Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1137) (1903 05)
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eT Kas aT 1 a a civ i idl Pt Ht Dl Copyriau, 187k, BY Beapun & Published Every Month. Single Hand; OR, FOR A LIFE. J. HAMILTON, BROTHERHOOD,” ETC. A LIFE BY W. AUTHOR OF “THE RED CHAPTER CAUGHT IN THE “ NORTHER.” Tre tempest was at its hight, the furious rush of the ‘‘ Norther,” tuat scourge of the Texan lains. No one, uniess he has faced its chilling mere has any idea of the fearful danger which hangs over the unfortunate who is caught upon the plains when the cold wind is 45 its hight, Great trees are upturned by its gigantic power, buildings are thrown down, and even the tough chapar- ral is leveled asthe tremen- dous blast crushes over iti The air takes on a bluish tinge; the clouds hang low and the hitherto sultry air becomes all at once terribly frigid, the chill piercing to the very marrow. Such was the scene upon which the tale opens, and two figures might have been seen lying under a wall of rocks upon the Texan border. Their horses, overcome b fear, crouched upon thee beside them, emitting almost human moans of fear, while the men, wrapping their blankets about them, pressed as closely as possible to the rocks, striving to shield them- selves from the chilling blast, Looking out upon the plain they could see frightened herds of animals of all de- scriptions joined in strange fellowship and flying before the pitiless blast. Buffaloes. various kinds of deer, wild eattle and mustangs, with &lmost countless groups of smaller animals, scurried here and there, the wind forcing them forward with itiless power. “This. beats my timo, Jack,” said oneof the crouch- ing men—a handsome young- ster of perhaps nineteen years of age. “‘ It is a won- derful exhibition of the pow- er of the Creator, who gave these countless herds this boundless plain to feed on.” ' “Don’t be babyish, Ned ga n,” said the man called , a rather rough-looking fellow in ranger dress, bear- ing the never-failing rifle pistols ani bowie. ‘It don’t sound well to hear one of . ow fellows turning mission: j ary.” ~ oe UU EEE EIN | NEW YORK Sian Ee ed ae NS WE. 8. EVES (JAMES SI 379 Pearl & CO., Publishers, LIVAN, Street, New PROPRIETOR), York. “Took here, Jack,” said the boy, himself up to his full hight, “you know my fighting weight and I would give you a word of caution.” “Oh, you needn’t spur up at me because I happen to say a word you don’t like, Ned,” re- plied the other, drawing back a little. ‘* Per- haps you could lick me and perhaps not; at any rate it won't do for us to quarrel; we have too much to lose.” “You need not remind me that I am bound hand and foot, and in the power of a merciless man, who takes advantage of an oath forced from me at the gallows-foot to make me do his dirty work.” “Do you want to draw back, Ned?’ demanded the man, with sparkling eyes. ‘‘ You know the penalty if you do.” “‘ That for the penalty |” replied Clayton, snap- ping his fingers. ‘* But for breaking a solemn oath you could not hold me for a single day.” drawing | Ine! Tit ‘i! TT! : 3. a Attar. 7 a PRICE 5 CENTS. Fi A Yi VI : es ; iM 50c. a year. WU eo hh s ‘That’s enough,” growled Jack Evans, sav- agely. “Look at that tiger. He is worse keered than the antelopes, the spotted cusg | was forgotten in his desire to escape. l’ve a good mind to give him a ball.” rhe tiger, as the jaguar is call d upon the iexan plains, flew by in the midst of a herd of antelopes, and so great was his fear of the storm that, for a time, his naturally bloody disposition ire Ned came forward a little, holding on. by a stunted shrub to keep himself erect, when a black mus- tang bounded wildly past, and, clinging to his | mane and keeping her seat only by a desperate effort, was'a beautiful girl not more than sie teen years of age. Ned had only a glimpse of white beautiful face, golden hair floating out im the breath of the norther, and the look of ter. ror in the heavenly blue eyes, when the mus tang was out of sight rounding the point of the timber just in front: ; “Did you see that, Jack Evans?” screamed Ned. “She will die in the re ea if we do not give her ie bd “How are you going te give her help while the nor- ther lasts?’ replied Jack, coolly. ‘‘ You’d better rum after her; like enough can keep up with the wind.” “Do you know that I should take pleasure im knocking you down, friend Jack?” said the boy, setting his teeth hard. ‘“ Siren yous don’t drive me too far.” Jack Evans glanced @ the broad shoulders an@ swelling muscles of his young companion, and wisely re frained from speaking a word to arouse his rage further. “I didn’t mean any Ned,” he said, humbly. know you'd like to help the rl and so would I. Bak ia yet em horses & Ine ment. Do you think it pro- bable that po could them to move out in norther? They are shiver ing with fear now.” Ned glanced at the tremb- ling brutes and acknow! ed, with a groan of d - that they were useless now, but he might be able to low on foot. He darted away with this intention bat was thrown down and forced to crawl back again to the shelter of the rocks. ‘* Now listen to me, Ned,* said Jack Evans, as the lay sobbing upon. the earth. “1 know it’s hard te see » retty creature go that way, ut, what can wedo? "Taint as if we had not done our best to save her, and just as soon as the sterm we'll foller her and pete a te
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ST at oes OR RTE IE SIE SE ST SS EERO —— om his elbow. ‘‘ You've got a heart yet, and nearer right than I was, after all. Do you see amy signs of a break, yet?’ “Te won't last half an hour,” replied Jack, lasking at the sky. ‘* You can see fer yerself that it is lightening up to the northward, and we: ean start soon. Talk to the horses a little; you. understand the brutes better than I do.” Ned crept to the side of his trembling horse ans began to fondle him, and the animal ceased to quake with fear, ana the light came imte his eyes. Ned passed over to the other ani- | mak and by skillful handling, soon got him | over his fright, and if they shivered now it was not with fear. “'Phey are all right now, and will do any thing we ask of them,” said Ned. ‘It is get- ) tag warmer, I think.” “*T told you that we had got the worst of it,” said Jack. ‘If I understand any thing, it is the Texan prairies. I’m a rough man, Ned, and have done many a wicked thing, in my time, } but an innocent little creature like that can find | the way to my heart quicker than any thing | else on earth. Do you guar why?” ** You must tell me, Jack.” “T had a little sister, once, with just such hair and eyes. I loved her better than any thing else on earth, and she died. I tell you, | Ned, if that tittle child had lived, Jack Evans would not be an outlaw now, hunted for his scalp. At times I seem to see her face, and she’s kept my hand from blood many atime, I wish she could do it always.” “Shake hands, Jack,” cried the boy. ‘I’m proud to have you for a friend, and if we eas rel again, it won’t be my fault, now that I | know you.” * A man don’t dare to let out the good in his heart among that truck yonder,” replied Jack, with a motion of his hand toward the chapar- ral. ‘‘ You know how it is, Ned—they’ll say | old Jack Evans is turning baby. I’vethoughta hundred times I’d shake them and go to the Nor’-west; but I love Texas, and they’ve got all IT bave.in their hands.” “We'll talk about this another time, Jack. Dex’ you think we might venture out now?” “Wait about five minutes, Ned. Here it | comes again, and this is the last gust. It’s an | asemul wind, the norther.” The blast swept by, carrying destruction in ite path, and then suddenly ceased, and the at- masphere began to change. They looked to their girths, petted the horses a little, and | ng into the #ddle, riding slowly out upon | trail. By good luck the black mustang nad | sd through the point of the timber, scatter- ing the bushes in his course, and for this point | they headed, and found bits of cloth fluttering upon the mesquit thorns, while a clearly-defined trail crossed the prairie toward the south. “ Forward,” cried Ned, bending forward in tke saddle, and fixing his eyes upon the trail; ** wm will save her yet.” CHAPTER II. IN THE TREE-TOP. For half an hour they rode in silence on each side of the trail, which luckily was not crossed Baoetly and they could keep up a good pace. face of Ned Clayton wore a somber, look, for he feared, at each roll in the prairie, to gome upon the mangled form of the girl who had flitted by so strangely, caught in the north- er. Jack Evans said not a word, but his eyes weve busy, and as roll after roll of the prairie was crossed, he began to hope. “She’s a‘ plucky little darling, anyhow,” he said at eed t How she hangs "to that balf- broken mustang!” “Tf she can keep the saddle, there is some hope,” replied Ned, with a sort of sob; “ but the ground is getting awful rough.” The trail turned a little at this point, and headed for a thick growth of mesquit, about a mile in front.- Jack paused; a look of wild ter- ror came into his face, and he clutched at the el of his saddle for support. The look of y fear upon his face was reflected upon that of his young com on, : “ What is it, Jack?” he said, in a sort of whis- et Ho heads for Deep Gulch. If she has gone down there, mortal help is of no avail. But ride—ride, for life or death.” struck in their spurs to the very rowels. Bg Bard on. The horses seemed'to partake of their spirit, and the ne was over in less than two minutes, both mustangs going at the se their , straining e nerve. ‘They broke into bushes, and pulled up on the verge of a ravine so deep that the low pines which grew at the bottom scarcely touched tae edge. Ned Clayton started back with that look of horror frozen upon his face. In his wild prairie- life he had often seen men die—had braved death himself; but what was death in the heart of an Indian conflict compared with such a one as this? His strong muscles lost their strength, and he sunk to the earth weak as a child. “Steady! This won’t do, Ned,” said Jack Evans, sternly. ‘‘ Come, be a mau.” The words nerved him and he sprung to his | feet and approached the fatal verge and looked down. ‘The branches of the trees: beneath had been parted by the fall of a heavy body, but had risen again, concealing the earth beneath. ‘““T’'m afraid it’s all over, Ned,” said Jack Evans. ‘It is forty feet to the ground, and if the trees did not break the fall— Will you go “Tl go,” replied Ned, eagerly. ‘I’m the best climber, by all odds, and if I need you, Pll sing out. Give me your lariat.” Jack took the dressed rawhide lariat from his | down, or shall I?” | saddle and passed it over to Clayton, who join- ed it to his own by the knot known as the double bowline, which could not jam or slip. This done, he fastened one end of the rope about a tree and threw the other over the edge of the cliff, where it dangled within a few feet of the ground. Assisted by Jack, the boy swung himself over the verge, and went down the lariat, hand over hand with great rapidity, and, reaching the earth unhurt, parted the bushes and saw the mangled form of the black mus- tang lying upon the gnarled roots of the pine trees, crushed into a shapeless mass by the fall. His legs were broken, his neck doubled under- neath his body and the skull crushed to a pom- ace. Exerting his utmost strength, the boy managed to thrust the body aside as he saw no trace of the beautiful girl. Where could she be if not beneath the fallen steed? A close search about the body revealed nothing, and Ned shouted to his companion above: ‘* The horse is here but the girl is nowhere to | be seen.” A& he spoke he glanced upward and saw some- thins waite and ghastly among the green leaves of a pine tree, thirty feet above his head. He uttered a cry of dismay. The girl was up the tree, but whether dead or alive he could not tell. Grasping the body of the tree, he ascended rap- idly and reached the place where the white dress of the girl showed amid the foliage. As he came near he could see that mae was senseless, and | | that there were spots of blood upon her dress. She had fallen upon a strong branch which tended upward, and had been thrown into a fork of the pine’ in such a way that even though dead it would have been impossible for her to fall. Ned pushed upward in a fever of excitement, fearing that she might fall before he could get to her, but he breathed more freely when he swung himself up to the limb by her side and looked down into the beautiful face. ““T never saw anything half so beautiful,” he murmured. ‘‘Oh, Heaven, I hope she is not dead.” She was indeed beautiful—one of those rare creatures in whose face you can read spotless purity of heart. He gently disengaged her from the branches, raised her head a little, and could feel that she was warm, and placing his inger on her wrist decided that the pulse still at. ** Alive, Jack!” he shouted, cheerfully. ‘‘ Hur- rah! Let us get her up out of this hole.” The tree stood close to the edge of the ravine, and Jack pushed out the lariat with a pole so that the boy could sp it. Drawing it in quickly, Ned lashed it under the arms of the senseléss girl in such a way that it could not slip. Rtake in the slack above, Jack,” he said. “Carefully now; wait till I give the word.” He took the senseless form upon one arm and walked out far as he dared upon a stout limb, holding to one above him for support. Here he held her out until the cord was perpendicular and she could not strike against the wall, and then gave the signal to his friend above, who hauled away and soon had the light form of the girl safe upo: *he level, at the verge of the chasm. The rope was now let down for Ned, and he quickly stood upon solid earth, gazing with a strange fondness at the beautiful being acs ail u what it is, Jack,” he whispered ou what it is, Jack,” he w ; * she is Worth all the trouble we have had. She was alive when I tookher upand I guess we can her around,” “Get some water,” cried Jack, shortly. “Don’t stand fifing there, you young cub, un- less you want her to die on our hands.” ‘‘Put some whisky on her lips and nostrils while I go for the water,” said Ned, spatching the canteen from his saddle. ‘‘Tll put a girdle | round the earth in forty minutes, for her sake,” ‘** She is a nice girl,” said Jack, uncorking the canteen and pouring a portion of its.contents into his palm. ‘“ Away with you.” Ned hurried away while the older man stoop- ed and bathed the pale lips of the fainting girl in the strong spirits. He had satisfied himself that she still lived and that no bones were broken, and bent over her fondly, his rough face showing a sympathy hardly to be looked for in one of his class. He was thinking of that sister whom he had lost so long ago—a child og oe what he might have been had she ived. The color began to steal back by imperceptible degrees into the pale cheek of the girl and she stirred a little just as Ned came back with the canteen of water. ‘‘ Fill the cup about two-thirds full and give it to me,” he said. ‘‘ She is coming to herself.” Ned obeyed orders and stood waiting anxious- ly, holding the cup, while the ranger bathed the face and neck of the maiden in the pure liquid which the boy had brought. Their perseverance had its reward, for she opened her eyes locking wildly at them. “There, there, little un,” said Jack, tenderly “you are allright now, if you keep up a good heart. Give me the cup, Ned!” He took it from the now trembling hand of the boy and poured in a little of the liquor. This done, he made her drink a little, and in a moment she was able to sit up, supported by the ranger. ‘“That’s right, little ’un,” said Jack. ‘‘ Never say die while you have good friends’on hand, eh? Drink a little more and get strong.” She obeyed with touching confidence, but was evidently in a maze of doubt, not knowing where she was. Her eyes pe ssed from the dark face of Jack to the more youthful and handsome one of Ned, Clayton, and a glimpse. of remem- brance cam to her. “T saw you under the rocks when I passed,” she whispered. ‘‘I can recall little except the fearful storm, and that terrible ride across the prairie, and then I fell, and can remember noth- ing more.” “This youngster was for chasing after you in the ‘norther,’ but he couldn’t go ten steps before he was down,” said Jack, laughing. ‘“Thank you,” said the girl, softly, ‘thank you very much, I know that I should have died but for you. Where did you find me? I know that I fell, that is all.” ‘¢T'll tell you as we ride back,” said Jack, hur riedly, for he saw that Ned was about to show her the fearful danger from which she had been rescued. ‘‘ Where did you live, little un?” ‘“My name is Lillian Hardin, and my father has a ranch down the river toward Stanley- ville.” Jack cast @ look of strange meaning at his young companion. ‘Captain Hardin, do you mean?—the Ranger of the Rio Grande?” ‘They give my father that name upon the river. Oh, gentlemen—” ‘‘Hold on,” said Jack. ‘TI ain’t a gentleman —fur from it, I’m a regular old Texican ranger, hide and hoof, and gentry and myself don’t mix. Well, as my young friend Ned has busi- ness with your father, I guess we’d better tod- dle.” ‘Where is my horse?” ‘ Bleeged to leave him,” said Jack, shortly. “You'll ride behind me, and my mustang won’t feel your weight no more ’n a feather. Do you feel strong enough to ride now?” She arose at once, but as she still seemed weak, the old nl caught her in his arms and carried her quickly down the slope, while Ned took up the lariats, untied them, placed them on the horses, and led them through the bushes. They had just reached the edge of the chaparral, when the older ranger paused and held up his hand—a signal which the young man hati too often seen not to dadletebent It meant danger Ata touch from Ned the horse stopped short and stood silent, while Ned stole gently forward and reached the side of his com on, who had sunk upon one knee, holding ian in his arms, and was peering through the bushes at a p of Comanches who stood beside their horses about three hundred yards from the cover. They were in their war-paint, gorgeous im serapes and feathers, and y were not pleasant neighbors for the small party in the ” (ne De st bx Rae. ona vi, ee ” AE iyi its a ze
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a ee - os : 2 ee ae ss es Be TERS HAST ESOT Single Hand. ‘The girl must be hidden,” whispered Jack. “Tf them cusses strike ou> trail, they will fol- low like hounds on a scent. I know their natur’, | and itis p’izen to think how mean they can be. Meanness is their natural gait. It just suits them.” Lifting Lillian in his arms again, he began to search for a hiding-place. He found it at last— asort of natural cavityin the face of the ra- vine, so overhung with bushes and vines as to completely conceal it from view. Telling her to remzin quiet, and on no account to move un- less she heard her name called, he htrried back fo the spot where the boy was still watching for the coming of the Indians, who remained in the | So i same position, conversing eagerly, and pointing now and then to the south. Ata glance Jack had recognized the man who had led them, ‘Single Hand,” a redoubted chief of the Co- manches, a man who was known and feared for years along the Texan borders. He alone was mounted, a man of gigantic mold, with a face cut like a Roman cameo, a nose hooked like the beak of a vulture, and black eyes full of savage fire. The Western annais are full of tales of his prowess and savage deeds. He had dared to ride at the head of a thousand warriors throygh the streets of a Mexican city of forty thousand inhabitants, slaying as he went, and carrying off almost incalculable spoils. He had taken his share in a hundred fights with the rangers, and many a Texan family had cause to remem- ber his name with sorrow. His dark hair, un polluted by knife or shears, fell to his saddle, and upon his stately head he wore a tiara of many-colored feathers, giving him a strangely- picturesque appearance. But this man, perfect in every other respect physically, had one de- fect. He had but one hand, and from this cir- cumstance derived his name. Where his left hand should have been there was nothing except around, bony protuberance, shaped somewhat like the head of an adder. He wore the peculiar dress of the Comanche chief, and over all was cast a gaudy serape, probably taken from some unfortunate Mexican who had crossed his track. “*T don’t like the look of this, Fred,” whisper- ed Jack. ‘I don’t think we are game to take care of twenty Comanche with Single Hand at their head. Why don’t the mean cusses go on about their business, blast ’em?’ At this moment one of the younger warriors approached Single Hand and said something to him, pointing to the prairie not far away. “Bet you forty dollars he sees our trail,” groaned Jack. ‘See here; we’ve got to shin, out of Galilee, mighty quick, or we are done for. Lead the hosses back to the edge of the ravine and take off the lariats at the place where we went down.” Ned hurried back at once and Jack remained to watch. He saw that the Indians ‘were scat- tered over the plain, studying the fresh trail, and from time to time pointing to the chaparral. At last, seeming to make up their minds, they made a sudden dash for the thicket—so quickly, indeed, that it was with the utmost difficulty Jack got back in time toavoid them. He found that Ned understood him and had already hung the lariats over the cliff and was waiting for him. “Down with you, my lad,” cried Jack. **Here they come, devil bent for election. Take your rifle.’ ‘ They “slung” their rifles, pistots and ammu- nition, and slid down the rope into the tree and from thence to the ground, and found a cave which commanded the verge of the fissure, where they were out of sight. They had not done this a moment too soon, and their horses, which had fled at the approach of the Indians were hardly out of sight, when the tufted hea of a Comanche warrior appeared looking down into the ravine. “The white men are not birds to fly through the air,” said a commanding voice, speaking in the Comancne tongue. “They are hidden somewhere. Let my you7g men look for them, for we have been long upon the plains and have not taken one American 3calp.” : They could hear the Indians hurrying to and fro above them, and feared that they might dis- cover the hiding-piace of Lillian. -But, from ‘tthe place where they crouched, they could see that the hanging vines and bushes which con- cealed her were as yet undisturbed. ‘The little °un is smart, she is,” whispered Jack. ‘‘If they don’t find her, we can take our chances. Ha! the red nigger has found the la- riat!” z It was but too true. ‘he means of their de- scent was revealed, for it had been impossible for them to move it after going down. A wild the Comanches announced their de- CHAPTER III. HIDE AND SEEK, LILLIAN remained snugly ensconced in the nook in which she had been placed by the cau- tious ranger, listening with bated breath to the cries of the savages, and quaking with terror | every time the footsteps came near her in the She had seen her two | progress of the search. strange friends descend the ravine and knew that, for the present, they were safe, but was grieved that the desire to be of service to her had brought theminto danger. She approached the opening and peered out without moving the leaves but cemlit not see them, although the movement brought the lariat by which they had descended into view, and showed her that an Indian had already commenced the descent and that others were waiting to follow. ‘Are they blind or have they found some way of escape, that they make no sign?’ she muttered. The idea was no sooner formed than it was answered, for the sudden discharge of two rifles, so nearly at the same moment that it seemed like one report, sounded through the glen. The savage upon the rope released his hold and fell into the ravine with a loud crash os the branches broke beneath him, and another who stood upon the cliff fell dead in his tracks. This sudden attack surprised the Indians, who at once dropped behind the rocks, while a hoarse ery of triumph came from below. A strange battle now commenced about the | ravine, The moment the two besieged men had fired they shifted their ground a little, while the bullets and arrows of the Indians rattled through the leaves into the spot over which the smoke of the rifles arose, They lay sheltered beneath a great pine; the trailing branches of which swept the ground, and whenever an In- dian dated show his head above the ledge it be- came the mark of a bullet. Both Ned Clayton and Jack Evans were finished marksmen, and were not likely to miss their aim at that dis- tance, and they soon made this evident to the Indians, who had four killed and as many wounded when they withdrew-to consult. “‘They’ll make it warm for us yet, Ned,” said Jack, ina low tone. ‘‘ We must shin out of this somehow, ‘* And leave Lilian!” cried Ned, indignantly. “* Pll never do it.” *““Can’t we come back, you obstrepelous young varmint?’ whispered Jack. ‘I ain’t more likely to leave her than you are,” ‘All right; don’t let your angry passions rise, Jack, for I’m sure I did not mean any harm, so lead the way. But, hold on; we ought to give her some kind of a signal to show her that we mean to come back.” ‘Can't be done, boy; she will stay until we return; you may bet-on that. Come on.” There was little time to lose, for already half a dozen lariats were hanging over the sides of the ravine, and the Indians were preparing to descend, Stooping low and keeping under the shadow of the gloomy piles, they darted away up the ravine, moving cautiously, though swiftly. The bottom” of the ravine was of the hardest rock, and to trail them would be im- possible. For half a mile there was no break in the gulch-wall, but at last they reached a place where an irregular cleft ran upward upon the side opposite the cavity in which Lilian lay concealed. They climbed up hastily and reach- ed the top, and at once turned back toward the place which they had ci left, keeping out of sight behind the bushes. The frantic cries which they heard below them, convinced them that the Indians were again at fault. Looking into the ravine, Ned saw them hurrying wildly po riae seeking vainly for some trace of the fu- gitives. “They'll have to give it up, Jack,” chuckled the boy. “If we only had Lillian with us now, we could leave them alone in their glory.” **T didn’t like to risk it,” said Jack Evans, ““They are mean cusses, and the gal is perfectly safe where I left her if she don’t get impatient and show herself before the time. Keep dark, now; them Kimanche would start at the rustle of a leaf.” C They stole on cautiously, and reached the point at which they aimed, just opposite the hiding- laceof Lillian. Here they found a shelter and y downto watch. From this edver they could see that only eight or ten of the sa had gone into the ravine, and that the rest were standing in a group above the immovable agure of Single Hand, upon the verge of the cleft, watching the proceedings of their companions below, with intense interest. One of the sav: in his search happened to near the face of the rock which was the hi place of-Lillian, He paused suddenly and pick-~ ¥ : | eee ame eee eee | He strugg: ed up something which lay upon the earth, and looked at it closely. small twig, covered with green leaves, but these readers of nature become perfect in their art by studying the trivialities which others would pass by in contempt. Where did the twig come from? It was green, had not been broken from the parent stem more _ than half an hour. How then did it come here, since none of his companions had passed the ~ spot? These were the questions which forced themselves upon the mind of the savage. He stepped beck a pace or two, intently examining the face of the cliff for a solution of the ques- tion, and his eye brightened as it lighted upon - the bushes which hung over Lillian’s place of concealment, for he saw that other twigs were bent and broken and that some had been ar- ranged in too artistic a manner. “An Indian does not readily follow a false scent, nor does he like to raise a false alarm, lest he incur the ridicule of his companions. - This man was an old warrior, and had much to lose if he misled his tree cevrep tc so he threw ~ down the twig and walked deliberately back to one of the lariats which hung over the cliff, and commenced the ascent, ‘* Now what is that red thief after?” whisper- ed Jack, who had been watching his movements, uneasily, for some moments. ‘‘He means mis- chief, I am afraid.” ‘‘ Shall I give it to him?’ demanded Ned, eager- ly throwing forward his rifle. ‘No, hold on,” replied Jack. ‘I don’t want to let them know that we are here until we are forced to do it. Let him go up.” It would have been better if Ned had followed his first impulse, for the man did mean mist¢hief, fod to the top of the cliff and was helped up by ‘those who:remained with the chief. “Why does Nemona come here?” said Single Hand, ‘Has he seen something from below?’ ‘‘Nemona has seen something,” replied the warrior. ‘‘He does not know whether it is a good sign or a false one, but will go and see.” He stalked away alone, and a moment after- ward appeared upon the summit of the cliff, directly above the spot where Lillian lay, Then 3, ack Evans saw too late that he had been wrong in suffering the Indian to escape so long, and as he bent down to thrust aside be bushes, the ranger raised his rifle and fired, and Nemona, hae ng: a cry, fell from his perch into the ravine elow. ‘*That comes of being too cussed inquisitive,” roared Jack. ‘‘Give it to the others, my boy.” Ned fired, and had the satisfaction of creating a decided disturbance in the group about Single Hand, One man dropped in his tracks, shot through the heart, and the bullet passing com- pletely through bis body, wounded the great chief slightly in the wrist. In an instant the place was deserted, not an Indian remaining in sight, either upon the cliff or in the ravine be- low. me see the red nigger that dares to put a finger upon those bushes while I am here to watch." The Indians down in the ravine were in a > tight place. They had the highest respect for the aim of the rangers, and knew that it would be very unhealthy for them to show hand or foot while the whites were on the watch. It was an awkward predicament, and Single Hand began to be very doubtful whether any thing was to be made out of this obstinately valiant pair. Tho two had reloaded their rifles and were on . the watch for any second attempt to approach Lillian’s hiding-place. Single and was acute enough to see that somethi 4 was concealed near the spot where Nemona had met his fate which the rangers desired to defend, and he was equally determined to find what this hid- den treasure might be. Creeping up to the edge of the ravine, he shouted an order to his men below in the Indian tongue, and Jack Evans be- to look blue. oe We have got to git,” hesaid. ‘Did you hear W bec he said?” ‘“Dén’t know the Comanche tongue,” replied Ned. ‘‘ What did he say?” ‘* He ordered them to place to climb up, and “Don’t let us run, for God’s sake, Jack,” pleaded Ned. ‘‘I can’t leave her that way.” “We'll only get chawed up if we stay,” said Jack. “‘Let me think it over, Ihave it—come with me.” He slung his rifle and darted into the chapar- ral, closely followed by Ned Clayton, and mak- Me circuit, approached the cleft where they come up from the ravine, Here they lay t style up the ravine, finds e us in the rear.” It was nothing except a ~ ‘Well guard that spot,” cried Jack. ‘Let . of rs!
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* enemies to decamp, which t 4 down and waited, and shortly after the Indians who had been in the ravine came out of the cleft, and striking their trail above, followed it swiftly southward. The moment their forms were concealed by the branches, Jack arose, laughing, and the two went down the cleft into the ravine. “That was well done, Jack,” said the delight- ed boy. ‘I don’t know that we can help her, anyhow, but [ want to see the last of it and know which way they take her, and then we can see the captain and tell him what to do. They crept in silence until they had passed | the place where they had previously been con- cealed, ere the savages could complete the cir- cle which they would doubtless make before they rushed in upon the empty nest. Again they concealed themselves and awaited further developments. “We are playing this game of hide-and-seek pretty fine, Ned, my boy,” said Evans, * san’t last forever, and they will get round us sure. If I can get a crack‘at Single Hand now, his loping will be at an end, for Pll mark him down certain.” The savages who had come up from thé ravine gathered in cautiously, and made. their rush, yelling like demons, but they stopped in blank dismay as they found the birds tlown. Their eries of triuraph changed to quavers of surprise, and then one of them shouted the unwelcome tidings to the chief. “ Which way have they gone,” Hand, without showing himself. “'The trail leads towards the setting sun,” re- plied the warrior who had spoken. ‘(They heard the words of Single Hand when he told you what to do, and have fled,” said the chief. ‘*‘ Let the warriors return and we will go on our way. This has been a bad trail for the sons of the Comanche.” “ Bet your life it has,” muttered Jack. ‘‘Ain’t it high, Ned, the way we have fooled the mean sharks?” * But they will get Lillian, now, and it seems hard after what we have done.” ‘““We can’t'do any more. If we fire at them now when they show themselves, these other blackguards behind will come down on us like a flood, and we can help her more if we keep shady than we could after they had raised our ha’r. It isn’t a very big party, anyhow, and T'll bet my last picayune we get her away from them in less than two days, if we only lay low and keep dark till the imps leave. What do you say?” P *T suppose you are right,” said Ned, “ but it grinds me terribly to let them beat us, after shouted Single ‘‘They’ve lost some scalps trying’it on,” said Jack, ‘‘and that don’t set very well on their stomachs. Quiet now, for your life.” Two savage warriors approachell the place which the whites had defended so long, and thrust aside the bushes. Jack Evans groaned, and Ned covered his face with his hands, for he fid not’ wish to witness the capture of Lillian. But a low exclamation from Jack caused hint to book up, and he saw that, as the Indians had torn away the bushes from the cavity, it was empty. 1 ““Oh, wouldn’t I like to wt now?’ hissed Jack, below his “breath. ‘‘Wouldn’t I like to scream like a painter? That gal has tricked them, as sure as you are born.” The Indians were at a stand-still. It must be remembered that they were not certain that the cavity contained any one, but were led to think so by the obstinacy with which the whites resisted any approach to thespot. Now that they saw it was empty they did not know what to think. If there had been a trail, it had been obliterated by their feet, and for the present, Lijlian, wherever she might be, was safe. ‘Oh, how I want to yell,” muttered Jack. “Smart? It ain’t a name for it, She’s the ’cutest girk in Tewas. Hush! here come our friends m the other side.” The warriors now appeared and were assisted up the cliff by their friends, and for awhile the murmur of voices could be heard above them. The whites remained quiet, waiting for their hey at last reluct- - antly did, full of rage at their loss. As usual ~ She, in such eases where it is possible they carried off the bodies of their slain friends, and as the sound of retreating hoofs could be heard the old easy ct? ty to his feet. Glory hallelujah! They are off and they ain't got the girl! Now, then, let us try to find her. é They scrambled up the side of the ravine aided by one of the lariats which had been left behind. As they reached the crest Jack hur- + Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. but -it | | to come almost from the earth beneath, he look- | peeping up from among the branches of a low | ascertaining the general direction taken by the ried out to the edge of the chaparral and looked after the Indians, and saw that they were near- ly a mile away, riding swiftly across the great plain. They had evidently given up all hope of revenge, at least for the present. “ Allright, Ned,” cried Jack. see if she answers.” Ned whistled and called Lillian by her name. A merry laugh was the reply, and, as it seemed ‘Call her and ed down and saw the piquant face of Lillian pine near the edge ‘of the ravine. As is often | the case with these trees the lower branches touched the ground, forming underneath a | splendid hiding-place. x: > cried. Ned. the size of life! Come out of that, you little witch!” He assisted her to get out of her hiding-place | and receive the warm grecting of Jack Lvans, who was delighted beyond measure at her e eape. - After the Indians in the ravine h moved away, and satisfied that the Comanches would soon force her friends to decamp, she had crept out of her hiding-place while the red-skins were creeping out of sight of the never-failing rifles and forced her way under the pine | branches.’ By good fortune this movement did not attract the attention of the enemy. * All right so far,” said Jack. ‘** Now, then, let us look for the hosses.” ‘* Here. she is, CHAPTER IV. THE MPETING—PEDRO’S TASK. THE horses had only run a short distance, and, being well-trained, the shrill whistle of Ned Clayton quickly brought them to the’ spot. After looking carefully across the prairie and Comanches, they rode off at a right-angle with the course of their enemies, and put the horses along at a good pace, Lillian rode. behind digck vans, whose strong horse did not seem to i'vel her additional weight, and carried them nobly. Half an hour later, as they crossed a roll in the prairie, they saw a strong party of horsemen, far in front, halted for a moment upon the green prairie. ‘“Who is, that?’ eried Jack, sharply. you make them out, Ned?” ** Rangers,” replied the boy, in a short, quick tone. ‘* We have nothing to fear from them.” The rangers had sighted them at the same moment, and at a word from their leader those who had dismounted sprung again into the sad- dle, and the whole band darted toward them. As they came nearer, Lillian uttered a cry of joy and stretched out her hands toward a hand- some, midle-aged man who rode at the head of the troop. A wild cheer went up from the en- tire party as they put their horses to the gallop and quickly surrounded our two friends, while the leader caught Lillian in his arms and clasped her to his breast. “My child, my child, my darling Lilly! where have you been? it you only knew all that we bave suffered on your account.” “‘T am sorry I went away, father,” replied Lillian, “‘ but I went for.a ride, and when the storm came on Vesuvius ran ig f with me. You must thank these kind friends, dear father, for but for them I should be dead, \or at least a prisoner of the Comanches.” Captain Hardin turned to Jack Evans and ex- tended his hand. “Take it,” he said. ‘It is the hand of an honest man and true Texan, and I swear faith to you and yours while I give it. The time ma come when I may be of service to you and shall not forget you.” .“ You don’t want to give me too much praise,” said Jack. ‘‘ This youngster had more to do with it than I did, and would have fol- lowed her through the norther if he could.” The captain shook hands heartily with Ned, and was evidently taken with his handsome, in- genuous face. “We shall be great friends,” he said, heartily. “Get Lilly’s horse, Staples. Gentlemen, you must come with me and accept my hospitality for a time, for we cannot part until we know each other better.” Ned was looking over the ranger band and thought he had never seen so strange a party. Men of all ages—youth, manhood and men with gray hair—composed it, but upon every face was imprinted that reckless disregard of per- sonal danger so peculiar to the prairie-men, All were well armed, though there was little regu- larity in their style of dress, and each carried a lasso coiled to his saddle-bow. ‘* What was it the gal said ’bout the Kimman- * Do che, stranger?” said a grizzly old ranger, named Prairie Joe, ‘That kind o’ interests me, that does.” ‘*We were attacked in Deep Gulch by about twenty of them under Single Hand. We rubbed out some and the rest gave it up as a bad job and left.” ‘* Kimmanche? hear that, Cap.” ““T hear,” said Hardin, who was talking fond- ly with his daughter. ‘*Don’t be afraid, Joe. If Single Hand has dared to come so near the station we wiil make him repent it, but not now, ‘* Pm afeard he'll get away,” grumbled Joe, *‘TIt is only a short hour’s ride to the ranch Joe, and my wife will be in torment witil i Single Hand? i hope you | bring Lilly back.” ‘That's so,” said J0e, “but c tuldn’t you let me take "bout twenty men and foller up Single Hand? I’m literally spilin’ for atight, Cap, and old Single Hand has a grudge to settle with me, you know.” “Just as you like, Joe; qnly promise me not to follow too far nor make an attack before you know their strength.” “*Good enuff. Will you go with mé and kind o’ point out the way?’ Jack readily agreed to this proposition, and ., Siranger, | Ned would have accompanied him; but Captain Hardin and Lilly pressed him to go with them to the ranch, and he consented, Old Joe and his party rode away in pursuit of Single Hand, and the captain, followed by ten;men, turned again to the south. Lilly rode between her father and Ned, chatting ina ray tone and giv- ing an account of her adventures. ** Young man,” said the captain, ‘‘ the more I hear of this affair the more I am convinced that you haye been of the greatest service to me, seek to disguise it as you may. J am nota person of many words, but I trust that my acts may speak for me,” Some inexplicable emotion was visible in the noble face of Ned Clayton. He seemed to hesi- tate to take the hand of Captain Hardin, but, impelled by a power he could not control, he struck his hand forcibly into the extended palm of the captain. ** Agreed,” he said. at Bere “T will be your friend to 16 death.’ “Why, my young friend, I hope there is: nothing in my face which you do not like.” ** No, no,” cried Ned, “far from that, but [— Heavens! if [ could only explain to you why I hesitated. If I only could do that, you would understand the position in which I am placed, But, I agreed to stand by you, and I'll do it, though the devil stand at the door.” The captain looked somewhat surprised at the seemingly unwarrantable heat of the young man, but said nothing, and they rode on in silence for some distance, when Lillian broke the quiet by a merry laugh. “This is a Quaker meeting; no one speaks un- til the spirit moves,” she cried. ‘Father, ] must ask Phos how you are going to manage its¢ that my friends can stay with us always?” *“Umph!” said the captain, ‘Iwill attend that, insome way. -You ride well, young mam —excuse me—may I call you by your first name?” ‘* Every one calls me Ned,” replied the young- ster. ‘‘ What were you going to say?’ “IT was going to ask if you could break horses.” “T can do that against amy man in Texas,” replied Ned, eagerly, ‘‘ You anticipate m wish to stay with you, but, understand that should refuse to stay as a Py great upon your bounty. Give me work and I am your man.” ‘* We will see what can be done, Ned,” said the captain, kindly. ‘‘Does that satisfy you, Lilly?’ “Any thing which will keep Ned withus. I warn you that I shall be exacting, and when I order you to come, there is nothing for you te do but obey, Master Ned.” ““T am your slave,” said Ned, laughing, and thoughtlessly adding a quotation froma Latin poet. Captain Hardin looked at him quickly. ‘You have an education then, my boy?” Ned blushed as he replied: My education is such as may be picked up from a dissolute man who had it in his power to make himself a high pate in the nation, but who by wild excess and a lawless life has made himself an outcast. Don’t ask me to speak of that, Captain Hardin. It is a sealed boak to every one. “Tt will not: press you, my, boy, said the cap- i tain, heartily, “* but I am g cation, for you will enjo more, I suppose a wild AK _—- L EE SO ne a OL ae ee
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Single Hand. peur to apologize for liking the ancient poets, ef I was.you, I wouldn’t send that word to Tom ut it isso. That is one of my stock ranches.” | Duke.” They passed a number of rudely-built huts with a large corral near at hand which was full of cattle. A number of Mexican half-breeds were loitering about in the sun, who became in- | tensely active when the horsemen appeared.” “That is the way the villains act,” said Har- ‘din. ‘ J’ve gotian overseer who will do any thin rather than force his countrymen to work, an it is simply impossible for us to get on together. Here, Enriquez, where is Pedro Gonzales?” ‘*He is at the next horse corral, Senor Cap- itano,” pene the man. ‘‘ Shall I run ahead and fell him that you are coming?” “‘Oh, no, my good friend. You need not take -all that trouble,’ » ‘“No trouble at all, senor,” said the man, ea- gerly. ‘I will make haste.” “You may stay where you are, Enriquez. We are riding that way, and will see him our- selves.” The man looked disappointed, and drew back, with a muttered oath, and the party rode on. They passed through a ravine between low hills, and came suddenly upon the horse corral, where they found the man they sought, crouching up- on the greensward in front of the corral, playing cards with two disreputable-lookin: ans, in the rude dress of the prairie. So absorbed were they in their game, that they did not hear the sound of the coming hoofs until the horsemen were almost upon them. ‘*Hip-hurrah!” cried one of the strange men. “*Pll have all your share if this thing goes on. ‘There’s an ace for you, bully boy.” “You are having a good game, Pedro,” said Captain Hardin. ‘‘ Now tell me who these fine fellows are, and by what right you are wasting the time for which I pay you?” Pedro bounded to his feet, in great astonish- ment, while the two men quietly appropriated the money which lay upon the pi Was ita mistake, or was there something in their manner which showed that they were not unknown to Ned Clayton? They seemed to look him over as a stranger, it is true; yet in the mind of Lilly there was a half-formed thought that they re- “) cognized him. “Don’t get wrathy, captain,” said one of the men. we thought we’d humor him. hope?” **T don’t allow men to hang about my corrals No offense, I who can not give a good account of them- | selves ” ‘We was thinking to join the rangers, cap- tain,” said the man, “Tt seems to me that, for men that have just come from the Santa Fe trail, you know a great deal about us here.” ‘Lord love you, captain, do you s'‘pose that ‘there isa man in Texas that don’t know the Rangers of the Rid? We want to jine, and kin ‘fight, too,” added the other man. ‘No one joins my company who is not vouch- | If you can find | ed for by some of the members. any rangers who will say that you are good and drue men, you can come in.” * But, captain, ain’t that a little hard? We are strangers to your men—” ** Then I don’t want you, boys. Live around here a year, and let me see that you are the right sort, and we will take you in.’ ‘** You seem mighty particular,” said the man, with a covert sneer. ‘Come, Jim, get the horses and let’s toddle,” “Wait a moment,” ,said Hardin, who was looking at them sharply. know a man named Tom Duke? The fellow started, but recovered himself in- | stantly, with a look of surprise on his face. a you say Duke, captain?” es “T can’t say I know him, captain. I have *~ heerd that he is a mighty hard man and makes a heap of trouble round here, but I don’t know him.’ “ He is suspected of being in league with the horse-thieves who infest this section. If you should meet him, say to him that Captain Har- din, of the Rio Rangers, will hang him before the year is up.” I ain’t likely to meet him, Cap,” said the fel- low, with a furtive glance at the immovable face of Ned Clayton; ‘‘but if Ido, I’ll be sure to tell him what you say. He’s got heaps of friends in Texas, I’ve heerd.” “He has many accomplices, some of them high in power. They steal negroes and horses, and have been holding high carnival in Texas, but Pll have them yet.” _“T wouldn’t be surprised if you did, Cap, but nad wv “You see, we’ve come in from the Santa ¥e trail, and the greaser wanted ‘a game, and | “Do you happen. to | ** And why not?” “Because such a thing mout a as for him to ketch you, and likely he’d make it warm for you. Hyar’sour hosses. Good-by, Cap—I wish | you’d e us in the rangers?” Hardin shook his head, and they rode away at a sound pace, never looking behind them, and the captain turned upon his overseer, who was waiting for his share of the captain’s anger. “Now, Pedro, itis yourturn. You know who those scoundrels are, and I must know, too,” ‘* Pardon, Senor Capitano,” said the man, sul- lenly, ‘‘ but I know nothing about them.” | He was adark-faced fellow, in the gaudy dress ‘ of the Mexican of middle rank, rather fine-look- ) ing, but with an evil eye. | ‘That is as much as to say that you won’t |.tell me who the men are, eh? e willsee about that, by-and-by. In the meantime, I am going to put you to the test, and see whether you are as good a horse-breaker as you claim to be. Here, half a dozen of you go and bring out that bucking phenomenon—the black with the star mark.” “What are you going to ask me to do, capi- tano?” said Pedro, “You are going to ride him. If you do it, all right; I will give youa place still. If you fail, I want another breaker.” Half a dozen greasers came out of a small corral, leading a magnificent sixteen-hand black, with a wicked eye. He had suffered them to put the saddle and bridle ‘on him, and seemed to await developments, ‘Can you ride that horse, Ned?’ whispered Lillian. “T can ride any horse,” replied Ned, calmly. «Set the greaser at work, captain.” “Ride him,” said the captain, pomting to the horse. ‘‘ You know what it means if you fail.” CHAPTER V. HORSE-BREAKING—THE COLPORTEUR. Ir was evident that the fellow did not like the job. The Mexicans are good riders—perhaps, as a class, the best in the world, and he had been trained in the saddle from boyhood; but there was something too meek and humble about this animal, which he did not like. ‘Such an- gelic quietude meant mischief, and the man ap- proached the horse slowly from in front, The animal began to swing slowly around, as if up- on a pivot, always presenting those threatening | because he knew that this would be powder | ae while the Mexican kept so far out of | reach, Pedro hissed out a lurid Mexican oath and ran | in, and before the horse could strike, he was in the saddle. The horse gave one frantic leap, which sent the Mexican flying out into rai clearing the air like a thunderbolt, and then settled down ness upon his front. Pedro rolled over twice curious figure; but he was on his feet in an in- stant, and again in the saddle, and actually got “kick” again. But this only brought out new tactics in this | Darting suddenly forward at | , versatile beast. | full speed for twenty yards, he stopped as sud- eb planted his fore-feet and lowered his ead. | alighting upon his head and shoulders with stunning force. The horse was now literally wild. Strikin | right and left at all who opposed him, he rush furiously at the prostrate Mexican, and it would have fared badly with him but that Ned Clay- ton bounded from the saddle and stopped him in full career, and, to the surprised of all, the im | ) poutarce was in the saddle and firmly seated 7 the horse could do any thing to baffle “Clear the way, all of you,” cried Ned, wav- ing his hand. “I'll break or kill him, one or the other. Back, [ say!” The Mexicans willingly stood aside, and a battle royal now began between man and horse. The mustang and half-bred horse of Texas is in- imitable in the trick of ‘‘ bucking.” That is, he will leap into the air at least two feet and come down with his legs stiff, giving the rider a shock which will either unseat him from the saddle, or give him a blow that will half stun him. This particula? horse was an adept in the ex- ercise; but Ned was up to the trick, and the mo- ment the horse began to “‘ buck,” he slipped his feet out of the stirrups and fastened his spurs in the heavy saddle-cloth. As the horse kaped, upon his feet again with indescribable meek- | before he could recover himself, and made a i] | one foot in the stirrup before the horse could | Away went Pedre out of the saddle, | 5 | | he would rise a little in the saddle, and come down easily when the animal struck the ground, with a smile on his face. “He'll get sick of that exercise after a while,” said the young man, as the horse bucked again. After bucking three or four times without avail, the horse stopped and seemed to hesitate before trying a new trick. Then he darted out as before, and tried to dispossess himself of his obstinate rider, but Ned was on the watch and kept his equilibrium by leaning back in the sad- dle. Up to this time Ned kept the snaffle and had not attempted to use the.curb, but took it up now as the horse showed a disposition to rear. The Mexican. bit is 4 cruel thing, and a heavy » hand upon a curb will quickly cure the most ob- stinate horse of rearing. With the curb in his left hand,’ Ned lifted his heavy riding-whip, and began to rain blow after blow upon the wild » steed. Again and and again he tried to rear; but kept down by the iron hand upon the curb, it was of no avail. Then he tried the last of his accomplishments—falling suddenly to the [ ground, and endeavoring to roll upon his rider. ° Se, Se SS Se As he fell, Lillian uttered a cry of fear, but her alarm was dispelled as she saw that Ned had cleared his feet from the cloth, and was stand- ing over the horse, laughing. The animal leaped up again, but only to find his rider fixed as y as ever upon his back. Then Ned sent the spurs into the sides of the now wild horse, and started him at a furious run across the | plain, and out of sight behind the horse corral. Five minutes passed, when the thunder of hoofs was heard again, and Ned came back at a mad gallop, his rowels red with gore, and the foam flecking the sides of the conquered. beast. He was sitting easily in the saddle, no longer using whip or spur, and holding the snaffle light- ly in his hand. To show them that he was completely success- ful, he put the horse through his paces, making , him trot, canter or gallop at will, and then ~ brought him back to the astonished party. “Here he is captain,” he said. ‘ After Il have trained him to stand the flapping of a woman’s riding-habit, your daughter can ride him with safety; but he is the Teal ideal of a ranger’s horse;” “He is yours, Ned,” replied the captain. ‘The man who has conquered him has the best | right to own him,” heels to the enemy, but never offering to kick, | Paty captain, he is a very valuable animal, an i 99 ‘““You won’t refuse him if J give him to you,” said Lillian. ‘‘ You must take him, orI sh | think you do not care to have saved oy life.” 1€ “IT accept,” said Ned, hanging his head; ‘I ; am not worthy to accept favors from you, or any other good man or woman, but:I will be; I will labor to make myself better, and to-day be- gin a new life.” “Verily, the young man rides like unto a warrior of old times,” said a snuffling voice; ; ‘‘and it does my heart good to hear him promise } to begin a new life.” They all turned in surprise and looked at the speaker. He was a tall, high-shouldered man mounted upon a sorry-looking Mexican “plug. with huge saddle-bags, stuffed to repletion on each side. i His face was like that of one of Cromwell’s hard riders, and his long flaxen hair hung uncut .- to his shoulders. The plainly-cut black clothes, the huge saddle-bags and sanctified air, bespoke one of the colporteurs who traveled over the new States and Territories in their earlier - days. Ned looked at him in astonishment, and for a moment seemed absolutely horrified; but recov- ered himself in a moment. “Ah,” said Captain Hardin. I presume.” “T am an unworthy member of the fold, seek- ing to pluck the brands from the burning.” ‘Well, you've got a good field of labor here, sir,” said Hardin, smiling slightly. ‘The boys shall listen to you; I promise that much at the least. If you will go on half a mile you will find my ranch, and’ are welcome to make it a aa mye while you stay in this sec- on. The colporteur rode on after giving ti and H looked after him disapprovingly. ““T don’t like his looks,” he said. ‘‘ I have en- tertained many of these men in my time, and most of them were noble-hearted gentlemen, who had given their lives to a great and labori- ous work, but this fellow looks like a hypocrite. What is your opinion of him, Ned?” Cla started, for he had been wrapped in deep thought. “J—did you speak to me?’ he faltered. ud _ “A colporteur,
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6 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ET CERES! 3 ac a ae T asked you what you thought of the colpor: ? ““A hypocrite!” replied Ned. ‘A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Better trust the most treach- erous Mexican on earth than that man.” * You only ae my own thoughts, Ned. Pe- dro Gonzalez, [ have no further need of your services, as Mr. Edward Clayton will act as my overseer. You can go.” **T am to be superseded by this cursed Ameri- ean there?’ hissed Pedro. “You heard what I said? You have already taken up a month’s pay in advance, but that ou may not go out penniless there are two en il Let us part good friends, but your associates are bad, and I will have no man about me whom I cannot trust.” “T will have your heart’s blood for this, young sir,” hissed Pedro, coming close to Ned. ‘ Bear that in mind.” ‘* Pshaw,” replied Ned. or I will help you.” But the Mexican planted himself inthe road and heaped a torrent of invective upon the a man, who stood it for some moments y. ‘*Once for all,” he said. Bi will you get out of my road? Ha! Take that! Pick hi up, ear et Ped ] in the d looki ro was lying e dust, looking u out of a very black eye. He had iinealoniabed the musclar power of Ned Clayton, and a Mexi- can has a great respect for muscle. Again he rushedlin, and was once more deposited upon mother earth. When he arose this time it was with a knife in hishand. Captain Hardin drew a pistol, but there was no need to use it, for Ned rushed in, wrenched the knife from the Mexi- can’s hand, and snatching up a riding-whip, be- labored him until he yelled for mercy. ‘There, greaser, take care how you draw a knife on me again, for the next time it won’t be a whip I use. Very sorry that this thing has hap ned, captain.” k you, Pedro,” said Hardin, ‘I Rive you prairie law: three days’ run, and if after that we find you in this section, you know what to ee Now f°: don’t waste time.” e of his Mexican friends brought out his horse, and Pedro mounted, and the malevolent look upon his face promised revenge if it was ever in his power. The rest rode away down the road, and soon came in sight of Hardin’s Ranch. It stood upon the river in the midst of a beautiful country and every thing showed signs of thrifty, husban The long, low, rambling buildings with white walls gleaming amid the trees; the rare southern plants, and the oups of black servants, were peculiar charac- ristics of the Texan ranchero of wealth. ‘* That is my home,” said Lillian. “Is it not beautiful, Ned?’ ‘Tt is, indeed,” replied the young horse- tamer. ‘‘To a homeless outcast, one who has lived a wandering life, and can not even remem- ber his father’s face, such a home as that would bea dream of Arcadia.” - **Tt is to be your home,” said Lillian, warmly. ‘*Did you not hear me say that you are never to leave us, sir? And do you dare rebel thus early in the day?” ‘‘My daughter is right, my dear Ned,” said the captain. ‘‘I never had a son, and if I can supply a parent’ place to you I shall be happy, ren as for my ol aon in and see her, Lilly.” The girl sprung from the saddle and ran into the hall and they heard a glad cry of joy from within. “T can’t see your wife now,” said Ned, hur- riedly. ‘‘She loves her daughter so well that she will be inclined to give me greater credit than I deserve for my share in to-day’s busi- ness.” “Not a bit of it. My wife is an angel, my boy, far better than a rough old ranger deserves, bit lL hope my great love for her is something. Boy, you know where to go. Pomp, come here and take this gentleman’s horse; and remember, sir, that’ you are to obey him in every thing as you obey me.” “Ki!” said the Negro, taking the bridle. “TI hear ye, marse, but Ise so tickled ’cause you tink we niggas can "bey any one same as we does you. i!” “Get out, you sooty imp,” said the captain, striding into the hall. ‘‘Come along, Ned; makesyourself at home.” As they came into a long, low sitting-room, a lady who was sitting upon a low chair fond- ling her daughter’s golden hair, arose and came toward them, “you have saved my daughter’s life, sir— “Bhe stopped suddenly and stooping, kissed “‘ Get out of mry way “T can’t stand this, madam. If you only knew what a life I have led you would not kiss me; but if you will aid me, by the help of God I will redeem all that.” “Do you think I cannov read your face, dear boy?” she said. ‘* You need companionship— friends, who will aid you in the right, and you shall have them. Thank you for bringing hins, James; I have two children now.” She led him to a seat beside her upon a sofa and began to talk with him kindly, and draw from him something of his past hfe. An out- cast boy, he had been picked up in the streets of New Orleans by a than whom he did not name —a person of rare ability, but whom excess and ssion had led astray. The man had made im a companion and treated him as a son, but through it all, the good in the boy’s nature had rebelled against him and his life. ‘** And, madam,” said Ned, ‘‘if I am not whol- ly bad, it is not his fault. I think in_his wild way he loved me. There was no wish I could express which he would not grautt . And he is a man, too; reckless of his life, towte to des- peration and the handsomest man I ever saw.” ** How like Duke Elwood, James!” said Mrs. Hardin. “I wonder where he is now?” ““No matter,” replied thefcaptain. ‘‘It is bet- ter that we should never meet, for, of all men, I would not stand opposed to him. I have made Edwin my overseer ret, and he takes charge to-morrow. Pedro has been dismissed.” “‘Ned dismissed him,” said Lilly, with a sly laugh; at which Ned hung his head and looked icularly foolish. “The wild life will crop out, Mrs. Hardin,” he said. ‘“‘The man behaved very badly, and so— ‘*He gave him-a dreadful flogging right be- foreme. But I liked it; I always likea fuss, you know, mother dear, and Ned looked so stron and manly when he was flogging that rascal. Oh, it was good !” rv 4 Lill {” “Yes, I do like it—I do—I do! And then when I was hiding in that hole in the rocks, and Ned and Jack—you don’t know Jack, yet, but he is a dear good fellow, and miust be in the rangers—were fighting the Indians, if I had only had a gun I would have fought too,” **T don’t know what to do with this child,” said Mrs. Hardin. ‘‘ You, have infected her, James.” ‘Oh, it is brave to be a man and fight!” cried Lilly, clenching her hand. ‘‘I envy the rangers every time I see them go out upon the trail and want to be with them, ever so bad.” “Tt is not good to encourage this evil disposi- tion in your child, madam,” said the snuffling voice of thé colporteur at the door. “ Verily she taketh delight in blood.” ‘Tf you will be so kind as to go back to the dining-room, I will see you directly,” said Har- din, pointedly. ‘‘ At present I am engaged.” The man went back with a strange look upon his face. ““Now mark what I say,” said Mrs. Hardin excitedly. ‘‘That is a bad man and I do not believe he is a colporteur at all.” ‘*Ned and myself have agreed that he is not of the right sort,” replied the captain. “ If he turns out badly let him look out for the rangers, that is all, I will go and talk to him.” CHAPTER VI. THE DISGUISED OUTLAW. THE evening was passed Beton y. enough at Hardin’s Ranch. ‘he colporteur had retired early, afterjtreating them to along chapter trom the Old Testament, which he read with a drawl- ing, sanctimonious air which was trying. From time to time he looked hard at Ned‘ but the young man seemed to avoid his glance, and stu- diously looked in another direction. It was quite late when Captain Hardin took a lamp and lighted his new overseer to his room, which was a very pleasant one in the south-west angle of the building; the furniture was arranged with a neatness whidk: bespoke feminine care and taste. ‘“Now make yourself at home, my boy,” said Hardin, as he put the lamp.on a table. ‘I don’t care what you have been or what you have done if you only mean to do right now; but, ‘it will be hard to make me believe yeu have ever done any thing very bad.” ae ea ay EW Sea it ee ee, as a2 =) . . eG ceo Oe ae . ae “You are too kind to me,” said Ned, in a chok- ing voice. ‘Do you know that I could dis for you and yours?” ‘There, Ned, say no more about it. I wish you good rest and pleasant dreams.” His step had scarcely ceased to sound alon the passage when a door which eotiinetniisatae with the next room was pushed gently open and the colporteur came into the room, and closing. the door dropped into a chair and laughed in a ae silent way, seeming to enjoy himself ugely. . “Tt is as good as a play, Ned; upon my word | it is,” he whispered. ‘I would not have lost re chance for a thousand dollars. How did do it?” “You overdid it,” repligd the young man, in a dogged tone, seating himself upon the edge of the bed. ‘‘Now, I want to know what you are doing here?” “T thought it was plain enough for your com- prehension,” replied the other, ceasing to laugh atonce. ‘‘I thought you knew me and was aware that I trust no man too far, or too long. I knew that you went into this work unwilling- ly and wished to satisfy myself that you could be trusted.” ‘* Are you satisfied?” replied Ned, in the same sullen tone. “Listen to me, you young hound,” hissed the colporteur, coming forward suddenly and gr ing the boy by the arm. ‘‘ Have you nothing thank me for? have I ever wronged youin any way! “I know what you mean,” replied the boy. *“You.took me out of the eggs and made what. = call aman of me. But, in what a school ave I been taught! Tolie in ambush—to steal into the affections of those whom you design ta make your victims—to act as your stool- 1geom —it makes me half mad when [ think of it! ‘“You are bound to me by an oath which you dare not break, Ned Clayton! Enough of talk; I sent you here with an object in view. Have you done what I told you? ‘*T am already upon a familiar aes hes this. aes but, as‘I live, I will not betray them.” ** You don’t know what you’re saying, Ned,” said the colporteur, quietly. ‘If you persist in that itis my duty to see that you are placed be- yond the possibility of doing us a wrong. I think you would do well to reflect calmly upom what you have said.” “‘T have made up-my mind fully,” replied ~~ young Clayton. ‘‘ You talk of dooming me to death, do you?’ How would it answer if I gave you up to Captain Hardin and his rangers, tell- ing him who and what you are?” e man shivered (slightly, and a look of fear crossed his face for a moment but passed away immediately. “Bah! whee a foolIam getting to be in m old age,” said the colporteur, laughing. ‘‘ know A iss too well to think that you would take an ifair advantage of any man, much less of one who has been your friend. Now listen to me. Suppose yourself in the place of aman who is young, rich and honored. Suppose that this man has a friend who owes soeh to him and ip whom he puts implicit faith, and that friend be- trays him in the most dastardly manner and up- on a point of the most tender kind. What would. that false friend deserve?” “ Death—but in a fair fight, man to man,” re- plied Ned. ‘But, suppose that he, sneaking behind the plea that he is not a duelist, refuses the satistac- tion due a gentleman, and having put it out of the power of his former friend ever to hold up his head again, marries the woman that man has chosen, and laughs at the poor wretch when he writhes in agony. What is such amar. as that?” ‘‘ A villain, if the tale is true.” ‘“Years pass and each has lost track of the other, when the disgraced man comes to Texas. He is an outlaw—the hand of every man is against him, and he hopes in this new land to finda home. He has long ago ceased to be hon--’ est; his is the old law: ‘They shall take who have the power, And they shall keep who can. | He breaks the ‘unwritten law of Texas, and a band of men are organized to hunt him down. Who is at their head? This same false friend , who has so wronged him. He is rich; the wo- man who was to have married his friend loves him, and the friendless outcast sees her still. young and beautiful—all the devils in hell! 1 shall go mad.” \ ‘Be careful; you are talking too loud and) they will hear you.” t ‘“T am the man so hounded and persecuted,’ Pee
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on ; t t } Single Hand. este Stee 3 hissed the colporteur, ‘‘and the man who wrong- ed me is—Captain Hardin.” “*f do not-believe it,” said Ned, fiercely. ‘‘ No man dare look in James Hardin’s face and call him a villain.” ‘*But I tell you that it is true,” replied the other, ina hoarse voice. ‘It is true as gospel, and I have sworn never to rest until his head is brought as low as mine; and if one of those whom I have chosen to aid me dares to rebel, if he were of my own blood, I would kill him, Now you understand why I hate James Hardin, and why I will follow him to the death,” ‘¢ What do you intend to do?’ “To make his life a burden to him, as mine has been to me. Heap sorrow upon sorrow, misery ae misery, until he will pray for death. To rob hinfof all he holds dear upon earth, little by little, and you shall aid me.” “ Never!” replied Ned, boldly. ‘ Until this hour I never knew your heart, and I fling to the . winds your vile oaths. I am no longer one of f your men, and { defy you to do your worst.” The colporteur thrust his hand into his bosom, _ and the bright barrel of a pistol showed for a + moment; but Ned was as prompt as he, and a » Weapon gleamed in his hand. [Ln Se lay, captain,” said he. ‘‘ You _will have to mark out a fresh trail, now that you have me to deal with.” “T have loved and trusted you,” was the re- W ply, ‘“‘and you turn against me for the sake of a man I hate. Ned’ Clayton, you will live to re- mt this hour, bitterly, bitterly. There, let } there be a truce between us. Put up your ore for I promise not to harm you to- t. ? ed replaced his pistol, for it was evident that * the man meant just what he said. ‘*T trust you,” he said; *‘ but be so good as to bear ‘in mind that I am as quick on the trigger as you are, and quite as ready to call in the aid ah powder and ball. Now then, explain your- . The explanation must come from you,” re- plied the colporteur. ‘‘ You were sent here upon an errand in the interest of the band. I ask you now if you intend to do your duty?” * Not if my duty points to the destruction of this good family,” replied Ned, boldly. i on know the penalty of disobedience.” ““You must catch a fox before you skin him,” was the laughing reply. ‘‘ Let me tell you that I have friends more powerful than you ever were, and can trust them. As for you—all your teachings, from first to last, have been evil; I have struggled against them, but for years they have held me. [ throw off forever the unholy bargain, and will lead a new life.” “urn preacher, eh?” sneered the colporteur. You will make a capital one, upon my word. Do you know that if you persist in this, your doom is sealed?” : ** I] will take my chances of life or death. All Task of you is to let me alone in the life which Ihave marked out for myself, and I give you my word that I will never trouble you. Will you do this?” “{ make no terms with you, young traitor,” replied the other, fiercely. ‘‘ There—I have said I need to say upon the subject; but be sure ot this—you have not a week to live.” ‘* You must leave this house in the morning, and never let me see you here again,” cried Ned, * Do you understand that?” “T shall leave it when I see fit,” was the re- ply. ‘'{ do not believe that you are coward enough to betray me to my enemies ater [ have put taith in you.” ** As long as you keep quiet, do not attempt to communicate with your men, or in any way d¢e- tray this family, you are welcome to sta: out, ou’ must remain uuder my eye ail ‘sone me.” Them an langhed—a low, fierce laugh, which had a world of meaning in it, and swinging open the door of his own chanrber, stepoed. ip end closed the door behind him. There was a bolt upon tue door, and this Ned shot into the s cket before he lay down to rest. He remained awake until he was satisfied that the colporteur had retired, and then dropped gsleep. The man'in the next room remained ‘quiet for about an hour, and then arose and lis- tened at the door, The deep breathing of the youne man con- vinced him that the boy was asleep, and putting off his shoes, he stole cautiously to the door which opened into the hall, and looked out. “T would cut that young traitor’s throat trom ear to ear if | could get at him,” he muttered. 4¢'Ten thousand fiends! To think that he should turn against me, of all men! [ wonder if ho hes roped in Jack? Two of my best men gone, if he has, and at a moment when I need them worst. Now for business.” His eyes had not been idle during the day, and he knew the sleeping-apartment of every per- son in the house. Just as he crossed the hall, he saw a glimmering light at the other end, ap- proaching the place where he stood, and had just time to see that it was Lillian, alone, and carry- ing a lighted lamp in her hand, before he hur- ried into a room on the right, which he knew was occupied by the girl. He had just time to conceal himself behind a closet-door, when she came in, humming a mer- ry song, and placing the lamp upon a table, be- gan to take down and comb her beautiful hair, before retiring. There was something in the in- nocent grace of this sweet child which held him ll-bound, and he hesitated long before he dared carry out his design; but all chance of re- treat was cut off when she approached the closet for some article which it contained, This was his opportunity. He seized her so suddenly, that before she had time to utter a cry she lay helpless in his strong , with a see pointed at her head. “¢ Beware!” e hissed; ‘the least outcry will be your death, and the death of any who comes to your aid.” Lilly would not have heeded the first part of the threat, but she feared for the safety of those she loved, and while she hesitated, a gag was thrust into her mouth which put it out of her wer to cry out if she had m so inclined. er hands were tightly bound behind her,.and the villain arose with a triumphant look upon his face. “So far, good,” he muttered. ‘ This is but the beginning of my vengeance. I will wring their hearts as they have tortured imine.” He stopped and listened. The house was now still as death, and he looked quickly about the chamber. It was upon the ground floor, open- ing toward the prairie, and was lighted by two large windows, one of which was open. He stepped to the window and looked out across the prairie, his lips moving in a strange, hurried we-.as if in invocation. is hands opened and clos" convulsively, and the foam showed itself upon . is thin lips. “This girl is her mother in miniature,” he muttered. ‘*They love her beyond any thing on earth, I know that from what they said to Ned Clayton when he brought her home, and I could notaim a blow more directly at their hearts.” He pushed the window a little higher up, and, as it rattled slightly, he stooped quick y and shrunk out of sight in the shadow of the wall, and waited to see if the noise had awakened any one. Nota sound was heard, and he lifted Lilly in his arms and stepped out of the window. He hardly done so, when two menappeared from behind the horse corral, one of them lead- ing a spare horse. “Tve got the girl, my lads,” he whispered. ** Here, take her, Bennett.” ‘The man addressed, who was one of those wh: had been playing cards with Pedro that morn- ing, raised the girl in his arms. the gag fell from her mouth, and she uttered shriek after shriek, which rung out in the silent ni>ht. The cursed cat!” screamed the colporteur, He wheeled and rode back, and seon found himself face to face with Ned Clayton, ri¢ing the black mustang which he had tamed. "Wath- out exchanging a word, both leveled their wea- pons and fired. CHAPTER VIL A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE. Boru were adepts in the use of the pistol, and only an accident saved the life of the colporteur. His horse stumbled and fell upon his knees, as he pulled the trigger, and his bullet flew wide of the mark, while that of Ned Clayton passed over the spot where his head was a moment be- fore. Unfortunately for Davidson, he was in the line of the bullet and was shot through the throat, and fell to the earth with an inarticulate cry of pain. The quick hand of the colporteur brought his horse to his feet, but not in time to avoid the rush of Ned Clayton. There was but one way, and dropping his rein, he caught the young man by the shoulders, and, as the horses. rushed on, both men fell from the saddle, locked in a close grapple. “Devil!” hissed the colporteur, ‘ we will try our strength.” “T am you man!” replied Ned. _ ‘‘ Coward, must you strike at a weak girl? I will teach you a lesson.” Neither spoke after that, and a desperate strug- gle began. Twice had Ned Clayton freed one hand long enough to dash it into the face of his antagonist, which was quickly bathed in blood, but he was a determined villain, and these blows: only seemed to arouse the innate ferocity of his nature. Again Ned freed his hand, but, instead: of striking, grasped his enemy by the throat and closed his stroug hand with a fierce energy, a gripe which could not be shaken off. e scoundrel would have drawn a knife, but his strength was fast leaving him and he could onl: make feeble clutches at the iron hand upon his throat. sella thing grew dark about him, a mist swam fore his eyes, when he heard the deat of hoofs, and Captain Hardin rode up. ** Don’t kill him, don’t kill him, Ned,” he ion eagerly. ‘* We may need him yet.” ‘ Jump down and tie nim, then,” replied Ned. “This is no baby I am holdimg, but a deadly enemy.” Captain Hardin had tied up many prisoners in his day, and his work wus gui «ly and artisti- cally done. “*That will do, captain. Now he'p me to lay him in the shadow of the bushes, and we will follow the other, who has carried Lilly away.” While speaking he had knotted a handker- chief about the blade of a bowie, forming a gag of the handle which he thrust into the mouth of the colporteur and tied ac the back of his head. This done, he sprung up aud assist ed the captain be careful may bring ve have to fight, ri girl, and r er that I woul ; found her than ‘alive. It not keep her, you know what. to do.” hey dashed on together for s and one of the pursuing horsemen iy upon the * Ride o " said the colpo know where tv tuxe her. Follow ni We had better rids back and secure him,” **Do vou mean the colj orteur? ‘No more a colporteu# (han lam, elthongh he onlay d the par f welk t's is no more nor less tian the celebraied Tom Duke, the worst horre- ef on the Texan plai i told you h« fore that my companions were bad ones, capiain; I did rot dare to tell you k Ba *Do you know their i n the chaner ral? : *t-am sorry to say thet 1 do not, captain. 7 had little todo wi miaranding ex- ns, although T ha always joined “in ndian fights. The ihe un has kep) their Sst! Je: snd fit of desperation, siness from me as mu «: oily the other day, in a 1 AS t Ne
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3 tnat I joined them in earnest. If you fear to trust me I will leave you.” ‘“‘T have told you before that I am willing to trust you, my dear boy; I believe that you will be true as steel, but 1 fear that you put your life in danger.” ** As to that Ido not care apin. I am ready to meet the danger at any time if you trust me. Will you take my advice then?” : “Let me hear what you have to say,” rep.‘ed the captain. ‘‘Let us ride back and take up the and carry him to your house. rangers and give him in charge and let me go to Duke’s vamp and offer him in exchange for Lilly.” ‘You would not dare to do that.” “Try me and see how much I dare do for your sake and Lilly’s. They won’t dare to harm me while you hold the captain.” ‘IT think you are right; leadthe way.” The turned and rode back at the same pace at which they had come, and had nearly reached the lace where they had left their prisoner, when ey saw anumber of shadowy figures grouped apon the prai'e near the scene of the late struggle. They were gathered about the body of Davidson and seemed to bein doubtas to who had killed him. Ned caught Hardin’s horse by the bridle and forced him back. “Indians!” he hissed; ‘‘turn back, and get oat of range.” The fell back in silence, and placed a clump of timber between themselves and the enemy, and from this point watched their motions. As they gazed they heard the charging cheer of the rangers and saw that the savage band were jeaping confusedly into the saddle to meet a suddén onslaught. “Hurrah!” cried Ned. “It is Single Hand and his men, and the rangersare at them. Come on!” Captain Hardin was as eager for the fray as Ned, and, urging their horses, they plunged at once into the thickest of the fight. The contest was not of long duration, for the Indians scat- tered over the plain with the rangers in hot pur- sait. Ned Clayton singled out the gigantic chief and attacked him with knife and hatchet, bot the wily chief saw that his men were scat- tering, and, drawing suddenly back, he thrust his long spear through the neck of Ned’s horse, bringing him to the ground, and then, wheeling qnickly, darted away across the plain. Hardin with his bugle recalled the rangers from the pursuit, and they came back sullenly and picked wp the scalps of the fallen. “Weve get business on hand, boys,” said Ned, coming: up on foot. ‘‘I say, Jack, lasso one of those horses for me; be sure and pick out a good one, for that re ee has speared mine through the neck. t us see after our prisoner, captain.” The two hurried to the bushes and found Tom Duke just as they had left him. “We had better not let the men know who risoner prisoner drew a long breath and looked steadily at Ned Clayton. He did not speak, but the ex- ion of his face was something dreadful, and Sicte who saw it shuddered. “Look here, Ned,” said Captain Hardin, ‘‘ I think that to insure your safety the sooner we tuck this fellow up the better. His hatred of you is something beyond any thing of which Tever heard.” “Don’t fear for me, captain,” replied Ned. “There is no love lost between this man and myself, and but wee tem coming he would have been under the by this time. I was mad then, and’should not have loosed my hold.” “Pll remember you in the time to come,” Master Ned Clayton. Captain Hardin are you aware that this young scoundrel is one of my band, sworn to reek our secrets?” said Duke. “So le has told me,” replied the captain ietly. ‘‘For your own good I warn you not © let the men know who you really , orlam afraid that I should find it Esra impossible to restrain them. What is it, Jack?” The companion of Ned Clay#m had come u and was looking at the captive with wildly -di- lated eyes. The devil! Who have you got here?’ he é our tongue between your teeth, Jack,” i Ned. |‘ We don’t want the men to know him yet.” “T should think not. They’d tear him into a lsundred pieces as sure as my name is Jack. Then call in the | | | riding toward Hardin’s ranc i old man wants to know which way to ride. ‘* Home, tell him. Get aspare horse for the prisoner, and be quick about it.” Five minutes later the party were in motion, % The prisoner rode between the captain and Ned Clayton, with two lariats about his neck, the end of one fast- ened to Ned’s saddle-bow, and the other to that of the captain. A sullen silence had fallen upon the prisoner, and he rode with bent head, writh- ing in his bonds as they galled him, **That camp of which you spoke will be an un- safe place to visit, with the Indians on the trail,” said Hardin. ‘‘ Are you not afraid you may fall in with Single Hand?” ‘““T think we have given hima lgsson,” re- plied Ned, ‘‘and he will not stay long in this section. I have heard that he was in league with a band of white horse-thieves; but I am not sure. “Tell all you know, Ned, my boy,” said the prisoner, without looking up. “Why not say that he is in league with me?” ‘*T would not swear that he is not,” replied Ned; ‘‘but Iam not certain. I think you had better keep a civil tongue in your head, or the men may hear you.” ‘*Pm notafraid, my boy. IfI understand it, I am to be exchanged for this girl.” ‘‘ That is the idea; are you willing?” “Not exactly willing, Ned; but sometimes circumstances over which we have no control compel us to do things which do not suit us. Yes, I will give the girl in exchange for my li- berty Fat one condition.” ** And what is that?” ‘That I am not betrayed to the rangers. To do this, it will be necessary for me to keep my disguise—of course the captain knows by this time that it is a disguise—until the exchange is gy eee ‘Are you willing to agree to that, Captain Hardin PP asked Ned. efi Malic Nertieryg & it is not much to ask, after all. You must, however, give Ned credentials in order that he may show himself safely in your camp, as well as to tell him what course to pur- sue. ‘*T am willing,” replied the prisoner; ‘‘ but oh, how I will make you suffer for all this, Ned Clayton.” ‘Bah! Don’t threaten like a six-year-old boy. Here we are at the ranch, captain. Go in and tell your wife what has happened, and tell her, too, that I will not come back unless I bring Lilly with me.” **Look out for the prisoner,” whispered the Sr 9 ‘*You know how much depends on im. Ned showed his pistol in a quiet way, which convinced both the captain and his prisoner that he would use it if needful, without remorse. The captain sprung out of the saddle and ran into the house, while Ned helped his prisoner from the saddle and led him into the hall. ‘That carroty-headed son of a gun needs a little lariat,” muttered Prairie Joe. “I don’t like his looks, not a durned bit.” ‘‘He does look pizen, old man,” said Jack Evans, who had become quite popular with the rangers. ‘‘I reckon he’s a night-bird; I'm sure he looks like it.” ‘Don’t try to escape, Tom,” said Clayton, as they stood in the hall. ‘‘ It will be painful tor me to shoot you, but I shall certainly do so if you try to run—so look out for yourself,” “Tm not going to try it_my lad,” replied Tom, with ‘a side-glance. “ You are heaping up trouble for the time to come, I warn you.” “All right; Pll take the chances. Here comes the captain again, and now we'll go ahead and see what kind of a prison he has got for ou. ‘“ Why not let me go? I promise to send the girl safe home.” ‘““We can’t trust you, captain: Men of your sort, when desperate, often forget their prdmis- ed word of honor. No; I will go myself, and bring the girl back.” “Then I must trust you, it seems, although you refuse to trust me.” ‘“That seems to be the programme, captain. Here is a table with pen, ink and paper. Sit down and write a note to Joel Bennett, telling him to give up the girl.” He sat down and wrote a note, with sparkling eyes. one you would like to read it?’ he sai ‘*No,” replied Ned, quietly. ‘Of course it will be better for you to make. it strong, for the rangers will kill you if Iam not back here in three days.” Leadle’s Half-Dime Library. MNES RRR ON AEST ORS TST a OEE EET RI A a SRT ST pe en ara | The outlaw looked troubled, tore up the note which he had written, and wrote another—this time one which seemed to suit him better. Ned thrust the letter into his pocket, and helped the captain put handcuffs on the prisoner. ‘*You dare to degrade me witb irons, like a felon?’ he hissed. ‘ Wait until my turn for re- venge comes.” They took him between them and led him down to a strong cellar, into which he was thrust, and his feet manacled. ‘“Now understand me, captain,” said Ned. ‘Tam going to the camp of the outlaws, and when once there, I shall try to get Lilly. Whe- ther I fail or not, I shall come back as far as Deep Canon within three days. If that is not done, you will know that there has been foul- play. Jack will wait for me in the canon for three days, and if I do not ceme back, you know what to do.” The heavy door clanged upon the prisoner, and he was alone; but shortly after he heard a man pacing up and down before the stout door and knew that he had a sentinel. Dragging his heavy irons to the small window, not wide enough to permit the pean eof a man’s body, he looked out and saw Ned Clayton and Jack in the act of mounting their horses. They were detained at the last moment by Mrs. Hardin, who came out to bid Ned God-speed and kiss him. The expression of the man’s face became demoniac. ‘The older she grows the more beautiful she is,” he muttered. ‘“‘If it were not for Coral, I don’t know what J might do. Poor girl! she at least has been faithful. I want that young hound’s blood, and I will have it.” While he thus muttered, the two adventurers touched their horses and rode away at a rapid pace, heading for the scene of the late conflict. “Tt is the game of life,” he murmured. ** Who wins?’ CHAPTER VIII. THE FAIR CAPTIVE: We left Lillian Hardin a prisoner in the hands of Joel Bennett, the trusty aid-de-cam of Tom Duke. The man had been well sélected, A glance at his face would have convinced any one that he would do his master’s bidding, and destroy the innocent girl if hard pressed by his pursuers. It was well for her that he gained the depths of the chaparral before they could over- take him, for twice, when hard pushed, he had put his hand upon his knife to accomplish his tell purpose. But, no sooner was he in the chaparral than he dismounted, with a malicious grin upon his face, and waited for the coming of his compan- ions. What was his rage when he knew by the voices upon the edge of the thicket that Tom Duke had not suceceded in his attempt to stop Captain Hardin and Ned Clayton. “T’ll bet a thousand dollars they’ve gone un- der,” he muttered. ‘Ef they kave, little ‘un, yow’ll wish you had never been born. See here —l’m going to take my hand away from your / mouth, and if you yell, V’l) kill you on the spot. Understand now, for I mean it.” ‘*T shall not scream,” said Lilly, ashe removed his broad hand. ‘It wouid be useless now that we are in the woods, but, don’t think that I am afraid of you, coward that you are.” The man laughed at the spirit shown by the young girl. ‘ : ‘‘You’re the boss-gal, miss,” hesaid. ‘ Blame me if you don’t beat my time all to nothing. I s’pose you'd stick a knife into me if you only got the chance,” , “Try me,” replied Lilly, boldly, “and you can convince yourself upon that point. I would take your life as I would that of a viper.” **Good!” said Bennett. “I knew you was the spunkiest gal in Texas. Come, we've got to t deeper into the chaparral; In afraid ( ap- oto Duke has gone under.” $$ A thing for the world if he has. A de. spicable villain who steals into an honest house under the cloak of religion, and betrays those who trusted him. “It won’t be v i, good for you if he is dead my girl,” replied Bennett, “for your fate will be a hard one, I’m thinking. Come along, and, es you go, pray that Captain Duke may be ve. He took a lariat and bound the arms of his prisoner behind her; then, with the other end of the rawhide rope in,his hand he ordered her in front, while he led _ the horses, directing her which path to take. In this way they kept on for over an hour, through tangled ree until the cha became more open, when they a mounted and rode on at a rapid pace. y was sitting behind the horseman, and, _ Tath
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ATagty — —— as he still held the end of the rope he was not very attentive toher proceedings, when she sud- ‘denly slipped from the horse and ran into the thicket. She had managed to slip the rope from her arms and thus get clear of her captor. Uttering a sounding oath, the ruffian sprung af- ter her, but found to his dismay that he was be- ing distanced by the quick-footed girl, whom a life upon the border had given a wonderful physical development, seldom seen in one so young. The paths were many and diverging to avery point of the compass, and as she got out of his sight for a moment it was impossible for him to say which one she had taken. There was but one way; so, raising his fingers to his lips, he uttered a shrill call, which was answered pieced from the woods beyond, and twenty or thirty rough-looking men quickly joer him. “Scatter, and search the woods,” he cried. “« A girl—a prisoner—has escaped from me! Be «quick, for she runs like a deer.” The men at once darted down the different ths, satisfied that they could run her down fore she reached the open prairie. Lilly heard the signal and knowing that she could not es- cape by running, and remembering the manner | in which she had eluded the Indians upon a former occasion, crept under the low branches of a ground pine, came out og the other side of the tree, and plunged into the thicker part of ‘the chaparral. She had hardly done so when those of her pursuers who had taken the path she had chosen ran ve gre by. When they had passed she arose and looked about her for a | tree in which to find shelter, for she dared not move, knowing that, at any moment, she might come upon her enemies. Near at hand was a low oak, whose thick branches seemed fitted to give her shelter, and, grasping one of the lower limbs, she drew her- self up until she was percned upon a stout limb. After taking breath for’a moment she climbed higher and found that the thick leaves would completely hide her from observation. There she sat, listening anxiously to the sounds which came from the forest, hoping that they would not find her, and yet hardly knowing what to do in case she escaped, for she was alone in the depths of the chaparral, which was of vast extent, and she did not know which way to turn to reach the prairie. As she sat there, she heard a slight rustling in the leaves, and looking up encountered the gaze of a pair of fiery eyes, fixed upon her ina threatening manner. At the same moment a brown arm, armed with a long knife, was thrust out from among the leaves and she saw the head and shoulders of a painted Comanche | just above ber, threatening her with instant de- struction if she cried out, She recovered her- | self in an instant, and making, a signal to the | Indian to remain quiet and she would do the same, settled herself firiwly upon the branch and waited. The Comanche was evidently at a loss, and his wild eyes roved over her figure in blank be- wilderment. She saw that he was in a quan- dary and made him a lofty gesture, implying her absolute power over him, which added to the mystery of her presence., The white men were now scattered thr mugh the woods in all direc- | tions, and some of them were breaking through | the bushes not far away, and two or three | presently stopped directly under the tree in which the Tddian and Lilly were concealed. ‘* Bennett was foolish to trust a girl like that,” | said one. “T for one don’t believe we’ll catch her, and don’t care much, either,” said another. “Tet them search if they will,” growled a | strangely-familiar voice. ‘Tt is none of our | business to search for Benneti’s escaped prison- ers. Wewill sit down under the trés und let her run. Did he tell you who it was, com- rade?” ‘ Hardin’s dauchter.” “Carambo! The most beautiful little crea- ' ture this side of the Rio Grande. I hate her | father above all men on earth, but she is a di- | vine creature.” | ‘Don’t be a fool, Pedro; this is the captain’s game, and no one dares interfere with it.’ ‘* Am Ta fool, then? I tell you that the little girl has often jooked upon me with favorable eyes. Indeed, I think she loves me, and was deeply grieved when her father discarded me for that accursed young dog, who shail feel the length of my lnife, some day.” “Y heard that Ned Clayton trounced you finely that day. Why, you donkey, boy that he is, be can lick any five greasers in Texas. I’ve te i? fe gron Mad sy n is false, Blanchard, it is false!’ screamed the Mexican, for it was no other than Pedro » ea | he does not escape. Single Hand. 9 whom Ned Clayton had supplanted. ‘‘He had me at a disadvantage—” “Pshaw! He can lick you in half a minit by the watch, and I’d undertake to do it myself in twice the time.” Pedro 5 hee to his feet, furious with passion, | to the captain for it. and laid hand upon a knife, for which he was promptly knocked down by the man he had called Blanchard, for Americans in those days | er little heed to the ‘“ greasers,” whom they eld in contempt as men below them in the scale of nature. How far the gone it is impossible to say, but at this moment, the Indian who was leaning forward to see the fight broke the limb upon which he was seated and fell to the earth. This at once changed the current of events, and the two white men, including the Mexican, who arose and joined them, at once assailed the | Comanche, who, placing his back to the tree, de- | fended himself manfully against the combined attack. He was a lithe, active young fellow, whose intelligent face and warlike ) bearing | showed that he held no mean place in the tribe, | and he certainly handled his weapons with con- summate skill. Assailed by three men at once, he managed to keep their knives off his. body, and wounded Blanchard in the shoulder, though | not deeply. It is hard to sa ended if Pedro had not seized a heavy branch and struck the Indian while he was parrying a | blow from Blanchard’s knife, causing his arm to drop nerveless.at his side. In an instant the red-skin was seized and thrown to the earth, and a knife raised above his unprotected breast. Lilly had seen the struggle of one against three, but when she saw the brave savage fall she could not bear it; and dropping from her perch, she caught the uplift- ed hand of Blanchard in hers. “No, no,” she cried. ‘'He isa brave man— uarrel might have | how the struggle might have | he demanded. ‘‘You know well enough that we have no time to waste upon them.” “You attend to your own affairs and I'll to do the same, Bennett,” was the cool reply. ‘* Ben and I took that prisoner and we’ll answer y opinion is that if you hurt that Indian you’ll make a big mistake.’ Bennett said no more, and shortly after th reached a camp in the midst of the chaparral: | where several women, most of fhem Mexicans | of the lower class, came out to meet them, and do not strike him when he has been overcome | by numbers.” ard. ‘Catch run again.” X * You need not hold me, sir,” replied Lillian. examined the prisoners with great curiosity. “Get out of the way, girls,” said Blanc laughing. ‘‘ Anita, come here!” e prettiest and youngest of the women | came forward at his command. ‘I’m going to give youin charge of my wife,” said Blanchard, “‘and you must promise not to attempt to escape until we hear from our cap- - tain, or I shall be obliged to set a guard over you, Miss Hardin. Do you agree to that?” Lillian readily promised and went away with the Mexican woman, who seemed to take great pride in her charge. “Your usta} has been*very kind, although | I am his prisoner,” said Lillian, as they entered one of the several huts in the opening. surprised to see him here.” Anita shrugged her shoulders. ‘ Bah! what would you have, senora? My husband will keep faith with his companions, pe Sem it is not m will that he is here. You must be very tir and I will show you a place of rest.” There was a little alcove, formed from blankets, in one corner of the room, and within this a rude bed. Lillian was worn out, and, without disrobing, she lay down upon the blankets and was quickly asleep. When she ~ awoke it was morning, and Anita was prepar- ing a savory breakfast, while Blanchard sat in the doorway smoking his pipe. “T don’t take very kindly to kidnapping, ° Miss Hardin,” he said, removing his pipe from “T am ? | his mouth, ‘and the captain has got to explain *Tt’s the si tor ge daughter!” eried Blanch- | 10ld of her, Pedro, do not let her | “T shall not attempt to escape, but if you are a . man, and you look like one out of place among | these ruffians, you will not slay a helpless pris- | oner.” “ That’s so!” said Blanchard, looking a little | ashamed of himself. ‘‘ You see, my fighting blood was up, miss, and I didn’t know what I was doing. Get up, Red, but don’t try to run or you'll get hurt.’ The Indian understood the gestures, although | not the words, and stood up, holding ont his hands for the ropes. ‘“ We'll keep him until the Cap comes back,” said Blanchard, who was a good-looking, reck- less young fellow in hunter’s dress. ‘‘ You mustn’t think hard of us if we take you back, miss; it’s our duty.” **T shall not quarrel with you for that, sir,” this when he comes back. Do you know that your Indian friend gave us the slip last night?’ “‘T am glad to hear it, sir.” ““Oh, are you? I don’t know as I care much about it, for I think he is a son of Single Hand, and the old chief would remember it if we wronged him, What's all that noise about?” He stepped to the door and looked out, and saw that a man who had just ridden into the camp wassurrounded by the outlaws, who were making furious gestures. Heran out and broke into the circle, and saw that the visitor was Ned Clayton, who was sitting quietly in the saddle, | looking coolly over the excited group, but with she replied, ‘but, I hope you will treat me | well,” much as look at you against your will, and I'l be into him with a bloody spur. Get out of the way, Pedro; what are you about?’ ‘ edro had seized Lilly by the wrist and was holding her fast, but fell back muttering as Blanchard advanced. “You two take care of the Indian and see that Whistle, and let the others know it is all right, Ben.” , The other man, who had not yet spoken a | word, obeyed orders. Blanchard signed to Lilly to.come with him, and breaking a way for her through the tangled bushes, reached one of the pr down which he proceeded at a rapid pace. hey were soon joined by others, and at last qantene came up, overjoyed at the recapture of lilly, “Tl tell you what it is, my girl,” he said, threatening her with his clenched hand, “if you try that thing again it will be the worst thing youever did.” **Come, don’t bony a girl, Bennett,” said the young man called Blanchard. ‘‘ That won’t do you know.” ‘“What have you got to say about it, Jim Blanchard?” *Tt’s enough for you to know that I won’t see her abused, Bennett. You know me of old, so don’t try to come the old soldier over me. If you do, you'll wake up the wrong boy, sure!” The bold bearing of the young man had its effect, and after. growling out some fierce re- ce Bennett drew back and looked at the n, ‘What did you want to make a prisoner for?” | | a hand upon a pistol. ** Back, all of you,” cried Blanchard. us hear what he has to say.” CHAPTER IX. AN APPARITION. “‘Hre’s a traitor,” hissed Bennett, foreing a way for himsélf among the men, “and he’s got to die the death of a traitor. You all know Leb r | what one such man can do against us in Texas, ** Let me hear a man insult you, or see him as | boys. He’s only got to tell Captain Hardin where we corral the stock we ‘ raise,’ and where we hide ourselves, and we are done for. What I say is this: if any man is false to his oath, let him bear the penalty. Have you anything to say against that, Jim Blanchara ?? } ‘*Of course not,” replied Blanchard. ‘“Iknow that Ned Clayton never was willing to take much part in the work, except breaking horses and fighting Indians, but I don’t think he is a traitor. Come, Ned, speak up; tell them that they are liars, and I'll back you—I’ll back you | until all is blue.” “T have left the band,” replied Ned Clayton, boldly, while a perfect how] of rage arose on every side. ‘‘I have left it because 1 could not do the evil deeds which were required of me by Tom Duke.” Blanchard hung his head, for he knew that the young man had spoken his death-warrany, and he saw the triumphant lock upcn the face of Bennett. so) him off the horse, boys,” cried the desperado. ‘‘Get a lariat, some one; you hear him confess, don’t you?” . “‘-You intend to hang me, do you?” said Ned quietly. ‘(I would not do that, if I were you.” “Don’t let him talk,” screamed Bennett, furious at the coolness of the youngster. “String him up at once,” “Tt won't be safe to do that, I tell you,” re- plied Ned. ‘‘ Keep'your gang off me, Joe Ben- nett, or some one in this good crowd will get hurt, Blanchard, do me the favor to keep them away, for,as sure as you put a finger on me or delay my return to the place I came from, Cap- _
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10 “Curse him, he lies!” cried Bennett. captain is all right, and will be here in an hour.” ‘Do you kh think so?” said Ned, laughing. ‘* You are the most sanguine fellow in Texas, | then, for even Duke don’t think so. However, ‘ I am willing to wait an hour, if that will do ou any good. In the mean time there is a lit- ¢ document which you will read to the men, Blanchard.” 1 He produced a paper, which he placed in Blanchard’s hand, who commanded silence, and read aloud: ‘* Av Harpin’s Rancu, July 12th, 18—. “Te my MEN IN THE CHAPARRAL: “TI ama prisoner in the hands of Captain Hardin, and likely to be hung if you do not Py with the demands of the man they send. Delivér to him the risoner Miss Hardin, and let them go away unhurt. fe is the only way in which I can obtain my liberty. In my absence, Blanchard, under the orders of Coral, will be in command of the band. Tom Duxz.” “Tt’s a forgéry!” cried Bennett, looking about on the group of crestfallen faces. ‘‘It’s a trick to get the prisoner away from us.” ** Nonsense,” replied Blanchard. ‘I recog- nize this writing, and it is the captain’s hand, so don’t be fools. I understand by this that you want the girl, Ned?” ** Precisely; nothimg can be more plain,” re- plied the young man. ‘* Will you take her away at once?’ **T am obliged to do so, in order to get back in time. You see, that if I am gone more than three days, the phn, ay, Bey ag will be the por- ea tion of your worthy er.” “T cave. You’ve got us dead, and it isn’t the least use to kick against it. I would like to have you see Coral, if ic can be done.” ‘Coral is here,” replied a rich, full voice. *“What do you want with me? What is this I hear?’ ‘“* Duke is a prisoner, madam,” said Blanchard, extending the letter. ‘Here is what he says about it.’ She snatched the letter from his hand and devoured it, word by word, her black eyes flash- ing strangely as she read. A more utiful woman than the one called Coral is rarely seen in this imperfect world. Of medium hight— with a clear, creamy pit: apa or such as is only seen in the creole—wit golden-brown hair floating in profusion about her lovely form, and eyes large, dark-blue, and full of melting ten- derness; with a queenl Dove of motion, given only to a gifted few, and delicate feet and hands, she was a model of womanly beauty and ce. Her dress was Mexican, and jewels of rare price rkled at her throat and on her bosom. A golden belt was girdled about her waist, in which hung a pair of silver-mounted pistols and a jeweled dagger. **So, Ned Clayton,” she said, turning upon him quickly. “You are a traitor, it seems. What have you got tosay for yourself?” **[ prefer to say it te you alone, Coral,” he replied, , ‘Fall back, men; leave us together,” she said, in a commanding voice. The men seemed ac- customed to: obedience to her orders, for they were hardly given when Ned Clayton and this beautiful woman stood alone upon the level sand. “1 can not tell you how much it grieves me that you should be false.to us, Ned,” she said, softly. among all whom I Bave known who would not be faithless to their oath, you are the one, Ned. * The | ary. ‘* A brave and good man, against whom Tom | Duke feels the most deadly hate. Shall I tell if i bad been asked to point out one | Why did you do it? why did you turn against | us?” ** Coral,” replied Ned, hanging his head, ‘‘ will you never understand that it is not in my nature to love this savage life of ours? I would not have done vou any harm—I told Duke so when we met—but [ wanted to live an honest life.” ; ‘*Pshaw! I thought you above such pitiful foolishness as that. Do you know that you de- serve to die, and that Duke will kill you when be escapes?” **T don’t think it will pay to threaten me now, Coral. gain, and have no time to waste in idle words. As for you, there will never be a time when I defense. You are beautiful, and é heart, and no lad ever had a better friend than you have been to me; but, I can not stay here.” you why?” “Tf you will.” ‘* Because they loved the same woman years ago, and Hardin won hér. This is her daughter whom you have prisoner here, and for whom we are willing to exchange the captain. They tell me that what she is now her mother was at her age.” “TI must see her,” cried Coral, eagerly. ‘“* Where is she?” “Blanchard can tell Coral wants to see Miss ‘She is in m Blanchard. ‘“ like.” Ned and Coral accompanied him to the door of the cabin, and, as they entered, Lilly, who was sitting in a dejected attitude upon a low stool, sprung to her feet, and with a cry of joy threw herself into Ned Clayton’s arms.’ ‘*Oh, Ned—dear Ned, have you come to take me back to my father?’ “Yes, Lilly, yes; did you think we would leave you here?’ Coral did not speak, but, advancing, she look- ed at Lillian so intently that the girl winced under her steady gaze, and drew back in some alarm. “Do not fear me, sweet one,” said Coral, ten- derly. ‘“‘ Yes, you are beautiful and you are good. If your mother had that face when she was young it is no wonder that he loved her. How dare he bring you here?” ** Hush!” replied Ned. “It is a part of his re- venge.” “he was unmanly in him, the only unmanly act of which I ever knew him guilty,” said the beautiful woman. ‘‘ You must take her away at once, Ned, and guard her better after this. ae darling girl, would you mind kissing one who, though erring and sinful, has yet a wom- an’s heart and can love that which is good and beautiful?” Lilly sprung into her arms and kissed her again and again. “There, sweet one, we must part. Perhaps you that. Here, Jim; ardin.” cabin with my wife,” replied ou can see her there if you it is our fate never to meet again. If so, re- member me as kindly as you can. Where is your hat?’ “T am afraid they took her away in such haste that they neglected to provide that useful article,” replied Ned. ** Anita, go to my house and bring the small hat with the golden band. Be as quick as you can, for they ought togo away at once. What isthatshouting outside? You ought to keep your men in better order, Blanchard.” “They are a set of devil’s babies,” replied Blanchard. ‘There is only one man who can keep them quiet, but I will do my best.” He left the room and the cabin, but the excite- ment did not cease! Anita came back in a mo- ment, with a sort of riding-hat of soft felt, with a drooping feather in a golden band. Coral took it from her hand and placed it upon Lilly’s head. Then she unclasped a bracelet from her wrist and putit upon the girl’s. ‘Keep that in. memory of me. This tumult is horrible. Ned, I wonder what it can mean? Surely theyare not mad enough torebel against | my aufhority vested in my trusty Blanchard!” The uproar outside became greater, and seem- ed to approach the cabin. whom re could turn aside from any course which he had marked out for himself, and who would never forgive an injury. He kissed Coral’s lips, and then put her gently from him. “You will have ‘to postpone the little excur- sion which you have marked out for yourself, my dear Ned,” he said, coolly. ‘‘I have come back, you see.” Ned saw that he was in deadly peril, and that: it was a moment to think and act quickly. Making a sudden leap, he flung Duke aside and! ’ ran out into the open air, where he found himself } in the midst of a strong p of the outlaws, upon whom he flung himself desperately, hurl- ing them right and left in the strength of de- spair, and with unparalleled bravery almost breaking through. Bennett threw himself in the way, but was felled like an ox, and for a moment it seemed that the brave youth would escape, but a huge ruffian stealing up behind, struck him with a heavy club, and he fell. A dozen hands seized him, and, half stunned and bleeding, he was dragged into the presence of Tom Duke, struggling and defiant to the last. “Now, my fighting chicken,” said the out- law, “I think you have reached the end of your rope. I told you at Hardin’s Ranch that you would repent having turned traitor, and I hope you see your folly now.” “T only repent one thing,” ren Ned, reel- ing from the effort of the terrible blow he had received. ** And what is that?’ “That Captain Hardin came between us while I had you by the throat. Come, finish me now; you'll be sorry if you don’t.” “Time enough, my boy; plent don’t be in such a hurry to die. é really can not re you yet, and I have several questions to before we work you off. But, there shall be no unnecessary delay, I assure you.” ** But, Tom,” said Coral, grasping his arm, eae surely do not mean that you will kill ‘Silence, Coral. The young rascal knows: our laws and accepted the danger when he turned traitor. Why, it is as much as my life is worth to attempt to save him now, and I have no inclination to do it. He deserves to die, and die he shall.” “You never refused me any thing before, Tom,” she pleaded. ‘Spare his life: he is young, too young to die such a death, and if he has done any wrong he will atone for it,” *‘ Ask him if he will join us again and keep his oath. I know he would break it, but you may ask him.” * Youare sorry for what you have done, Ned?” said Coral, turning to the young man. “ You will be true to us in the future, will you not?” **T wish I could say that with honor,” replied Ned; ‘“‘but I can not. I never will join their infamous band again.” . “You see,” said Tom Duke, sternly. ‘He is hardened and would sooner die than give up. Bennett, you will take him in charge; and re- member, if he escapes, you answer for it in your own person. Do you understand me?” Bennett nodded with a grim smile, and call- ing in two or three of his subordinates, bound the prisoner, and prepared to lead him away. hy Four evil deeds will one day find you out, Tom Duke,” cried the brave young man. “T| may die, and I am ready to: meet death; but there are those upon your track who will never of. time, so “You must go away at once, Ned,” said | leave you until you sleep under the grass of the g , q p Coral. ‘* Not yet!” cried a commanding voice. “ Not without my consent.” Ned Clayton started back in dismay, for there, standing in the doorway, regarding him with an evil eye, stood—Tom Duke! CHAPTER X. THE TABLES TURNED—DUKE’S ALLIES. How had he escaped? We left him in the cellar at Hardin’s Ranch, heavily ironed, and apparently as far from all | hope of escape as a man could be; but there he | was, in flesh and blood, a look of malignant IL have got a little the best of the bar- | triumph in his dark eyes. his hat and wig, tore away his yellow beard, | straightened his bent back and appeared to add will not be ready to lay down my life in your | save a brave | “You have chosen your path, Ned. I am | sorry to lese you, and warn you to get out of Texas as soon as youcan. Wemay neet again, in a happier hour than this, when you will not three or four inches to his hight by the act, and stood there erect as an Indian, and with as little mercy in his breast as one of that evil race, and there was unmistakable triamph in his face as he said: ‘** Not yet, my boy; oh, no!” Coral sprung into his arms witha glad cry for, bad and cruel as he ws, this woman had ashamed to own Coral asa friend. I wishto | given him the priceless treasure of her leve. He now flung off | wairie. And it ycu lay a finger upon Lillian Hardin—” “Enough of that. Bennett, drag him away, and stop his mouth if he persists in talking. The young scoundrel deserves a worse fate than we can give bim.” ‘““You can not frighten me, coward and cut- law,” replied Ned. ‘“ Lilly, gcod-by; I did the best I could for you.” Lillian threw herself at Tom: Duke’s feet and heid up her hands pleadingly, while he looked down at her in unalloyed triumph. ‘“‘ This is something, at least, after vears of waiting,” he said. ‘My revenge hos com- menced, and if they only knew whose work it was, I would be satisfied. Put they shall know. You may as well rise, Miss Hardin; you will lead in vain for that young traitor, and your ather’s daughter does not look well kneeling at my feet.” Lillian rose, her face flushing proudly. ‘*T am glad you spoke of my father,” she said. _ “He will not forget us, and I should not be sur- aap if he were close upon your heels with all is brave men.” ‘We will try to receive him with the hon- 7 | ; t } . )
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a oe - . Single Hand. ors of war,” said Duke, witha smile. ‘‘ Coral I give this young lady into your charge, an I expect you to see to it that she does not es- ca 9? is Do not make me her jailer, Tom, forassureas you do, I will help her to escape,” replied Coral, pa” sal “You are certainly candid, my dear Coral,” said Duke, lenghing ; “but I think I will trust you still, for mvp tk think you would suffer any one to escape who would put your hus- band’s life in peril, and I give you my word that if she gets away there is no safety for me in Texas.” The head of Coral dropped upon her bosom. He had taken the only way to secure her gid— through her love for him. " He stood lookin¥ at her a moment, with a look half of remorse, half admiration, and then ordered the men who were clustered about the door to move back and per- mit the passage of Bennett and the prisoner. Ned’ went out with a proud look upon his noble young face, and even the men who desired his death were forced to admire him. Lilly had retreated to the shelter of Coral’s arms, and re- posing her head upon the woman’s bosom, was sobbing as if her heart would break, “Come, Cora!,” said Duke, “bring your charge with you « our cabin. I little thought once that I should be glad of such a shelter; but life is full of strange vicissitudes.” He went out first, pushing his way through the ranks of the men, pausing now and then to shake hands with a favorite, or to ask some question, and made his way to a cabin more neatly built than any of the others, the’ door of which stood open. negro woman was laying the cloth for a meal, as they came in, who look- ed delighted at the sight of Duke. ‘*Good hebbens, Marse.Tom,” she said, ‘‘ you done got ’way from dem rangers? T’ought you done gone up dis time, Marse Tom—I did, for ure,” “Tm all right, Jinny,” said Duke, laughing lightly. ‘‘ The time had not come for me to be laid by the heels, but when it does, I believe I shall have & sincere mourner in you. Is break- fast nearly ready? I’m as hungry as a hunt- er. ” “ Moa’ ready, Marse Tom. G’long — you knows what raal cookim’ is, you does. Don’t low no low-lived truck to beat me cookin’, dat I don’t! Goodness gracious! who dat? Fader above, dat’s my young mis t’s Miss Rie!” Tom Duke hesitated and looked blank for a moment, and then laughed again. ; “So you see the resemblance, do you, Jinny? I might have known it, for I see in her exactly what her mother was at her age. This is Miss *Rie’s daughter.” The old negress approached Lilly and gazed long and earnestly into her face. ‘“You’s bootiful, young missee,” she said at last. ‘‘ 1 nebber hops] to see anudder ob de ole steck ag’in, and sart’in not de chile ob my dear Missee "Rie. I hope she well, chile—you tell me dat.” ‘“‘ My mother is very well,” said Lilly. ‘ But who are you?” Ra ‘- Let mo answer for you,” said Duke. This is Jinny, one of your mother’s old family ser- vants. No matter how she came into my pos- session, or who lam? It is enough for you to know who she is, and I warn you, Jinny, under pain of my displeasure, never to speak my name to this young lady.” ‘Good hebbens! you don’t s’pose I let out on you, Marse om?” replied Jinwy. “Ki! Her fader an’ you not so frien’ly to one anudder dat I tole who you be. I didn’t think he let his dar- ter come an’ see you,” “Tam not here of my own accord, Jinny,” said Lillian, quickly. ‘J am a prisoner.” “Donno nuffin *bout dat,” said Jinny, with the vacant look which a slave knows how to as- sume, ‘*Marse Tom he ’tend to all dat, I reck- on, an’ it won’t do for an ole nigger woman to interfere; she knows better. Got forty lashes for dat once, and don’t want ’em ag’in, / don’t.” ‘*Get the breakfast on the table, Jinny,” said Coral, impatiently. ‘‘ What nonsense you are | talking now.” ‘* You don’t ’spect sense in me, Missee Coral?” said Jinny, witha laugh. ‘ Dat’s too curi’s, dat is. Deidea ob sense in an ole nigger woman! Ki; dat too funny, dat is,” In spite of her assumed humility, there was Sonigks ig in the manner of the negress which gave, Lilly hope, and she was wise enough to say nothing to her. Two or three times in the course of the meai their eyes met, and she saw a strange look in the twinkling black orbs of the | hegress, which she could not understand, ‘“‘T have not asked you how you esc dear Tom?” said Coral. ‘‘Ned Clayton said you were in irons.” ‘*So I was,” replied Duke; ‘‘ but Lhave a way of my own of getting out of irons when they are not too tight. I freed myself from the shackles, squeezed myself out of the window, stole a horse, and was off. I had toemake a circuit to avoid some Indians, and that made me late, or I be- lieve that I should have been here to receive Master Ned Clayton in person. But it is just as well; I was in time to do the work.” “T wish you would let Ned go, or at least spare his life, even if you keep him a prisoner.” “You ask too much, Coral. There are not man ae wo I would refuse you, as I think you know, but this is im ible. Our safety depends upon the destruction of this boy, who has the intellect of an Arnold, and the same traitorous disposition. Once free, he would leave no stone unturned to thwart my plans, and we should not be safe for a moment. He re die, and you only make trouble by talking of him.” ‘‘He is so brave and noble-hearted in every thing else, that I cannot bear to see him suffer. If he would promise to leave Texas and not re- would Spe let him go?” ‘“He would come back, Coral—he would come back—and the magnet which would draw him is not far away. ve me to attend to him, and as the men vote, so it shall be. They know what is best for their own safety.” ‘“We took an Indian prisoner last evening—a man who Blanchard says is Black Feather, the son of Single Hand. He—” “You did him no harm, I hope?’ cried Duke, starting up. ‘*He escaped during the night, and although he was treated somewhat roughly when cap- tured, I hardly think he was hurt.” “You have made a mistake in capturing him at all,” replied Duke. ‘‘He came here with friendly intentions, and perhaps we have now alienated his father. However, we must repair the wrong, if possible, and at once; so tell Ben- nett to pre to accompany me to the prairie.” Half an hour after, the outlaw rode out with two men, and returned before noon, accompa- nied by four or five Indians, one of whom was the young chief taken the night. before, who looked sternly about upon the faces of the out- laws as if seeking the man who had struck him down the night before. But, Pedro prudently kept out of sight, as he had no wish to meet the Indian now. Riding by the side of Tom Duke | was the gigantic chief whom Lilly had seen be- fore, Single Hand; a truly appalling figure in his war-paint. He seemed to be upon friendly terms with Duke, and looked about on the ae with the eye of a warrior, and appeared to thin well of his associates. They dismounted at the door of Duke’s cabin, and as they entered, Lillian shrunk away, awed | by the terrible appearance of the great chief, | who looked at her admiringly, although , the dark beauty of Coral pleased-him best. ‘““My brother has beautiful wives,” he -said. “Single Hand has none like them in his lodge.” ** The old rip,” muttered Blanchard, who was with the party. these?” ; ‘This is my wife,” said Duke, pointing to Coral. and mine, Captain Hardin.” ‘* Ha!” cried the chief, fiercely. ‘‘ Hardin is adog and many of the Comanche have fallen by his hand. Let him: beware of Single Hand, chief of the Comanche! His coming is as the rushing of a mighty wind and his blows as ter- | rible as the stroke of the lightning. When he hates he strikes, and his enemies wither before him as the prairie under the fire.” There was something strikingly impressive in | the attitude of the great chief, and Lilly, much as she feared him, was deeply touched by his manner, She could not understand his words, but his gestures were commanding and his eyes kindled as he spoke. She turned from him and her eye met that of Black Feather, who was looking at her intently. As their eyes met he smiled, and she knew that, in the young war- | | rior, she had found a friend. ‘“‘Leave us, Coral,” said Duke. ‘‘We have | some private business,” Coral took Lilly by the hand and led her out of the cabin and into the forest beyond the clear- ing. They had not gone far when they were overtaken by Black Feather, who ‘had made | He at once | some excuse for leaving the cabin. approached, bending before them with a court- ly grace which would have done credit to a Fol law “Black Feather can not much speak white ** Perhaps he would like one of | “The other is the child of your enemy | man talk,” he said, quickly. ‘‘ But see; he is @ friend of the Golden Hair, and would not see her wronged. Shesaved him from white man knife; he save her now—all same.” ‘You can not help me now,” said the girl, eagerly, ‘‘but you can help one whom [I love.” ‘Stay,” said Coral. ‘I must not hear this, although I hope that you will succeed in your undertaking. Let me go away for a moment and leave you together. You do not fear to be left alone with this young chief, Lilly?” Without a moment’s hesitation she answered ni he ” and Black Feather drew a long breath of relief. Bhe is safe with Black Feather, who would not hurt a hair in her head to save his life.” Coral moved away and stood under the sha- dow of a great tree, out of bearing, but from which she could warn them of the approach of anenemy Lilly and the Indian remained for a moment in close consultation, and then he moved away and Coral came back. ‘** Don’t tell me anything, dear Lilly, cried the creole, eagerly. ‘‘ You had better keep it a secret if you have formed any plan, for it would. be my duty to tell the truth if my husband ask-: ed the question.” “*T shall tell you nothing,” answered Lilly; “but that young Indian has a noble heart—a heart which would do credit to any white man. You will probably hear something before morn- ing.” They went back to the camp but did not enter the cabin, as the leaders were still in consulta- tion. An hour after, while they were sitting in Blanchard’s cabin, that worthy came in, looking flushed and angry. ‘“‘T'll tell you what it is, madam,” he said, ad- dressing Coral, ‘‘ your husband carries matters with too high a hand, I, for one, did not join | and can read the heart of the Comanche. a party of kidnappers. 1 knew that they were rascals, but I did not think they were of the mean kind.” : What is the matter, Blanchard?’ said Co- ral, ‘*The matter is that, as soon as this present: work is done, I quit. I’ve been asked to league with Indians in the meanest plot— See here; T’ll go out on the plains and fight the savages as long as life lasts, but I'll be—no, I won’t swear— if ’H kidnap any more women. And don’t let away, sure.” Lilian made a signal which Coral understood, | and she left the room, leaving them together, | What Lillian said to him did not transpire until | afterward, but Blanchard went out, whistling, with a happy look on his face. | rather next morning, Tom Duke was called out | by one of the men and led to the cabin where | Ned Clayton was confined. He found Bennett lying senseless upon the earth, bound hand and foot with a gag thrust into his mouth. There were marks of several feet upon the earth, but | chiefly moccasin-tracks which it would be hard | to identify. “You needn’t tell me what has happened,” said Duke, fiercely. ‘‘ The boy has escaped.” “Tt wasn’t our fault, captain. Jim Bagley is dead and Bennett pretty nigh it, and the by gC me,’ Duke stood a moment in thought. with his hand upon a knife, and then stooping he cut the cords which bound Bennett. “Call up the men, Timpson. Get out Blanch- ard and tell him that we march in half an hour. There is not a moment to be lost.” The ‘outlaws wasted no time. Half an hour later the camp was deserted, and the jaguar and the prairie wolf struggled with each other for the debris of the deserted place. CHAPTER XI. A PRAIRIE BATTLE. THE escape of Tom Duke was reported to Captain Hardin early in the morning. Noone could be blamed for it, as it was evident that he had slipped off the irons—a trick of which few men were capable. The rangers were at once called together, and leaving three men in charge | of the house, they rode out toward Deep Gully, where a preconcerted signal called cut Jack who was hidden in the bushes, and who heard the news of Duke’s escape with great alarm. ‘¢ He'll kill Fred Clayton!” he said—‘‘ he'll kil) him as sure as fate. I wouldn’t give a picayune for his chance of being alive, twenty-four hours from now.” you know where their camp is, Jack?’ . said the captain. ‘*No, I don’t, captain. You see I’ve been in ‘another part of the State, for this band has. “The Golden Hair is wise beyond her years, k them give me a chance, or Ned Clayton will get: That night, or ”
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12 Be adle’s Half-Dime Library. branches all through the South, and I don’t know where they corral themselves any more than a dead man. It’s deep in the chaparral— that’s all I kin say about it. ‘Then our only hope is to lay back and watch,” said Hardin, “and to send out scouts in every direction. If they see any man going into the chaparral, they must mark the spot and come back to report.” Half a dozen men, receiving their instructions, set out at once. Just before dusk they came back, one by one, and reponics that they had seen several men enter the chaparral at differ- ent points, and that a large body of Indians, perhaps a hundred in all, were camped in a gulch, about five miles to the north. “The band of Single Hand, Pll bet any money,” said Jack. ‘There is some kind of an agreement between Duke and that Injin, so that they work together this season, though what the agreement is I don’t know.” “We can not do any thing to-night,” said the captain. ‘‘The only way is to get into the chaparral near the place where the boys saw the men going in, and hunt for sign in tne morning. How many do you think Duke can muster, Jack?” ‘‘ About forty, I should say. A good many of them are off on duty.” ‘“* Horse-stealing?’ **-You bet!” “ Are they fighting men, Jack?” “ Blood-lappers, every man of them, except Jim Blanchard, and he’s too good a chap to in the business.’ The band of rangers numbered fifty men. ‘They knew that the outlaws combimed with the savages would make a tough job for them, yet they had no fear, and at the orders of the cap- tain rode out after dusk and entered the chap- arral without seeing any of their enemies. The horses were led into the bushes and picketed safely, and, after setting his guards, Captain Hardin wrapped his b et about him and lay down to rest. The might passed and they were again in the saddle, working carefully about in the thicket until they found a trail and followed it to the end, and, as they hoped, it took them to the eamp, deserted for some hours. “‘Curse the luck! cried Hardin. hay) taken the alarea and are off.” ‘Search about,” said Jack. ‘If they have finished Ned Clayton you'll find him hanging somewhere.” The men scattered through the woods’ but found no trace of their new ally, and began to hope that he had escaped. But, in their search, they found a fresh trail leading to, the north, and quickly satisfied *omselves that this was the course taken by the outlaws in leaving the “ They camp, i The dirty thieves,” cried old Joe, . “They don’t want to meet a free ranger—they don’t. They’d ruther strike up a ranch or steal hosses or niggers—that s what they’d like to do.” “ They’re a hard lot. Joe,” said the reclaimed outlaw. ‘It’s a wonder to me that I ever con- sorted with them, but, to tell you the truth, I was awfully down on my luck, and I liked Ned Clayton. If they have killed him some ha’r has got to be lifted, and I’m the boy to do the job.” “We must follow them,” said the captain; *‘that is the only way, and we must not waste time. Bob Farrell and Tim Driscoll may take the trail as advance scouts and we will follow.” No effors had been made to conceal the trail, and it was easy to follow forty horses over such a ground as that. ‘The course led them through the chaparral in places where the most natural conformation was ‘‘ Indian file,” in which order they proceeded, the scouts beating every thick- et before they allowed the rest to follow. It was plain that Duke had not expected to have them upon the trail so soon or he would have laid an ambush in some of the difficult places J.over which they were compelled to pass. After a ride of nearly four miles the path be- came more open, and soon after they came out into a bush-prairie, not far from the spot where the scouts had seen the Indians the day before. ‘¢ Halt here,” cried Hardin. ‘‘Let Tim Dris- coll scout up toward the Indian camp and see if they are there still.” Driscoll, a rollicking Irishman, but a capital scout in many respects, threw his bridle to the next man, took his rifle and stole away through tthe bushes. Five minutes later his clear whistle announced that they might advance, and they found him standing on a little rise in the prai- rie, looking out upon the Indian camp, which -was also deserted, “The devils seem to scent us this morning,” cried the captain, in a disappointed tone, “and Xt} 7 pe ob pain ftp kre ee tat iat Ae OT - they have pte! joined their forces before this. It will be a bear-fight when we do meet. for we have noright to despise Single Hand and hismen. What is that, Tracy?” One of the men came forward and put in his hand a fragment of muslin which he had found fluttering upon a bush. He recognized it at once as a portion of the dress which Lillian had worn the day of her capture, ‘* They have her then,” he murmured. ‘‘ What can be this man’s plot in making her a prisoner? I do not understand it.” “He hates you for some reason, captain,” re- plied Jack, ‘‘and takes the girl asa means of striking a blow at you.” ‘‘T should not wonder if that was his plan, but it is cowardly in a man to strike at one whom he hatesthrough a weak girl. He will live to repent it, or my name is not Hardin. What do you say, boys; dare we follow these bloody scoundrels?” A cheer burst from the throats of the rangers, and Hardin knew that they were ready to fol- low him to the very death. ** All right, boys,” he said. ‘I ought not to have asked you the question, for I knew -that ou were true men to the last gasp. Ride on; riscoll, take the advance.” Tim Driscoll was again in the saddle, and led them into the Indian camp. It was evident that they had not been gone over an hour, for the ashes of their fires were yet warm as the scouts turned them over, and a broad trail led away to the south. “They are bold to take that direction,” said the captain. ‘‘ Surely, they cannot know that we have left the ranch?” ‘*T don’t think they do, captain, but, they are so strong now that they don’t care for us,” said Jack. ‘'I think it lays in our bones to teach them a thing or two about that, yet.” ‘*We will try, at any rate,” said the captain, as the leading scout dashed out of the camp at a great pace. ‘‘Confound their impudence, we will teach them who are masters on _ this border.” The trail led along the edge of the chaparral and then turned off in the direction of Deep Gulch. As they approached this point they saw an Indian and a white man running at full speed to gain the cover of the thicket, and by a wave of his hand the captain detached four men to run them down, The mustangs, as they felt the spur, darted away at their best speed and were rapidly overhauling the fugitives, when Jack, who was leading the chase, suddenly uttered a shout of delight, and raising his fingers to his mouth gave a peculiar whistle, at the sound of which the white man, who was about to plunge into the thicket, turned toward the pursuers and cried out to the Indian te come back, Hardin saw Jack Evans dash up at full speed, and, instead of striking the white man down, spring from his saddle and grasp his hand in a friendly manner, while the other three crowded about him, with many demonstrations of joyful sur- rise. j ‘Ride on,” said Hardin. can it be?” The rangers came on, and as they neared the group at the ‘edge of the chaparral they saw that Ned Clayton was among them, his face radiant with joy. Hardin leaped from his sad- dle and embraced him warmly. “Next to the safety of Lilly Iam delighted to see you free, my dear Ned,” he said. ‘‘ How were you used?” ‘* Badly enough,” replied Ned. ‘Tom Duke slipped the buckle, and got away just in time to nab me as I was leaving the camp with Lillian.” ‘Who is this Indian?’ said the captain, look- ing hard at Ned’s companion. ‘Black Feather, the son of Single Hand. Keep back, boys; the man that touches him in anger must fight me, for, but for his help, I should now be hanging to a branch in yonder cha al. He saved me for Lillian’s sake, and must be allowed to go unquestioned.” ‘“‘Why for Lillian’s sake? I do not under- stand. eep back, boys: don’t press upon them Se) ‘Tt seems that Lilly saved him from the knives of the outlaws, in some way, I don’t exactly know how myself, and so he aided in my escape. There was another man who had something to do with it, whose name is Blanch- ard—you know him, Jack—one of the best fel- lows in Texas. Whatever happens, Jim Blanch- ard must not be hurt.” ‘‘ Remember to point that, man out when we t+ ina fight,” said the captain. ‘‘ Does the sien wish to go now?” “Who the deuce ing trot as much as Black Feather inclined his head in a stately manner. : *“*Comanehe,” said Hardin, speaking in the Indian tongue, ‘“‘we are at war, but you and I cannot be enemies. Remember that if the time ever comes when I can help you, in any man- ner, hg have only to speak and I will do it.” ‘“My white brother is wise,” said Black Feather. ‘Tf all white men were like him there would be no war between the Comanches and Texans, Is Black Feather free to go?” “Certainly ; I am not the man to detain you, The Indian going into the bushes brought out two horses, and placed the lariat of the best in Ned Clayton’s hand. ‘* See, my brother,” he said; “‘ Black Feather ives a0 this horse, that you may not forget im. If we meet in battle, let the man who is bravest slay the other and take hisscalp. Black Feather has kept his word. ‘‘T will never seek the scalp of the son of Single Hand,” replied Ned. ‘‘On the contrary, If we meet in battle let us fight some other man, rather than strike at each other.” “Tt is good,” said Black Feather. ‘The son of Single Hand will not strike at the bosom of the man who is his friend.” He sprung into the saddle, waved them a stately adieu, and rode away at full speed across the plain, until a roll in the prairie hid him from sight. The rangers again took the trail and rode for ten miles without meeting an enemy, but the trail freshened as they proceeded, and presently the scouts in advance came back ata lop. “Here they come, Cap; they make dust enough for an army.” Captain Hardin called his men to a halt, and dashed forward to the top of the mde. Some distance in front he could see a body of meu advancing, seemingly five times the number of his own force, but a second glance revealed the truth. They were driving before them a great cavalcade of horses, fastened together by means of lariats. “They have struck up some ranch,” he cried, ‘*Back, men; we can find a better ground than this to attack them.” The rangers silently drew back, and, conceal- ed from view by the clouds of dust raised by the advancing drove of horses, took their station behind a thick growth of bushes in order for a charge. Each man sat with his rifle upon his knee at. the full cock, ready for action at a mo- ment’s notice, their pistols charged. The caval- cade passed on, and as they came abreast of the position of the rangers, a withering volley was poured in, before which many of the Coman-’ ches bit the dust. A wild charge followed, ac- ' companied by yells which would bave shamed. the Todian war-cry. This sudden attack, com- ing from a quarter whence they least expected it, took the Indians by surprise, and, Peteae they had recovered, the rangers were upon them and the pistols had begun their deadly work. To add to their confusion, the jong lines of cap- tured horses wheeled and darted back among them, throwing them into the utmost confusion, Unable to extricate themselves from the press, the red-skins were shot down without mercy, and when the smoke of the battle rolled away many bloody corpses cumbered the gory sod, and only a small number, and many of these wounded, had managed to escape. The surprise had been so complete that the loss of the rangers was very slight. One man only was badly wounded and several others had flesh-wounds, not one of them so severe as to disable the sufferers. The rangers scattered about the plain, engaged in the duty of scalp- ing the dead, for the Texans imitated the sav- age foe in this respect and the trophy had the additional value of drawing a bounty. When this was done they began to collect the scattered horses. Captain Hardin and Ned had not pe ee atin after the battle, nor taken in mutilating the dead, although the ye it as the legitimate result of an Indian battle. As the captured horses were brought in the cap- tain sta and turned pale, for he recognized his mark, and knew that the animals had come from his own corrals. He looked south and saw a thick black smoke rising above the next roll in the prairie. ‘““My God, Joe, these are my horses. Leave five men to collect them and come on, for they tke old sa beyed 1im- e old ranger obeyed, after satisfying self that none of Tom’ Duke’s force poeta the slain and that Single Hand had esca) The distance to the ranch was a little over seven miles, and they went on at a long, their horses woul < oe ee ee me re es Se ee re rn re
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after their late exertions. As they went they saw evidences of destruction on every hand. Stock-bhuts and corrals were in confusion, the gates down, and here and there the body of a Mexican herdsman scalped and gory could be seen. The stout captain groaned inagony. A moment more and he would know the worst, for only one ridge lay between him and his | ranch—the home where he had been happy so | long. The pace tremendous, and as. they the slope a cry of execration burst fr they were going was now reached the crest of onl ev ry Single Hand. that Coral needed watching as much as Lil- lian. ** Have you lost eerfidence in me, then, Tom?” said Coral, sadly. “TI won't say that, my dear Coral,” he re- plied; ‘‘ but you are too soft-hearted for this wicked world, and have taken a fancy to this young lady. Under the circumstances, and in consideration of the fact that one prisoner has aped already, I think it safest to put a guard near you. Your eyesight close accidentally, est | and this girl get away.” lip. The ranch lay before them, but in ruins, and the smoke was rising from the burning pile. Hardin utters ry which was almost a scream of agony, and .dashine the ro‘wels into horse’s fila u down the slope, ck folii : W ! ‘ f irious with PASSION. | Tom D l ; work but too well! CHAPTER XII V 3$ DOOM CAPTAIN HARDIN wasastronge man, but as he looked upon the smoking ruins of bis once hap- py home, he covered his face with his handsand fave utterance to a despairing groan, pcatter- ed about on the sod and among the blackened embers, lay the gory bodies of the victims of savage | Some, no doubt, lay beneath the smoldering ruins, burnéd out of the semblance of hum Where wal his wife? Could it be possible thas she had pe ished with the rest? | He knew that ‘Tom Dpke was a villain, but that he could have been so base as: to murder that good woman, seemed hardly possible, ‘Come. c uptain, said N« hand upon his shoulder. .‘‘ Bear up like a man. I know that. Tom*"Duke would not allow vour wife to be killed: that, was not his plan.” f ‘* You think she is a prisoner, then?’ cried the captain, eagerly. _** Certainly, and that no doubtis the reason he separated from the Indians. back on the east side of the culch, and he had | no wish to meet-you. We will run him to earth and get the ladies back, or die trying it. What do you say, men?” The rangers set up a stunning cheer, and a He had found | that you were gone, and would no doubt come | d, Kindly laying his | hopeful expression passed over the face of the | eaptain. “Then Iswear never to turn back from the pursuit while life lasts, until my dear ones are saved. old rangers can do. the horses, pick out fresh ones, and away again on the trail.” It was no sooner said than the party were again in motion, headed back toward the plain where the few remaining stockmen were gather- ing in the scattered animals. As they rode along a faint voice called to them from some bushes by the wayside, and little Pomp, the house-waiter, bleeding from a wound in the thigh, crawled out to meet them. ‘Oh, massa, dear massa, you come too late. Dem ragin’ debbles done took Missee ’Rie way, dey did!” “Who did?” ; ‘‘Dem robbers an’ Injines. Dey come altoged- der, an’ kill Pete and Eph and Jake Snyder, and dem greasers, and tote Missee ’Rie ’way on a hos; [ see’d ’em.” “That is proof ‘positive that I was right, cap- tain,” said Ned, ‘Which way did they go, Pom ” ‘ ey tuk up de wes’ side ob de valley, Marse Ned; ha chile see’d ’em.” 5s Ned dismounted and looked at the boy’s wounded thigh, washed it in spirits, bound it up and told him to lie down in the shade and they would send the stockmen after him. When they reached the corral they found the men passing in the animals, one by one, and after picking out fresh horses and giving the men their instruc- tions, the rangers rode away upon the trail of Tom Duke, oe to him and his ruffian band if they were overtaken ! Lillian passed the hours. before day in ridin. with Coral through the chaparral. Her fairy 3 was more at ease, for Coral had whispered to her that. Ned had escaped, and that she would aid ber at the first opportunity. No such chanee came, however, for Tom e close beside them, watchin every movement, and it was literally e for the girl to get away. bout three in the morning, they reached the Indian camp, and the bandit chief gave them d them to lie down until he call- You are with me, boys; let us see whagé | Lat us ride back and meet: Coral turned away with asinking heart, and | the two beautifal women lay down, wrapped in each other’s arms, and soon fell asleep. When they were called up the camp was in motion, and the Indians already were preparing their homely meal, while the outlaws were making preparations for brea ‘ast I more ¢€ lab rate Qast. b prepar Coral and Lillian arose and set abou ing food for themselves; and when. it was done, Duke came over and joined them. ‘We are in a hurry, this morning and with your permission I will join Coral, you at ‘“Where are you going, Tom?” asked Coral. ‘* You might tell me that.” “IT might,” he replied, laughing;: “ bu the whole, I think I will not do so. It is a sort of business better kept from women’s ears. You will know soon enough. } forever and a day!” ‘You refuse to give me your confidence,” said Coral, proudly. ‘I did not think that time would ever come,” **Nor I, Coral. You do not know why I re- fuse to tell you this, but, one day, I will make my actions good to you. What is that you have—coffee¢ Give mea cup, for I am very thirsty.” ‘*T will ask you no more questions,” | ral, drawing herself up proudly. ** That is just as well, my dear. I do not pro- prose to be pumped in the presence of company, you may be sure of that. Give me a rib of that venison; thanks.” Coral understood, now, that he refused to | speak on account of Lillian’s presence, and said | no more. When their hasty meal was concluded they were helped to the saddle, and the whole party, accompanied by the Indians, rode away to the south, with scouts spurring to and fro upon either flank, to warn them of the approach of anenemy. In this order they pri oonded un- til the smoke of ‘-Hardin’s Ranch could be seen above the ridge, when the captain called a halt and held a consultation with Single Hand. ‘“*T leave the stock-yards and men about them to you, chief,” he said. ‘‘ As for the house-ser- vants, if will be no trick to attend to them with my own men.” The chief nodded gravely. ‘* Where shall we meet again when the work is done, my brother?” ** At the place where we camped last night. As soon as you have killed the stockmen and taken the horses, drive them away, and we will follow and overtake you by the time you get to the camp.” \ The arrangement pleased the chief, as by it he would have the most valuable portion of ‘the spoilsin hisown hands, The outlaw rode back and spoke to Coral, *“ You will stay here with a guard of five men. Coral, Keep the girl with you, for I do not wish her to see the destruction of her father’s house, much as I hate him. Davis, Belton, Floyd, Timpson and Dean, ride out of the ranks,” The men thus called by name obeyed orders. “‘ These ladies are in your charge, boys. case anything happens, to us, you will make what speed you ¢an to the old place in the North- west range. Davis is in command of the detach- ment.” “T wish you would give me charge, captain,” said Jim Blanchard. ‘I am not particular! struck after this business you are about to do; it ain’t in my line.” Just as you like, Jim. Davis, come back into ie ranks, and Blanchard will take com- mand.’ : Lillian was pleased at the change, for the frank manner of Blanchard had won with her from the first. She knew that a deadly peril hung over her old home, but she could see no way to avert it. _ “I will not waste my breath in idle entreaty, sir,” she said, but may God deal with you as ayesha endine tnt oc Wad tie’ ebtichiad “*On m it,’” was the ing re- py a in boys; forward.” he outlaws advance, and the | ranch; which was already in confusion. b, On / To-day my revenge | will be complete, and then good-by. to Texas | said Co- | | | ! | en down, and the white demons cam« The white men dashed down the road corrals, and never drew bridle until they reached the The faithful house-servants, sprung at once to their arms, closed the doors and windows, and pre- pared to defend the place to the last. **Curse the black thieves!” said Duke. ‘* They will make us trouble, after all, and no one sus- pected them of fightingintentions, Dismount, boys; leave the usual horse-cuards and make a rush,” The negroes in the house were well armed, for the house waS at all times. a perfect arsenal, being the head-quarters of the rangers. The people in the building were under the charge of Jake Snyder, a gigantic mulatto, who iffused something of his fighting spirit into the rest. * You go in de cellar, Missee Rie,” he said. “We de las’ drop of our blood for you.” ‘My brave fellows,” cried Mrs, Hardin, “ you will only waste your blocd in vain.” : ficlit to ‘Nebber you min’ us... P’) ; ef we make noise enulf, de massa heah us an’ come to our he ip. Go down cellar, quick!” beyed him, just as the outlaws madea determined rush at the house,in which they. were nobly met by the black servants, and for a time held in check. But, axes were sounding upon doors and windows, which were soon brok swarming opening of the fired together, causing She o in.. White crowded into the great hall, the negroes | dreadful slaughter, and then retreated to the door of the cellar, and bagan to reload hastily. Fearful that they would fire again, Duke or- dered a rush at them, when they clubbed their rifles and for a time kept the foe at bay. Jake fought like a Paladin, and two of the outlaws had fallen under the sweep‘of his powerful arm, when Tom Duke drew a pistol and lifted it care- lessly, ‘‘Give yourselves up, you black devils,” he hissed. ‘* No,” shouted Pete; ‘‘ we die fust! ‘‘Take that, then, to end your folly,” said Duke, The ra came to a level, the hammer fell, and the brave negro dropped, shot through the heart. His fall disheartened the rest, and though they still struggled, it was not long be- fore they were beaten down, man by man, and the ranch was captured. ‘“Throw the carrion away from that door,” cried Duke. ‘‘ Remember that the man who harms Mrs. Hardin dies by my hand.” The bodies of the negroes and those whom they had stricken down were thrown aside, and Tom Duke entered the cellar, followed by some of hismen. Mrs. Hardin had heard enough te convince her that the blacks had resisted nobly but the sudden pause in the tumult told her tha they had been conquered, and she advanced ta meet her enemies. “I give myself up,” she said, proudly. ‘De with me as you will.” Tom Duke averted his face and ordered her té ascend the stairs before him. Villain as he wag he could not meet the glance of the pure eyes of the woman he had loved vainly but well, years before—at least not yet. Two men took her in charge and led her out of the house to the rear of the horses, where they waitedorders. In the meantime those of the servants who had not re- sisted, women and boys, were brought out, tied two and two and conveyed to the rear. Then, by the orders of Duke, a quantity of combusti- ble material was piled in a small closet and he set fire to it with his own hand. ‘‘Hardin will come back to a ruined home,” he muttered. ‘Oh, that he could only know whose hand had dealt the blow!” He left the house and watched the curlin flames gradually ascending the wooden wall, and lapping up the light material and sending upa oieer flame with but little smoke. An ex- pression of horrible delight crossed his face. “‘My work is done,” he cried, “and now hur rah for Mexico!” The outlaws mounted and fell back a little, with them every portable article of value which they had found within the build- ing. Mrs. Hardin, with her face buried in her hands, was weeping as if her heart would break when some one touched her on the shoulder, and she looked up to see Tom Duke stand ng beside her. bites Aue demoniac glee at the burning buil g. she saw his face she uttered a cry of surprise and horror and started back. ** You, Elwood! Had you the heart to do this terrible crime?” ““My work, mine!” he answered. “I told you, long ago, te remember me in the time to
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14 —_—-- come. When I was driven out, a friendless and homeless outcast, with a price upon my head, my promised wife given to my enemy, my for- tune in his hands, I warned you to keep me in-| mind, for one day I would have revenge. I | have it now, and it is sweet.” “Tt may be sweet to you, Marmaduke El- | wood, but your cruel heart has conceived a wicked slander when you say that Hardin ever wronged you.” “Curses— Bah! Why should I waste time | in talking of him now, in the moment when my | revenge is complete? He shall know that I have avenged the wrong done mé, but, as for you, you shall never see his face again. and saddle, boys; take the west side of the gulch‘and forward!” Boot | | alow A horse had been provided for her and she | rode away with the hand of Duke Elwood— Tom Duke—upon her bridle-rein. shone with a strange triumph, and yet there was a sort of pity in them too. “Tf you had kept faith with me,” he said, slowly, ‘‘all might have been well. Say that I killed a man who had insulted me—what of that? Neither had deserved better at my hands.” ‘You wrong me still; I never promised to be your wife.” ‘“*No; but you had half-promised when this noble cousin of mine, James Hardin, came to Baton Rouge. There, say no more; you are married and my wife is yonder, but I will finish my revenge all the same.” ‘** What will you do?” ‘You shall know in the future, and when I have revealed your fate to you, I doubt not that you will say that I know how to avenge a wrong.” At this moment they were joined by Coral and Lillian. The sweet child sprung from the saddle and hurried to meet her mother, but Duke Elwood interposed. ‘No, no; not by any means, Stand back, my little beauty, for you shall not touch her hand.” Coral heard what he said, and the old furious Spanish blood sprung into new kum resolutely back. : “Stand back you, Thomas Duke! I tell you ‘hat the child shall go to her mother, whether you are pleased or not.” He looked at her fiercely, and half-raised his clenched hand as if to strike her, but changed fis mind, bursting into a strange laugh, and looking at Lillian already locked in her mother’s arms, ‘* You will go too far with me, one day, Cor- al,” he said. ‘I love you, but my love is not of the texture which endures every thing. When this foolishness is ended, put that girl back on her horse or I will assist her in an un- welcome way.” Lillian withdrew from her mother’s arms and mounted her horse again, her face suffused in tears; tue cavalcade went up the valley by the light of the burning ranch. CHAPTER XIIL A LIFE FOR A LIFE, At the time when the rangers were en in the battle with the band of Single Hand, the outlaws were about ten miles to the east, near enough to hear the sounds of the battle. Duke oi smiled satirically, and said to Blanch- ard: ‘It was 4 good thought of mine, sending the sudians away with the cattle. I was tolerably certain that they would fall in with the rangers, and get trounced, and in doing so delay Hardin in his return to the ranch. urry up the men; pea not think to fight them on this open plain. Blanchard turned somewhat sullenly and shouted the order to the nen. The pace became a brisk trot, for none of them had any wish to fall in with the ci me et wt ike most nen, they would fight well when driven into a orner. hours after they reached tpe verge of the chaparral and plunged into jepths. Mrs. Hardin, Lillian, Coral and Duke Elwood were among the last to enter, the first two reluctantly enough, for they knew how hard their rescue would be when once they were in the depths of the forest. “*Yeave all hope behind as you enter this ace,” said Duke Elwood. ‘‘ Think that fom ve looked for the last time upon your hus- band’s face, Maria, for you shall never see him more. You are doomed to a life which will be some revenge for all that I have suffered.” Maria Hardin answered him by a look of proud disdain, and he ordered her savagely to vide on. She obeyed without a word and fol- lowed the band by devious paths to the deep His eyes | life as she thrust | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. j aoe fastness in the chaparral, not the one which | prove to you, before the day is done, that I de they had formerly occupied, but another far | more remote from the reach of helping hands. Duke assisted them to descend and led them toa simple hut of boughs, which he ordered them to enter by a wave of the hand. alone remained without. “‘A word with you, husband,” she said. ‘I | Coral | have always loved ‘and honored you, but it can | not be that you mean to take vengeance upon two weak women for the offense of another? You have desolated their home; is not that enough for you?” ‘*Silence, Coral; follow them into the hut, and see to it that I hear no more from you upon the subject. This is my business, and I will not you to interfere with it, in any way.” She said no more, but turned from him witha | look,which he had never seen upon her face be- | fore—a look which spoke ef rebellion and defi- ance. “T fear that I shall be obliged to give m dear wife a lesson,” he muttered; ‘‘and if would not have all my plans frustrated, I must see to it that she does not have too much chance | to aid them.” He instructed Bennett to set a guard over the prisoners, who were placed under his especial care, and to watch Coral as close as the rest. Two men were then sent through the chaparral to the place appointed as a rendezvous with the Indians, asking Single Hand to join him in his new camp. It would take at least two hours to go and return, and in the mean time something must be done to guard against the hoa of | Hardin, who would be sure to follow them. Ambushes were set at various points upon the devious road to their place of refuge, but as yet the rangers did not appear. Blanchard made an offer to go to the pifinesplaee of the women who belonged to the band, and convey them safely to a point where they could be easily picked up when the party left the chaparral, thus leaving the prisoners without a friend. Duke Elwood was glad to get rid of him, for he feared that he did not take kindly to the duty of oppressing women. a ere goes our last friend,” said Lilly, who saw him depart through an opening in the hut. us. “‘T don’t believe that he will desert you,” said Yoral. ‘‘ Dear lady, I wish you would teach me to be a good woman. I have been badly taught all my life, and I fear that I love my husband too well, but I can not—I can not aid him in wronging you.” ‘*T believe that you will be true to us,” said | Mrs. Hardin, ‘ but I fear that you are too out- Spee in your words. If you could seem a lit- tle colder to us, it would be better perhaps.” “Tt is hard for me to feign,” said Coral, ‘‘ but, as you say, chan it would be better. Here comes my husband.” Duke hlwood entered the hut and told Coral to leave it for awhile. ‘*Madam,” he said, after his wife was gone “T have come to tell you what dispesition I abe pc to makeof you. My ally, Single Hand as suffered heavily in the fighting of the last few days, and I have reason to believe that all his plunder has been retaken by the rangers. Some amends must be made him, and there is but one course open forme. You shall pay my debt to the chief.” ‘What can you mean, Duke Elwood? I do not understand your words.” “Then I must endeavor to explain. You shall be given to the chief as his wife. Your daughter shaJl accompany you, to be disposed of as the chief shall see fit.” “Oh, coward! villain! traitor to every good and true thing! You can not mean what you say; it is too horrible!” ‘T will prove to Aa that I do mean it, before the day is done. essengers have been sent to the chief, and in an hour or two, at most, he will be here, ready to claim you. When he has done that, } am off for Mexico, satisfied that my work in Texas is completed. There; I do not propose to bandy words with you, but you know your fate.” He ed —, from the hut, leaving the two prisoners dumbstricken at the horrible ven- pro . As he out, Coral t her hand in his arm and walked smilingly y his side through the camp. “T am afraid I was a little ous of you, Tom,” she said, smiling. ‘‘I did not like to have you keep these pri for you have con- fosedt that you loved Mrs. Hardin once.” ““Tg that all?” he said, laughing. ‘“ Then you meavt set your little heart at rest, for I will ‘‘T confess that I had a hope that he would aid | ” not love her now.” ‘You are going to send them away, then?” ** After to-day, nv civilized man will ever see their faces again. I am going to give them asa peace-offering to Single Hand,’’ It was only by a strong effort of her will that . this wonderful woman restrained herself. The plan was too horrible, and for a moment she al- most doubted the evidence of her senses. “Ts not that too dreadful, husband? Take them to Mexico, and put them in a convent; they could never get out of that.” He shook his head slowly. ‘I have thought of that, too, but the priests might ask some awk- ward questions. No, this is the only way to get rid of them entirély, and I will leave it to Sin- gle Hand. There, run away, little one; be as- sured that I love you as much as ever.” She stood for a moment in the same position, | looking wildly after him. **T will save him from this horrible crime,” she murmured, ‘He is insane upon this one point. Let me think it out.” She went away by herself and sat upon a great tree, in =. thought. While in that posi- tion, Single Hand and a small party of Indians passed her swiftly, on their way to the camp. ‘“The red scoundrel has come to claim them,” she thought. ‘‘ What can 1 do? oh, what can I | do to save them?” Single Hand came on, his dark brows over- cast, and he met the gaze of Duke Elwood with a fierce glance. ‘* Here am JI, Single Hand, chief of the Com- anche, The prairie is red with the blood of my brave men, and my belt is without scalps. You promised much, and you have given me nothing, and now why have you sent for me?” ‘““Who can tell what the future may bring forth?” replied Elwood. ‘‘It is not my fault if you met Hardin and were beaten.” “Why was not my brother there with his men, to strike beside Single Hand and drive the white rangers into the gulches? My brother is not tond of fighting; himself, but he is willing to let his red brothers fight for him.” Conscious guilt for a’ moment reddened the cheek of the outlaw, for he knew that the chief had spoken truly, and that the Indianshad been sent back on the old trail simply that they might meet the rangers. But the native assurance of the bad man came to his aid. ‘“‘The chief wrongs his brother,” he said. “How could I know which way the rangers would come? They might have met me—they did meet-you. Jt is in the hands of fate.” As he spoke, the rattle of arms was heard far away to the west. ‘‘ Fighting is going on in that direction, chief. We must leave this place, but first let me show you the offering I have to give you.” The chief followed him into the cabin, and he pointed to the sinking women. ‘They are yours,” he said; ‘‘all I ask of you is that they may never return to Texas.” “Tt is well,” cried the chief, eagerly. ‘‘ My brother has redeemed all, and Single Hand be- lieves him a true man. The white women will prepare to follow the steps of Single hand.” ** Away with them, chief, and we will follow, for the rangers are not far away!” cried Duke, impatiently. he chiet advarced to seize upon the frighten- ed women, when Coral, almost beside herself with grief, ran in and presented a pistol to the head of the Comanche. “Stand back!” she cried. “ Lay a finger upon one of them again and you are dead,” ‘¢ What do you mean, Coral?’ hissed Elwood. ‘Death! do you know what you are trying to do? Have you lost your senses?” “They shall not go with that brutal savage,” she replied, in the same fierce tone; ‘‘nothing save death shall drive me from them.” He sprung upon her, seized her fiercely by the wrist and wrenched the weapon from her hand. At the same moment came the charging cheer of the rangers, who, guided by Jim Blanchard, whose departure been really to warn the whites, poured in upon the gattnidhed outlaws, who, caught like rats in a trap, were beaten down, man by man. The sudden onslaught had taken them all by Leo! et and they were swept away before the rush of the now furious rangers. Oontesting wood Fe Praira Joe Hardin forced back to the all else, for i“ eve love for her husband was above » 3 b +
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sprung in between him and the weapons raised against his life. “*Ned Clayton, as we were once friends, spare him. Blanchard, Evans, save his life! e is beaten; he will give up.” Single Hand saw that all was over, and heay- ing up his mighty ax, rushed headlong into the midst of the foe, who parted like water before him, and then cijsed in on every side. A mo- 4% ment of wild mmmotion, weapons flashed, blows wers struck, and Single Hand lay dead in the midst of the crowd, with three dead rangers at his feet. Duke Elwood sprung back, a pistol in each hand, just as Lillian and her mother appeared in tho doorway. Brought to bay, the savage nature of the man came out, and shouting a fierce defiance, he caught Lillian by the arm and placed the pistol at her head, but Coral, striking it from his hand, pushed Lillian back into the houss, and placed herself before the door. “Stand back, all of you!” screamed the des- rate man. ‘ You know me now, James Har- ain. I am Duke Elwood, your own cousin, whom you robbed of all that makes life sweet. I had my revenge in my hands, and she dares to thwart me.” Even as he spoke he snatched a small dagger from Coral’s belt, and struck her a quick, fierce blow, aimed at her heart. She sunk gasping to the earth, the blood bubbling from the wound. Then placing the point of the keen weapon against his own breast, he drove it sharply home, and with a gasping sigh, fell dead at the feet of his bleeding wife. ** Back, all of you!” she cried. in a feeble voice. ‘‘Leave me with my dead. He killed me, you say; let it be so. I would rather die by his hand than live without him.” She dragged herself forward a little and look- ed down upon the dead face. There was actual- ly a smile upon it, and he looked grand in bis repose. She never moved, but spoke to that dead man in tones of loving tenderness, which went to every heart. “‘Lie you there, my dear one, cold and dead? Wait on the border of the river, and my soul will join yours in your flight to that far-off Jand. Lillian, come to me.” Lillian bent beside her, weeping as if her heart would break. “T loved you, sweet one,” sho said, ‘and I died to save your life. Kiss a poor, lost wo- man, and pray for the rest of my unhappy soul. Ned Clayton, to you we owe all this, but I can- not blame you.” “‘T would have died to save your life,” sobbed Ned. ‘I never looked °for this sad end. Can we not do something? You may not be so bad- ly hurt.” ‘*T shall bo dead in a moment more. Lay me with my husband in this sequestered place, where no one will come to disturb our rest. Farewell.’ Husband, I come to you.” She threw herself upon the dead form of the man she had loved, and with the effort her life passed away. They laid this erring pair under the green turf of the little glade, and not one in the wild band but mourned for the beautiful wife of Duke Elwood. Of his past, little need be said. He was a tousin of James Hardin, who had loved Maria Lascelle before she became the wife of Hardin. A man of rare parts, but who led a life of riot, he forged his father’s name, and at last killed a friend in a bar-room fight. After that he fled to Texas, at that time the city of refuge to all criminals; and from that time his friends had not heard of him. When he went away, he breathed fierce invectives against his cousin, by whose means he had been detected in the crime of forgery, and swore revenge when they met. James Hardin never had hated him—had giv- en his evidence most unwillingly, but this was nothing to the monomaniac, and when they met ~ in Texas the dormant passion of the man was again aroused, and he began, through the medi- um of Ned Clayton, that train of events which terminated so tragically for him. Black Feather, trusting to his action in favor of the whites, came into the camp and asked permission to carry away the body of his father, which had been | pikes ‘from mutilation by Ned Clayton, and the epi form was borneaway ‘to be buried amid the graves of the old-time chiefs of the Comanche, Tho after ing the dead and searching ont the con- ed treasure of the band, directed by Jim Blanchard, rode back to the desolated ran atter ape. under Blanchard to the womer and care for them. g _ The treesure which was found went far to gsqvompenss Captain Hardin for bis los, and Single Hand. before a month had passed, the family, who had been living with a friend some miles away, moved into the new house, where Ned Clayton was again domesticated,. overseeing every thing. Jim Blanchard became a sub-overseer, and his — y wife lived in the great house and was made much of by Lillian. The rest of the women scattered to various parts, but old Jinny was found and installed in a place of trust, in the new house, where she elorified the houses of Lascelle and Hardin to ber dying day. Four years passed. Ned Clayton was no longer overseer for Captain Hardin, but had a ranch of his own, further up the valley, with Jack Evans as overseer. He has grown into a fine, robust man, with a stunning mustache and gt er: and is doted on by all the girls along the Rio Grande. But, he has been true to his first love, and this year, when the harvest was yellow and the fields groaning with riches, he took to his home a fair young bride, for whose sake he had done and suffered so much— ian Hardin. THE END. Beatlle’s Half-Dime Library. BY WILLIAM >. EYSTER, 190 Dandy Darke; or, The Tigers of High’ Pine. 210 Faro Frank; or, Dandy Darke’s Go-Down Pards, BY W. J. HAMILTON, 68 The Red Brotherhood ; or, The Twelve Avengers, 66 Single Hand; or, A Life fora Life, 72 Mad Tom Weatern, the Texan Ranger. 887 Ben Bird, the Cave King; or, Big Pete’s Scoop, BY COLONEL DELLE SARA, 108 The Lion of the Sea; or, The Vailed Lady. 186 Cool Desmond; or, The Gambler’s Big Game.4 BY MAJOR LEWIS W. CARSON, 278 The Three Trappers; or, The Mountein Monster, 288 Indian Joe; or, The White Spirit of the Hills, BY JONN J. MARSHALL, 40 Roving Ben. A5t fa Young American. 97 The Outlaw Brothers; or, The Captive of the Harpes. BY GEORGE C. JENKS, 485 Git Thar Owney the Unknown. 492 Git Thar Owney’s Pledge. 518 The Demon Doctor. BY CAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLOR, U. 8. A. 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy hirteen. 194 Buffalo Bill’s Bet; or, The Gambler Guide, Bullwhacker; or, The Doomed BY TIARRY ST. GEORGE. 80 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, the Ranger. 44 Rattling Rube; or, The Nighthawks of Kentucky, 59 Old Hickory ; or, Pandy Ellis’s Scalp. 108 During Davy; or, The Trail of the Border Wolf, 166 Hickory Marry ; or, The Trapper Sreanae's Spy. 172 Thunderbolt Tom: cr, the Wol/-Herder, BY MAJOR HENRY B. STODDARD, Ex-Scout, 806 Neck-Tie Ned; or, The Dog-Out Pards, 846 Rapier Raphael; or, The Swordsmen of Zacatecas, $91 Kid-Glove Kit, the Dandy of the Rockies, 898 Kid-Glove Kit and Pard; or, The Gold King. 406 ane Mad Man-Hunter; or, The Mystery of Golden suich,. 505 Powell’s Pard; or, The One-Armed Giant, BY ROGER STARBUCK, 25 The Boy Captain; or, The Pirate’s Daughter. 114 The Black Schooner; or, Jib Junk, the Old Tar. 259 The Golden Harpoon; or, Lost Among the Floes. 848 Fire-Heels; or, ‘Old Skinfliut, the Death-Shadow. 854 Big Horn Ike, the Hill Tramp; or, The Odd Pards, 861 The Phantom Light-house. 870 Breaker Ben, the Reef-Runner. BY JO PIERCE. 897 Rob o’ the Bowery $3 or, The Prince of Mulberry Street. 415 The Vagabond Detective; or, Bowery Bob’s Boom, 452 Hotspur Bob, the Street-Boy Detective. 460 The Lawyer’s Shadow ; or, Luke’s Legacy. 472 Jaunty Joe, the Young Horse-King. 494 Surly Sim, the Young Ferryman Detective, 504 Five Points PhiL 509 Jack Juggers, the Butcher Boy Detective, 516 Tartar Tim; or, Five Points Phil’s Menagerie. 526 North River Nat, the Pier Detective. 588 (Wrestling Rex, the Pride ofthe Sixth Ward. 541 Jeff Flicker, the Stable Boy Detective, BY PHILIP 8S. WARNE, 6T Patent-Leather Joe: or, Old Rattlesnake, the Charmer. 175 Captam Arizona; or, Patent-Leather Joe's Big Game. 198 Captain Mask; or, Patent-Leather Joe’s Defeat. 219 Despard, the Duellat; or, The Mountain Vempires. 888 A Tough Boy; or, The Dwarf’s Revenge. 868 Little Tornado; or, The Outcasts of the Glen. 878 Little Jingo; or, the Queer Pard. 88S Little Oh-my ¢ or, Caught in His Own Trap, - 401 Little Shoo-Fly ; or, A Race for a Ranch. 408 Little Leather-Breeches ; or, Old Jumbo’s Curse. A481 Little Ah Sin; or, The Curse of Blood, 451 Colorado Kate. A Tale of the olines. 480 Three Jolly Pards. Biz Jim Gladden’s De G27 The Jolly Pards to phe Rescue. 16 BY ALBERT W. AIKEN, 11 The Two Detectives; or, The Fortunes ofa Bowery Girl 76 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. ZY Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. 258 Joe Buck of Angels and His Boy Pard. 447 New York Nat. A Tale of Tricks and Traps in Gotham. 458 New England Nick; or, ortunes of a Foundling. 464 Nimble Nick, the Circus Prince. 498 ‘Taos Ted, toe Arizona Sport. . 510 Cool Colorado, the Hal!-Breed Detective. : 615 Cool Colorado in New York. . BY FRANK DUMONT. 0 The Branded Hand; or, The Man of Mystery. W ild-F ire, the Boss of the Road. ) Blue Blazes; or, The Break o’ Day Boys of Rotky Bag, 1 Ebony Dan; or, The Rival Leagues. 5 Evil Eye: or, The Vultures of the Rio Grando, » BY EDWARD 8. ELLIS. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper. B : S$ Seth Jones; or, The Captives of the Frontier. 10 Nat Teddy; or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive. { 21 The Frontier Angel. 98 The Boy Miners; or, The Enchanted Island, | 182 The Hunted Hunter; or, The Strange Horseman, ; 254 The Half-Blood; or, The Panther of the Plains, 271 The Huge Hunter; or, The Steam Prairie Man, BY GEORGE WALDO BROWNE. / 86 Dandy Rock the Man from Texes. 90 The Dreud Rider; or, The Texan Duelist. - 99 The Tiger of Tuos; or, Dandy Rock’s Angel. 115 The Mad Miner; or, Dandy Rock’s Doom. r 181 The Golden Mand; or, Dandy Rock to the Rescue, i 164 Dandy Rock’s Pledge ; or, Hunted to Death. : 178 Dandy Rock’s Rival; or, The Haunted Maid of Taos, {BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER. * 15 The Sea-Cat; or, The Witch of Darien. 29 The Dumb Page; or, The Doge’s Daughter. 48 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. 150 Lance und Lasso; or, The Children of the Chaco. 154 The Sword Hunters; or, The Land ofthe Elephant Riders, 159 The Lost Captain; or, Skipper Jabez Coffin’s Cruise to the Open Polar Sea. 200 The Boy Bedoutns; or, The Brothers of the Plumed Lance, 214 Wolfgang, the Robber of the Rhine. a ; 249 Milo Romer, the Animal King; or, The Round the World Wanderer. t 265 The Tiger Tamer; or, The League of the Jungle, $81 Black Nick, the Demon Rider. 895 California Joe’s War Trail. BY BUCKSKIN SAM (Major Sam. 8, Hall.) (* 284 Old Rocky’s “ Boyees;” or, Benito, the Young Horae Breaker. 246 Giant George; or, The Ang’l of the Range. 275 Arizona Jack; or, Giant George’s Pard. 297 The Tarantula of Taos; or, Giant George’s Revenge. 807 The Strange Pard; or, Little Ben’s Death Hunt. ’ 818 ker-whoop, Ker-whoo3 or, The Tarantula of Taos, 827 Creeping Cat, the Caddo; or, The Red and White Pards. 882 Frio Fred: or, The Tonkaway’s Trust. 844 The Fighting Trio: or, Rattlesnake, the Tonkaway. 849 Wild Wolf; or,/Big-Foot Wallac Front. ; 857 The Ranch Raldera: or, The Siege of Fort Purgatory, 864 Snap-Shot, the Boy Ranger. 875 Chiota, the Creek; or, The Three Thunderbolts. 881 Bandera Bill; or. Frio Frank to the Front. 892 Romeo and the Reds; or, The Beleaguered Ranch. 404 Little Lariat; or, Pecan Pete’s Big Rampage. 414 The Dalsy from Denver. 427 The Three Tratlers; or, Old Rocky on the Rampage, 442 Bluff Bills or, The Lynx of the Leona. 455 Little Lone Star; or, The Belle of the Cibolo, “eo m* - ; MISCELLANEOUS AUTHORS. 4 The Wild-Horse Munters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and — Frederick Whittaker. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen. } 12 Gulliver’s Travels. By Dean >wift. 14 Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Lamp. 16 Robinson Crusoe. (27 I!lustrations.) 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. 22 The Seca Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By Juan Lewis. 88 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pirates of the Carribees. By S. W. Pierce. 86 The Boy Clown; or, The Queen ofthe Arena. By Frank S. Finn. 88 Ned Wylde, the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 51 The Boy Rifles; or, The Underground Camp. By Archie C. Irons. 95 The Rival Rovers; or, The Freebooters of the Mississipp!. By Lieut.-Col. Hazeltine. 4 {98 Robin Hood, the Uutlawed Earl; or, The Merry Men of Green- wood. By Prof, Gildersleeve. } 105 Old Rube. the Hunter; or, The Crow Captive. By Captain Hamilton Holmes. 112 The Mad Hunter; or, The Cave of Death. 124 Tippy, the Texan; or, The Young Champion. Gleeson. 128 The Young Privateer; or, The Pirate’s Stronghold. By ; Harry Cavendish. - 148 Sharp Sam; or, The Adventures of a Friendless Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. 227 Dusky Darrell, Trapper: or, The Green Ranger of the Yel- lowstone. By Edward Emerson. : é 261 Fergus Fearnaught the New Y srk Boy. By George L, Aiken. . 266 Killb’ar, the Guide; °r, Davy Crockett’s Crooked Trail. By Ensign C. D, Warren. 298 Red Claw, the One-Eyed Trapper; or, The Maid of the Cliff By Captain Comstock. . 817 Poacock Pete. the Lively Lad from Leadville. By Liew t Alfred Thorne. ~ 828 The Sky terectives or, A Boy’s Fight for Life and Honor. By Maior Mickey Free. ‘s 850 Ked Ralph, the River Rover; or, The Brother’s Re- venge. By Ned Buntline. : 865 Raltimore Ren the Bootblack Detective. By A. P. Morris, 874 Gold-Dust Tom; or, Ben’s Double Match. By George H. - Morse. 876 California Joe’s First Trail. By Colonel Thomas Hoyer Monstery. 418 Billy Bombshell, the Cliff Climber. By F.S. Winthrop. — ~ 440 Little Foxfoot, the Gold Bowie Kid. By Arthur C. Grissom, 475 The Black Ship. By John S. Warner. ~ * 484 Comanche Dick and His Three Invincibles, By Henry J. Thomas. 528 Wizard-Arm, the Dandy Sport. By Arthur F. Holt, 582 The Cowboy Duke. By Edwin Brooke Forrest. A New Issue Every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by ati newsdealers fee cents per y, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, “ 98 William Street, New Yorks By Burton Saxe. - By George yy Tee
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4 NE | W IVORK hing * ¢ ac i ook. - Recipe 1g Guide. j inet siti] Wenty-seven _—, m. George Washingo Wa Ly GA) EA Dramas & L.—John Pat Ww one: ac ot Yi Kft \ ae Ge 4 I Mad Anthony Wayne CARERS Lines, PAY Ys ; 5410 hal For es. Of Vv *_ thaw Allen. ire oS ee =! OR RD Le, iY al ¥ sytat oe Ss Pp 20 cents ‘de Latayette, ms L 5 K : -» Larlors, Fy, ns ian { D ba Y eG C 44. WY Y a ‘] teur St . aniel Boone. ? é y LY 4 ” inal * Lage, con oF) “em ToL ica ' y / 3 Minor’ py. : 7 3 yyy Sy ' ramas, C f WWI jp. ous Dj SS Piec “v,—Mara! vid. toh ey Gs bie Farce, Dre ’ EADLE'«n vo ADA ano ADAMS NEW, YORK Lincoln. - HANDBOOK OF WINTER SPORTS, EMBRACING: ICE-SKATING, | ROLLER-SKATING, RINK. BALL CURLING, AMERICAN FOOTBALL, AND ICE-BOATING. Together with the Speci , pecial Code of Rules for Prize Skating Skating Congress; and Records of Matches at Base-Ball thi ce Cricket on the Ice. Edited by Henry Chadwick. & books are sold by all Newadealera. or sent. nost-nald. on receipt of price, 20 ots, each, folk ork = Le EBM aR PS 2 Ae GR EC A RTE PARTON, os veces RG EES, A EE eit ER ee =