the vil- lage. I think we will camp two or thres miles from here. Make the noise of the whippowil when you want to do the business, and I will understand, “Yours, respectfully. “Sera Jones. “Tf I warn’t afraid the inyps would hear it, I would vote three cheers for that Jones,” exe laimed Hal- didge; ‘he’s a trump, whoever he is.’ ‘“You may depend~ upon that,” added Grabam, “for what little I saw of him was sufficient to show me that.” «# ‘Let me see,” repeated the hunter, again reading the writing upon the stone, “he says they will en- camp two or three miles from here. The sun has now set, but we shall have light for over an hour yet, sufficient to guide us. It’s best for, us to be moving forw ard, as there is no time to spare. “Tt beats my time how this Jones got into that crowd,” said Graham, half to himself, as the three again moved forward. ‘“Fle’s there, we know, and that is enough for the present; when we have the time to Spare, we may speculate upon the matter. All ready?” ““Yes—but a moment, Haldidge, let us have some 1 Jap? ws
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ee ra ee are arms 10 arrangement about the manner in which we are going to travel. Double caution is now necessary.” “T will keep my eyes upon the trail, as I have done all along, and see that we don’t walk into a hornet’s nest with our eyes shut. You can help keep a look-out, while you, Graham, who have been so lucky thus far in stumbling upon what neither of us saw, will watch for more signs. Just as like as not, that Jones has been clever enough to give us some more good directions."’ Each understanding his duty, now prepared to ful- fill it. The progress was necessarily slow, from the extreme caution exercised. The hunter had maoreoded but a short distance when he noticed his shadow was cast upon the ground; and, looking up, he saw, to his regret, that the full moon was in the heavens. This was _unfor- tunate for them; for, although it discovered the trail with as much certainty as in the day, and thus as- gisted them in the pursuit, yet the chances of their approach being made known to the Indians was al- most certain. ** Hist!’ suddenly called Graham, in a whisper. “What’s up now?” asked the hunter, turning stealthily around. *“*Some more writing from Seth.” Haverland and Haldidge approached. Graham was stooping beside a flat stone endeavoring to de- cipher some-characters upon it. The light of the moon, although quite strong, was hardly sufficient. By dint of patience and perseverance they succeed- ed in reading the following: “ Be very careful. Theimps begin to suspect; they have seen me making signs, and are suspicious. They keep a close watch on the gal. Remember the sig- nal when you come up with us. Yours, in haste, but nevertheless with great respect, “SerH Jones, EsqQ.”’ It was now evident that they were in close proxim- ity to the savages. After a moment's hurried de- bate, it was decided that Haldidge should walk at a greater distance ahead than heretofore, and com- municate instantly with his companions upon dis- eovering the camp. Slowly, silently and cautiously the three moved Phe= kp A half-hour later, Graham touched the shoulder of Haverland and pointed meaningly ahead. A red reflection was seen in the branches overhead; and as they stood in silence, the glimmer of a light was seen through the trees. The next instant the hunter stood beside them. ‘¢ We've come to them at last,’’ he whispered; ‘* see that your priming is all right, and make up your mind for hot work.” They had already done this, and were anxious for the contest to be decided. Their hearts beat high, as they realized how near the deadly conflict was, and even the hunter’s breath was short and hurried. But there was no faltering or wavering, and they moved stealthily forward, CHAPTER XITt. SOME EXPLANATIONS. Te village of the Mohawks was ata considerable distance from the spot where had once stood the home of the woodman, and incumbered as they were | with plunder, their progress was necessarily slow; besides, knowing full well that pursuit would be useless upon the part of the whites, their was no oc- caston to hasten their steps. When, however, Seth Jones’ unceremonious entrance among them, to- gether with the escape of his new companion and the subsequent report of the smaller party with Ina, was made known, the old chief began to have some mis- givings about his fancied security. It occurred to im that there might be a large party of whites on the trail, and in such case, his greatest skill was re- quired to retain the captives. And here was the trouble. If he was pursued—and upon that point there could be no doubt—his progress must be has- tened. His pursuers would follow with the swiftness of vengeance, With the plunder in their possession, the thing was impossible, and he saw, at length, that stratagem must be resorted to. , He selected six of his bravest and fleetest warriors —two of whom had been Graham’s most troublesome enemies in his fearful chase—and placed Ina in their charge, with instructions to make all haste to the Indian village. Before starting, it occurred to him that the best plan would be to send the white man also with them. Were he to remain with the larger party, in case of attack, his presence, he had reason to fear, would be their own destruction, while six savages fully armed and ever vigilant, could surely guard an unarmed idiot and a woman. The chief, as stated, was satisfied he was pursued. Hence, if he could throw his pursuers off the scent, their discomfiture would be certain. He believed this could be done, Wow well he succeeded, has al- ready been shown. The six savages with their eharge parted from the larger party, and struck off rapidly in.a direction diverging to the north, Their trail was so concealed as to give the impression that there were but three, and this deception we have seen misled the hunter. A piece of Ina’s dress was cil oan jodged upon a bush, in the rear of the arger party: and promiscuously and=hopefully, the chief leisurely continued his way with his dusky fol- lowers. After the parties had parted company, the smaller one hastened rapidly forward, Ina, in charge of a stalwart, athletic Indian, was kept to the front, the more effectually to conceal her trail, while Seth kept his position near the center of the file. He was al- lowed the free use of his hands, though, as has been remarked, he was deprived of his weapons. As they journeyed hastily forward, he made it a point to enlighten them as much as possible by his conver- sation, and certain original remarks. } some food. | lieve that the Indians suspected that their stratagem Library. “Tf you have no objection, I wouldn’t mind know- ing your idea in thus leaving the other Injins, eh?” he remarked, quizzically, to the savage in front. No cis being given, he continued: ‘I s’pose you're thinking about that house you burnt down, and»feeling bad—oh, you ain't, eh?” egerecre remarked Seth, as the Indian glared fierce- y at him, “Tt was a bad trick, I allow,’ he continued, “ enough to make a fellur mad, Il swow. That house, I shouldn’t wonder now, took that Haverland a week to finish; twas an ugly piece of business—yes, sir. At intervals the savages exchanged a word with each other, and once or twice one of them took the back trail, evidently to ascertain whether they had any pursuers. Finding they had not, they slackened their speed somewhat, as tis had given signs of fa- tigue, and they believed there was really no occasion for hastening. But the weariness which the fair captive had endured, so increased, that long before the sun had reached its meridian, they halted for a half-hour’s rest. This was at the crossing of a small, sparkling stream. As the sun was now quite hot, dnd the atmosphere thick and heavy, the rest in the cool shadows of the trees was doubly refreshing. Ina seated herself upon the cool moist earth, her captors preserving, singularly enough, a far more vigilant watch over her than over Seth Jones; but, for that matter, the latter was allowed no very spe- cial freedom. A couple of Indians again took the back trail, for prudent reasons, but met with nothing to excite their apprehensions, In the meantime, Seth continued tumbling over the ground, occasionally giving vent to caatehes of song, and now and then a sage remark. Without being noticed, he picked a small chalky pebble from the margin of the brook, and working his way to a large flat stone, executed, with many flourishes, the writing to which we referred in a preceding chapter. Although cleverly done, this latter “Act did not es- cape the eyes of the suspicious savages. One imme- diately arose, and walking to him, pointed down and gruffly asked: ‘*What that?’ ‘Read it fur yourself,’’ replied Seth, innocently. ‘* What that?” repeated the savage, menacingly. ‘A little flourishing I was executing, jist to pass away time. “Ugh!” grunted the Indian, and, dipping his big foot in the brook, he irreverently swept it across the stone, completely wiping out Seth’s beautiful chiro- eo “Much obliged,” said the latter; ‘‘saved me the trouble. I can write it on again when it gits dry.” But no opportunity was given, as a moment after the scouts returned, and the line of march was taken up. But Seth well knew he had accomplished all that could be desired. He had taken particular pains that the pebble should be flinty enough to scratch into the soft stone every word he wrote. Conse- quently the party had not been gone a half-hour when every letter came out as clear and distinct as before, despite the wet daub the indignant savage had given it. Their progress for a time was quite rapid. Seth somehow or other, was‘tonstantly Titobbic out of file, breaking down twigs along the way, stumbling | against the stones which were not in the way, and, in spite of menaces and occasional blows of his cap- font making the trail unnecessarily distinct and plain. At noon another halt was made, and all partook of Ina was sick at heart, and ate but a mouthful. An apprehension of her dreadful posi- tion came over her, and her soul reeled as she began picturing what was yet to come. Seth quarreled with two of his captors, because, he affirmed, they took more than their share of the dinner; and, take it all in all, affairs were getting into as interesting a state as one could well conceive. The meal finished, they again set forward. From the whispered consultation of the savages, as well as the words which reached Seth's ears, and their utter disregard of Ina’s painful fatigue, he began to be- had not misled their pursuers, and were apprehen- sive of pursuit. Finally, Seth became satisfied that such was the case, and when they halted, toward the middle of the afternoon, he again gave vent to his thoughts upon a friendly stone which offered itself, and this, again, received a fierce wipe from the foot of the same savage, and the words again came out to view, and accomplished all that their ardent au- thor could have desired. These acts of Seth settled the suspicions of his captors into a certainty, and a closer surveillance | was kept upon their refractory captive. No further opportunities were given him, and as he himself had expected this turn of matters, there was no need of it upon his part. Although he had but little reason to hope it, he did hope and believe that Haverland and Graham were upon the trail, and he felt that if the words intended for their eyes could only reach them, the fate of Ina and himself was determined. The moon being at its full, and shining in uncloud- ed splendor upon the forest, so aeatenes the way that the savages continued their flight—as it may now be called—for an hour or two in the evening. They would have probably gone further, had it not been pain- fully evident that Ina was ready to give out. The old chief had given them imperative commands not to hasten her too much, and to rest when they saw she needed it. Accordingly, though they were bru- tal enough to insult her with menaces, they were of no avail, and, finally they came to a reluctant halt for the night. It will be necessary to understand the situation of these savages and their captives, in srder to com- prehend the events that followed. A fire was started, and just within the circle of this, half reclining upon the ground, was Ina, with a heavy Indian shawl thrown around her. She had partaken of none of the food offered, and was al- ready in a semi-unconscious state. On either side of her was seated a vigilant savage, well-armed and prepared fom ~ iy emergency. Upon the opposite side was Seth, his feet firmly lashed together, while his hands were free. Two Indians were upon his right, and upon his left. The remaining one took his station abomt@ hundred yards on the back-trail. Here, lying flat on his face, he silently waited for the a of the enemy. rien + CHAPTER XIV. \ IN THE ENEMY’S CAMP, Tuesavages, after starting the fire, allowed it to smolder and die cut, for fear of guiding their ene- mies. Now this was the most fortunate thing that could have happened for their pursuers; for, in the first place, it burned long enough to give them a per- fect knowledge of the position of Ina and Seth; and, when its light could no longer be of any assistance, but would materially injure their hopes, the Indians were kind enough to let it fade entirely out. Before giving the signal, the hunter deemed it best to ascertain the whereabouts of the savage missing at the camp-fire. Leaving his rifle in charge of Haver- land, and cautioning them not to move, he crept stealthily forward. So silent and snakelike was his approach, that the savage lying directly in his path had not the slightest suspicion of his proximity. The first thing that attracted his attention was the thought that he heard a slight movement in front of him. Raising his head a few inches, he peered cau- tiously forward. Nothing meeting his keen vision he sunk back again. The hunter and savage, both being on the ground, were in blank darkness, and although their forms, if standing on their feet, would have been plainly dis- cernible, yet, under the thick shadows of the under- growth, they might have touched each other without knowing it. The hunter, however, as he lay, caught the outlines of the savage’s head against the fading light of the fire behind him, as he raised it, This rave him a knowledge of his position and determined 1is own mode of action. Without the least noise, he slid slowly forward un- til he was so close that he could actually hear the In. dian’s breath, Then he purposely made a slight movement, The Indian raised his head, and was gradually coming to his feet, when the hunter bound- ed like a dark ball forward, clutched him by the throat, and bearing him like a giant to the earth, drove his hunting-knife again and again to the hilt in his heart. It was a fearful act, yet there was no hesitation upon the hunter’s part. He felt that it must be done. He loosened his gripe upon his victim’s throat, when there was not a spark of life left. Then casting his body to one side, he made his way back to his com- egret Here, in a few words, he explained what ad taken place. It was evident that the Indians were so cautious and alarmed, that the most con- summate skill was required, to accomplish the work in hand. Suddenly an ingenious plan occurred toGraham. It was to dress himself in the fallen Indian’s dress, walk boldly into the camp and be guided by circum- stances. After a moment’s consultation, it was ac- quiesced in by all. Haldidge made his way to where the savage lay, and hastily stripping him, returned with his garments, These Graham donned in a few moments, and was ready. It was agreed that he should walk leisurely among them, while Haverland and Haldidge would follow him, and remain nigh enough to be ready at a moment’s warning. If dis- covered, he was to seize Ina and make off in the woods, while his two friends would rush forward, free Seth, and make an onslaught upon the others. The fire was now so low, that Graham had little fear of exposing himself, unless compelled to hold a conversation. he savages started as he came to view, but fortunately said nothing, as they supposed it to’be their comrade. Graham walked leisurely to the almost dead fire, and seated himself by Seth. The savages continued placidly smoking their pipes. “Ugh!” grunted Graham, peering into Seth’s face, The latter started slightly, looked up, and under- stood all in a moment. Seth pointed to his feet; Graham nodded, “Say, you, you was clever enough to tie up my feet, and now just have the kindness to move ‘em a little nearer the fire. Come, do, and I'll remember you in my will.” Graham mumbled something, and, stooping for- ward, he moved the feet slightly, dexterously cutting the thong at the same moment, ‘*Much obliged,” said Seth; ‘that'll dew; needn’t take no further trouble, you old painted heathen.” Graham felt that if he could now put Ina upon her guard, all that would be necessary was—t~ act. But this was hardly possible. While rum*_.ating 2) the next step to be taken, an Indiary addressed him in the Indian tongue. Here was « dilemma, and Grabam was already meditating won making the on- slaught at once, when the ready wit of Seth came to his aid. Disguising most completely his voice, the eccentric fellow replied in the Indian tongue. This slight stratagem was executed so perfectly that ndt a savage entertained the slightest suspicion that another than their dead comrade had spoke to them, Another question was put, but before Seth could reply, there came_a startling cry of the whippowil close at hand. All the savages sprung to their feet, and one held his tomahawk, ready to brain the cap- tive Ina, in case they could not retain her, Ancther leapad toward Seth, but his surprise was great. when the man in turn sprung nimbly to his feet, and this
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a os } if surprise became unbounded, when, doubling himself like a ball, Seth struck him with tremendous force in the stomach, knocking him instantly senseless. Quick as thought, Graham felled the savage stand- ing over Ina, and seizing her in his arms, plunged into the woods, setting up a loud shout at the same instant. The scene now became desperate. Hal- didge and Haverland, fired almost to madness, rush- ed forward, and the former added his own yells to those of the savages. Ten minutes after, not an In- (lian was insight. Finding it impossible to withstand this terrible onslaught, they fled precipitately, car- rying with them several desperate wounds in body and feelings. No lives were lost on either side, and not a wound worth mentioning was received by the assailants. The rout was complete, But there was still danger, as the routed Indians would make all haste to the main body, and would in turn pursue the whites. This Haldidge remarked, as he struck into the forest, and called upon the others not to lose sight of him, There was danger of this, indeed. ; “By gracious! yew, Haverland, things begin to took up,’’ exclaimed Seth. 4 “Thank God!” responded the father, with a trem- bling: voice. Ina, for a few moments after her recapture, was so bewildered as not to comprehend the true state of | Finally, she realized that she was in the | aifairs. arms of friends. **Am I safe? Where is father?’ she asked. “Here, my dearest child,’”’ answered the parent, pressing her to his heart. “Is mother and aunty safe?” Yes, all—all are safe, I trust, now.” * And who are these with you?” “This is Haldidge, a dear friend of ours, to whom, under Heaven, your rescue is owing, and—” “Just hold on, Alf, now, if you please; that’s plenty,” interrupted the hunter. ‘Of course I did not mean to leave out Seth here, | and—” ‘No, by gracious, it wouldn’t do, especially when | you recollect how nice it was me and Graham gave | em the slip.” “You and who?” eagerly asked Ina. ** Me and Mr. Graham—that fellow standing there —the one that has come out here to marry you. Haven't you heard of him?’’ Ina stepped forward and scrutinized the face be- fore her. “Don’t you remember me?’ asked Graham, pleas- antly. “Oh, is it you? Iam so glad you are here,” she re- peated, placing both her hands in his and looking up into his face. “Now, just see here,” said Seth, stepping earnest- ly forward, “I "bject to this. ”° the time to go into the sparking business, and if you do, why, you'll be obsarved. I advise you to postpone it till you git home. What's the opinion of the audience?’’ ‘Your suggestion is hardly necessary,’’ laughed Graham. ‘The business you referred to shall most certainly be deferred until a more convenient sea- son.”’ “It gives me great pleasure,” rémarked Haver- land, “to witness this reunion of friends, and I | thank God that my dear child, so nearly lost forever, has beeu restored to me; but there is another whose heart is nearly broken, who should not be kept wait- ing, and there is a long distance between us and perfect safety, which should be shortened as rapidly and quickly as possible.”’ ““That’s the idea,” added Haldidge; ‘tit won't do co consider yourself safe till you ave, and that isn’t yet.” : “Just so exactly, and consequently all fall into line of march.” Our friends now set out on a rapid walk home- ward, distance to be passed, and even now, while surround- ed by darkness, it was reckless to halt or lag upon | Haldidge, as well as Seth, resolved that | the way. they should not pause until it was evident that Ina needed rest. was a chance to regain them. Seth’s only fear now was that they would be pur- sued and overtaken by some of the savages, That this apprehension was well-grounded, the events which we shall now record will plainly show. CHAPTER XV. MANEUVERING AND SCHEMING. THROUGH the entire night, with now and then an occasional halt of a few minutes each, the fugitives —for they may now be prope ly termed such—con- tinued their journey. When day broke, they halted ina small valley through which a small, sparkling stream made its way. On either side, it was sur- rounded by dark, overhanging forest-trees, and heavier undergrowth, through which none but the eagle eye of the hunter or savage could discover their | retreat. Seth, when they first halted, made off in the woods, and in the course of a half-hour returned with alarge fowl. The feathers were plucked from this, a fire kindled, and in a few moments it was cooked. It furnished all with a hearty, substantial and nourish- ing breakfast—what all needed. After this a short consultation was held, when it was determined that they should halt for an hour ortwo. Several blankets were spread upon the greensward, as a bed for Ina, and in ten minutes she was sound asleep. Our friends had decided upon making their home- ward journey upon foot for several reasons, any of which was sufficient to influence them. In the first place, their course would be much shorter and more Cos why, you haven't | As has been remarked, there was yet a long | Both well knew that the Mohawks | would not yield up their captives, as long as there | direct, and was really attended with less danger; and even if they desired to take to the river there was no means to do it. ‘By gracious!” remarked Seth, after a few min- utes’ deep thought, ‘‘I feel, boys, as though we’re to 7 into a scrape before we git home. I tell yeou do,” ** And I do, too,”’ added Haldidge. ‘‘I don’t know why it is, and yet I believe there is a reason for it, If there is any chance for them Mohawks to play a | game of (tit for tat, they'll do it; you can mek up your mind to that.” ‘Do you think the chance is given them?’ queried Haverland. a am afraid we can’t help it, any way we choose to fix it.’ ‘** What do you mean? What do you refer to!” * You see, them Ingins can’t help knowing the way we'll have to take to reach home, and what is to hinder them from getting ahead of us and giving us a little trouble?” | “Nothing at all, that’s a fact. Our utmost vigi- lance will be required at every step. Don’t you think, Seth, that one of us should act in the capacity | of scout?” | “T know it; not only one, but two. As soon as we start, I shall shoot ahead and pilot you along, while one of you must flourish in the rear to announce any new visitors. This is the only way we can ever ex- pect to move along with dignity.” “What course do you suppose the savages will take?’ asked Graham. ‘I guess they ain't in the neighborhood, though it’s darned hard to tell where they are. You can make up your mind that they’ll show themselves be- fore we get any great distance ahead. They'll be dodging round in the woods till they find out where we are, and then theyll use their wits to draw us into ambush, and I can tell yeou, woo, that ’cuter ones than we have walked right into the infarnal | things.” An hour later, when preparations were making for resuming their journey, Ina awoke. She was greatly refreshed by the sleep thus obtained, and the others felt cheered and hopeful at the prospect of a rapid march for the day. The burden and responsibility of this small band | of adventurers naturally davobred upon Haldidge | and Seth, Haverland, although a thorough hunter | and woodsman, had but little or no experience in Indian warfare, and accordingly showed himself to | be devoid of that suspicions watchfulness which | makes up the success of the frontier ranger, Ag for Graham, he was suspicious enough, but he lacked also the great teacher—experience, Seth and Hald- idge thus thrown together, rapidly consulted and de- | termined in all cases the precautionary measures to be adopted. In the present instance, it was decided that Haldidge should linger some hundred yards in the rear, and use all the opportunities thus afforded of watching the actions or approach of their ene- mies. The same duty was imposed upon Seth at the front, with the additional certainty upon his part, ad the entire safety of the company rested with 1im, Haverland and Graham generally walked side by side, with Ina between them, and as watchful as though they had none but themselves to depend upon. They seldom indulged in conversation, ex- cept now and then to exchange a few words or in- quiries. As Seth Jones was well satisfied in his own mind that the post of danger was held by him, we will fol- low his adventures, After emerging from the val- ley, in which the whites had encamped, their way for a considerable distance led them through the un- broken forest, without hill or vale, and pretty thickly crowded with bushy, yielding undergrowth: Had a person chanced to cross the path of Seth, the only evidence he would have had of the presence of a human being would have been the snapping of a twig now and then, or the flitting of his form like a shadow from tree to tree, and perhaps the shrill, bird-like whistle as he signaled to those in the rear. : Through the forenoon, nothing occurred to excite | suspicion upon his part, but at the period mentioned, he arrived at a point where his alarm was excited at once. The place offered such advantages for an Indian ambush, that he gave the signal for those be- hind to halt, and determined to make a thorough re- | connoissance of the whole locality before passing | through it. The spot referred to, had the appear- ance of having formerly been the bed of some large- sized lake, the waters of which having dried up years before, left a rich, productive soil, which was now covered over with the rankest undergrowth and vegetation. Not a tree of any size appeared. The hollow, or valley, was so much depressed that from | the stand-point of Seth, he obtained a perfect view | of the whole portion. It was about a third of a mile | in breadth, and oerhaps a couple of miles in length. Seth stood a long time, running his eye over it, scanning every spot where it seemed likely an ene- my might lurk. Hardly a point escaped his keen vision. It was while he stood thus, eagerly scanning the valley, that his looks were suddenly attracted tow- ard a point near the center of the valley, from which a faint, bluish wreath of smoke was curling upward. This puzzled our friend greatly. He possessed the curious, investigating habits so genera ly ascribed to his race, and his curiosity was wonderfully excited by this occurrence. That there was some design in it, not understood yet, he was well satisfied, and he determined that, before allowing those behind him to venture into the valley, he would gain-all the knowledge possible of it. His first step was to take his own trail backward until he reached Hav- erland and Graham, to whom he imparted his inten- tion. This done, he set forward again. Having arrived at the point where he first discover- ed this suspicious appearance, he paused again for further consideration. The smoke was still visible, rising very slowly in the clear air, and making so slight an appearance that even his experienced eye searched @ long time forit. Seth watched for awhile, until he felt that he could not understand the mean- ing of it without venturing into the valley. This conclusion arrived at, he hesitated no longei, but de- scended and entered at once the luxuriant growth. When fairly within it, he made a detour to the right, so as to pass around the fire, and to avoid the ath that one unsuspicious of danger would be apt to ollow. As he made his way slowly and cautiously forward, he paused at intervals and etenet intently. Sometimes he bent his ear to the ground and lay for minutes at atime. But as yet not the slightest sound had been heard, Finally he judged that he must be near the fire that had excited his apprehensions. The eect oes) of a burning ember guided him, and a few minutes later he stood within sight of it. Here he met a sight that chilled him with horror! Some wretched human being was bond to a tree and had been burned to death. He was painted black as death, his scalped head drooped forward, so that, from where Seth stood, it was impossible to distin- guish his features; but he saw enough to make him shudder at the awful fate he had so narrowly escap- ed. Every vestige of flesh was burned off to the knees, and the bones, white and glistening, dangled to the crisp and blackened members above! The hands, tied behind, had passed ay the fire un- scathed, but every other part of the body was liter- ally roasted! The smoke in reality was the smoke from this human body, and the stench, which was now horrible, had been -noticed by Seth long before he suspected the cause. “Heavens and earth!” he muttered to himself ‘*this is the first time I ever saw a person burned at the stake, and I hope in God it will be the last time, Can it be a while man?” After some cautious maneuvering, he gained a point from which he could obtain a view of the face, and he experienced considerable relief when he dis- covered that it was not a white man. He was prob- ably some unfortunate Indian, belonging to a hostile tribe, who had been captured by his enemies, and upon whom they had thus wreaked their vengeance. Whether he was a Mohawk, or the member of an- other tribe, it was impossible for Seth, under the cir- cumstances, to tell. ut what was singular and un- accountable to Seth was, that there appeared to be no other savages in the vicinity, He knewit was not their custom to leave a prisoner thus, and the very fact of their being absent upon the present occasion made him doubly cautious and suspicious. It was while he stood meditating upon the terrible scene before him, that he was startled by the report of Haldidge'’s rifle. He was satisfied that it was bis as it was from that direction, and he could not be mistaken in its report, He hi: d noticed it duwving the conflict the night before as haviug a peculiay cound, entirely different from either his own or the savages’. This was a new source of wonder and perplexity. He was completely puzzled by the extraordinary turn affairs were taking. Some unusval cause muss have discharged Haldidge’s rifle. What it was he could only conjecture. Still doubting and cautious, he determined to re- connoiter his own position before returning, Stoop- ing almost to the earth, be made his way Stealthity around to the opposite side of the fire. Here he stretched out flat upon the earth, and bent his ear to the ground. A faint tremor was heard, He raised his head and heard the brushing of somebod through the wood. The next moment, five Mohaw warriors, in all the horrid panoply of war-paint. stepped into the open space in front of the Indian who had been burned at the stake. The report of the rifle appeared to be the cause of the apprehension among them, They conversed earnestly, in a low tone at first, gesticulating vio- lently, without noticing in the least the heart-sicken- ing spectacle before them. Seth was satisfied that they had no suspicions of his own proximity, for they gradually spoke louder until he Managed to hear the most of what they said. As he expected, it was the rifle report. They seemed to understand that it had not been discharged by one of their own number, and were afraid that their presence had been discovered, Seth learned further that there were at least a dozen Indians in the neighborhood, every one of whom was led thither by the one object. Consequently he must have missed the others en- tirely in his movements, or else they were in the rear and had been discovered by Haldidge. That the let- ter was the case seemed more than probable. A collision in all probability had occurred between them and the hunter, and Seth felt that his presence was needed. Accordingly he turned to retrace his steps. is era was indeed required, for danger, dark and threatening, surrounded the little band of whites. CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH A HUNTER’S NERVES ARE TESTED, In the morning when our friends started upon their day’s march, Haldidge, as said, fell behind in order to guard against surprise from this direction, Although expecting as little as did Seth any demon- stration from this quarter, still he was too much of a backwoodsman to allow himself to lose any of his usual suspicion and watchfulness. Sometimes he would take the back trail for a long distance, and then wander off to the right or left of it for per- haps a mile or more. By this means, he kept a continual watch, not only upon the trail itself, but upon the neighborhood for along distance around it, and, in case of pursuit, made so many and con- >. . ao
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= a retin. tnengare 1 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. flicting tracks, that it could not but puzzie and delay | covering from it. There was that dim conscieusness their enemies. Near noon, and at the very moment that Seth paused to take a survey of the suspicious valley-like | Capresso, and when not more than a funlong in the | rear, Haldidge caught sight of three Indians just ahead of him. They were sitting upon the ground, in perfect silence, aud seemingly waiting for the ap- proach of some one. The hunter found himself as much coeree as was Seth to account for what he saw. ether it was some stratagem to entrap himself or not he could not tell, but, before ventur- ing further, he made up his mind to gain a further knowledge of their intentions. Haldidge had one formidable difficulty to contend with: the wood at this particular spot was open, and almost devoid of the protecting undergrowth, so that it was about impossible to BPRTOAS them closer without discovering himself to them. He no- ticed lying a short distance behind ther a large, heavy log, ap ntly much decayed. In fact, this was so near them, that could he gain it, he could overhear everything said. He had a slight knowl- edge of the Mohawk tongue—not enough to converse in it—but still enough to understand the drift of a conversation, Accordingly he determined to reach the spot at all hazards. Haldidge desired, if possible, to communicate with Haverland and warn him of the proximity of danger, To do this, it was necessary to make a long detour, and upon further consideration he decided not to at- tempt it, Lyixg flat upon his face, he worked him- self toward the log mentioned, keeping it between himself and the Indians, and approaching it as si- ily. and as steadily asa snake. So cautiously and carefully was it done, that it required at least twenty minutes to reach it, and all this time the Indians maintained the same unbroken silence. At length the concealment was reached, and the hunter no- _ticed with pleasure that it was hollow. He lost no time in entering it, where, coiling himself up in as small a space as possible, he took himself to listen- ing. As if to completely favor him, there was a small rent in the log, through which even the whis- pers of the savages could be heard, and which also admitted a thin ray of light. Here Haldidge cramped himself up and listened | intently. But not a word was exchanged between the Indians, who remained as motionless_as statues. In the course of a few minutes he heard a footfall upon the leaves, and a second after several savages seated themselves upon the very log in which he had concealed himself! He judged that there were at least a half-dozen. Those whom he had first seen appeared to have risen, and, meeting the others, they had all seated themseives‘upon the log to- gether. They immediately commenced conversing in so low and guttural tones, that their deep base voices communicated their tremor to the log. Haldidge | } / | | started as he soon learned that they were conversing | about himself and the three fugitives. Of Seth they seemed to have no knowledge, He discovered that they had lain in ambush a short distance ahead to | entrap Haverland, Graham, and Ina, and they were debating how he should be disposed, of, They knew that he was acting in the capacity of scout and sen- tinel, and were fearful that he might detect the am- bush, or at least escape it himself. At this point, one of by some whim, stooped and looked into the log. Hal- the Indians, probably impelled | didge knew, by the darkness thus occasioned, that | one of them was peering in it, and he scarcely breathed for a few seconds. But the face was re- moved, and the hollow being dark within—the small rent being onthe opposite side of the hunter—the savage felt Suamarad and resumed the conversation. But Haldidge was doomed to have a trial of his nerves, of which he had little dreamed. entered the log, it was head foremost, so that his feet were toward the opening, and his face was in the dim light beyond. He judved the rotten cavity extended several feet further back; but, as there was no necessity for entering further, he did not attempt to explore it, It was while he ‘lay thus, his whole soul bent to the one act of listening, that he was startled by the deadly warning of a rattlesnake. He comprehended the truth in an instant. There was one of these reptiles in the log beyond him! It is difficult to imagine a more fearful situation than the hunter’s at this moment, He was literally environed by death; for it was at his head, his feet, and above him, and there was no escape below. He had just learned that his death was one of the objects ef the Indians, so that to back out into their clutches would be nothing less than committing suicide. To remain where he was would be to disregard the sec- ond and last; warning of the coiled rattlesnake. What was to be done? Manifestly nothing but to die like aman. Haldidge decided to risk the bite of the rat- tlesnake. Despite himself, the hunter felt that the reptile was exerting its horrible fascination over him. Its small eyes, gleaming like tiny yet ney stars, seemed toemit a magnetic ray—thin, pointed, and palpable, that pierced right into his brain. There was a ma- lignant subtlety—an irresistible magnetism. Now the small, glittering point of light seemed to recede, then to approach and expand, and then to wave and undulate all around him. Sometimes that bright lightning-like ray would shiver and tremble, an then straighten out with metal-like rigidity, and in- sinuate itself into his very being, like the invisible point of a spear. There was a desire on the part of Haldidge to shake When he | off this influence, which wrapped him like a mantle, | There was the desire, we say, and yet there was a | id listlessness—a repugnance to make the ef- | fort. produced by a powerful opiate. when we are first re- The feeling was something similar to that ) te a ee ne a i a ——— > / sevegee struck the lo, Hal —that indistinct knowledge of the outer world—that certainty that we can break the bond that holds us, by one vigorous effort, and yet the same sluggish in- difference that prevents the attempt. Haldidge drew his breath faintly and slowly, yield- ing more and more to that fatal, subtle influence. He knew he was charmed, and yet he couldn’t help it, It was now impossible to shake off that weight which pressed him down like an incubus. That outer | world—so to speak—had now receded, and he was in another, from which he could not return without | help besides his own. He seemed to be moving, flit- ting, sinking, and rising, through the thin air, borne upward and downward, hither and thither, on a wing of fire. The spell was complete. That extraordi- nary power which instinct holds over reason—that wonderful superiority which a reptile sometimes shows he can exert over man, the snake now held over the hunter. At this point, from some cause or other, one of the a violent blow with his hatchet. dge heard it, He drew along breath, closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, looked down at his hands upon which his chin had been resting. The charm was broken! the hunter had shaken off the fatal spell! Like the knocking at the gate in Macbeth; which dispels the dark, awful world of gloom in which mur- derers have been moving and living, and ushers in our own world, with alk its hurrying tide of human | life and passions; so this blow of the Indian’s toma- hawk broke the subtle, magnetic spell of the serpent, and lifted the heavy mantile-like influence which wrapped Haldidge in its folds. He looked downward and determined not to raise his eyes again, for he knew the same power would again | rise above him. The serpent, seemingly conscious of its loss of influence, rattled once more, and prepared to strike. had scarcely moved since entering the log. But the snake did not strike. The continued death-like still- | ness of the hunter evidently seemed to the reptile to He coiled and uncoiled himself sev- | eral times, and then lifting his head, crawled directly | be death itself. over his neck and body, and passed out of the log! Here he was killed by the Indians. Now that the hunter was himself again, he pre- ared for further action, The Indians had arisen rom the log and were at some distance. He could hear the mumbling of their voices, but could not distinguish their words. and he heard no more. Haldidge stirred not a muscle; in fact, he | | that he is onl eg hi apart. Several times in con- After awhile these ceased, | Haldidge was now filled with apprehension for the | others. ning of Seth.to feel pretty confident that he would neither lead any one into ambush or fall into one himself, let it be prepared as skillfully as it might be; but then he Sonia know nothing of the Indians in the rear, who might surprise Haverland and Graham at any moment, Te had enough faith in the power and cun- | | which would have The hunter at length grew so restless and uneasy | that he emerged from his hiding-place as rapidly and silently as possible; He looked cautiously around, but no savage was in sight, Filled with the most painful apprehensions, he hastened through the amnesia eereeretamtaiseemasormemniey a little trouble at least. Where did Alf go with the gal?” ‘‘ Off yonder, a short distance. Hadn’t we better get closer together?”’ ‘“No; I don’t know as there is any necessity for it.. We’re as safe, drawn up in this style, as in any other | I can imagine.” **T am afraid, Haldidge, they will make an attempt. to surround us. In such a case, wouldn’t Haver- land be in great peril?” “They can’t get around him without running their heads in range with’our rifles, and Alf is a man who'll pe preety sure to discover such a trick without any e Ds: ‘“ Where can Seth be?” “Not very far off; that shot of mine will be pretty sure to bring him.” “ Haldidge, how was it that you discovered these Mohawks? Did you know of their presence before you fired?” ‘Yes, long before. I’ve an idea they’ve been track- ing you for an hour or two.”’ - y, then, was their attack deferred?” ‘“They have made no attack, remember, I don’t believe they had any such intention. There is an ambush somewhere ahead that they have laid, and it was their idea to walk you into that.” ‘* What was their notion in watching us so closely ?”” ‘They were hunting for me, for I heard them sa as much, and, I suppose, in case you didn’t wal into ig trap, why, they were going to make the attack.” “Can it be that Seth has fallen into the snare?” asked Graham, in anxious tones, “No, sir; such a thing can’t be. He isn’t such a fool as that amounts to. He is making himself gen- erally useful; you can make up your mind to that. He is a smart chap, for all he is the most awkward, | long-legged, Cibed person I ever came across.”’ Z. “T am puzzled to know who he is, It seems to me versing with him, he has used language such as none but a scholar and polished gentleman would use. At ethers and most of the time, he uses that ungainly mode of expression, which, in itself, is laughable. At any rate, whoever he may be, he is a friend, and the interest which he takes in the safety of Haver- land and his family, is as efficient as it is singular,” ‘Maybe the interest is in Ina,” said Haldiage, with a sly look, “T understand you, bunt you are mistaken, He has assured me as much. No; there seems nothing of that feeling at all in him. He loves her as he would a child, but no more.” “ How was it that he made that awkward tumble into the Indians’ hands, when they gave you such a hard run for it?” “That was all through my own blundering. He was cautious enough, but I became so impatient and careless that I precipitated him into the danger een fatal to any one else, It was no fault of his.” ‘“‘T am glad to hear it, for it seemed odd to me.” This conversation which we have recorded, it must not be supposed, was carried on in an ordinary | tone, and with that earnestness which would have wood, avoiding the trail of his friends, however, and | finally came in sight of them. self known, he concluded to reconnoiter the place. While doing so, he saw the head of an Indian rise slowly above a bush, and peer over at the uncon- scious whites. Without losing a moment, he raised his rifle, took a quick but sure aim, and fired. Then calling out to Haverland and Graham, he sprung for an instant into view. ‘“Make for cover,” he shouted; ‘the Indians are upon us!” ere an instant every one of the whites was. invisi- le. CHAPTER XVII. ENCOMPASSED BY DANGER, Ar the first warning of Haldidge, Haverland com- rehended the threatened danger in an_ instant, Yatching Ina in his arms, he sprung into the wood, sheltering himself behind a tree so quickly that Ina, till that moment, did not comprehend the meaning of the startling movements around her. “ What is it, father?’ she whispered. ‘Keep quiet, daughter, and don’t move.” She said no more, but shrunk beneath his shelter- ing form, believing that his strong arm was capable ne DEEN her against any foe, however formid- able. Graham, at the alarm, had leaped toward Haldidge, and the two sheltered themselves within a few feet of each other, fatal, for that yell which the North American In- dian, like the animal, gives when he receives his Before making him- | | at each other. lessened their habitual caution. It was in whispers, and hardly once during its progress did the two look Sometimes they would not speak for | several minutes, and then exchange but a single | question and answer. The shot of the hunter had been | death-wound, was heard, and the fall had also reach- | ed his ears. . . Minute after minute passed away and nothing fur- ther was heard. of the savages. This silence was as full of meaning, and as dangerous as any open de- | monstration upon the part of the Indians. What new plan they might be concocting was a mystery to all but themselves. At length Graham ventured to speak: “What do you suppose they're up to, Haldidge?”’ “Hatching some devilish plot, I expect.” “Tt seems it requires a good whileto doit.” oars get impatient; they'll show themselves in time.” “Have you any idea of their number?” “There was something like a half-dozen prowling around.” ‘There is one less now, at any rate.” ; “T suppose so; but there’s enough left to oceasion a rt eee ase oe = —————— It was now toward the middle of the afternoon, and it became pretty evident that the night would have to be spent in this neighborhood, “IT do hope that Seth will make his appearance be- fore dark,” remarked Graham, ‘*Yes; I hope he will, for it will be dangerous when we can’t see him.” “He must be aware of the threatened danger.”’ “Yes; I am pretty confident that he is not very distant.” “ Hallo! what’s that?” whispered Granam. “Ah! keep quiet; there’s something going on there.” A deathlike silence reigned for a few minutes; then a slight rustling was heard close by ig aa, and as he turned his alarmed gaze toward it, the form of Seth Jones rose to his feet beside him. ‘“Where did you come from?” asked Graham, in astonishment. ree been watching you. In a little trouble, eh?’ ‘* We've found out we've got neighbors.” “They’re not very nigh neighbors, leastways.”’ “What do you mean?” «There isn’t one in a quarter of a mile.”’ Haldidge and Graham looked at the speaker in as tonishment. ‘*T tell you, it’s so, Hello, Haverland!”’ he calied- stepping out from his concealment. “Come ous here; there is nothing to be afraid of.” The manner of the speaker was singular, but the others well knew that he was not one to expose him- self or others to danger, and accordingly all gathered around him. : ‘“* Are you not running great risk?” asked Haver land, still experiencing some slight misgivings at stepping upon a spot which he well knew was so dangerous a short time before. : ‘No, sir; I reckon you needn't be at all skeerish for if there was any danger of them Mohawks, t wouldn’t be standing here. “Tt’s getting toward night, Seth, and we should make up our minds at once as to what we are going to do or how we are going to spend it.” “Can you shoot a gun?” asked Seth, suddenly, of Tna, ‘“*T don’t believe you can beat me,” she answered, lightly. “That is good.” x oe en ne Se ee ee)
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Seth Jones. So saying, he eg tein into the bushes, where the dead body of the Indian was lying. Stooping over him, he removed the rifle from his rigid grasp, took pie pralerpcyce and powder-horn and handed them to Ina. “Now, there are five of us, all well armed,’ said he, ‘‘and if any of them infarnal Mohawks gets ahead of us, we all desarve red night-caps for it.’ * How are we to prevent it, when there seems to Se times our number following us?” asked Haver- and. The way on it is this ’ere: there is about a dozen trying to sarcumvent us. They’re now ahead of us, and have laid an ambush for us, If we can pass that ambush we're safe as if we was home fair and sure, And there must be no if about it, for that ambush must be passed to-night.” t CHAPTER XVIII. GETTING OUT OF THE WILDERNESS, Nienut, dark and gloomy, slowly settled over the forest. Nothing was heard save the dull soughin of the wind through the tree-tops, or the occasiona howl of the wolf in the distance, or perhaps the near seream of the panther. Heavy, tumultuous clouds were wheeling through the sky, rendering the inky darkness doubly intense, and shrouding even the clearings in impenetzebie gloom. By and by, the distant rumbling of thunder came faintly through the air, and then a quivering fork of fire, like a stream of blood, trembling upon the edge of the dark storm-cloud for an instant. The heavy clouds, growing darker and more awful, poured for- ward until they seemed to concentrate in the west- ern sky, where they towered aloft like some old em- battled castle. The thunder grew heavier, until it sounded like the rolling of chariot-wheels over the courts of heaven, and the red streams of liquid fire streamed down the dark walls of the Storm Castle. Now and then the subtle element flamed out into a dazzling, instantaneous flash, and the bolt burst overhead. “Keep close to me, and step light, for I tell you there’s enough lightning.” Seth had thoroughly reconnoitered the xaey to which we have referred, and had found, as he had expected, that there was an ambush laid for them. There was a sort of footpath, appareatl worn by the passing of wild animals, which nearly crossed the valley. It was here that the Indians supposed the fugitives would be entrapped, until the death of a too daring member of their party led them to sus- pect that their intentions were discovered. The little band was hours in crossing this valley. Seth, with an almost inaudible “’sh!" would often pause, and they would stand for many anxious min- utes listening intently for the dreaded danger. Then they would resume their march, stepping with pain- ful slowness. It was at least three hours after the fugitives commenced this journey, and when Seth judged that he must be nearly through it, that he suddenly discovered he was walking in the very path he had striven so carefully to avoid. He was considerably startled at this and left at once. “"Sh! down!” he whispered, turning’ his fage be- hind him. They were not ten feet from the path, when they all sunk quietly to the earth, Footsteps were now audible to all. The darkness was too profound to discern anything, but all heard their enemies almost near enough to touch them with the outstretched hand, The situation of our friends was imminently peri- lous. The Mohawks were not passing along the th as at first supposed, but evidently searching it! Fialdidge and Seth felt that they could not be aware of their proximity, and yet they knew a dis- covery was unavoidable. : Seth Jones rose to his feet so silently that even Haldidge, who was within a foot of him, did not hear” arustle. He then touched Haverland’s ear with his mouth, and whispered: ; “Scatter with the gal as quick as lightning, for they must find us out in a minute.” Haverland lifted Ina in his strong arm—she needed no caution—and stepped forward, It was impossi- ble not to make some noise, when the wet bushes brushed against them. The savages heard it and started cautiously forward. They evidently suspect- ed it was the fugitives, and had no suspicion that any one was lingering in the rear, The first warn- ae Seth had was of a savage running plump against m. “ ‘Beg your pardon, I didn’t see you,’ exclaimed Seth, as each bounded backward. ‘Curse you,” he muttered, “I only wish I could sight you for a min- Seth, Haldidge and Graham were now maneuver- ing against some five or six Indians. Had a bright flash of lightning illuminated the scene, just at this time, it is probable that all would have laughed out- right at each other’s attitudes and movements. The Indians, upon finding how near they were to their deadliest enemies, immediately bounded backward several yards, in order to avoid a too sudden collision with them. The three whites did precisely the same thing, each in his own characteristic way. Seth leaped to one side, crouched down in his usual panther-like manner, with his rifle in his left hand and his knife in his right, waiting until he could set- tle in his mind the precise spot upon which one of me savages was standing before making a lunge at m It would be tedious to narrate the artifices and- stratagem resorted to by these two opposing forces. Simon Kenton and Daniel Boone once reached the opposite sides of the Ohio river at the same moment, and at the same time each became aware of the resence of another person upon the opposite side. Thess two old hunters and acquaintances reconnoi- tered for over ‘wenty-four hours, before they discov- ered that they were friends. For nearly two hours, the Mohawks and the whites maneuvered with the most consummate skill against each other; now re- treating and leading, dodging and eluding, each striving to lead the other into some trap that was as skillfully avoided, until, judging that Haverland was safe, Seth concluded to retreat himself. According- ly, he cautiously withdrew, and ten minutes later found himself upon the outermost edge of the’val- ley. Ten fhinutes after Seth departed, Haldidge moved off, of course unknown to himself, in precisely the same direction. Graham soon adopted the same course. They all came out of the dangerous valley within twenty feet of each other. It took them some time before they came together; but, as each sus- pected the identity of the other, this did not require as long as it otherwise would. ‘‘ Now, boys,” whispered Seth, ‘tI cac’late we're out of the Valley of Death. Best give it a wide berth, is the private opinion of Seth Jones.”’ ‘But how about Haverland?”’ Graham asked. “J think they must have come out near that point,” replied the other, “Let us move round then, and we’ve got to be spry, for daylight can’t be far off, and I’m thinking as how them Ingins will find out that we've abscond- ed; and, my gracious! won’t they feel cheap?” Just as the light of morning appeared in the east, they came x aoe Haverland, and resumed their jour- ney. No halt was made for breakfast, for they were all too anxious to get forward on their way. In the course of an hour or so, they struck a sort of path, made by the passage of wild animals, which, besides being so hardened as to conceal their trail, was easily traveled. Seth and Haldidge were too experienced woods- men to relax their vigilance. They maintained the same duty as before, the former taking it upon him- self to lead the way through the wilderness, and the latter to guard gene danger from behind. The settlement toward which they were so pert hastening, was still several days distant, and to reach it, it was necessary to cross a river of considerable breadth. This river was reached by Seth at noon. * By gracious! I forgot about this!’’ he exclaimed to himself, ‘‘ Wonder if the gal can swim? If she can’t, how are we going to get her over? Put her on a chip, I s’pose, and let the breeze blow her across; the rest of us can swim, in course.” A few minutes later, our friends stood consulting upon the banks of the stream. This consultetion ended in active preparations for crossing on a raft. Hunting up material for con- structing a raft Now was the order of the hour, This was awork of extreme difficulty. They had no in- struments except their hunting-knives, and these were little better than nothing. rge rotten lintbs were broken from the trees, and placed together by Haverland, who took upon himself the task of lash- ing them with withes, while the others collected wood, Haldidge went up the river, and Seth and Graham went down, Graham soon noticed a large, half-de- cayed CG parny lying in the water. ‘“ Just the thing, exactly! Why, it’s a raft itself. This will save further trouble. Let us launchit at once, and float it up to the spot,” he exclaimed, delightedly. The two approached it, stooped, and were in the very act of lifting it into the water, when Seth sud- denly removed his shoulder, and arose to the upright position, : “Come, give us a lift,” said’ Graham. ‘‘Graham, I guess I wouldn’t take the log, I don’t think it will answer.” “Won't answer! Why not? In the name of com- mon sense, give some reason.” “ Let that log alone! Do you understand ?” Graham looked up, and started at the appearance of Seth. His eyes fairly scintillated, and he seemed ready to spring upon him, for daring to utter a word of dispute. , ‘““Gome along with me!’ commanded Seth, in a voice hoarse with passion. It wouldn’t do to disregard that command; and, taking up his rifle, Graham lost no time in obeyin it. But he wondered greatly whether Seth was sud- denly become crazy or foolish. He followed him a short distance, and then hastened up beside him, Seeing that his face had recovered its usual expres- sion, he gained courage and asked what he meant by such commands. + ‘Didn't you take notice that that log was holler? “T believe it was, although I did not examine it bt “Wal, if you had examined it closely, or even loosely, so that you took a peep into the log, you'd have seen a big Mohawk curled up there snug and ce!”* : ‘Ts it possible? How came you to see him ?”’ “The minute I see’d the log was holler, I had my s’picions that there might be something or other: in it, and I madeup my mind that we shouldn’t try to lift it till I knowed how it was. When I come to look closer, I knowed thar was something sure enough, for the way the bark was scratched at the mouth showed that plain enough. It wouldn’t do, you see, to stoop down and peep in, for like as not the red- skin would blaze away smack into my face. So I jest dropped my cap, and, as I stooped down to pick it up, I kind of slewed one eye ‘round over my shoul- der, and, as sure as blazes, aon a big moccasin! I did, by gracious. I then proceeded to argufy the uestion; and, after considerable discussion, both in the affirmative and negative, I came unanimously to the conclusion that as I'd seen an Ingin’s foot, if I'd 13 ‘The cowards are poking around the woods, fixing out some plan to ambush us again. They’ve no idea we've smelt the rat that’s brewing in the bud, and they’re too cowardly to show their faces until they *No; Iwill let Haldidge know of it, if he hasn’t found i¢ out already. The raft has got to be made, and wé must keep on at it till it’s finished, as though we knowed everything was right. Keep still, now, or Alf will notice our talking.” They were so close to the woodman that they changed their conversation. ‘*No material?” asked Haverland, looking up, ““Tt’s rather scarce down where we've been,”’ re- plied Graham. * Sha’n’t I help you?” asked Ina, looking bs arcbly. “T guess we won’t need your help, as Haldidge seems to have enough already.” = The hunter at this moment approached, bending under the weight of two hea imbs. They were instantly lashed together, but it was found that the raft was much too weak and light, and more stuff was necessary before it would even float Ina. Ac- rate hm Haldidge plunged into the wood again. Seth walked beside him until they were a few yards away, when he asked: ** Do you understand?” “What?” asked the hunter, in astonishment. “Over there,” answered Seth, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, toward the log mentioned, **Red-skins?” “*T rather guess so,” ‘*T smelt them a while ago. You'd better go back and watch Alf. Ill get enough wood. Danger?” we they'll try some game; look out for your- self.” With this Seth turned on his heel, and rejoined Haverland. Graham was a short distance away cut- ting withes, which the woodman was as busily using. As Seth came up he noticed Ina. She was sitting upon the ground a few feet from her father, and her attention seemed wholly absorbed with something down the stream, Seth watched her closely. ‘Isn't that a log yonder?” she asked. Seth looked in the direction indicated. With no small degree of astonishment, he saw the identical tree which he and Graham disputed over, afloat in the river. This awoke his apprehensions, and he signaled at once for Haldidge. ‘What's the row?” asked the hunter, as he came up. Meth gave his head a toss down-stream, by way of reply, and added: ‘Don’t let °em see you're wat@hing it, for it might scare ’em.” Nevertheless Haldidge turned square around and took a long, searching look at the suspicious object. “What do you make of it?” ‘Them Mohawks are the biggest fools I ever heard of, to think that such an old trick as ‘hat can amount to anything.” ‘“What trick do you mean?” asked Haverland. a Why. you gee that log yonder, half-sunk in the water, that we are all looking at? Well, there are . four or five Mohawks behind that, waiting for us to | launch our raft.” ‘“Maybe it’s nothing more than a floating tree or log,’’ said the woodman. **Y-e-s,”’ drawled the hunter, sarcastically, “ may- be so; Is’pose a log would be very apt to float up- stream, wouldn’t it?” “Why is it ppprecking? asked Graham. ‘Not very fast,” answered Seth, ‘for I guess it’s hard work for them fellers to swim up-stream, Ah, by gracious! I understand the game. Look; don’t you see it’s further out than it was? They’re going o get as near the middle as they can, and so close to us that when we undertake to cross, the current will carry us right down plump against ’em, when they'll rise up in their wrath and devour us. Fact, sure as you live!” “We are as well understand matters at once,” added Haldidge. ‘The plan of the Indians is un- doubtedly the same as Seth suggests. In crossing, we cannot help drifting downward, and they are try- ing to locate themselves so as to make a collision be- tween us. But they will make no attack untli we are in the water. So you may keep at work upon the raft, Alf, without any fear, while Seth and I re- connoiter. tome, Graham, you may as well go along with us. Let us enter the wood separately at first, and we’ll come together as soon as We can get out of sight. Act asthough we didn’t suspicion any- thing, and I’ll wager my rifle here aaa your hat that we’ll outwit the cowards after all.” The three entered the wood as proposed. After going a few yards they came together again, “Now,” whispered Seth, ‘“b gracious, rou will see fun. Follow close, boys, and keep shady. Being now fairly within the wood, they proceeded in a direction parallel with the course of the river, using extreme caution, for it was more than probable that some of the Indian scouts were secreted in the wood, Keeping entirely away from the river until Seth judged they were below the suspicious log, they approached it. A reckless move, at this point, would have been fatal. Fortunately, there was a species of growing from the w out to a considerable disante in the water, Through this they made their way much after the fashion of snakes. Seth, as usual, was in the front, and it struck Graham that be
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14 absolutely slid over the ground without any exertion on his part. In a moment they were down to the river’s brink. They now slowly raised their heads and peered over and through the grass out into the river. The log was a short distance above, and they had a perfect | view of the side which was opposite to Haverland. Not a sign of an Indian was visible. anchored in the middle of the stream. “There is something there,’’ whispered Graham. “Sh! keep quiet and watch, and you'll see!” ad- monished Seth. A moment more and the log apparently without any human ency, slightly changed its position. As it did so, Graham saw something glisten 0; top of it. He was at a loss to understand what it meant, and turned inquiringly toward Haldidge, The latter had his keen eyes fixec upon it, and there was a grim, exulting smile upon his face. He motioned for Graham to preserve silence. As our hero turned his gaze once more toward the river, he saw that the log was still further into the stream. Something like polished metal was seen glistening even brighter than before. He looked carefully, and in a moment he saw that there were several rifles resting upon the surface of it. While gazing and rma where the owners of | hemselves, the water | art on the side of the log to- | ward them, and the bronzed face of an Indian rose | these weapons could conceal suddenly seemed to to view. Up, up it went, until the shoulders were out of the water, when he remained stationary a mo- ment, and red over the log at Haverland. Seem- ingly satisfied, he quietly sunk down into the water again; but Graham noticed that he did not disap- ar beneath the surface, where he had hitherto ept himself, nestled in so close to the log that al- most any one would have supposed that he was a art of it. His head resembled exactly a large black not in the wood. Graham now noticed also that there were two other protuberances, precisely like the first. The conclusion was certain. There were three fully-armed Mohawks concealed behind the log, who were doing their utmost to steal upon the fugitives. Just exactly one apiece, as sure as you live,”’ ex- claimed Seth, exultingly. ‘Get ready, each of you, for your man. Graham, take the one nearest this way; you the next one, Haldidge, and I'll pick off the last one in the genuine style. Get ready, quick, for I've got to hurrah over the way things is coming round,” The three pointed their ‘deadl ward the unsuspicious savages. deliberate and certain aim. ** Now, then, together—jire/”’ Simultaneously the three rifles flashed, but that of Seth missed fire. The others s true to their aim. Two yells of deathly agony broke upon the air, and one of the savages sprung his entire length out of the water, and then sunk like lead to the bottom. The other clung quivering to the log for a moment, and then loosening his hold, disappeared beneath the water. “Thunder and blazes!” exclaimed Seth, springing to his feet, ‘‘hand me your rifle, Graham. Some- thing is the matter with mine, and that other imp will get away. Quick! hand it here!” He took the rifle and commenced loading it as rap- idly as possible, keeping his eye upon the Indian, who now was swimming desperately for the other nk. ‘Ts yer iron loaded, Haldidge?”’ he asked. ‘*No; I’ve been Rye you and that coat poate J to see who'll get the best, so long, that I didn’t think of it.” : “Load again, for s’posen this gun should miss fire, too, he'd get off then, sure. isn’t coming out now!’ The Indian, as if scorning the danger, rose slowly from the water, and walked leisurely toward the shelter of the wood. “ Now, my fine feller, see if you can dodge this?” Seth once more aimed at the retreating Indian, and this time pulled the trigger; but, to his unutter- able chagrin, the rifle flashed in the pan! Before Haldidge could finish loading his gun, and before Seth could even reprime his, the Indian had disap- peared in the wood. “By the hokey-pokey! what’s got into the guns?” instruments to- sh took a long, exclaimed Seth, in a perfect fury. ‘“ That’s twicel've | been fooled.~Worse’n two slaps in the face by a purty woman, I'llswow. Hallo! what’s that?” The discharge of a rifle across the river had sent the bullet so close to him as to whisk off a tuft of his long, sandy hair. ** By ious; that was pretty well done,’’ he ex- Sinead scratching his head as though he was slightly wounded. Look out, for heaven’s sake! Get down!” called Graham and erking him downward. ; **Don’t know but what it is the best plan,” replied the imperturbable Seth, going down on his knees in time to avoid another foul shot. There are plenty of the imps about, ain’t there?” The firing so alarmed Haverland that he desisted from his work, and sought the shelter of the wood. By this time, too, the afternoon was so far advanced that darkness had already commenced settling over the stream and woods. Crossing on the t was now out of the question, for it would have been nothing less than suicide to have attempted it, when their enemies had given them such convincing evi- dence of their skill in the use of the rifle, even at a ter distance than to the middle of the stream. ut the river had to be crossed for all that, and the only course left was to shift their position to some poner pisos, build a new raft, and make another at- temp The treeseemed | Wal, my stars! if he seizing him by the skirt of his hunting-dress, | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library LTA RL Bea > There was no excuse for further delay, and the party immediately set forward. The sky again gave | Signs of astorm, Several rumbles of thunder were heard, but the lightning was so distant as to be of neither benefit er use to them. The sky was filled with heavy, tumultuous clouds, which rendered the | darkness perfectly intense and impenetrable; and as none of them understood a foot of the ground | over which they were traveling, it may well be sup- posed that their progress was neither rapid nor par- ticularly pleasant. The booming of the thunder con- tinued, and shortly the rain commenced falling, The drops were of that big kind which are often formed in summer, and which rattle through the leaves like a shower of bullets. *“Can you look ahead, Seth?’ asked Graham. “Tn course I can. The darkness don’t make no difference not at all to me. I can see just as well on a dark night as I can in daylight, and, what is more, I do. I should like to see me make a misstep or stumble—” Further utterrance was checked by the speaker pitching, with aloud splash, head-foremost over or | into something. | ““ You hurt, Seth?’ asked Graham, in alarm, yet half tempted to give way to the mirth that was con- vulsing those behind him, ‘Hurt!’ exclaimed the unfortunate one, scram- bling to his feet; ‘“‘I believe every bone in my bod is broken in two; and by gracious! my head is cracked, and both legs put out of joint, the left arm broke above the elbow, and the right one severed completely !” et pag sete these frightful injuries, the speaker was moving about with wonderful dexterity. = My gracious! what do you suppose I’ve tumbled into?” he suddenly asked. “Into a pitfall or a hole in the ground,” replied Graham. ‘It’s my opinion, too, that it will be very easy, with this noise we are making, to stumble into the Mohawks’ hands.”’ “T should think you ought to know that I didn’t fall,’ retorted Seth, angrily. ‘‘I happened to see sumthin’, and I stepped forward to see if it would hold my weight. at are you laughing at, Ishould like to know?” : er is that you have stepped into?” asked Hav- erland. ‘“Why, it’s nothing less than a boat, dragged up here by the varmints, I s’pose.”’ “Such, indeed, was the case. There was a very large-sized canoe directly before them, and not a sign of the presence of others besides themselves. Not amore fortunate thing could have happened, Upon examination, the boat was found to be of un- usual length and breadth, and amply sufficient to carry twenty men. It was quickly pushed back .into the stream, ** Come, tumble in, and we'll set sail,’ said Seth. The fugitives, without any hesitation, entered the boat, and Seth and Haldidge, lending their shoulders to it, shoved it into the river, and sprung in as it float- | ed away. } ¥ | oe CHAPTER XIX. DENOUEMENT. THE whites found in a moment that they had com- mitted a great mistake in launching as they did. In the first place, there was not an oar in the boat, and thus, not being able to “‘ paddle their own canoe,” | they were also deprived of their ability to paddle one belonging to some one else. Besides this, the river was dark as Styx, and the whole sky and air were of the same inky blackness, and not one in the | boat had the remotest. idea of where they were go- ing, whether it was to pitch over some falls, down some rapids, or into the bank. fos Sa ‘oing to set down and consider which is the | biggest fool, Haldidge, you or me, in starting out in | this canoe which we borrowed for a short time.” | $o saying, Seth made his way to the stern of the | canoe, where he rested himself—not upon the bot- | tom of it, as he expected, but upon something soft, | which emitted a grunt audible to all, as he did so. | ‘My gracious! what’s under me?” he exclaimed, reaching his hand down and feeling around in the | dark, “A live Ingin, as sure as my name is Seth Jones. Ah, you copper-headed monkey!” It was as he said. An Indian hadstretched out on his back, with his feet dangling over the edge of the canoe, and Seth, without the faintest suspicion of his presence, had seated himself square upon his breast. As may be supposed, this was not relished at all by the startled savage, and he made several strenuous efforts to rolt him off. ‘* Now, just lay still,” commanded Seth, ‘‘ for I’ve an idea that I can’t find a more comfortable seat.” The savage was evidently so thoroughly frightened | that he ceased his efforts and lay perfectly quiet and motionless. : ‘*Have you got a real Indian here?’ asked Hald- idge as he came up to Seth. : ‘bo be sure I have; just feel under me, and see if T hain’t.” ‘“What are you going to do with him?” ** Nothing.” : “ Are you going to let him off? Let’s pitch him overboard.” E 2 **No you won't, Haldidge. I’ve two or three good | reasons for not doing such a thing. In the first place, there ain’t no need of it, the poor imp hasn’t hurt us; and, for all I detest his whole cowardly race, I don’t | believe in killing them, except when they’ve done you some injury or are trying to. The most important reason, however, is that I don’t want my seat dis- turbed.” ; “ He is a cussed fool to let yousit on him that way. I’d give you a toss if I was in his place, that would send you overboard.” “grown deer, i * Not if you knew what was best for you. Thun- er!” Perhaps the Indian understood the words of the hunter. At any rate, he made an attempt to carry out his suggestion, and well-nigh did it, too. Just as Seth gave vent to the exclamation recorded, he pitched headlong against Haverland, knocking him over upon his back, and falling upon him. At the same instant the savage sprung overboard, and swam rapidly away in the darkness. ‘That’s a mean trick,”’ said Seth, as he recovered his sitting position. “I was just setting on him ta keep the rain off. Jest like the ungrateful dog!” The attention of all was now directed to the. pro- gress of the canoe. Drifting slowly onward through the darkness, no one knowing whither, their situation began to assume a terrible form. There was no power in their hands to guide it, and should they run into any of the trees which had caught in the bottom, or upon a rock, they would be instantly swamped. But there was no help for it, and each one seated and braced himself for the shock which might come at os instant. t was while they were proceeding in this manner, that they all heard the bottom of the canoe grate over something, then tremble for a moment, and suddenly come to a stand-still. The stern swung rap- idly round and commenced filling. “Overboard, men, all of you! commanded Haldidge. Each sprung into the water, which was not more than two feet deep, and the canoe, thus lightened of its load, instantly freed itself, and floated off in the. darkness. Ae ate! move, till I take a few soundings,” said th. He naturally supposed that to reach the shore, he must take a direction at right-angles with the cur- rent. A few steps showed him that he was not in the river itself, but was walking in that portion which had overflowed its banks. “Follow on, boys; we’re right!”’ he called out. Bushes and grass entangled their feet, and the branches overhead brushed their faces, as they toiled out of the water. A few moments and they were upon solid land again. The canoe had carried them safely across the river, so that this trouble- some task was finished. “Now, if we only had a fire,’ said Haverland. “Yes; for Ina must be suffering.” “Oh! don’t think of me!’’ replied the brave little girl, cheerfully. Seth discovered with his customary shrewdness that the storm had been very slight in this section, and the wood was comparatively dry. By removing the leaves upon the surface of the ground, there were others beneath which were perfectly free from dampness. A quantity of these were thrown in a heap, a number of twigs found among them placed upon the top, and some larger branches placed upon. these in turn. After great difficulty, Seth managed to catch a spark from his steel and tinder, and in a few moments they had a rousing, roaring, genial are. “That's fine,” said Graham. ‘But won't it be dangerous, Seth?” “Let it be, then; I'm bound to dry my skin to- night, if there’s any vartue in fire.” ut the Indians didn’t choose to disturb them, al- though it was rather a reckless proceeding upon their part. It was more than probable, as Seth Jones remarked, that their pursuers had lost their trail, and would experience some difficulty in regain- ing and following it. Morning at last broke upon the hun , miserable, hopeful fugitives. As the light increased they looked about them and discovered that they had camped at the base of a large, heavily-wooded hill. It was also noticed that Haldidge, the hunter, was absent. While wondering at this, the report of his rifle was heard, and in a few moments he was seen descend- ing the hill, bending under the weight of a half- This was hastily dressed, several good- sized pieces skewered and cooked in the flame, and our friends made as hearty and substantial a meal as was ever made in this world. “Before starting upon our journey again,” said Haldidge, *‘ I want you all to go to the top of the hill here, with me, and see what a fine view. we shai have.” ‘*Oh! we've no time for views,”’ replied Seth. “T am afraid there is little spare time,’’ added the woodman. ‘But this is particularly fine, and I think you will be well pleased with it.” . The hunter was so urgent that the others were finally obliged to consent. Accordingly they com- menced the ascent, Haldidge leading them, and all anxiety, smiles and expectation. “ “See how you like that view!” said he, pointing off to the west. The fugitives gazed in the direction indicated. The rospect was one indeed which at that time pleased ‘hem more than could have any other in the universe; for below them, about half a mile distant, was the very village toward which they had been so long making their way. It looked unusually beautiful that mone in the clear sunshine. A score of cabins nestled closely together, and the heavy smoke was lazily ascending from several chimneys, while here and there a settler could be seen moving about. At one corner of the yilese stood the block-house, and the gaping mouth of its swivel shone in the morning sun like burnished silver. One ortwosmall boats were visible in the water, their ashen paddles flashing brightly as they were dip ed my strong and active hands. e river, down which the woodman and his wife and sister had escaped, flowed at the foot of the village, and its windings could be traced by the eye for . Here and there, scattered over We're sinking!’’ ee ee Seer Ae Re be Oe Oe ey ES ee ONE Gee” Eee E a’: 4 " aa are lays a he Wey We eee) + tuk ya Lay
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ew Es SS > country, could be seen an enterprising settler’s cabin, resembling in the distance a tiny beehive. “You h the landscal,”’ said the hunter. “Ah, Haldiige, you know better than to ask that uestion,’” replied Haverland, in a shaking voice. “Thank God that He has been so merciful to us!” They now commenced descending the hill. word was exchanged between them, for their hearts were too full for utterance, to have come over Seth Jones. At sight of the vil- lage, he had suddenly become thoughtful and silent, refusing even to answer a question. His head was bent down. Evidently his mind was engrossed upon some all-absorbing subject. Several times he sighed deeply, and pressed his hand to his heart, as though the tumultuous throbbing there pained him. The ex- pression of his face was wonderfully changed. That | quizzitig, comical look was entirely gone, while wrinkles at the eyebrows and base of the nose could be seen no more. h@ndsome. It was a wonderful metamorphosis, and the question passed around unexpressed: ‘‘Is that Seth Jones?” All at once, he seemed to become sensible that the eyes of others were upon him, and that he had for- otten himself. That old, peculiar expression came k to his face, and a few steps of the old strad- sored gait were taken, and Seth Jones was himself n! rhs sentinels in the block-house had discovered and recognized the fugitives, and when ge ar- rived at the palisade which surrounded the village, there were numbers waiting to receive them. “J will see youall again!” said Haldidge, separat- ing from the others and passing toward the upper end of the settlement. “ After pausing a few moments to answer the in- quiries of their friends, Haverland led the way to- ward the cabin where he had left his wife and sister. Here he found the good settlers had erected and pre- sented him with a house. As he stepped softly to the door, intending to give his wife a playful surprise, she mét him. With a low ory of joy, she sprung for- wail and was held in his arms, and the next instant she and Ina were clasped together and weeping. “Thank Heaven! thank Heaven! dear child, I thought you lost forever.” Graham and Seth stood respectfully to one side for afew moments. The latter cleared his throat seve- ral times and brushed his arm across his forehead in a suspicious manner, As the mother regained her- elf, she turned and recognized Graham, and greeted him warmly. : ** And you, too,” she said, taking Seth’s hand, and looking up into his face, ‘have been more than a friend to me. May Heaven reward you, for we never can,” “There! by gracious! don’t say no more! boohoo! ahem! I believe I’ve caught a cold, being so exposed to the night air!” But it was no use; the tears would come; and Seth, for a few seconds, wept like a baby, yet smiled even through his tears. They all entered the house. ‘* Our first duty is to thank God for his mercy, Let us all do it,” said the woman. All sunk devoutly upon their_knees, joining in fer- vent thanksgiving to the great Being who had shown his goodness to them in such a marvelous manner. The settlers, with true politeness of heart, forbore to intrude until they judged the family were desir- ous of seeing them. After they had arisen from their knees, Mary, the sister of Haverland, entered. Graham chanced to genes at Seth, that moment, and was startled at the emotion he exhibited. He flushed scarlet, and trembled painfully, but, by a strong effort, recovered himself in time to greet her. She thanked him again, and began conversing, when she saw that he was embarrassed and ill at ease. A flash of suspicion crossed her fine, calm face, and it became pale and flushed by turns. What a riot emotion was making in her heart only she herself knew; her face soon became passive and pensive; and a pathos gleamed from her sad eyes which sent Seth quickly out of doors to commune with the mys- teries of his own thoughts. 5 : The cabin was crowded until near midnight with congratulating friends. Prominent among these, was the man who officiated in the capacity of minis- ter for the settlement. He was a portly, genial good-natured man, of the Methodist persuasion, and a preacher for the times—one who could plow, reap, chop wood, and lead the settlers against their foes, when he deemed it necessary, or preach and prac- tice the gospel before them. Tt wasag jong remembered. Just one week after the reunion the little party was seated in Haverland’s home, composed of Ina, Beth Jones, the woodman, Mrs, Haverland and Mary. Set sat in one corner, conversing with Ina, while the other three were also together. There was a happy look upon each face. Even the sweet, mel- ‘aebaly beauty of Mary was lighted up by a smile. She was beautiful—queenty so. Her hair, black as night, was gathered behind,was if to restrain its tendency to curl; but, in s ite of this, a refractory one was constantly nicruding itself. A faint color was visible in her cheeks, and her blue eye had in it something of a gleam of the common joy and peace. Seth had remained most of the time with the woodman. Several times he had asked Mary Haver- jJand to walk with him, and yet upon each occasion, when about to start, he became painfully nervous, and ed to be excused. And then his language was 80 erent at times. Often he would converse with words so polished and well-chosen, as to show unmistakably chat he was a scholar. Perhaps the reader has noticed this discrepancy in his conversa- en’t told me how you are pleased with | Not a | A strange spell seemed | His face appeared to be positively | Oh, my dear, | —a Happy reunion— a night that was tion. It attracted attention, and strengthened many in their belief that for some unknown reason he was playing a part. At the present time there was a nervousness in his manner; and, although he was holding a playful | conversation with Ina, his eyes were constantly wandering to the face of Mary Haverland. ‘And so you and Graham are going to be mar- ried to-morrow night?” he asked. ‘You know, Seth, that we are, are you going to ask me?’ “Do you love him?” he asked, looking her steadily in the face. ‘What a question! I have always loved him, and always will.’ “That's right; then marry him, for if man ever loved woman, he loves you. And, Alf, while I think of it,”” he spoke in a louder tone, ‘“what has that big, red-haired fellow been hanging around here How many times | so much for the last day or two?”’ “You will have to ask Mary,” laughed the wood- man. ‘Oh, I understand morrow night, eh? Tt “Not that 1 know of; becoming a wife for any one. ‘‘Hain't, eh? Why, the man seems to love you. Why don't you marry him?” ‘‘T am afraid Mary will never marry,” Said Haver- land. ‘She has rejected all offers, though many were from very desirable men.”’ “t aay I never heard of such a case.”’ ‘Her love was buried long ago,’’ replied Haver- land, in a lower tone, to Seth. “After a moment’s silence, Seth arose, took his chair, and seated himself beside her. She did not look at him, nor did any oneelse. He sat a moment; then whispered: ‘“* Mary?” igo ¥F She started. Her eyes flashed like meteors in his face a moment; then she turned as pale as death, and would have fallen from her chair, had not Seth caught her in his arms. Haverland looked up in amazement; the whole family were riveted in won- der. Seth looked up from the face of the fainting woman, and smiled as he said: ‘She is mine forever!” “Merciful Heaven! Eugene Morton!” exclaimed Haverland, starting to his feet. ‘“*Tt is so!’’ said the one addressed. ‘* Have you risen from the dead?” “T have risen to life, Alf, but have never been with the dead.” Instead of the weak, squeaking tone which had heretofore characterized his speech, was now a rich, mellow base, whose tones startled Mary into life again. She raised her head, but he who held her would not permit her to rise. He pressed her fer- vently to his bosom. The ecstasy of that moment, only the angels in Heaven could fathom. aldidge and Graham entered, and the man in his true character, arose to his feet~—a tall, dignified, graceful, imposing person. “Where is Seth?’ asked Graham, not noticing the apparent stranger. “Here is what you have heretofore supposed to be that individual, laughed the person, before him, en- joying reatly their astonishment, ‘Seth, truly, but not Seth, either,” exclaimed they both, with astonishment written on their faces, ‘With a few words,” he commenced, “all will be plain to you, I need not tell you, dear friends, that my character, since my advent among you, has been an assumed one. Seth Jones is a myth, and to my knowledge, no such person ever existed. My real name is Eugene Morton. Ten years ago, Mary Haverland and I pledged our love to each other. We were to be married in one year; but, when a few months of that time had elapsed, the Revolution- nd War broke out, and a call was made upon our little village, in New Hampshire, for volunteers. I had no desire nor right to refuse. Our little com- pany proceeded to Massachusetts, where the war was then raging. In a skirmish, a few days after the battle of Bunker Hill, I was dangerously wound- ed, and was left with a farmer by the wayside. I sent word wd one of my comrades to Mary, that I was disabled, but hoped to see her in a short time. The bearer of that message was probably killed, for it is certain my words never_reached her, though a very different report did, We hada man in our aot who was a lover of Mary’s~ Know- ing of my misfortune, he sent her word that I was killed, When I rejoined my company, a few months after, I learned that this man hi deserted. A suspicion that he had returned home impelled me to obtain leave of absence to visit my native place. I there learned that Haverland, with his wife and sister, had left the village for the West. One of my friends informed me that this deserter had gone with them, and, it was understood, would marry a. I could not doubt the truth of this rope, and, for a time, I feared I should commit cide. To soften this great sorrow, I returned at once, joined our cenene, and plunged into every battle that I possiy. could. I often Dadian: ex- ge myself to danger, soliciting death rather than ife. In the winter of 1776 I found myself under Gen- eral Washington, at. Trenton; I had crossed the Delaware with him, and, by the time it was fairly light, we were engaged in a desperate fight with the essians, In the very heat of the battle, the thought suddenly came to me that the story of Mary’s mar- riage was untrue. Singularly enough, when the bat- tle was over, I did not think any more of it. But in the midst of the following engagement, at Prince- ton, the same thought came to me again, and haunt- ed me from that time until the close of the war. Ide- termined to seek out Mary. All that I could learn was that Haverland had emigated ‘out this way. there'll be two weddings to- 1at’s so, Mary?” I have no expectation of ” If she had married the deserter, I knew it was under a firm belief that I was dead. Consequent- ly, I had no right to pain her by my presence- For this reason, I assumed a disguise. I discol- ored my now long-untamed hair, It so changed my whole appearance that I hardly knew myselr. War had ¢hanged my youthful color into bronze, and sorrow hac whomaht its changes. It was not strange, then, that any old friend should not know me, particularly when I could so en rye per: sonate the ‘Green Mountain Boy,’ in voice and mar ner. My identity was perfectly secure, I knew, from detection. I came to this section, and, after a long and persevering hunt, one day I found Haverland cutting in the wood. I introduced myself to him as Seth Jones. I found Mary. The report which had reached me of ‘her marriage was false; she was still true to her first love. I should have made myself known then, had not the danger which threatened Haverland come upon him almost immediately, As his family were then tormented by the fate of Ina, I thought my recognition would only serve to embar- rass and distract their actions. Besides, I felt some amusement in the part I was playing, and often en- joyed the speculation I created by giving you, as it were, a glimpse now and then into my real nature. I varied my actions and language on purpose to in- cfease your wonder.” He here paused and smiled, as if at the recollection of his numerous ludicrous escapades. He continued: “I have little more to add. I congratulate you, Graham, on the prize you have won. You are to be married to-morrow night Mary, will you not marry me at the same time?” “Yes,” replied the radiant woman, placing her hands in his. “ You have my hand now, as you've had my heart through all these long, sorrowing ears.’ Morton kissed her forehead tenderly. P “ Now congratulate me,” said he, with a beaming ace, And they gathered around him, and such shaking of hands, and such greetings, we venture to say, were never seen before. Our friends experienced some difficulty at first in believing that Seth Jones was gone forever. They even felt some regrets that his pleasing, eccentric face had passed away; but they had gained in his place a handsome, noble- hearted man, of whom they were all proud, The next day was scp in preparations for the great double wedding that was to take place that evening. Messengers were sent up and down the river, and back into the woods; there was not a set- tler within twenty miles who had not been invited. At nightfall the pompeny began to collect. Some came in boats, some on horseback, and others on foot. A double wedding rarely took place in the backwoods, and this occasion was too full of romance to be slighted by any, old or young. When the lights were produced in the woodman’s house there was a motley assemblage without and within. You could have heard old and middle-aged men talking about the prospect of the crops, and looking up to the sky and wisely predicting the probabilities of a change in the weather, or discus- sing, in anxious tones, the state of feeling among the Indians along the frontier; you could have heard—ags they would termed nowadays—‘“ gawky ” young men as sagely discoursing upon the same subjects, venturing a playful thrust, now and then, at one of their number about some “Alminy,” or ‘Sera pheemy,” sweetheart, " The woodman’s house had been much enlarged fox the occasion. A long shed, amply sufficient to con- tain all the guests, was built alongside and connect- ing with it. After participating in a bountiful meal in this, the tables were removed, and preparation made for the marriage. : A sudden hush fell upon the assemblage. All eyes turned toward the door, through which Eugene Mor. ton and Edward Graham, each with his affianced leaning Pron his arm, entered “ Ain’t they purty?” Don’t they look bootiful?”’ ‘Golly! if they ain’t some, then there's no use in talking. Such and similar were the whispered remarks of admiration at the couple. Mary Haverland was dressed in a plain, light-colored dress without any ornament, except a single white rose. in her hair, which now fell in dark masses over her shoulders. Her beauty was of the true regal t She was very happy, yet seemed as if in a world of her own. orton was clad in gray homespun, which well be- came his graceful form, ‘His whole appearance was that of the gentleman which he was—a brave soldier, a true-hearted man. Ina, the sweet young heroine, was fascinating. Her dress was of the purest white. Her curls clus- tered around her shoulders, and were confined at the temples by a simple wreath of blue violets. There was a contrast between Ina and Mary, and yet it would have been a difficult task to have judged which was the most beautiful—the pure, queenly, trusting woman, or the purity and innocence of the young maiden. Graham was a worthy participant in the drama and pleased all by his goodness and a te en ; tl ith n & few* moments, a portly gentleman, with a white neckeloth, and all aglow with smiles, entered the room. Morton and Mary arose and stood before him, and amid the most perfect silence the ceremo- ny commenced. The questions were put and an- swered in a firm voice, audible to every one in the room. . What God hath joined together let not man put asunder.”’ And every voice said Amen!” as they reseated ratty ze, ho had stood msman to Morton, , who as now signaled with a quiet amile, for Graham to tase
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a A AR ea ee his position. The young nero did, and Ina, blushing deeply, and leaning on the arm of her bridesmaid, followed, and the ceremony commenced. While this was proceeding, an interesting affair was occurring at the opposite end of the room. A | large, bony, red-faced young man sat holding and | s:keezing the hand of a bouncing, buxom girl, and indulging in several] expressive remarks. : “ { swow, if they don’t look purty. Wonder how the gal feels?” “Why, happy, of course,’ replied his companion. * By jingo, I bet he does; I know / would.” * Would what?’’ ** Feel glorious if I was in /:/s place.” “ What! marrying Ina Haverland?”’ “No—I mean—ahem!—why, somebody else—that | is—yes, somebody else.” “Who else do you mean?” asked the girl, looking him steadily in the face. * Why—ahem!—why, you! Darn it, now you know, don’t you?” “Sh! Don’t talk so loud, Josiah, or they'll hear you, “S’posen you was in her place Sal, how would you feel?” *Ain’t you ashamed of youself?” she asked re- provingly. ** No, darnation, I don't care. you feel?” “Do you mean if I was standing out there with you, and the minister talking to us?” * Yes—yes; why don’t you tell me?”’ “You know well enough, Josiah, without asking me no such question.” Josiah commenced meditating. scheme was evidently troubling him, for he scratched his head, and then his knees, and then laughed, exclaimed to himself: ‘I'll do it, by George!” Then turning toward the girl, he said: “Sal, let’s you and I get married, won't you?” “Why, Josiah!” and she hung her head and blushed, charmingly. * Come, Sal, the old folks won’t care. won’t you?” ** Oh, Josiah!” she continued, growing nervous and fidgety. **Come, say quick, for the dominie is near done, and he'll go home. Say yes, Sal, do.” “Ob, dear! oh, my stars!—yeEs!”’ **Good, by jingo! Hurry up there, Mr. Preacher. ” At this point the good minister ceased his benedic- | tion upon the nonpe and their friends commeuced | crowding around them. The minister starts .., not to ‘o home, but to leave the room for a moment, when osiah noticed it, and fearing that he was going, | ; walled out: “Say, squire—you, dominie, I mean—just wait, | won't you? Here’s another job for you.” ‘Ah, lam glad to hear it,” 1 turning round. ‘Are you the happy man?”’ * Wal, I reckon so, and I calc'late as how Sal Clay- ton there is the happy gal.” All eyes were turned toward the speaker, and he stood their smiles unflinchingly. His face was ofa fiery red, and a large flowing necktie hung disre- garded over his breast. “Go in, Josiah—that’s you!” exclaimed several, | 3 patting him on the shoulder. “Get out, all of you, till I’m through. here, Sal; no use scroochin’ now.” The females. bore the blushing one forward, until | ‘ she was near enough to Josiah to get hold of her hand. “Now, go ahead, squire—you—aminister, I mean, 2nd don’t be too thundering ong about it, for I want to get married most terribly.” The company gave way, and the two stepped for- | in afew moments were pronounced man | When Josiah saluted his bride the smack | was a telling one, and the congratulations of Morton | and Graham were nothing to those which were show- | ward, and and wife. ered upon the happy man. Now the meoy commenced, An old ranger sud- denly made his appearance, bearing a violin under his arm—* a reg’lar old Cremony,” as he termed it. | The word was given to ‘make ready for the dance.” The old folks disappeared and entered the house, where, with the fiinister , they indulged in conversa- tion, story-telling, nuts, apples and cider. The fiddler coiled himself up on the top of a box, and commenced twisting the screws o ment, and thumping the strings. noticed that at each turn of the screw he shut one eye and twisted his mouth. The violin was at length tuned, the bow was given two or three sweeps across a lump of resin, and then drawn across the strings, as if it said “attention!” As the couples were forming, the violinist slid partly down off the box, so that one foot could beat upon | the sanded floor, and then, giving his head a jerk backward, struck up a reel that fairly set every heart dancing. The floor was imnmediately filled with the young folks. Tall, strapping fellows plunged around the room, like skeletons of India rubber, their legs bowed out, and sometimes tripping over each other. Rousing, solid girls bounded round, up and down, we pots of jelly, and “all went merry as a marriage- ell."” By and by the old folks made their “appearance, Be er to see the boys and girls enjoy themselves.” e fiddler at this moment shot off on the “ Devil's Dream.” A timid elderly lady stepped up to him, and, touching him softly on the shoulder, asked: “Is that a profane tune?” “No, it’s Old Hundred, with variations. Don't bother me,” replied the performer, relieving his mous: of a quantity of tobacco-juice at the same e ‘ Suppose we try it for a moment, aunt Hannah,” gaid the minister with a sly look, | the whirling mass. Say, Sal, how would Some desperate | and | Let's do it, | aughed the minister, | 283 BurraLo BEN, Come up his instru- | 57 The operation of | “tuning ’’ was evidently a painful one, for it was | 5§ le’s The two stepped out upon the floor, the fiddler commenced another tune, and they disappeared in In a few moments nearly all of the old folks, who had come just to ‘‘ see them a elderly gentlemen and ladies executed some of the reels of a half-century’s memory, was a lesson to the | younger folks. The company kept up their revelry until far be- yond midnight. But by and by they commenced withdrawing. It was proposed by several to visit the | different bridegrooms in™bed, but, fortunately, the Library. | 88 PHoroGRAPH Pritt. By Edward L. Wheeler..,.. 5c | 89 IsLanp Jim. By Braceagplge Hemyng good taste of the others prevailed, and they departed | | quietly homeward. Sluznber, with the exception of the sentinels at the block-house, fell upon the village. 17 |{100 DEADWOOD DICK IN LEADVILLE, Perhaps the In- | dians had no wish to break in upon sucha happy | 1 settlement, for h(i made no demonstration throug the night. Sweeily sweetly and peacefully they entered upon life’s du- | ties on the morrow; and sweetly and peacefully these happy settlers ascended and went down the hillside of life. THE END. BEADLE’S Half-Dime Library. 1 Deapwoop Dick, By Edward L. Wheeler..... 2 YELLOWSTONE JACK. ae ch h E. Badger, Jr... 8 Kansas Kina. By Buffalo Bill.......... ..... THE Wiip-Horse Hunters. By Mayne Reid.... 5c 5 VAGABOND JOE. By Oll Coomes.... 10. Britt Brppon, TRAPPER. By Edward 8. Ellis... ’ Tae Fiyina YANKEE, By Col. Ingraham.,...... £ Seto Jones. By Edward §S. Ellis Poneees THE ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN...... ! Nat Topp. By Edward 8. Ellis . oe Tre Two Derecrives. By Albert W, Aiken... 2 GULLIVER’S TRAVELS. .. ERI a 3 THe Dump Spy. By Oll Comes.. ............ Re 4 ALADDIN, .. pera ere Wigs enero) Sols 5 THe Sea Cat. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker .. 6 ROBINSON ORUSON: 2.5.00: iy See eee % Raupx Roy, By Col Prentiss Ingraham. .... 27 ANTELOPE ABE, THE Boy Guipy. Oli Coomes .. By Edward L. Wheeler .. ... 20 THe Dump Pace. By Capt. F. Whittaker..... ROARING RALPH Rockwoop. By H. St. George. KEEN-KNIFE. By Oll Coomes Bos Wooir, By Edward L, Wha 3 THe OCEAN BLoopHounp. By §S: W. Pierce..... OrEGON Sou. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams........ WILp Ivan. By Edward L. Wheeler } THE Boy Crown. By FrankS, Finn THe Hrpven Lovee. By T.C. Harbaugh ..... 8 Nep WyLpz. By Texas Jack Aettniet se Deata-l’ace, THE Detective. By E. L. Wheeler Roving Bey. By John J. Marshall............ Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes 2 THe PHanrom aren: By Ed. L. Wheeler, Dick DARLING. RATTLING Ruse. 5 OLD AVALANCHE, } Giass-Eye. NIGHTINGALE NAT. By Harry St. George _..... 5c 9 OmanA OLL, 0 Burt BunkER. By Edward L, Wheeler.......... By Charles E. Lasalle......... Tue Boy Rirutes, By Archie C. Sron........... 52 THe Wuire Burravo. By Charles E. Lasalle... 3 Jiu Biupsor, Jn. By Edward L. Wheeler..... Nep Hazen. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams........ 5c Deapiy-Eyr, By Buffalo Bill................... i Nick Whirries’s Per, By J. F. C. Adams..... 5 DEapwoop Dick’s Eaatrs, By E. L.Wheeler.. THe Borver Kine. By Oll Coomes...... BASS O.p Hicxory.. By Harry St. George..... ... THe Wuire Inpian. By J. F. C. Adams....... BuckHorRN Brun. By Edward L. Wheeler...... 2 Tuer SHapow Sup. By Col. P. Ingraham..... 3 THe Rep Broruernoop. By W. J. Hamilton . Danpy JACK. By T. C. Harbaugh. ........... Hurricane Buu. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr Sinere Hann. By W. J. Hamilton PATENT-LEATHER JOE. By Philip 8S. Warne... THE BorpDER Ropin Hoop. By Buffalo Bill... Goup Rirte. By Edward L. Wi Oup Zrp’s Canin. By J. F. C. Adams.......... 71 DeLAwARE Dick. By Ol Coomes........... wee 72 Map Tom Western. By W. J. Hamilton....... 73 Deapwoop Dick. on Deck. By E. L. Wheeler.. 74 Hawk-eYE Harry. By Oll Coomes 75 Toe Boy Duggzist. By Col. P. Ingraham 76 Ace Cour, THE Crow Kiriiter. By A. W. Aiken 77 Corpuroy Gparur. By Edward L. Wheeler., 78 Brug Dicks. By Captain Mayne Reid....°.. 79 Sot GINGER, THE GIANT TRAPPER. A.W. Aiken. 89 Rosesup Ror... By Edward L. Wheeler ..,..... 81 LicuTNInG Jor. pe Captain J. F.C. Adams, .. 82 Krr Harrroot, By T. C. Harbaugh 83 Rotto, THE Boy Rancer. By Oll Coomes... 84 Ipyt, TRE Grrt Mrver. By Ed. L. Wheeler .. 85 Buck Buckram. By Captain J. F.C, Adams... 86 Danpy Rock. By G. Waldo Browne .... ... 87 THe Lanp Prrates, By Capt. Mayne Reid... .. o © SSSSSSSITITS STITT and peacefully they all slept; | By Capt. Frederick Whittaker 5¢ | By Edward L. W heeler.... 5c | By Capt. J. F, C, Adams . ..... 5c | By T. C. Harbaugh... ... 5¢ | BLAcK JOHN, THE RoaD-AGENT. J. E. Badger, Jr a | . Be | y | 164 Danpy Rocx’s Pieper. By Geo. W. Browne . 5c | 165 Bruuy BAGGAGE, THE RAILROAD Boy: Morris.. &e | 168 Deapty Dasu. | 169 Tornapo Tom. By T. C. Harbaugh. .. .. ... ) 172 THUNDERBOLT Tom. By Harry St. George.... | 175 Capraty Arizona, By Philip S. Warne | 180 Toe Sea TrarueR. Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S. N. | 181 Wiip Frank or Montana. | 182 Lirrne Hurricane. By Oll Coomes | 186 Coon Desmonp. By Col. Dele Sara 90 THe DREAD Riper. By G. Waldo Browne. ... ‘ ) | 91 THe CAPTAIN OF THE CLUB, By Bracebridge minute,’ followed, and the way in which several | ‘4 : Hemyng 92 CANADA CHET. By Edward L. Wheeler........ 93 THE Boy Miners, By Edward 8S. Ellis... ..... 94 Mipnicut Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh ...... ! 95 THe RivaL Rovers. By Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 WatcH-Eve. By Edward L. Wheeler. 5 97 THe OuTLAw Broruers. By J. J. Marshall... 93 Rosin Hoop, By Prof, Stewart Gildersleeve.. 99 Tax TiceR or Taos, By George W. Browne... By Wheeler. 101 Jack Hark+way In New York. By Brace- By Col. Delle Sara 104 Deapwoop Dick’s Device. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 5 105 Oup Ruse, THE Hunter. By Capt. H. Helmes . ? 106 Ob Frosty, THE Guipz, By T.C. Harbaugh. 107 Onr-Evep Siw. By J. L. Bowen .. . ....... 108 Dartne Davy. By Harry St. George... . .... ! 109 Deapwoop Dick as Derective. By Wheeler !? 110 THe Buack STEED oF THE Prarries. By Bowen 111 THe Sea-Devin, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, . THE Map Hunter. By Burton Saxe 5 3 JacK Hoyite. By Edward L. Wheeler.... . . | 4 THe Back ScHooner. By Roger Starbuck... 5 Taz Map Miner. By G. Waldo Browne } THe Hussar Caprary. By Col. P. Ingraham. Gitt-EpcEp Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler... Wi Somers, THE Boy Detective. By Morris,, 9 Musrana Sam. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.......-. ‘ THE BrRanpED Hanp. By Frank Dumont .... Cinnamon Cure. By Edward L. Wheeler...... Puiu Harpy, THE Boss Boy. By Chas. Morris. Kiowa CuarLrey. By T.C. Harbaugh... ..... Tippy, THE Texan. By George Gleason BONANZA Bri, Miner. By Ek. L. Wheeler. PIcayuNE Pete. By Charles Morris..........- Witp-Fire. By Frank Dumont THE YOUNG PrIvATEER. By oes Cavendi Dreapwoop Dick’s DovgLE, By E.L. Whe DetecTIvE Dick. By Ci arles Morris.. ..7) . THE GoLtpen Hanp. By George W. Browne.. THE Huntep Hunter. By Edward &. Ellis... Boss Bos. By Edward L. Wheeler Sure-Suor SerH. By Oll Coomes. Caprarn PauL. By C, D. Clark 3 Nicut-Hawk Kir. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. .. 7 THe HeLptess HANp. By Capt. Mayne Reid. BiLonvE Bruu. By Edward L. Wheeler....... ! Jup@r Lynocu, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh BivE Buazes. By Frank Dumont... ....... Sotip Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler 2 HanpsomE Harry. By Charles Morris 438 Scar-Face Saut. By Oll Coomes,... ....... Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport, By Badger, 5 Caprarn Ferret. By Edward L, Wheeler... Sirver Star. By Oll Coomes....... bid ase SO 147 Wii. WILDFIRE. By Charles Morris. SHarp Sam. By J. Alexander Patten. .. .. . A Game or=Gotp. By Edward L. Wheeler... ! LANCE AND Lasso. By Capt. ¥. Whittaker,... 51 Panrner Pau. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.... 2 Biack Bess. By Charles Morris 8 EAGLE Kit, THE Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes. THe Sworp-Hounters. By Capt. F.Whittaker = 55 Gotp TriaccerR. By T. C. Harbaugh.... 3} Deapwoop Dick or DrApwoop. By Wheeler, ° 7’ Mire Merry. By Charles Morris... . Meg Fancy FraNK OF COLORADO. By Buffalo Bill.. 5 9 THe Lost Caprain. By Fred. Whittaker..... Tue Buack Giant. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr... New York Neutut, By Edward L. Wheeler .. 5c WIL) WILDFIRE IN THE Woops, By C. Morris. 5e 163 Lirrty Texas, By Oll Coomes.. . .. .. be 166 Hickory Harry. By Harry St. George....... 5e 167 Asa Scorr. By Edward Willett... By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. .. 170 A Trump Carp. By Charles Morris 171 Epony Dan, By Frank Dumont 173 Danpy Rock's Rivan. By Geo. W. Browne.. 174 Bos Rocxerr. By Charlés Morris ..:.... ... 176 Tor Boy Runaway. By Lieut. H. D, Perry.. 177 Nosppy Nick or Nevapa. By E. L, Wheeler.. 178 Otp Sorrrary. By Oll Coomes, .. .. ... .. 79 Bos Rockett, THE BANK CunnerR. By Morris: By E. L. Wheeler. 183 Toe Hrppen HawNp. By Chas, Morris 184 THE Boy Tramer. . By Jos. E. Badger, Jr 185 Evin Eve. By Frank Dumont SSTSSTSSTSSSSTS TESTES 1 gg 187 Frep Hatyarp. By Chas. Morris ..... Beadle’s Halif-Dime Librayy :s ™r sale by all Newsdealers, five cents r copy, or. sent by on receipt of six cents eac ¥ _