Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1138) (1903 06)
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—— == (peel ig} a _ Tee) oe YORK ———_. ———— NEW Copyricat, 1879, By BeapLe & ADAMS, Published Every Month. rie at MM. J. VERS &A CO., Publishers, (JAMES SULLIVAN, PROPRIETOR), 379 Pearl Street, New York. No. 1438. Buck Buckram; OR, BESS, THE FEMALE TRAPPER. A TALE OF THE FAR SOUTH-WEST. BY CAPTAIN J. F. C. ADAMS, AUTHOR OF ‘OREGON SOL,” ‘“* GLASS EYE,”’ “* NED HAZEL, THE BOY TRAPPER,” ‘NICK WHIFFLES’S PET,”’ ‘“‘yHE WHITE INDIAN,’ ETC., ETC.. CHAPTER L A DEED OF THE NIGHT. ‘Don’? you see the camp-fire yet, Buck?” “ No— ’sh! not so loud!” Two men, in trapper costume, were stealthily paddling an Indian canoe up one of the tribu- taries of the Colorado, in the far South-west. Dark, heavy timber lined both shores, and the faint moon, obscured by the clouds drifting past its face, threw a strange, flitting light over the river, relieved by the inky wall of shadow, that reached out several yards from land. Through this wild solitude, scarcely, if ever, visited by the hunter or trapper, these | lt bali TANS ths JUNE, 1903, Vol. XLUIL PRICE 5 CENTS. 50c, a year. ally starting from some of the New Mexican towns, had a home of his own in the upper part of the territory, to which, when not toiling for the necessities of life, he hastened. He had a beautiful half-breed wife, to whom he was de- votedly attached, although he had no-children. The three men, after making a journey of | ad turned | several hundred miles on horseback, their animals loose in a place where there was abundant grazing, and were not liable to be dis- turbed& by Indians, and then had sought out their trapping grounds. Finding abundant signs around them, they had located themselves in this place, and had been here about a week at the time we open our story. They had met with unusually good success thus far, when they were annoyed by discover- | ing that some animal visited their traps during the night, and destroyed whatever was caught | in them. ; two men were making their way at midnight, one au- tumn, about twenty years ago. “The canoe was a small birchen offe, such as the Co- manches and Apaches are in the habit of using, and, as the two occupants softly ressed theirs long ‘paddles neath the surface, they scarcely made a ripple, and the trained ear of the Ameri- can Indian would have noted their progress, only by that phantom-like figure gliding over the surface of the atream. Buck Buckram, a fall, sinewy, iron‘limbed trapper, satin the prow, his thin neck craned forward, as he peered forward ifito the Egyptian darkness, in his effort to dis- cover the little camp-fire, which he and his companion and left several hours before. In the stern sat a heavy- framed hunter, Dick Havens who dallied with his oar, an at the same time managed to impel it at quite a rapid rate overthe surface of the creek. Both men had hunted and trapped at intervals during ths last dozen years, and, in company with Dick Inglis, a younger and less experienced mountaineer ‘than them- selves, they had started from Santa Fe on atrapping expe- dition of their own. Buckram, although gener- = s —— —- aie o : — = ~s ‘$mE I8 DEAD, AND THE 4PACHBS Haves SUE BO Ur Thar WAX av CHEAT Ups!’ To end this annoyance, Byck Buckram and Dick Havens made a nocturnal visit, to their traps, in the hopes of detecting the intruder, After several hours’ hunting and waiting, they caught sight of a huge mountain wolf, that ne doubt was pleased at finding his meals prep for him. A rifle-shot doubled him up like a jack-knife, and the two trappers set eut on their return to camp. And so on this still autumn night, the two hunters glided silently up the creek, eyes and ears on the alert for danger. Their communi- cation was in those low whispers, which in the forest might have been taken for the rustling of the falling leaves. Suddenly Buck Buckram held his paddle mo- tionless, and with a faint ‘*’sh /—” warned his comrade of the same. Halting thus, as silent and stationary as death itself, they detected through the hollow stillness of the night, a faint ' ripple, which an unexperienced ear would havé declared to be caused by a muffled oar, but which these two mountaineers knew to be made by some person or ani- mal swimming in the water. It was only the delicately trained ear that could have recognized the faint rustling; but a moment’s listening sat- isfied them both, that what- ever caused it was approach- ing them, and by an instinct-_ ive impulse, the light canoe was driven under the pro- tecting undergrowth of the bank. Here thetwo hunters sat as rigid as the inky tree-trunks along shore. The creek wide- ning somewhat ag this poin®, and the moon clearing, the clouds sweeping over its face, they had a quite distinct view of the center of the stream. Nearer and nearer came that peculiar liquid sound, until peering through the in- terlacing vegetation, they detected the huge head and glowing eyebalis of a ther, swimming swiftly against the stream. As he came near the hiding-place of the hunters, bis keen ol- factories* scented their pre- sence, and he made a detour which carried him nearly against the opposite bank. He did not land, however, but continued on in the cur- rent, until he was speedily lost sight of in the gloom of the nicht, and the wonder- fully acute ears of the hunt- ers quickly lost all sound of the retreating animal. A few minutes later, and the canoe was again descend- ing the stream, like the shad- owy figures ina vision of the night, and believing that ali was right around them, tha boat was impelled forward with greater swiftness than before,
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| Tan Beadle’s Half-Dime Libra Suddenly they rounded a sweeping bend in the stream, and caught the star-like glimmer of the camp-fire, which they had left several hours before. The reflection of the rays from the black surface of the stream, had a cheerful ef- fect, like the glow of the settler’s cabin to the belated traveler, and the hunters propelled the canoe, with long and powerful strokes, which sent it bounding like a swallow toward its des- tination. s j When they had approached within a few hun- dred yards, they could see the figure of their friend, half-sitting and half-reclining upon the ground, in the free and easy posture of a wea- ried man, who is taking a quiet smoke after the labors of theday. ° He did not look up nor stir his body. His face was toward them, but his head bent forward, as if he were lost in reverie, and the pipe, which a few moments before had rested between his teeth, had fallen out and lay upon the ground. It was singular that he did not move nor show — consciousness of the approach of his friends, although the dip of the paddles was audible for quite a distance in the stillness of the night. Suddenly a horrible fear thrilled through Buck Buckram, as with a tremendous sweep of his oar, he checked the boat, and in a hoarse whisper exclaimed: “ He is dead, dnd the Apaches have set him up that/way to cheat us bad CHAPTER II, A GRAVE IN THE SOLITUDE. Back again into the ee and darkness of the night was the canoe driven by the startled Buck Buckram, while he and his companion cowered down, expecting. the crack of the death-dealing rifle, and the exulting shout of the Apaches. , But the same impressive silence rested upon wood and stream, as though no human being but themselves were in the solitude; and, when they had glided some distance, they quietly touched shore and step out. “ Are you sure you ain’t mistook about that?” ingnired Buck Buckram. “ No, sir,” was the earnest reply, in an under- tone. “It’s one of their infarnal tricks. Poor Inglis has gone under, no mistake.” Where are the reds then?” “ That'was a little quaar. It looks as though, after they had sent him under, they war satis- fied. Leastways, we'll soon find out.” Silently, cautiously, and stealthily the two moved through the woods™in the direction of the desolate camp-fire. peut a distance inter- vened, but the woods and undergrowth were so dense that the, moonlight could not penetrate the gloom, and ‘they could scarcely detect each _ other’s presence as. they moved along side by side, be within a few inches of each other. When they were within a hundred yafds or so of the smoldering camp-fire they separated, s0 as td approach the camp from different di- rections, and satisfy themselves whether any Indians were lurking in the vicinity or not and waiting to entrap them. The recopnoissance occupied fully an hour, but the end of it was, the discovery that not an Apache was within striking distance. They had struck their blow and fled. As they slowly approached the camp they could see their friend in the same stationary po- sition, which was such a semblance of life itself, * that there are few who would not Ifave been de- ceived: The head drooped forward, hiding the face except the grizzly whiskers on the breast, while the hands hung listlessly by his side, as if he were in a quiet, dreamless sleep. Satisfied that fio danger threatened, the two came together. Buck Buckram being some- what in advance, reached out his hand and placed it upon the*shoulder of the dead trapper. Tha instant he did so he displaced the skillful- ly arranged props, and the latter fell forward upon his face, as limp and lifeless as the hunt- ing-shirt left upon his body. in examination was now made, and it was found that Inglis had been shot from behind.b an arrow, which had passed entirely throug the body, taking the heart itself in its course. Life been driven’ out instantly, with no more than a gasp upon the part of the unfortu- nate hunter. bet By means of sticks, adroitly placed within his | Bert t. donbelesvee, his body had: been raised and sup- | rted in sitting position, his coon-skin cap ar- 4d on his head, and even the pipe he was smoking at the time the fatal blow was given, was plac?1 again between his teeth. : The Apaches had displayed no little art in their attempts at deception. The undischarged mifle rested against his shoulder, just as the watchful embrace, warni hunter holds his piece in a sort of idle where it can be seized at an instant’s ng. The Tndians had evidently done this for the | purpose of drawing the absent trappers into a snare; but, for-some cause or other, they had departed before their return, and the latter thus made a narrow escape. As there was still danger of the Apaches re- turning, the trappers withdrew beyond the cir- cle of light thrown out by the camp-fire, and | prepared to watch until morning, ready in case they did appear, to give them a welcome which would partly repay them for the diabolical | crime they had committed. It was’a weary task, waiting and watching through al] the solemn hours of the night; ‘but it was maintained vigilantly until morning. Twice during the night they caught the faint | outlines of dark figures stealing along the shore of the creek, but they were gone before the eye could fix them, and the hunters maintained their positions without meg The gray light began breaking at last, and when the forest was lit up, there were no signs of their enemies in the neighborhood. Buck- ram and Havens came out from their hiding- place, and approached the body of their fallen companion. Upon removing his cap it was found that he had. been walgod: and the blood was drippin down his neck and face; but he was cold an motionless, and beyond the reach of all further suffering. A painful duty was upon the hunters. They had not the means of digging a grave, and it would never do to leave him above ground, where the wild animals would speedily find and: | rend him. is “Is there no place where we could put him away in the rocks?’ asked Havens, as they stood looking mournfully at the remains of their late companion. “No,” he replied, with a shake of his head, “that won’t do; we should have to carry him too far.” **Poor Inglis! family?’ remarked Havens. until last winter.” Buck Buckram shook his head. I wonder whether he had a **T never met him “‘ Nary a wife nor child. He came from Ken- | tucky, and there was something about his leav- ing thar that I never understood, and he never | liked to speak about. But Dick was a good fel- ler,” added the trapper, as he brushed a tear | Pp from his eye; ‘‘me and him have beéh in many a desperate scrimmage together, but it’s all over | ? now, ‘* And where shall we put him?’ **TIn the water.” The plan struck Havens favorably, and they | The body | made their preparations at once. was lifted up tenderly and carried to the wa- ter’s edge, where it was placed in the canoe that) awaited then. A huge stone was laid beside it, | and then Buckram took the oar. Apprehensive that there might be some lurk- ing Apache in the vicinity, they paddled up the stream for fully a half mile until they.reached | gu a ace where the sunlight never penetrated, | anc the‘dark waters were so deep that no bot- tom could be seen. The stone was then secured around the trap- r, and he was carefully lowered over the side. ey watched him until he rapidly sunk out of | sight, and then, without exchanging a word, they took up their paddles and swiftly left the | sad scene. CHAPTER UL THE YOUNG CAPTIVE, Suxce the trappers had lost one of their num- ber from’the Indians, it would he supposed that | not only on account of their own safety, but for | the gloomy associations connected with the place, they would have made haste to change their quarters. Their inclination at first was to do so; but, as there was an abundance of beaver around them, | they decided to remain through the trapping season. They sincerely mourned the fall of their brave comrade, but they were too accus- tomed to death even in its most revolting shape, to allow it to interfere with their daily avoca- | tions. As for Indians, they were everywhere, especially where white hunters or trappers were likely to congregate. Careful watch was kept for the Apaches; but, for a time nothing was seenof them. The trap- pers daily visited their horses, which were con- | cealed in a deep ravine about half a mile dis- tant, and were gratified, as the days passed, to see that they were unvisited by their old ene- mies. ieee ry. | But matter$ could not always remain thus; | The trappers had erected a rude sort of lodge, | com of bark, logs, and stone, and one af- ternoon, returning to this earlier than, usual, | their ears detected unmistakable evidence of | its having been visited during their absence. The signs were slight, but they were convine- g. “*T am afraid we shall have to dig out of this,” | said Buckram, after they had lit their pipes and discussed the matter, ‘it looks as though the varmints were laying some plan to nab us.’ ** Yas, and the only wonder is that they hain’t come on us. afore,” replied Havens, who had | more than once proposed that they should “* pack | up their traps ” and leave. ‘“‘They’ve had something better to ‘tend to, | in the way of ha’r raising than to look arter us; but, I allow we’d better tramp without waiting much longer. So, if you'll go down and bring | up the horses, I’ll git the peltries ready, and this arternoon, we'll strike for the mountains.” It was now the dead of winter, although there | Was no snow upon the ground. The air was | keen and sharp, and it.was anything but plea- sant for the trappers to leave their rough but comfortable home, and make their way over the bleak prairies and through the chilly woods to some new beaver-runs. Havens acted os the suggestion at once an started in quest of the horses, while Buck Buck- ram began bringing out the furs and packing them into the smallest possible compass, so that they could be loaded upon one of their horses, . transported without difficulty to their new ome. He haa serious thoughts of caching them, but, under the circumstances, there was much risk run, as it would be impossible to con- ceal the nding plese from .the eagle-eyed Apa- ches, when the latter had any reason to believe that such a stratagem had been resorted to. So Buck Buckram brought out the beaver- skins, flat and outspread, and, as he flung them admiringly upon the ground, he could but stop and admire them for a few moments. ‘“*Them ar’ what I call the rig’lar style,” he | soliloquized, “‘ sich as a man don’t cotch ever | time he goes a beaver-huntin’, and them wi | bring a nice little pile of money down at Santa Fe or Taos, or wherever I take ’am.” ; He rubbed his hand over them as though he was smoothing the back of some favorite ani- .mal, and added, as he proceeded to tie them up: ‘* When I take them down to Santa Fe and turn them into Se yaller gold, won’t some- body up among the mountains smile? I rather reckon she will!” ) Soliloquizing and chatting with himself, he |.continued his work until they were secured in conyenient bundles. By this time a couple of hours had passed, and he began to look for the reappearance of Dick Havens. He turned his’ eyes continually in’ that direction, and, as the time passed slowly by, a feeling of anxiety be- | gan creeping over him—a feeling which was startled into real alarm, when he heard from the direction he had taken the faint Peport of a n. Without one thought of the loss of his’ pek * | tries, he instantly caught-up his rifle and start- | ed toward his friend. In order to make the | journey without loss of time, he found, after | travelitig a mile or so, at a peculiarly romantic | and rocky portion of the route, that he was | close to the creek, over which he and his com. | rade had passed so many times in their canoe. He was advancing in this manner when his experienced ear caught the ripple of a paddle, and he drew back, just at the time to escape the observation of two Indians, who were seated in a canoe, rapidly paddling down-stream, and who passed almost at his very feet. Now, there was nothing particularly remark- | able in the sight of these two Apaches, as they were frequently seen in this neighborhood; but, what arrested the attention of Buck Buckram, was the sight of a captive—nothing less thah a girl scarcely a dozen years of age who was seat- ed in the stern, with a finely-worked Apache shawl gathered about her. Her long black hair streaming over her shoul- ders might have been taken for that of ap In- dian; but the clear white skin was unmistak- ably that of a Caucasian, and her features were | almost Grecian. in their perfect symmetry, while her figure gave evidence of ripening *uto one of extraordinary beauty of proportion:, The Apaches and Comanches of the Sotth. west dre noted for the number of captives which they frequently take, and, at ordinary times, Buck Buckram would not have been surprised | at the sight before his eyes. But there was } toraetning in the appearance of this girl, which
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arrested his attention as it had never been ar- rested before. He stared intently at the beautiful face, and the impression ran through him that he had seen it somewhere before; but think as he might, he could not remember where, although the lon he looked, the more convinced was he that it *vas not the first time be had encoun- tered her. , And tiygn he asked himself whether he should not fire his gun and kill one of the Apaches, and, attacking the other, rescue the girl. . But he was too old a hunter not to understand the peril both to himse.f and the captive, but espe- cially the latter. There was no doubt but he would slay one of them, but ere he could reload, the second could brain the girl, and then the fight would be be- tween him and the red-skin. Besides that, another consideration restrained his arm. As he carefully scrutinized her face, he fancied that the placid expression upon it meant that if she was a captive, she was a will- ing one, and in slaying her captors, he would be slaying her best friends. nd while these thoughts were drifting through his mind the canoe passed around a bend out of sight, and he suddenly recollected that he had set out to reach his comrade, who probably was in great peril. CHAPTER IV. 4 THE APACHE HORSE-THIEVES. - Wuen Dick Havens left the trappers’ camp, and made haste toward the grazing-place of the horses, it was with little thought of personal _ danger. He had passed the greater part of the dis- tance, when the near report of a rifle somewhat alarmed him. and caused a sudden checking of his steps. Besidesthe proximity of the report, he distinctly caught the whiz of a bullet, as it passed within three inches of his cheek. This was pretty conclusive evidence that who- ever fired the gun had made him the target, and the furious trapper whirled about on his heel, and looked for the hiding-place of the assassin. From a small bush, about two hundred yards distant, he-saw a faint wreath of:smoke curling upward. Hesitating only a moment, he dashed in that direction at the top of his speed, mutter- ing: ; 3 Pll teach you better manners nor to try that game on Dick Havens, you all-fired coward.” Not for an instant while running did he take his eye off the bush; and as he sped rapidly over the ground, he drew his knife from his irdle, to ready for the desperate hand-to- d encounter with the red-skin, who had had the temerity to make the attempt upon his life. And yet when he reached the clump of bush- es, and bounded over them, “red-hot” for the contest, not a man or sign of one was to be seen, For a few minutes he stared about in bewil- dered amazement, and then looked up over his aead and then down to the ground, as though expecting to find some trace of him in those di- rections; and then collecting his wits, he stoop- ed down and carefully scrutinized the ground in - quest of a ‘‘ sign.” - : The wonderfully skilled eye of the mountain- eer was not tobe eived, and on the rocky, flinty ground, he detected the shadowy imprint of a moccasin, confirmation of the tale that had been told by the smoke-wreath that followed the spiteful crack of the rifle. ‘“‘ But hang it, where has he gone?” he mutter- stil staring stupidly around him. oe then attempted to follow the trail but this was impossible even though the flight of the In- dian had been greatly hurried. The ground was very hard and flinty, and after a yard or-so the trail was entirely lost. Whoever the treacher- ous red-skin was, he had made good _ his escape, and the trapper was now powerless to do any- _ thing. ‘ hart muttering vengeance, he examined his rifle, and arsed his steps in quest of his horse, occasional! glancing over his shoulder, to make | sure that he was not followed, and furtively scrutinizing each rock and shrub behind which ~ itlooked probable that a red-skin might con- himse!f, r Rother was still considerable distance to pass, | and adventurous life of the trappers of the the fact that he had been fired at made him exceedingly cautious in his movements. Suddenly, from some cause or other, he glane- | ed to the left, and he was certain he -saw the ’ © +ufted head cf an Indian peering from behind a | _ bush, almost similar to the one from which the | -well-nigh fatal shot had been fired. ) , the trapper raised his gun, ) but sure aim, Then Without waitir d taking a quic Buck Buckram. he paused long enough to reload, and dashed forward to make sure of his victim. | Upon reaching the bush, there lay an Indian, | sure enough, stretched out cold and lifeless, al- though his position was precisely the same as be- | fore the hunter fired his gun. Here again another mysterious and inexplain- able thing was noted. Scrutinizing everything with a hunter’s eye, the trapper saw that, al- | though he had shot an Indian, yet it was a dead | one. The Apache had been slain by a bullet | fired several hours at least before his own. ‘* B’ars and beavers!’ muttered Havens, “‘ that | ere is a little the quarist thing yet. The first | time I ever fought dead Injins!” At any other time, he would endeavor to in- vestigate the matter, but just now he was too | sensible of the danger constantly impending over him; and, leaving the dead Indian where he lay, he hastened after his horses. A half-hour later he reached the spot where | he had visited them the preceding day, but was | somewhat alarmed at seeing nothing of them. He was not long in learning that the red-skins | had also been here. He saw a number of moc- | casin tracks where the ground was of a more yielding character, and discovered where the | two horses had been ridden out of the inclosure by their savage captors. The signs showed that it was but a short time since the Indians had left, and the trapper took | the trail at once, following it with an assiduity | that a mile further on brought him in sight of | the thieves. He found that two Apaches had stolen the an- | | —that is, they separated,’ imals; and, after riding a short distance, had | dismounted, slain both, and were enjoying a dinner upon the choicest portions of each. ‘‘Tll give you chaps a little pepper to take with that,” muttered Havens exultingly, as he began cautiously creeping to a position from | iS apag he might gain a good view of the red- skins. ‘“Yer’ll find out that ’ere don’t taste as well as you’re countin’ on,” he added, as he secured the coveted position. As there were two savages to encounter, the trapper endeavored to maneuver so as to bring | the two red-skins in range, in order that one bullet might finish both. But he failed, as they constantly changed their position, and he finally gave over the at- tempt, and concluded to shoot one, and then | take the other in whatever manner the savage elected. : He carefully sighted his rifle over the ground, and it required but a moment to make sure of his aim. The next moment he pulled the trig- | ger, and, with a shriek, one of the Apaches threw up his arms and expired. It struck Havens as he rapidly began tom ing his piece that it sounded strange when fired it, and he speedily saw the reason. At the very instant of discharging it some one else did the same, and the result was seen in the second Indian lying dead upon the ground. As mystery seemed the order of the hour, Havens would not have made an attempt to identify his friend, had he not appeared on the ground, in the shape of Buck Fickcon, who, springing from behind an adjacent rock, ex- claimed: ; ? “i Run quick, Dick, yonder is a whole pack of | em!’ 4 At the same instant, he set the example by + gears down the ravine with the swiftness of the wind. CHAPTER V. A RUN AND A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE. MEN who are accustomed to lead the a po Vest, are pretty certain to possess great fleetness of foot, and extraordinary powers of endurance. Buck Buckram and Dick Havens had been in ays a “ tight place,” and had learned to use | all the power given them by nature, with great skill. The warning word of the former was the signal for both to turn about and speed away, as fast.as their legs could carry them. Buck was slightly in advance, and took a | course down the ravine, and almost in an oppo- | site direction from the place where he left his furs and peltries, He had two reasons for tak- ing this course, the first of which was that it | offered the better prospect of escape, and the | second that it drew their pursuers away from | their property, which was too valuable to be given up unresistingly. At the moment of starting, Havens saw no- | thing of the Indians, whose presence had been | announced by his companion; but they had run scarce a hundred yards when a series of whoo | and yells emphasized the warning, and told t — | ter, and, with, one might | he therefore turned quickly to the left an | along the shore, his eye runnin ‘dozen yards when hunters that their safety now lay in getting over the ground as fast as possible. While the earth was of a character co prevent ' anything like the speed of whieh bcth pursuer and pursued were capable, yet it perhaps could | not have been more favorable to escape, as the hills, ravines, streams, and recks gave them eve _ | ery opportunity to conceal themselves, and to- resort to those artifices, by which a chase of this kindsis so frequentiy decided. The first great necessity was to get so far bee yond the Apaches as to gain an opportunity for something of the sort, as nothing could be done: when the intervening distance was so slight. Fully serisible of this, the trappers bent every energy and bounded over the ground with the velocity of a race-horse, while the Apaches, con- fident of capturing the two, forbore to fire their guns, but kept up their hooting and shouting, | as though they would frighten them into giving over the chase at once. ‘** Dick, let’s spread!” called out Buckram toe | his companion, when they had sped along for a short distance. : The two accordingly “‘spread” on the instant lieving that there was a better chance of success in doing this, than in remaining together, This, of necessity, compelied the red-skins al- so to divide their forces, although there still re- mained enough in each party to “settle the task” of a dozen such trappers. There was very little, if any, difference in the fleetness of the two hunters, and the moment they separatel, they began rapidly drawing away from their enemies, several of whom dis- charged their guns, while all redoubled their | exertions. A fortunate turn made the fortune of Buck Buckram. All at once he found himself the margin of a small tributary of the river. It was quite a creek, with high, precipitous sides, and apparently with considerable depth of wa- ter. At the time he discerned this obstacle, he was now within a rod or two of the edge; and, with- | out stopping to “look before he“ leaped,” he called up all the strength of which he was mas- bound, just reached the other shore. He cleared the space by scarcely a hand’s breadth, and without pausin to look back, hastened on until he was ported in the wood. But Buckram had run but-a short distance | when he-saw that he was safe, and he turned about to see whether he could be of any assist- ance to his.companion. " The latter had not. been quite so fortunate, When he ‘‘ spread,” he diverged to the left, tak- ing a direction which he judged would give him | the woods, and would leave the matter to be | simply a dead trial of speed. But the same creek which interposed across the path of Buck Buckram, and secured his safety also, after several tortuous windings, laid. itself upon the margin’ of a broad and deep stream. Its width was too great for him to poe Y and sped rapidly ahead, seeking some place over which he could jump, Instead of narrowing, the stream broadened, . until the fugitive began to fear that he was’in a trap, for the Indians had him in plain sight, and were yelping like madmen at the easy pros- pect of capturing him. In a sudden thrill of alarm he whirled about to retrace his oy oy but had gone scarcely a e perceived his mistake, and turned back again. By this dubious proceeding, he lost several _minutes—precious time, and the Apaches were fearfully close. Havens saw that he had com- | mitted such an error, that the only possible pein of securing his safety was by leaping the creek, : Still onward he hurried, until at.last he struck la pot where it. looked as if he might accom- plish the feat. Turning off somewhat to the side, so as to gain momentum, he made the run, and throwing all his strength in the effort, at- _ tempted the feat. ; He narrowly missed—striking the shore with- in a few inches, but still in water which was n 2 bank, and one of them made the atienne: either. — to leap a so of bi confront a upon the — opposite side, or else he purposely sprung into _ the water to capture him, yet og he came out, * . Be x Pape
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splash, within an arm’s He struck with a loud { e next moment the vom _ of Havens, and o grappled. =~ The Apache was an excellent swimmer, and was of great strength and activity; ad an in each respect, the aie sl exceeded him, es he speedily got the best of him. Each drew - his knife and struck fiercely at the other, but Havens, by a skillful trick, sent it spinning out of his opponent’s hand. He now had him at his mercy, and, as may be 7 ted, showed him none. e Apache yelled ‘and shouted to his companions on shore, but they were fearful that if they fired,-they would slay their own man. ing that it was going against him, one of those on shore sprung into the water, and began ‘swimming out to his Assistance. ~ | Before he could reach him the spiteful crack of a rifle upon the other bank broke the stillness, ee he threw up his arms and - beneath the water, Buck Buckram called to his friend: , ed . “Come, Dick, there’s no time to wait’” CHAPTER VI. =? A NIGHT ADVENTURE. - Buck BucKramM reached down his comrade by the collar, and drew BE ee ae wena in i r) e shes, the two men aianged into the wood, with greater speed than ever. ‘As it may be supposed, the Indians lost no time in -following; but they were thrown at t disadvantage by being compelled to cross fhe « creek, which necessita considerable delay uBy this time, too, it was growing dark; and, as the two men sped through the woods, the pro- tecting saadows gathered about them, until they felt they were safe from all pursuit. Their adventure with the Apaches had led - them a long ways out of their course; but per understood their bearings so well, that they too the most direct route toward the spot where had left their peltries. ah As their animals bad been slain by the In- - dians, they were compelled to take the part of ‘beasts of burden themselves until they could ‘uring others: but they were to vicissitude and discomfort, that they looked upon the additional labor with ttle their shoulde: ; Sted into the small boat, they sunk it to its very gunwales, and it great care and caution to avoid having the whole thing swamp- “Shortl tiv after they started, the full moon : ore i i the forest, and soon eame up above the edge of jit up stream so brilliantly, that the danger - of traveling was increased tenfold. Having dealt so roughl with the Apaches, there was every reason believe that they would leave at ta ir aig to Pade ap them- selves, and wo upon . ground, as soon etter the trappers themselves, as they could vo 4 shore!” whispered Buck as close to the Buckram to his companion, who was using the ne That’s what I’m trying to do, but these con- ‘limbs are switching me in the eyes all . ” “ Look out for ’em then.” “That's what I’m trying to do also, but ’m ' in’ every minute, that one of ’em will catch the boat and upset us all.” "There was danger of this catastrophe, and Gack Buckram sitting in the prow, made it his goecial business to ward it off. As the boat - glided noiselessly along, he reached out his Finds, and gently pushed the limbs aside; and, was damger of shying way, he corrected the without any difficulty or ovcasionally when there 430 close or too far a ~esurse of the canoe, jarring. — shadow which stretched along narrowed, as the moon ascended te he surface of the creek beca the hunters advanced slowly and carefully, for there was evi- ‘aos of the acne st around, ee Pedy han once they heard the apparen cries 0 ds, vat which they knew to be signals of the red- _ skins, and some of them were so close af hand, that they started, believing that they were dis- covered. Suddenly Buck Buckram, raised his hand as a signal to his companion to ** back water,” while at the same time, he caught the overhanging limb of a tree, and checked the forward motion of the canoe so abruptly, the peltries came near going overboard. ‘3h! sign,” he whispered. At the same instant, they saw by the reflec- tion upon the water directly ahead, that they were in close prox to a camp-fire of their enemies, which was built so close to the river, that it looked impossible for them’ to pass it, | : without discovery and another fight. They were more fortunate thus far than they could hope to be in another scrimmage with their enemies, and it was the part of prudence therefore that they should avoid the Apaches as much as ible. They debated together a few minutes, and then it was decided that Buck Buckram shouid creep ashore and t2ke a careful survey of the camp, and see whether it would be possible to attempt to it in their boat. Buck Buckram appreciated the danger of this too well to incur any risk that was avoidable. When he had crawled on his hands and knees a couple of hundred yards, he reached a i- tion from which he gained a clear view of the camp. He was somewhat surprised to find the very tevo Indians, whom he had seen during the day in the canoe, with the little girl. The savages had halted to cook their supper, the abe re tion of which seemed to fall to the lot of the little girl. From the trapper’s concealment, he had a good opportenity to scrutinize all three, and when the child’s face was turned toward him, with the light of the camp-fire full upon it, the conviction at once flashed over him that he had seen that same countenance years before, when it belonged to the face of an infant. He racked his pong 4 for a long time, but in vain. He had! been through many rough adventures, and his life was an eventful one ingeea. Some- where, in far different surroundings, he was certain he had looked upon those features, and there were some hearts in the broad South- west who mourned for her loss. Buck Buckram lay on his face for half an hour, scrutinizing the girl, as she moved about with the lightness and grace of a fairy, and then he over the attempt. But, as he began cautiously ret ing, he made the resolve not to leave the country until he took the girl with him. _ Fortune favored the chivalrous trapper; for when he had nearly reached the canoe, he heard one of the Indians order the girl, ina rough voice, to go to the creek and bring some water. She caught up a tin vessel, which her captors had evidently stolen from some hunter or set- tler, and started to obey her master, takin the direction which led her to the very § t where Dick Havens awaited the return ‘of his com- panion. She reached it, but a few steps behind Buck- ram, who, as she came near, rose to his feet and motioned to her to keep still. “ What's your name?” he asked. ‘‘ Bess,” was the reply, in a soft voice. “Wal, Bess, keep quiet now, and we'll take care of you!” With that he picked her up, and tog placing her in the canoe, signaled to the other kunter to move on. ee CHAPTER VII. THE BROKEN THREAD. For a few minutes the canoe glided silently, no one daring to break the stillness by speaking | in a whisper. Every moment they éxpected the yell of the Apaches at the discovery of the flight of the young captive, and every second was used. by Havens in propelling the frail vessel down-stream. The dangerous point was where they came opposite the camp-fire, and all lowered their heads, while the trapper dliowed the boat to drift with the stream, not venturing even to trust to his own skill in nsing the adie. Providence favored them, and the perilcus point was safely passed, and coming to. the sit- ting position, Havens used the paddle with eae vigor than ever. Still, when the girl quiet, as there was risk incurred in any noise.’ They had passed several hundred yards when | & singular-yell was puzzled both the hunters, But the girl, impul- ‘sively exclaimed: peaues muail-vime Liorary. SSS made as if to speak, he motioned to her to keep | | eyes on you afore, and I can’t tell when or- | where it was.” OO EE EE eV SS SS Oe re ee ae es ; ; ~ ‘< it is Velasquies calling me.” “‘ What is your name?” asked Buck Buckram, feeling that he might relax his vigilance some- what, although he svill kept to work with his | padilie. ‘*My name is Bess,” she replied. ‘* Bess what?” ‘- Bess—nothing more; I haven’t any other name,” she answered, speaking’ with ac~ cent, and yet not entirely perfect. ‘Who is your father? pursued Buck, who felt a powerful interest in this waif of a child, providentially thrown upon his hands, ‘** T—don’t—know,” was the reply, as the girt seemed lost in some deep reverie. af Neither one of the Apaches be such, ’m sure, a as no! the Indian is not, but the other may . hey is the other?” Telasquies. **Tsn’t he an Injin?’ “No; he is part Mexican and part Apache.” _“*& half-breed,” suggested Havens, who was listening with a good deal of interest to the con- versation. “Yes; that’s it. Maybe he is my father.” ** No, he isn’t,” said k Buckram; ‘such a looking scamp as he is never had such a child. — Besides, too, there isn’t any Injin blood in your veins. But don’t you remember anything of other people?” ‘ ‘* No,” sue replied, in the same softly hesitat- . ing tone. : kA Velasquies the first person you can call to ‘¢ Yes; he has always been with me.” ‘* No, he hasn’teither. Think hardnow. How is it you speak English so well?’ **T learned it from him.” ‘* Not ail of it, although he speaks it well.” ‘Do you know him?’ she asked, looking up eagerly in his face. “Yes; I have met him.” ‘Ts he a bad man?” ‘*¢ Just about as bad aseverIsoteyeson. He’s ugly enough to kill his own mother.” ‘He sometimes beats me. _That is the reason I run away from him. You won’t beat me, will you?” = ‘“May God smite me if I ao!” returned the trapper, as he brushed a tear from his eye. “In the first place, that scamp of Velasquies hasn’t any right to you. It’s qua’r I didn’t know him when i see’a him in the canoe, but he was so painted and daubed up that ] never ‘spected but what he was a red-skin. I say he hain’t got any right to you, and while I’m alive, he shall never have you. But I want you to think hard, and see whether you can’t think of something away back afore you seen Velasguies.” ‘*Sometimes;” replied , in that curious hesitating manner, “I can remember a house with big gardens, and brothers and sisters, and a fine lady that looked in my face and smiled— and then it seems it grew dark, and it all goes ‘* That’s it—that’s it,” repeated Buck, exrited- ly. ‘‘ Now try hard, and tell me what else yos ean think of.” ‘*T can’t-think of anything else.” *¢ Are you sure?” ‘‘T have often tried, but I can’t.” ‘How long ago does that seem?” ‘‘Oh! a long time—a hundred years.” The hunters smiled at the child's earnestness, and Buck added, in his kindest tones: ‘‘ A great while to you, in course, but a small time to us. Now, I want to ask you another uestion—” “Hark! there is Vetere calling to me in,” she interrupted, looking affrightedly be- hind her. ‘‘Oh! how angry he is, and how he will beat me if he gets rue again!” “Don’t be scart; he isn’t going to get you again. Now, Bess, look into my face. Pin | near "nough to you, and the moon shines bright | enough for you to see me plain.” Buck learted forward, so that his fgce was | close to that of the little child. heard, the meaning of which | * Look into my face, and tell me whether you oe me or any one that looks like me be- ore.” The little waif did as requested, and gazed long and earnestly upon the. bronzed features of the hunter; but she shook her head. a ‘‘No; I havenever seen you before,” “Yes, you have, but you don’t remember, and the deuce of it is, I remember that Pve so’ ‘That’s qua’r,” remarked Havens. you think hard, too, and tell it?’ ~ rae hte ol i Sah ge so OTA me TE eee. ee ee a i" EES IT pee meeats tie. “Can't “Shoot me! it’s no use; ve been tryin’, ever
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x ey ~ ; of aS eS as ne es veins % : New ce 4 UT ha PCat Ne SPT ES Carrs are > nae ras ERCP cs ee = — a rere on Mid eee ns a aay =e ates? ob hie — adie : cy ard: ae ay Oe re SA ee . “CER ert : 2 d J aie te Buck Buckram. time to think. It'll come to me time, when I don’t care about it.” “Hark! there goes that yelp ag’in.” “Let him yelp, and that’s all the good it'll do him.” And all the time, the little canoe, with its pre- cious freight, was moving swiftly down the lonely stream, in the quiet moonlight. ye CHAPTER VIII. DOWN THE RIVER. Buck Buckram worked the paddle with the unceasing persistency and the untiring steadi- ness of a steam-engine. As the night advanced, little Bess became weary and her head drooped. Havens disposed the velvety skins, so as to make her couch as soft and luxurious as that of eider down could have been. She was gently covered with another fur, and she slept sweetly and dreamlessly. y As she lay with her pale, beautiful face u turned and the silver moonlight resting upon it, while the scarred; hardy trappers kept watch over her, the scene was a strange and touching one. Buck Buckram knew that the Apaches would make every effort to recapture the escaping child. Velasquies unquestionably had some werful motive in ge. away this child Proms its parents, as he had certainly done. Buck Buckram, with the chivalry that always distinguished him, resolved never to give over his efforts until this child so strangely thrown upon his hands should be returned te her par- ents. y And all the time, as he plied his paddle, his mind was wandering back in its search for the time and place where he had first seen this fairy-like face. : ( And there was something in the voice, too, that was like the sound of familiar music heard long, long ago, and which vibrated through the aisles of memory with a sta ih But hour after hour passed, and -the pnPer heaved a deep sigh, and gave over the task. He had met with no better success than before. Several times that wild, demoniac yell of . Velasquies came faintly borne to them upon the night wind—sounding more like the wail of some wild animal than anything else, but it gave them no concern, and they paid scarcely any heed to it. ee: When it was past midnight the two hunters exchanged places, and Buck Buckram stretched himself out as much as possible, so as to gain a few hours’ rest. : Havens plied the oar with the same steady persevering skill as his companion. As the moon was overhead, and there was scarcely any shad- ow thrown out by the river banks, he kept near the middle of the current. ; A More from ct than from any anxiety, his sharp eyes flitted from shore to shore in quest of danger. 3 He bad a singularly prudential custom when approaching a bend in a river, of going close to tthe shore; and- passing around very slowly, so that at the first sight of peril, he had a chance of withdrawing before precipitating himself be- yond retreat into ~ , The wisdom of this Course was soon manifest, when in rounding a os ae in the stream, caught sight of three large canoes coming~-up- pro enh onal only a few hundred yards away. One powerful phdagy a> his paddle, and his own boat. was forced far back, under the shadow of overhanging trees, while he softly stirred Back Buckram, who was breathing rather heavily. The experienced hunter seemed to understand, as if by intuition, what it meant, and slightly @ifting his position, his slumber continued as quietly as the innocent Bess near him. A ~ — shot around the bend, and passed within > ecole ards of the a 0 as boat, with its motionless occupants. earn they were beyond sight or hearing, the vessel once more glided out in the moon- t and resumed her way, Havens plying the oar with the same untiring regularity as be- fore. ; Finally it began to grow light in the east, and then the hunter slackened his efforts somewhat and looked about him, as though searching for spot where hé should land. Before him rose a ridge of mountains, ascend- ing beyond the forest line, their peaks looking like rugged masses of white clouds resting in the - horizon. The country at their base was of the wildest character, crossed and intersected by streams - gnd caverns, and just the place in which a party Bes p- since to-day, when I see’d her, and could get | of hunters could secrete themselves from their I s’pose, some | hereditary enemies. Havens turned his canoe toward land, and immediately Buck Buckram awoke. Raising his head, he looked hastily about him, and then recognizing his whereabouts, he arose to the sit- ting position, and remarked: ** You've rowed purty well, Dick, to sosoon. See any sign on the way ie ‘Nothin’ worth speakin’ of.” ‘Shoot me! how ,the little gal sleeps!” ex- claimed Buckram, looking down inthe face of SS, “* Ain’t she p ”? “She ain’t anything else.” Buck surveyed her features for a few moments with the same intense interest, and then looking toward his companion, said: get here “Do you know, I’d give every peltry I own, and gun and all, when we’re in the middle of this red-skin country, if I could call to mind the place where I’ve seen that ’ere face.” “It’s powerful qua’r that you can’t. I’m sure I could, if I wasin your place.” ‘** And I’m powerful sure youcouldn’t. Haven’t I hammered my head till it has rung like a bell, and allfor no good? Hang it! I sha’n’t try any more!” exclaimed the trapper, as he impatient- ly turned his head away. ‘* What are you goin “Going to do with her? [m going to take her down home, and put her with the old wo- man and with my children, and then I’m never to rest till i find out her friends for her.” e sooner you do that the better, for this ain’t the country for sich a younker. But we hain’t got any animals.” ‘* We'll cache our peltries till we come back ag’in, and start home with her. When she gets tired, we can carry her.” ‘““A very idea, but the fust thing we’ve got fo do, is to give the younker something to to do with her?’ goin, ‘ ** Just let her be till she comes to, as she seems to be doing p well.” But Bess at this juncture opened her eyes, and so that suggestion was not acted upon. CHAPTER IX, : THE PERIL, For a few minutes, little Bess failed to real- ize her situation; but the kindly looks and words of the trappers soon’ re her, and she greeted them pleasantly. “Oh! I'm so glad I am with you, and I’m so hungry.” ‘“‘)’m jist going to send Dick there to get your breakfast.” ** And I’m jist on the point of going,” replied the trapper, with a laugh, as he slung his rifle over his shoulder and moved away. At the particular point where the y land- ed, there was no shrubbery, and Buck Buckram noticed with some uneasiness that their boat, and even themsélves, could be distinctly seen by any one in passing up or down the river. He pulled the boat clear up the bank, where there was no danger of its being swept away by the action of the current, and then began un- loading the peltries. : ** As soon as he comes back,” he remarked, to the little girl beside him, who was nimbly as- a him at the work, ‘‘ we'll get your break- ‘ast. ” ‘* How long will he be gone?’ “Not long. Are you getting hungry?’ he asked, with a smile. “LT ain’t getting so, I am so.” “So am fT: end when he brings his deer or an- telope ®ack, won’t we have a good breakfast?” ‘*Do you know how tocook?” _ ** Somewhat.” ‘ “ Velasquiés always made me do it, and I can moment later, the canoes, one after the | make a very nice dinner for anybody.” ““T’ve no doubt of it; you’re too little to help me much at this, so s’ you rest yourself.” ‘*Oh! I ain’t tired,” she protested, as she con- tinued nimbly at work, for a time longer; but by and"by her hands weavied, and she gave over the task. ‘* Hark!” she exclaimed, ‘‘ did you hear that in?’ “That’s your breakfast,” was the. reply; PAL or you go down the bank and watch for Dick.” She slipped merrily away, while Buck contin- ued to work at his peltries. It required but a short time for him to unload them, but after | that, he was obliged to carry them a consider- | able distance, in order to reach a point where something like concealment was afforded. This was accomplished after considerable la- bor, and he then turned abort, and picking up his canoe, carried that Indian fashion over his head to the same place. He had hardly set it down when Ress came dashing toward him, almost breathltos with ex- citement. ** Wal, what’s up now? Have you see’d Dick? It’s time he war comin’ back.” ‘I've seen Velasquies /” was the startling re- y. ** What?” demanded Buck, in amazement, ' “Thatis Il think Ihave. There weretwo men coming down the river in a canoe, and one of them looked like Welasquies.” ** Which side of the river did they stop on?” ““The other side, and—” “‘ Hello! there goes Dick’s gun again,” inter- rupted Buck, with an expression of uneasiness upon his face. “It can’t be that them varmints have followed us all the way hyar, and yet shoot me! if it doesn’t look that way.” The trapper questioned little Bess closely, Lut ined little of anything additional. She had n playing on the bank, and watching for signs of her coming breakfast, when she sudden- ly caught sight of a canoe but a short distance away, coming down the stream, and heading for the other side of the river. She knew enough to conceal herself at once. and she watched them for several minutes. She saw them skirt along the shore for somé dis- tance, when they halted and both disembarked, leaving their boat behind them. But the girl had seen enough thoroughly to alarm her, and she hastened to her friend with the tidings. Buck, after carefully weighing the matter over, concluded that there was nothing alarm- ing in the news, and to him there was every in- dication that the two persons whom she bad seen were Indians, who knew nothing of his whereabouts, He was very glad, however, that he had re- moved the canoe and peltries to a point where they were not likely to be seen by any one in passing up or down the river. ‘* You go back to where you war,” said he to Bess, ‘‘and keep watch of ‘that carve, ard take oe care they don’t see you, and as soon as ick comes back we'll let you know.” The gir] lea; step or two, when ter was seen return- ing, bearing upon his shoulders the choicest por- ticn of an antelope. Of course this ended her expedition, as noth- ing now was to be thought of except the meal, for which all were longing. “We'll take it up yar, out of the way,” said Dick, walking on by them, without pausing, ex- — greet the little girl. : is was only a prudential proceeding, in consonance with the habits of both the hunters. - in and out a secluded — The two walked eg | passin among the rocks, until they reac chasm, where no-buman eye could a dozen feet distant. them at On the way thither Buck had gathered quite _ a quantity of dry sticks, and in a few minutes, a was roaring and crackling r ght merrily. The most delicate steaks of the young antes lope were fully held and turned before the fire, and tlfe most delicate and select of all was first cooked and given to Bess, who was as hun- ery as hungry could Le. he trappers then mir their own, and ev while it was being oured, Buck remarked in uiringly: “ Didn’t I hear your gun—” He suddenly paused, for a look from his ecm panion warned him not to finish the questio cog chad no wish to make the answer fosb en. _Buck took the hint, and Bess was unsuspi- cious. When the meal was concluded, the two saun- tered off carelessly, until they were beyond the hearing of the little girl, and then halted. “* What is it?” inquired Buck. *‘ There’s no mistake aboyt it; we've been fol- lowed by a party of Apachés!” CHAPTER X. ; THE CACHE, THIs was indeed alarming information, and set at naught all the. plans of the trappers as to continuing the season in the mountains, it not been for the little waif on their hands, — and whose welfare was not second to their own, they would have rather welcomed anything that ve a prospect of a scrimmage with their . ereditary enemies; but as it was, there was but one recourse for them, and that was to out of the neighborhood as rapidiy as pind. with their charge. As they had no horses, it was umpossible to way, ut had taken buta _ the hun
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_Beadle’s ‘Half-Di an B ae: eee = rr me ‘Library. ig take their peltries with them, and it was de- cided, therefore, to cache them}; with a strong probability that they would be stolen by the before the hunters could return to claim them. Dick Havens, inanswer to the inquiry of his companion, said that his first shot had slain the antelope, and his second, a murderous Apache, who sprung upon him from behind a rock, with 2 ipgaa belief that he had an easy thing of This occurrence aroused the hunter’s suspi- cions that something was wrong, and. he made a reconnoissance of the vicinity, and discovered fully thirty Indians encamped less than quarter - of a mile away. Among them, he recognized several of the very savages, who bad given him such a hot pursuit on the preceding day. He was almost\positive also that he saw the half-breed Ve es and an Indian join the . This conflicted somewhat with the story of | which egies these gentry upon the opposite side of the stream, but. stil i both state- ,»ments could easily be correct. The river or ereek, as it a “be called, was very narrow, and could readily be crossed in a few moments. and the whole might have crossed’ and recrossed sev times. : It was perfectly characteristic of the hunter that he should not say a word about this danger, until after the meal was finished. Now that they were ready to meet it, he made a clean of the whole thing. ** Afore we cache the furs there’s another thing we’ve got to’tend to,” said Buck Buck- ing in low, serious tones. His companion looked inquiringly at him. ** What's that?’ “The way things pears now, thar’s likely to be hot times afore we gif out o’ yar. If the reds should come on us whar we be now, we'd under, that’s sartin, and both our ha’r would “4 lifted afore we could sneeze, so we must look out for a place whar we caneretreat.” \ ** Will it take us both?’ . _ . “No; you keep yer eyes on the Injins, and Pll hunt up a good place, and one at. the same time whar we can cache our peltries.” The su ion was acted upon at once, and, while Havens went off to scFutinize the move- ments of the Apaches, Buck Buckram took little Bess by the hand, and went in quest cf the hiding-place. ° The girl chatted gayly by his’side, all uncon- scious of what a terrible catastrophe was about to break upon them. ; In sucha wild, mountainous region they could not search long without discovering some suit- able retreat. In less than half an hour, the hunter stumbled upon the very spet: © A cavern some twenty feet in depth, the en- - trance of barely sufficient width to admit his body; the walls massive and dark, effectually shutting out any approach except by the one entrance; with a small stream trickling through the rear portion. Such was the cavern which -Buek Buckram selected as their retreat until could leave safely. ere, upon full reflection, the hunter con- cluded to make his cache. ‘Leaving Bess in the cave he started out for his peltries. (Qn his way he heard a low whistle, which he as that of his companion. He replied to it in the game cautious manner, and a few minutes later the two were togetner. ©. a8 ok “Sey anything of ’em?’ inquired Buck, in a oo ORG ; + i'hey’re in the same place.” ‘““Wili we have time”? © _** Guess so.” ; They set to work at ounce. It was no’small task to transport the. peltries to this plaee, as the distance was considerable, and the way very rough and uneven. _ When the sun reached: the meridian, their la- _ bor was not half finished. Then, too, Bess complained of hunger, and, 4s. might be h of them gave over the work to attend to wants. - And when this was er peter a it was deemed “proper that Havens should make another recon- - Roissance to satisfy himself as to the imminence bgent ; and his move- as ed before he he found that the entire party crossed the river @n0 were upon the oppo- sida, #Ele did. not cenciude it worth while ollow alt he was not a little tow ; ng of the move- When he returned fio his friends the afternoon was half gone, and there still remained a good deal of work to do. , But the two set about it with a will, and toil- the encounter, so as to weaken them for the final contest. F When the Indians drew off, the stillness that — immediately succeeded was oppressive from the ed unceasingly until dusk, by which time every | Contrast. ; fur was stowed away in the cavern. ** Now, ef they’ll only stay away till mornin’ there’il be some chance of givin’ ’em the slip,” remarked Buck, as he sat down, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. - ‘* What do you think of doing?’ inquired his companion, who always deferred ta tia judg- ment in the hour of peril. “We'll take a short rest, fur _’'m dog-goned tired, and then, ef the way be cl’ar, we’ out.” ‘* By the canoe?” ru That's the way I'd like to try, as we hain’t got any hosses, but the thing is, are we goin’ to git the chance?” ‘* We might carry it up-stream a ways, till we git the chance to put it in the water.” : ‘*- You see thar’s a bright moon, and it’s going to be a risky business. ”. ‘*That’s what we allers calc’lates on.” ‘* But we've got’ to use extra caution,” said Buck, glancing toward Bess, ‘‘fur we’ve got her to ‘tend to.” : ‘**Tn course—” ‘* Hark! there the skunks come!” CHAPTER XI. AT BAY. THE words were still in Buck Buckram’s mouth, when the sharp crack of several rifles was heard, followed by a chorus of wild yells, which told them that the fearful peril had burst upon them with appalling suddenness. But they were not totally unprepared. A large stone had been rolled near the mouth of the cavern, to serve as a sort of door, and the trappers immediately sprung forward, and shift- ed this around, so as to offer an impassable bar- rier to a forcible.entrance. It was not done a moment too soon; for the next moment, it seemed that the place was swarming and alive withred-skins. Their yells were heard incessantly, and they fired their guns in such a reckless manner that it was fully dangerous to those upon the outside as those within. Stil a number of their bullets entered and flattened themselves against the walls of the cavern. . ‘Keep out of the way, Bess!” called out Buck Buckram, in a. voice, which sounded far above the din and tumult; and, fearful that the child might be struck by some of the passing bullets, he ran up to her, and seizing her like an infant, : | carried her to a dark corner, where there was no possibility of her being struck. ‘* Now, don’t you stir away till I let. you!” he commanded, as he set her softly down. ‘‘If you do, you'll surely be killed.” There was no danger of the child onary aay his orders, for she was old enorfgh tocomprehen full bere goat and she crouched down, like a frightened animal, scarcely daring to breathe. Buck hastened back to the mouth of the cav- ern to be ready for any emergency. ‘“*Hang the varmints!” he muttered, as the ‘tumult partly ceased, “they come sooner than we thought.” “Give ’em blazes!” said Dick, who was now thoroughly aroused; ‘‘we mought as well first last.” as 8 Ashe spoke, he fired his gun for the third time, at a tufted head, which flitted by a crevice of the opening, and the agonized shriek of the victim told with how fatal a result. And without waiting to reload, heestruck ‘out with his. knife, with lightnin kness at — limb| which presented Teself within reach. It was instantly withdrawn, but not until a | frightful wound had been inflicted, and the owner of the limb crippled for life. : Buek Buckram was not behind his companion, Wherever and whenever t and with equally pa J results. This desultory fighting continued for some fifteen or twenty minutes, and then, as it was plain that the Apaches were getting the worst of it, they withdrew far enough away to be be- c— the immediate danger of the rage of the ae at bay. ; @ latter watched for an opportunity, with the vigilance of lynxes. It was plain t was going to be a fight of the most d their treacherous toon al. i dig A murky, sulphurous odor filled the cavern, making respiration difficult, and rendering the situation of those within anything but pleasant. But it was.not their danger which gave them oeNEP but the future, and the near future, 00. It wasin the power of the Indians to bring them to terms, and at no distant day, at that. The thoughtfulness of Buck Buckram had pro- vided them with enough antelope to last them for a day or so, but no more, The little stream trickling through the rear of the cavern gave them all the water they could need, but no person has yet been found whocan ‘| exist upon that substance alone. , he | fired and struck with the same furious ferocity, | | ; inie advantage of | slightest probability that it might be the "very beginning of | make mms with the Apaches—not It was plain that the trappers had committed a blunder, which bid fair to be fatal. Had they let the peltries go, they could have been far be- ond the reach of the Apaches by this time. ven had they fled the moment the furs were placed within the cavern, they had a good pros- pect of getting off clear, as the night wasso close at hand. , Both the trappers felt this blunder keenly, but neither blamed the other, for each was equally at fault. Had it been otherwise, no word or even thought would have indicated it. However, it was now too late for regrets, and these mountaineers were not the men to sit oer and idly bewail what was done past re- They were the ones who were prepared to face f hard, stern reality of the matter, and they id it. Both were thinking of the same thing, and as they looked in each other’s faces, they instinct- ively read the-fact. “Do you think we can doit?’ asked Havens, ** She’s the difficulty,” was the reply, in a low tone, as he lightly jerked his hand toward the rons where Bess lay asleep upon a pile of rs. “It looks as though we shall have to give her Buck shook his head. **Not till we’ve got to do it to save her life ow there may be a chance of getting her out of 2,7 ** S*pose we can’t?” ‘*}’ll do it then, and take the rest of m to gittin’ her out of thar clutches, and J’il do it!” he added, striking his fist upon his knee; ‘‘and when I do do it, you won’t cotch me in any such ant pti of a scrape as this again; that you may be sartin about.’ “‘ When will be the time to try it?” “Not afore midnight, ef we kin do it then. This moon plays the deuce with us.” **Can we wait till to-morrow night?” ‘*Ef it looks best.” } ‘All right; and between now and then, we'll kill off all the varmints we kin.” This was unanimously agreed to. CHAPTER XII, IN THE CAVE. THE scheme which had entered the heads of u life the two trappers at the’same moment was a rate one. As their safety in the cavern was but a tem- porary one, they thought of pulling aside the stone, and making a rush, to tess the swvarininn Apaches upon the outside, is would necessitate furious and sanguii fighting, and there was great risk of being cut down without accomplishing it; but men who lead such-a life as theirs are always accustomed to face the most appalling danger; and if they had known to a certainty that the chance of life and death were even, they would not have held back a moment. But there were several considerations: which i induced delay. So long as they h t, th in the fierceness and a Ace of mg / was the ase . ther pasgt panpiae=d e opportuni prospect of the Apaches grow- ing weary of the siege, and raising it, by a vol- untary withdrawal, and the almost certain pos- sibility that they could succeed in weakening the power of those on the outside, by shooting ead a number, who would be sure to emselvyes during the succeeding day and night. Furthermore, to carry out this plan would ne- cessitate a surrender ‘of little Bess into the | hands of her barbaric captors, with the inevita- h | ble brutal treatment, and perhaps death; at this | the trappers were not yet prepared to rate | her to such a fate. : character, and the hunters understoo! the ne- Still further, behind all this lingered the ble to re 3 ie a ha rag : pa Cae ao a Sry ieee Abie vaca, Ce ee ee wee « Sites FTI it opp ewer te =>
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ai changed his attitude so that he was resti I cs EC MTA SEY Lexan ee $ NZS es x Buck Buckram. SO Elta BEY VOR Re key Sa Tws G55 with the red-skins themselves; but if, as there Was every reason to suspect, Velasquies was among the party, it was not impossible, although it was improbable, that he might be induced. to make terms other than those of ‘‘ unconditional surrender,” ' However, this at the most, was a Very dubi- ous hope to depend upon. The great point,after all, was for them to think over some plan— if possible, some other besides the one which made it nec to dash out among the ram- pant Apaches, and fight their-way through. Still Bess slept as sweetly and soundly as if she were lying in the arms,of her mother, who, no doubt, was grieving her heart, and shedding many a bitter tear at her a absence. * Let her be,” was the moody remark of Buck. ** She’s better off sleeping than waking.” As the night grew on, the darkness within the cavern deepened until it was all absolute blackness, no one being able to distinguish the outlines of the others’ forms. The faint silvery light of the moon’s rays could be dimly discerned on the outside, but it could not penetrate within. Tue trappers talked in low tones, the hollow ‘eave giving a singular resounding or echoin er to their. tones, and making them soun oud, Even the gentle respiration of Bess had a strange, loud character, such as would be made by a large animal when at rest. Buck was fearful that if she awoke she would ask for something to eat, and he was reluctant to kindle a fire especiajly during the night. There being no draft to carry away the smoke and vapor, it would be sure to accumulate and increase their discomfort. At the same time the light would reveal their esence to the red miscreants without, and , compel the greater caution to avoid being tar- gots for the rifles; and yet, in the face of all this danger, if Bess should wake - and ask tuerh to cook her some of the antelope meat, neither of the trappers would have hesitated to do so. The bowlder which the trappers had found conyenieut, and had made answer the purpose of 2 door, was of such size, that when placed at sho entrance, it was impossible for the smallest child to enter or pass out. Moving with great difficulty, the resistance of one man from within was sufficient to keep out any living animal or any body of men. The _danger, therefore, was as ,what was to be the ~ end of the siege. Mer ynk Buck Buckram was sitting with his back against the bowlder, when he felt it sway gen- tly back and forth. It was only for an instgnt, when it stop : 4, : : Thinking it only accidental,*he did not rise to his feet; but, when it was repeated a few min- utes later, he uttered a slight ‘*’sh/” and came silently to the standing position. es Being in utter darkness himself, he was invis- ible; but the bright moonlight upon the outside gave him a distinct view, as far as*his vision ‘was not limited by the solid wall. : For a few moments he could see nothing to account » this slight swaying motion, al- though from the first he did not doubt that the Apaches were at the bottom of it. ‘ — A careful scrutiny of all that could be seen “satisfied him that there was either one or more red-skins behind it, seeking to gain enough mo- mentum to force it inw and thus open the . sway for the whole horde toswarmin. , © * He debated with himself a few moments whether to allow them to do this and thus pre- cipitate the crisis, which must come sooner or later, or whether to nip it ‘‘i? the bud.” A few seconds’ deliberation, and he decided upon the latter course, — ‘Cautious! forcing his head as far forward as he sons he finally gained a view of the head/and shoulders of a heewny Anene ina sromshing poor, with both nds pressed ae inst the rock. There were one or two others, but they were too far removed to be seen by the trappers. Buck Buckram Spreng lightly back again, -and muffled the lock of his rifle, as he raised the ‘hammer. His ‘*’Sh/” was repeated just loud ‘enouzh for his companion’s ear, and then he stealthily took his position again, where he could gain a view of the Apache. ate, ee The latter had slightly shifted his place, and upon visi- is » knee, but enough of his person was _ ble to answer the purpose of Buck. ~~ Brin his gun up beside him, he found that was so narrow, and irregular, that « # ; oy ex ed 2 re could not deflect the picee enough to bring it | bear v his,enemy. . yiEs tT This was a sore disappointment, as neither | So, after sone preliminary flourish, he cut off of them had pistols, having lost their revol- | a tender piece and handed it to her. vers which they generally carried some time be- | fore. He saw, however, that if the rock could be | made to ineline inward a few inches, it would be sufficient. Once more he sprung back, ard, in a few seconds explained the situation to his comrade. A moment later, at a signal from Buckram, the bowlder was suddenly drawn inward six, inches or so; and, at the same instant, the gun of the former waS discharged. Immediately several Apaches sprung to their feet and has- tened away. But one didn’t. - CHAPTER XHI. THE AIR HOLE. “Hark!” The exclamation was uttered by Dick Ha- vens about an hour after the’ occurrence nar- rated in the last chapter, and it was caused not by the sound of anything, but by the absence of sound |”? Both listened, but all was as still as the grave. ‘‘T hear nothin’,” said Dick Havens, after a few minutes spent in listening. ‘*That’s just the trouble!” ** What do you mean?” ‘** Don’t it sound a little too.still in here?” “You don’t mean?—No; I hear her breath- ing!” replied the hunter, in some excitement. “* Not that—not that,” was the sonfewhat im- tient reply, “ but thar’s something else that ’d like to hear and don’t.” “Shoot me! can it be?” The hunter urfderstood him now. They no longer heard the trickling of the water ! Buck hastened to the rear of the cavern, and in a few minutes returned. “Is it so?” inquired Havens. ** Yas; the varmints have shut it off.” The two uttered rather forcible exclamations, as they realized the rather ‘alarming fact that the Apaches had cut off their supply of water, by turning aside the tiny stream, which had | hitherto forced its way through the rear of the cave. grape ¢ A careful examination was now maile, and it was found not quite so bad as it might have | been; for the water had collected-to a consider- able extent, and formed a pool containing a gallon or so on the other side of the cavern. Both the hunters felt somewhat thirsty, but neither would touch it until Bess had awaked and had her fill. It was now beyond midnight, and shortly af- ter the discovery we have mentioned, the little girl awoke, and asked, with a bewildered air, where she was. A few words reassured her, and then she ask- ed for water. She was conducted through the darkness to the little pool, where she knelt down and slaked her thirst. for something to eat, but, after a few artless inquiries, she lay down upon the furs again, and went to sleep. were heard, and unremitting watch was kept to prévent any sudden surprise upon their the West. ‘ As there was a probability that there would be a great’ demand upon their time and endur- ance, Buck Buckram lay down for a few hours’ rest, while his companion kept: watch. turbance, and Buck. misty light of morning was stealing into the cave. * Anything?” was the comprehensive inquiry. ‘* Nothin’,” was the equally definite reply of **Good—so fur.” . Even with the full ape of the day, the bowl- der so nearly closed t it was gloomy and dark within, so that the in- mates could 1 Shortly after the awaking of Buck, Bess did the same. eat uired. * Pienty, and we shall soon cook you some.” But at this point, an unthought-of difficulty presented itself. the cave with which to build a fire. So that matter was settled. The trapper now resorted to the harmless de- ception of allowing the girl to eat the meat raw, trusti ms wile SSS ,The trappers were fearful that she would ask | ;Now and then indications of the Apaches | a favorite mode of attack among the Indians of | The hours wore away without further dis- | ned his eyes just as the | e mouth of the cave, that | - rely discern each other’s forms. | swer. She chattered awhile, and then, as | might be expected, she asked for something to | our territory, you have ki ; | warriors, you have run away with the sy you any of the antelope left?” she in- | of Velasquies.” : | quies stole from | way to take her home, when you have follo There was no material within | us to this cave. | sent under in the squar’ style of figh nd ‘wouldn’t ’ve growled ef you'd ’ve sarved us i that in the darkness she would | not observe its conditivn. eagerly ‘* We hain’t found time to cook it very well,” said he, by way of apology; *‘ but that won’t make any difference, in course, to you.” Little Bess ate a mouthful or two, when she discovered the artifice, and laughed at it. She. | however, had been taught in the hard school of . adversity and experience, and when it was ex- plained to her, she accepted the ‘‘ situation” with a good-nature that both surprised and. de- lighted the trappers. **T ain’t very hun more, but when I just like you do.” ‘‘You’re a number. one little beaver!” ex- claimed Buck, enthusiastically, ‘‘and ef the life of this yar good-fur-nothin’ dog is ae an- other year, you'll be out of danger of Velasquies and the red-skins.” ‘*T want to go live with you,” said she, nest- ling her soft cheek against the scarred face of the old hunter. “So you shall—so- you shall—and I'l. ‘eep you thar till I find yer own home, and then Iu give yer to yer folks again.” ‘* But,” said she, ‘how are you going to get out of here?’ “That’s a hard question, I allow, but I hope the Lord will tell us a way.” ‘* Sothe will, and I know what it is.” **You-do, eh? Wal, what is it?” ** You two, maybe, can get out, but J can’t; and you can’t take me with you. So, do you go without taking me.” on * And leave you behind?” ‘*Yes; Velasquies and the Indians will kill you if they can get«a chance, but they won’t urt me.” ‘* But what will become of you?” ‘*They will think you stole me away, and Velasquies will take me again. He says when I grow up, I am to be his wife—” ‘‘ The scamp! he has got a wife and a whole kit of young ones,” : ‘*He doesn’t care for that. Then when hegets me, you can follow and watch, and I will look for you and sometime,” she said, with the most — childish faith and eagerness, ‘‘the chance will y now and won’t eat an o get hungry I will.eat it come for us; and then I will go and live with _ é you till I find where father and mother and my sisters are. That is the plan.” “It may be, but we won’t talk about it now!” replied Buck Buckram, wiping a tear from his eye. CHAPTER XIV. SMOKING OUT. Litt.e Bess had revealed the true plan of ae- tion, and unpleasant as it was, Buck Buckram could not but admit it to himself. But he was resolved to defer it until the last. moment, and then adopt it simply becAuse thre was nothing else he could do, and it gave him the hope of-saving both himself and his precious: _ charge. rie The day had scarcity begun, when the sound of voices was heard-on the outside, and it in- stantly occurred to Buck Buckram that now —__ parley, if he wishedto was the time to hold bis do so. : " He acted upon the thought at once. Not be — ing’ blessed with such a thing as a pocket hand- — kerchief, he tore a piece from his bunts and fastening it to the end of his ramrod, it out of the mouth of the cavern. ; ‘ For a time it seemed to attract no attention, © but after awhile it was evident that it wasseen and understood. Some one approached close to — the ied pane asked: ’ err 7 Then turning his head so as to face the open- ing, he replied b ‘ * We want to know w “We want you,” ** What for?” ‘You are our enemies; “We have captured a little girl that Velas- er parents, and we war on “Them warriors we have slain, have bee the same way.” “Then you're ready to surrender, Velasquies. be y ix: an. pe was the unequivocal an- _ a
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vit Sept. ani ld ; ren ansee Pe Sig =k cs Ties eet, eee Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “Not ’zactly; ef you think you can take us, why don’t you do it?” 4 ** We kin afford to wait.” we s'pose you know me—Buck Buckram?” ** An’ I's’poss you know me—Velasquies?” “Yas; you're the sneakin’ coward that got fis nead broke in Santa Fe fur strikin’ an old woman, and that run off with a little gal that you’re no right to.” A fearful oath was the reply to this, and the half-breed added: “Tnat’s none of your business, Buck Buck- ram. ‘That her. Don’t she want to come to me?” * Ef she does, I ain’t a-goin’ tolet her, even ef she cries for it,” replied Buck, who thought this deception justfiable under the circum- stances. **You’d better do’t, fur how you gwine to | help it, wheu we've got a hundred brave Apach- es to make you?” ““S*pose I give up the gal,” said Buck, ‘‘ what do you purpose to do with us ?” ** Can’t sa. very likely t ey'll et yer go, and not trou yer any more.’ ‘Yas; very likely,” was the sneering com- ment of Havens, who was listening to the con- versation; ‘“‘how you’d like to git hold of us, wouldn’t you! out, wouldn’t you?” “What did you stick out that rag fur?” was | the next question of the half-breed, and a very | sensible one, too. . ) “T wanted to see whether you'll give us any- | ll| ‘*Let’s make a rush; we nia thing like a fair show, fur ef you will, we fight the whole shebang of you.” ; ‘You can comé out and do what you please; | but we're bound to have that gal you’ve got in | ““Spose we won’t give her up?” . “You'll have to do’t; and ef, you ain’t ready just now, we kin wait—that’s all.” There was a coolness in the manner of Velas- - ogee which showed that he fully appreciated situation, and could well afford to wait un- tii the ripe fruit fell into their own hands. Nothing had been accomplished by the flag truce; and from what took place, one might well question what the object of the trappers was in askin é- They had learned to a certainty that Velas- ies was among their assailants, and they had | in a manner paved the way for the return of little Bess to the temporary keeping of her for- mer brutal master. The girl had heard and sound; but, as we have shown in another place ptions were more than ordinary, and she was only confirmed in her belief in the wis- | aoe of the plan she had mentioned some time ore. ' &s there remained: notygng to do, Buck drew in his flag of truce, and td® armistice was at an The two trappers. retreated to a point safely ' \rémoved beyond the’ shots of their foes, and ear- discussed the prospect. rushing out at once among the Indians. The ena was growing terribly irksome to him, and was ready to commit almost. any deed that afforded the remotest chance of his getting out. Buck Buckram strenuously opposed it. “Let us wait till the dead of night,” said he; “that’s our time, and then when they don’t think about it, and half uf ’em be awake, we'll sail in and make the fur fly.” “That's jist the matter; they will be thinkin’ | - “pout it more then than ef we do it now.” * Then we'll havé a better chance to run even ef the moon is <7 bright, than ef we went | 1 _ out in broad daylight.” This was a strong argument, but Havens was ‘not satisfied by any means. ‘Tittle Bess, how much they might deplore it, ‘was unavoidable. . “Why wait?’ he asked, after a few minutes’ “\silence. ‘*Don’t yer know the way out thar is #0 narrow like, that all of them varmints can’t | get at us at once?” _.~ *T know that, but they can shoot.” “So kin we,” was the dogged response. “We've got to go over the heads of ’em, too, is mine, and [Pm goin’ to have | *zactly—just as the Apaches says: le How you’d like to raise ou? ha’r, | to pay fur your own skunks that we’ve wiped of | rolled into the cavern, and the crackling of fire was heard at the same time. ° Pr 1g tks me! ef they ain’t goin’ to smoke us out!’ CHAPTER XV. A TERRIBLE EVENT. ) THERE was no doubt upon that point, for | scarcely had the words been uttered, when the | red tongues of the flames could be seen creep- | ing up over the-face of the bowlder. The heavy, suffocating smoke seemed to be drawn inward by some attraction, and in a few minutes it was hardly possible to breathe. “My God! what’s to be done?” exclaimed Ha- vens, growing bewildered for a moment. ‘** Keep cool!” was the reply, “‘ and keep* your face close to the bottom. Facies how the lit- tle gal is gittin’ along?” Buck called her, and she came to him. ‘““What are, they trying to do?’ she innocent- | ly asked. “They want to smoke us out.. How can you stand it?” “‘Tt hurts my eye$ more than my throat,” she replied, rubbing them with both hands. ‘¢Go back as far as you can, and keep yer face urty close to the ace, and you'll stand it as ong as we can.” it seemed to become heavy and overpowering. Havens, who was on his knees and ing. | ‘Ts gettin’ bad; I’ve swallowed about all I can stand.” | now as to wait till we’re both killed.” — Buck Buckram still hesitated, but the increas- ing density of the smoke quickly decided him. | He was on the point of giving the word, when an exclamation from Bessa his notice. ‘Come here, quick! Here’s a place where you can breathe.” ~ , They hastily serambled toward the voice. ‘Right down there,” she said, “where the water comes in.” The half-strangled trappers placed their faces close to the damp pebbles. They found that a volume of cold air was rushing in, and they in- | haled it with all the delight of the recognized the voice | of the haif-breed, and trembled with fear at the | | to taking turns. nestly ; - Havens favored drawing the stone Aside, and | He felt that every | hour weakened them, and added strength to | their enemies. He saw, too, that a surrender of | parched traveler who comes upon the iey spring. It was relief, it was happiness, it was bliss! But while they were happy, little Bess was becoming miserable. A cough reminded them that she was in danger of strangling, and both | instantaneously drew their heads away. She hastily replaced her mouth to the vacat- | | an@ Buck aes to kee is ed position, and regained her normal self. It was now found impossible for all three to inhale the fresh» air at once. They tried it sev- eral times, but as often as they did one failed. They therefore could do nothing but resort | means, they could | By this manage to get along. | . “How much longer before the varmints will | | think they have finished us?” sullenly inquired Havens. | Ef they could see the smoke in yar, they'd | think we war done for, sure.” | be some inducement to wait.” | “Maybe they’ll git tired and go away.” re- | Bess, who, curiously enough, seemed to | | mark | take u herself the office of consoler. ‘*It seems to me,” said Havens, as he with- drew his face, ‘‘ that thar’s a chance of gittin’ a | smaller breath of fresh air near the mouth of | the cave.” + “You'll be right in the smoke.” ‘* Not exactly, fur I noticed that it came in over the tops of the rocks more than it did near | : the bottom.” “ Be very ow it.” vens hastened forward in a crouching position. | “How are you making out?’ asked Buck Buckram, a few minutes later, speaking in a cautious undertone. “Purty well; you stay thar, and I kin hold out here.” All this time, the Apaches were whooping and elling on tho outside. They were sure they . had caught their prey at last, and would soon | | smoke them out. They kept piling on the brush and wood, and In the meantime, the heavy, damp smoke con- | tinued to roll into the mouth of the cave, when | ‘‘T can’t*stand this much longer,” exclaimed | as well do it | ** Ef they’d only hurry up and rush in, thar’d | | alive,” careful, for the varmints will be ex- | stin’ that, and they’ll wipe you out afore you | ; | are yu going away?” ‘Don’t fear for me,” was the reply, and Ha-| “ ed me to go right off. What do you think alout ef of the rifles of those within. They had had a taste of the stuff of which they »?re made, and they wished no more of it. : All the time that Havens was inhaling his scanty breath, he was watching with an eagle eye for a a oa of some of his tormentors. He was especially anxious to gain a chance at the half-breed; but he, like all the others, carefully avoided obliging him. Buck Buckram and little Bess were doing cs well as they could-wish Where they were. The former felt that he was not using his comrade right in remaining there all the time; so ke quickly ran to his side;and said he would change places with him, The latter yielded, and for a time all went woll. Buck found he had great difficulty in breathing, but still he managed to succeed. He remained here about fifteen minutes, when Havens reappeared at his side. “We'll change; you go back and try it awhile.” ‘Be careful, Dick,” he added, as he moved away again. Once more did Buck inhale the free, cool air, which revived his whole system, while the face of’ Bess was close to hisown. — - Suddenly there was the crack of a rifle. “ Dick has gained a shot,” he thought to him- self. Then he called cut: “ Did you hit him?” There was no reply and a vague, dreadful fear thrilled through him. He repeated his call, tut still there was no rope. Buck ran across the tintervening space. One puenee pre he saw his friend stretched flat upon his back. He kneeled down and looked in his face. It was enough. Dick Havens had been shot dead by the . \ Apaches! CHAPTER XVI. ’ THE RUSH FOR LIFE, Buck BuckraM had witnessed sudden death in ment and the most revolting forms. Even that of Inglis was terrible; but the sudden strik- ing down of Dick Havens startled him, a: le | had never been startled before. He ran his hands over his face, and felt fcr the beating of his heart, but he was stone dead. He had been shot through the brain, while gasy - ing for the breath of life, by the half-breed Velasquies, who had been watching for the o}- portunity. As yet Bess knew nothing of the frightfrl tragedy which had been enacted so near her, i it from her. He remained by his@lead comrade until the thickly- gathering smoke drove him away, when - | tened back to where his young frieml was await- ing him. : “Why doesn’t Dick come?’ she innocently asked. Se ** 1 wanted him to do so, but he won’t.” “Ts he getting along well where he is?” ‘* He can’t do any better.” They were silent awhile and ene said: ‘““T begin to think, Bess, that yourtidea is the right one, after all.” **T knew you would,” she replied, kissing him affectionately. : ‘* We shall have to leave yer behind, and Vel- ‘asquies will git you ag’in and beat you bad.” “No worse than he always has been, and then you know, you’re going to come and take me away ag’in.” ‘ “That's so; if I git out of this infarnal place ** You'll do it easy enough!” wasthe confident mos ll have to ‘Then you'll have stay h r this air ~ hole till ie rush in and pe le tg my 4 -“IT will, I shan’t try to run away. When thought I’d wait till night, but Dick wan+ it? ; I don’t see any use of waiting, either.” % sas Vil go, then.” _ ‘* Til kiss you both good-by, then,” said sho. This wasa delicate matter to the grizzled o'd trapper. He saw, of course, that if she pcrsist- ed in saluting both, it would be impossible fcr him to keep the secret of Dick Havens’s death fromher. He, therefore, tried bo diecy this | natural manner of parting. Oe See Sey a ae eegaen to git cl’ar of the whole confounded rabble.” _ “IT think a right powerful charge among ’em ‘would do the business—” ke my advice, Dick, and wait—” bed | danced about like children, frantic with delight. | ‘‘ No, Bess, we won’t either of us kiss y-..” - | Among the chorus of demoniac voices, it was | ‘“ Why not?” she asked, in a respectful tone. | easy to distinguish that of Vel | I'll tell you why; it looks too muchas though | “We've got yer at last! we’ve got yer at last! | we didn’t expect to se@ you ag’in.” ; : : | How do yer like it? Why don’t yer'ccme out?”'| “*Maybe you won't, either, instant a heavy volume ef smoke Still thé; took goot care to keep out of the) +‘ We won't think sy ur dita Tu Pe eee . jt. wey - ‘ Bs br nee me ORY aA it sas eNiesar ees: Ah
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good-by to you, and then we'll make a rush out _of the cavern.” oo uck Buckram. in an open space, where he had ful) opportuni to stretch and exercise his limbs. 5! acting upon the supposition that all danger was really over when it appeared to be. ~ -“T would rather not,” she said, after a mo- He ran about a hundred yards, with the body He slackened his speed somewhat, but kept up ment’s silence; ‘‘it doesn’t seem right to me.” . | slungfover his shoulder, when, having nofurther | a good gait, occasionally glancing over his “Yes, it does, littie one,” added the trapper, | use for it, he dropped it and carded his whole shoulder to make sure that none of his enemics with.a sort of forced gayety in -his manner. | energies toward escaping by flight. | were stealing a march*upon him. “‘Tt’s a notion of mine, and you'll do it to please | Shouts, yells and screeches followed this dar- | This manner of procedure he kept vp for yer- me now; won’t you” ine cool upon the part of the trapper, and | haps hali an hour, when he came scon 10 4 She assented, although it was plain to Buck | the bullets whistlea ai: about him | walk, muttering to himself at the same time: bom that she was by no means satisfied with the ar- Some of the leaden missiles hummed and : oll I hadn't time to step and raise the 4 } rangement. buzzed close to his ears, and more than one } ha’r of that red-skin, fur his impudence in fol- es It having been decided that the rush for life | pierced his clothes, but, providentially, he was | lerin’ me so close. Howsomever, 1 might have i should be madv without further delay, Buck ; unharmed. lost my own if Id tried it.” , a | Wost no time in making his preparations. But it was almost a miracle that he was not He was now in a section as rough and uneven 3 a He had formed a plan of his own, which was | struck, and Buck had no wish to tempt his good | as any he had ever been in, and with consider- ™ ; to fasten his rifle and that of his comrade to his | fortune a moment longer than he was com- | able wood, so that it was a capital cover for en- back, so that his movements might not be im- | pelled. | emies to maneuver against each other. peded; and then pulling aside the bowlder, he | The second he reached a place where it was But there was no further necessity of wage would catch up the b , and holding it be ‘ore | feasible, he dodged behind the intervening rocks, | hide-and-seek with the Apaches, and he ha ‘chim as a shield, make a rush among the terrible | and as much as possible, kept them between | halted to consider upon a far different subject. Apaches. | himself and his enemies, so as to disconcert their The afternoon was now well advanced, and it 8 e had found, in placing the bowlder at the | aim. was evident that little could be done until the it entrance to the cavern, that by inserting two | The Apaches were not content merely to fire | morrow; but~he was not a man to hesitate or goodl -sized stones, one on each side of’ it, that | their guns, but a half-dozen of the fleetest run- | prove dilatory when he had decided upon a line it could be secured against any pressure from | ners started instantly in pursuit. of conduct. the outside. As Buckram leaped and ran along, he realized | ‘‘ Now fur little Bess!” he exclaimed, ‘“‘and These wedges removed, and a child could force | the wisdom of his own words with Dick Havens, | may Buck Buckram never see his little one it inward. | when the latter was so anxious to make the at- | ag’in if he ever gives up afore he gits her.” Cautioning Bess to remain where she was, he | tempt to escape at once. aurried to where the inanimate form of the trap- | If he only had the sheltering darkness to pro- CHAPTER XVIIL per lay. + Mae | tect him, he could throw these bloodhounds off LITTLE BESS. ! The latter held his rifle tightly grasped, and | the trail in a very short time; but, as it was THE flight and escape of Buck Buckram was it was with some difficulty he loosened it from | near the middle of the day, he could only ho a remarkable one, and such as a m oes not . his rigid fingers. He then removed his knife | to do it by gi en fleetness and skill in dode- often experience in a lifetime. Und e help and placed it in his own girdle. , ) ing. ; of Providence, it was due mainly auda- He now began securing the guns to his per- he trapper ‘was remarkably swift on foot; | city, and the powerful nerve disp by the yi i but the smoke was so heavy that he was | and, as soon as he gained a respectable dis- | trapper. it forced to hurry to the rear of the cave to secure | tance he settled down into a dead run, tearing But here was one, for whom there Was no pos- a few breaths of air. : ‘| forward with all the speed of which he was | sibility of escape—one in whom we have no lit- un “‘ What are you doing with both guns?” in- | capable. tle interest, and whose fortunes we have already ; ired Bess, as he began securing them over his | or some distance the way was rough and un- | followed. i shoolder: even, and he was compelled to bound forward | Little Bess, as her companion prepared to ¢ “T am going to carry both.” like the affrighted mountain goat, but after a | charge out among her enemies, cheerily return- “Isn't Dick going with you?” / quarter of a mile or so of such severe labor, he | ed his good-by, and patiently awaited the issue “Yes; he will go out, too.” suddenly found himself upon the edge of an open | of events. She had no icion of the artifice “ Why doesn’t be take his own gun?” and comparatively level prairie. Buck had adopted, and little dreamed that * “T can do it better.” oe It looked a little more than a mile broad, | when her two companions left the cavern, one ‘ Buck Buckram now returned to the mouth of | while upon the opposite side the rough, rocky | of them was a dead man. Ms the cave to learn how matters were upon the | character of the country was resumed. After the rush of the hunter there was an un- outside. * ) It struck the fugitive as favorable, and he in- | usual stillness around the mouth of the cave for x - The fire seemed to be somewhat lower, and | stantly began speeding-across it, while three | a few minutes. A number of Apaches had tm the Apaches hadevidently grown weary of their | Apaches—all of whom had ceased firing their | dashed away in pursuit, while the others ia furious dancing and shouting. p guns—followed in close pursuit. | peared to be standing and staring in blank Fi . “While the trapper was cautiously reconnoiter- | The great danger which Buck feared was, | amazement at the scene. ing, Velasquies approached close to the mouth, | that some of his pursuers would fire, in which | & Then came the crack of rifles, and the reced- and called out: : | contingency he could scarcely hope to escape; | ing whoops of the pursuers, followed by a few “ Hello, inthar! How did you like my shot?” | but their actions showed that they were more | moments more of quiet. ; 3 “So it was you, eh? Very well, Til settle | anxious to secure him than to shoot him; and |. With the falling of the bowlder at the'en- i with you some day, if the good Lord only spares | so long as there was a probability of it, they | trance, there had been a great inward rush of ~ my life.” would not fire their guns. smoke, so that the little prisoner assuredly’ A The half-breed called out several times, but | When half the i space was , and | would have perished, but for the “‘air-hole, ‘4 received no response, and Buek heard him say, ) Buck glanced over his shoulder, he found that | which still stood her well in her time of need. eae But a short time elapsed, when a a noise was heard at the entrance. Thesmoke was too thick, and the effort too painful to the p evidently to himself: | there was but one savage who could begin to | a they're about. used up; we mought | equal him in speed. : 4 3 Sty | “The other two had withdrawn entirely, and | APES SS : rush in for them, ef the stone will only | Bas cive #ay: I’m afeard the gal wont be able to | left it to their single companion to finish. eyes, for Bess to tell what it meant; but it teide” The trapper felt ashamed to flee from asin: | sounded to her as if some one was drawing the __ Buck Buckram cautiously drew out the wedge. | gle red-skin; but, he had an object to accom- embers and coals away from the place, so as to oe Then h2 turned about and called out, in a cau- | plish, and he kept down his speed for a short.| admit him without danger. yes *jous undertone: time. Such proved to be the case, and shortly after ‘*Good-by, Bess!” As he sped along, he reached beg and began ) Velasquies dashed into the cavern, witha fear- “‘Good-by, both of you!” unloosening his rifle, still fastened behind his | ful imprecation. a The next instant the bowlder fell inward, ~ anda mass of burning brush and coal lay be- | fore it. ee "Buck paused but a second, and then catching he body of his comrade, he held him nigga ee his shoulder and before him, With cne leap he cleared the glowing embers, and with a wild yell dashed down through the ravine, ' among the treacherous Apaches. —— CHAPTER XVII. | RUNNING FOR LIFE, HEN Buck Buckram butt. ae the trapper held over him as a sort of tout of the cave, | | shoulders. It was rather difficult to do this, and main- | tain his high rate of speed at the same time; and while engaged in untying the fastening, un- consciously to himself, he lost considerable ground. | xpected “ Bess! Bess! where are you? That dog hasn’t f. run away with you, has he?” He ran i rapidly around, clutching.and clawi ‘ | the air, as Goes he expected to find her-atiagt! 4 in the heavy atmosphere. “Bess, I eo At this instant he stumbled against her. ** Dead, I do believe—” say, why don’t you speak to me?” he uh continued, choking and oe - | The girl made no answer, she being shrewd — then receive good treatment. ee 9 And then, catching up the limp form, he hur- % f ret ‘ i ing was entirely unexpected upon | apparition, and drew back his tomahawk to | ried out the cave into the «pen air. ree Se pars of the: Apaclek: y ” | hurl it at his foe now turned at bay; but ere it Here he placed her upon the ground, saying | left his hand, the gun was discharged, and the | as he did so: on They had seen the bowlder fall inward, but eared for any such demonstration. Besides the singular appearance of the trap- R with his two guns strapped upon his back, and the limp form of his huge comrade, mostly covering him, was not understood for a mo- ' ment. . 7 All this operated greatly in favor of Buck, ~ who improved his advantage to the utmost. As hhe dashed out, he found several Apaches in his way, but he struck them like a thunderbolt, and ran an leaped with might and main. : Ina few moments he had cleared those im- surrounding him at his exit, and was : it to be accidental, and were not | Apache, with a howling shriek, threw up his arms and fell dead. The Apaches who had withdrawn from the chase witnessed this affair from a distance, and saw the fatal mistake they had committed in withdrawing from the chase at so early a stage. | Still hoping to accomplish something they re- | sumed the pursuit, but in a few moments the | fucitive vanished and they gave it up. Knowing the persistency and cunning of the Apaches, Buck Buckram did not cease his run- ning with the dis#ppearance of the pursuers. _ He had been in such business once before, and had come terribly near losing his life, from “It’s a wonder if she’s alive, fur I couldn't | stand it in that infarnal place fur five minutes thered around her, — animation had not _ longer. Several Apaches had and discovered at once that been suspended. A little shaking and blowir in her face, and she began to and struggk, pike as though still strivine with death. It was seve. ral minutes before she opened her fine blue eyes, — and looking about her with a bewildered air, showed that she was herself again. The moment it became certain that little Bess © was really alive, 'the feelings of ppt tage appeared to undergo a change. ae
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. Beadies HalfDime ae Seg eames pee is Saas $e; y Sarat = pital of ee So ° 3ars. ‘** What did you let ’em take you away fur? why didn’t you hoiler and yell, so that we might've knowed what they was at? I guess you didn’t eare much whether they took you or not. And then followed another series of cuffs and blows, until the poor girl put up her hands to protect her ears, and cried with pain. Velas- : quies desisted for a while, apparently to the re- _ gret of the red-skins, who enjoyed any thing of / the sort. : (iy “Tf you ever | again, Pu kill y _ strode away. _ It was on the point of Bessie’s tongue to deny that he was her father, but she dared not, for fear of provoking him to , se ayaa anger. She finally ventured to look around. Almost the first object that mét her gaze was the figure of Dick Havens, some distance away, just as it tay after being cast down by Buck Buckram in his flight. pla ogi father such a trick aul e savagely added, as he a he i sig “ey in son at it for a moment, and en gas out the question: ‘“*Ts he dead?” “Dead? In course he is. I shot him!” was _ the exulting reply of Velasquies, as he stood ‘gear, complucently viewing her. ' Unable to repress her feelings, she burst into tears again, and covering her face, sobbed vio- iently. This her brutal master, that he where she sat, and cuffed her even more viol than before. Bi “Cry f im, will yer? Tl ce yer some- thing to cFY about. gins to look as though fe. FOR run away yerself, instead of their takin’ . yer. Had the unfeeling half-breed but known the _ ruth, there is no telling what punishment he would have inflicted. ‘ it was a pitiable scene, and had Buck Buckram been within range, nothing would have afforded him more pleasure than to have sent a bullet through the skull of the dastardly tyrant; and he would have done it without a moment’s hesi- ' tation, even though he had to face a hundred »_ deaths. . The death of Dick Havens was yet unaveng- Little Bess saw nothing of the dead Apaches, _ as they had been carefully drawn away by their friends, and buried at a distance. Those of the red-skins who did not join the pursuing party remained behind until they re- Surned. hen it was found that Buck Buck- rum really had escaped, tie beg Chay em of the Apaches was fearful, and their shrieking _ and howling appalling. They had already scalped the dead Havens, _ and by one impulse they rushed upon him again, «icking, cutting, striking and ering so furiously, that they injured one another in their es. en they merge as oe Speci! ex- - fiaustion, scarcely any semblance to humanity if remained about what had once been the active, genial-natured Dick Havens. : He had been outraged beyond all power of de- scription. A number of Indians, as Buck Buckram ex- pected wonld be done, continued the pursuit for @ time, but it was finally given over, and the entire: collected in front of the cavern ad served as a refuge to the fugitives. © CHAPTER XIX. é A CAPTIVE AGAIN, _ Arrer the Apaches had vented their childish ‘gage and disappointment at the escape of Buck -pBuckram, they made preparations to leave the ace, which had seen more of a failure than a { upon their part. Before starting, «il“the furs and peltries were brought out from the cavern or cache and car- with them. Thus the labor of months was one in a few moments, party moved toward the river where they entered their canoes, and started up- stream, the direction from which they had come. The same Indian who had heen with Vi ies, at the time of the escape of little still was with him, and the two, in com- pany with the captive, entered a small boat to- gether. ' -This savaye was a full-blooded Apache, one the most treacherous and malignant of. his s ce. He oer celica. Wher be east di f 1 unison of disposition. unted anc rapped with each other, and Damon and Pythi- were more in , and, apparently, seeding was to give her a ringing box upon the LLL LC nner And aoeet bee h b there m anything to gain by it. hardly likely tha et, either of these precious scoundrels ave cut the throat of the other, had It was t such companionship would continue for any length of time, without a rup- ture of some kind. e reason that it had not occurred, was simply because. the occasion hig d not come. The afternoon was waning when the Apaches | moved up-stream in their canoes, and when they had gone a few miles, night descended up- on them; but the same moon which had shone through a cloudless sky still beamed on them, and they were plainly discernible for a long distance from the shore. Gradually as the party moved along, the small beat, containing the three individuals in whom we are most interested, fell behind the others. The latter, as a matter of course, ob- served it, but it was nothing to them. The haif-breed accompanied them when he chose, and went alone when he so elected, without question. The truth of it was that Velasquies was not willing to trust his prize among the unscrupv- | lous savages. Bess was a girl of extraordinary beauty, was growing fast, and he had seen looks among the savages which alarmed him. Many miles away, in the Hunter’s Valley, the half-breed had a wife and numerous family, whom he occasionally visited, and who looked upon him with terror and loathing. ~When he made his appearance among them, it was to | abuse and: maltreat his family in a shameful manner, His own offspring fled mn terror and hid thefaselves in the wood, while his wife had many a time run shrieking for her life, with the inhuman brute in furious pursuit. They had no friends to whom they pare go, and were thus compelled to lead a life of misery and suffering, which it is impossible to realize or wi, shea Velasquies had determined to take Bess to this home, and have her for a year or so, and | then make her his wife. Here she would be safe, and not liable to run away, as she was old | enough to understand that there was no possi- bility of her escaping the perils of the wood, should she attempt to reach the nearest settle- ment, He had taken Bess to his miserable home | years before, and his wife knew not where she | came from, nor did she dare ask. She had been left there when too young to accompany him, but ever since she had attained any size, he had always taken her with him. The wife of Velasquies, although the veriest slave, had once been a woman of beauty, and had been refined in her conversation and man- ners; and it was here that the girl had learned to talk in a thanner which was a constant sur- — to the trappers in whose company she was or a short time. Unknown .to either Buck Buckram or Velas- quies himself, their two families were at no | great distance from each other, and the trap- pers had many a time been within a few miles of the little girl without suspecting it. 36 It may well be supposed that had Bess known of the proximity of friends, she would have fled at midnight from the roof of her inhuman cap- tor, and sought refuge with the chivalrous > who would have defended her with his ife, The canoe of Velasquies was paddled by him- self and the Apache, and, by a mutual under- standing, they continued to fall further and further in the rear. By-and-by the main party were scarcely visi- ble, and then they vanished, and only the sound of the steady sweep of their paddles could be heard. Then these grew fointer and fainter, until they died out in the distance, and at last the trio were alone, leisurely pursuing their way up the lonely river. Finally the rowing ceased altogether. The canoe floated some di | English. which they began building a fire. It required but a few minutes for them to have a rearing, erackling blaze, which di a grateful warmth on this cool night. Little Bess had tasted nothing for hours, and was nearly famished. She finally ventured to ask for something to eat, but was brutally told ' to “shut up.” : As the night wore on she was given a blan- ket, but sleep did not visit her eyelids. She was thinking of one who had promised to come to her assistance, and who, at that moment was hunting through the woods for her. CHAPTER XX. A GOOD THING ALL AROUND. LitTLE BEss found it impossible tosleep. A peculiar restlessness, rather singular in one so young, came over her shortly after she lay down; and although she lay quiet and motionless, yet » | she was as fully awake as when dragged from the cave by the half-breed. The ravening hunger had given place to a faint, sick feeling, which made the thought of food distasteful to her, although, could she have swallowed a few mouthfuls, it would have re- turned to her with greater force than ever. As the night wore on, and the fire died down, the deep, regular breathing of Velasquies show- ed that he was wrapped in profound slumber, while the ol prs sat with his knees drawn up, gazing fixedly into the fire, as though lost in ee of what was going on around m, But the red-skin was sharply conscious, and his. black, snake-like eyes. flitted. from one to the other, with a keen eagerness which showed that something more than usual engaged his thoughts. : ‘s He often looked at the half-breed, and then his eyes darted toward the form of , who was all unaware of this scrutiny. « It must have been past midnight, when our heroine was startled by hearing a catlike tread, and raising her head, she saw’ the Apache ap- pre hee- Supposing the savage designed to <ill_ her, she was about to scream, when he made a gesture which she understood to mean silence, J ; Terror alone kept her quiet, for she dreaded one of these as much as the other, and she knew that neither of them would hesitate to take the life of any person who stood in théir way. ‘** Don’t make noise!” he whispered, in broken ‘Me kill you! Keep still!” Bess did not stir, and scarcely breathed. : The Apache now motioned for her to rise. ‘*He bad man!” said he, pointing to the sleeping Velasquies. ‘‘ He hurt you; me take~- won’t hurt.” Bess did not dare to refuse, and yet she now feared the Indian more than the white man. She believed that he intended to steal her and take her to his home: She knew that if she re- sisted he would drive his knife to her heart, and she therefore rose meekly to her feet and await- ed his orders. ; With a hideous scow] he placed his face close to her own, and warned her again against mak- ing an outcry. *Me kill you—make noise!” . “T won't,” said the cowering child, speaking unconsciously in quite loud tones. The Apache was silent a moment, gazing fur- tively around him. The half-breed moved un- easily in his sleep, as though about to wake. The Apache clutched his knife, and turned his head as quick as lightning. d Velasquies wakened at that moment, the knife would in- stantly have been buried m his-bosom; but he dqannk his restless movements and slept on, i The wonder was that the red-skin did not slay his enemy at once, and so end the matter, He stood motionless as a statue, looking at the unconscious form, and then, satisfied that ance in perfect quiet, | all was right, he to#k the hand of the girl, and and Velasquies, with a single impulse of his ) plunged into the wood. paddle, sent it against the bank. “Come, get out!” he called to Bess, who was drooping with sleep. She sprung nimbly out, | and awaited on the shore his next commands. The two followed her, and the canoe was then drawn up the bank. The Apache took some pains to hide it in the bushes, so that it would escape the casual observation of any one | passing, and then, Velasquies leading the way, they strode rapidly eats the woods, in a course which was at right aagles to the stream. , The forest was familiar to the men, and they strode forward without hesitation, little Bess walking between them. ° reached a large, The distance, however, was short, when they sariegy oak, at the thes: of | ‘abe He walked rapidly, taking the direction which led toward the river. As the distance was in, considerable, it required but a short time, te reach the stream, where, after a slight exami- nation, the canoe was found precisely as it had been left. But, singular as it may seem, Velasquies was not asleep, nor had he slept 2 wink since lying down. He had been shrewd enough to see, in the carefully studied actions of the che, a sinister design, and he had counterfeited un- consciousness for the p of ascertaining what the real intentions of the rascally Apache were, Tt aia not take him long to divine that his real rt Re ee 4 eh eg ; et ERY Bue z a) wie as Le Pan CS ees " ¥ : ta f we was to steal irl from him, andas =| We have shown, he allow win bo de on poh thet ik 4 a i ' |
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And for his quiescence, during the stealthy | ( movements of the Indian, he had several im- portant reasons, the principal one of which was | that, as he knew that the savage was an exceed- | ingly fierce and dangerous character to encoun- ter, he did not dare to provoke a collision with | him, when the advantage upon each side would | be equal. There was too strong a probability that he woul i come out second best in the little difficulty. ? Another, and minor reason was, that he wish- e1 to justify his intended course in the eyes of Bass herself. If he should spring up suddenly any wrong against him, or before he had devel- | | op2d his intention of doing so, she might never ) ; believe there was ever any cause for such a sum- mary proceeding. So, as we have stated, he pretended to sleep, and did it so well that the wily red-skin was thrown completely off his guard. He waited until Boss and the latter had disappeared fairly in the wood, and then he rose silently to his feet, and followed with the celerity of a shadow. | He was certain, from the course of the Apache, . that he was geing for the canoe, in which he could rejoin his comrades without leaving a trail behind which any human eye could follow. Without paying particular attention there- fore to the precise course of the Indian’s foot- | steps, the half-breed diverged somewhat to the | right, taking a path more circuitous, but which would bring him to his destination almost, if not quite as soon.’ ee ae | His haste came near precipitating the very - thing he was seeking to avoid. Unknown to | him the savage had also turned in the same di- | t rection, and the first warning he had of the fact | was in seeing the savage, still holding the girl | by the fant walking raipdly across a small opening, where both were plainly revealed in the moonlight. : ; ; The half-breed shrunk back and waited until | they had passed out of sight again, and then he followed them more cautiously than before, When the Apache drew the canoe out from | the concealment, he signified to Bess to enter. She hesitated a moment, when he raised his glittering knife. $ ‘*Go quick! Me kill you! , At that instant the Apache caught the click of a gun-lock behind him. Suspecting the truth, he turned about with the quickness of lightning, but he could see nothing. Wig. 2 ) He then turned again to spring into oe eens M mn a sharp report rung out upon the night- | : : ue and he aeeered a shriek as the bullet passed | ’ through his heart. Still, true to his nature, | when he realized that he had lost, he made an | attempt to reach and slay Bess; but his strength | failed, and he drop lifeless, partly in the canoe and partly in the water. . : : CHAPTER XXTI. _. | : A BETTER THING ALL AROUND. Wuen Bess heard the report of the , and | - saw the Apache fall, unfortunately she believed that Buck Buckram was at hand, and springin ; ashore, she ran in the direction of the sound, | o™ Where are you, Buck? I am so glad you a = have come! I knew you would not forget me.’ re: “You did, eh?’ was the response, as with a i fearful blow, he struck her almost senseless to tT. theearth. “That’s the thanks I git, is it, fur riskin’ my life fur ye? You expected uck Buckram, did yer? I only wish he would come! ; “ Wal, by the living heavens! here he is, then!” exclaimed a vuice, hoarse with on, as the tall form of the trap “a arn through the | ; d made strai or him. Wins cowantily half-breed shrunk back helpless and appalled. The next instant he was in the gripe of the infuriated hunter, who made terribly short work with him. ‘“‘ Here, my darlin b he told you he would!” s picked up the prostrate little one, an smoothed the Pair away from her face. ) Bess soon revived, and returned the caresses | ft actor. : ; Oli wie are they ?” she asked, somewhat | ba They never can“hurt you agin. Never | _ mind about them now. You have seen toomuch | of this business. Jist don’t think about it now. | Git in the canoe, and Til take you home, where | be safe all the time.’ ; " 10 did as commanded, and seizing the pad | dle, Buck sent it rapidly down-stream, ittle ) ‘Bess scarcely able to realize the astounding _ vents which had passed before her so recently, : or Shoot ima! it’s like I allers does things!” he 0 add 3 beaver, is Buck come, = said the trapper, as he | a tesaclanty | couldn’t wait,” and shoot the Apache, before he had committed | h ih Fale iat 1 Stig, ee § % - fale ey meal ite Buck Buckram.’ — muttered, as they paddled along. ‘Tm allersin too much of a hurry. ‘What do you mean?” wonder. “IT had every thing fixed, jist how I could manage it, when I sp’ilt it by gittin’ she asked, with some She showed by her manner that she still failed to understand him. ; ‘“‘ Wal, then, I meant. to come onto that scamp rather suddent like, corner him up, and make | him tell all he knowed about yer—whar he stole yer from—and all that; but when I see’d him it yer—wal, what’s the use?—I couldn’t stand it no Yonger.” “Never mind, Buck; it’ll all come right some time.” ‘In course; but I'm gittin’ rather anxious "bout it.” ** You can wait if I can.” ‘JT s’pose so; but I orter knowed better.” ““ Where are you going to take me now?” ‘“To my own home, whar yer'll stay till I find whar ye belong.” ‘** And Dick Havens is dead,” she re ated, her heart overflowing at the thought of what she had witnessed during the day. ‘Yas, poor feller, he went under!” replied Buck, ina choking voice, as he worked harder than ever at the paddle. **T saw him just after he was shot.” The trapper was silent awhile, then he related the reicntael of his former companion’s death to Bess, who, as may be supposed, was greatly surprised and shocked to learn the truth. e girl had no wish or desire to sleep, but her craving for food came back to.her, and she stated it to her companion. ¢‘Hain’t you had nothin’ to eat?” he demand- ri stopping his paddling, and looking her in the ace ‘* Nothing at all.” " “‘Hang ’em!” he muttered. ‘Thar ain’t but one critter that’s worse than an Apache, and that’s a half-breed.” He shied the canoe off to one side, and ran under the ‘shadows of the trees along shore. Here he Janded, and collecting a few dried sticks built a fire on a flat stone, which was placed in the stern of the canoe. The bright light, as all well know, is peculiarly attractive to fish, and in a few minutes a number of them were gather- ed around, and several of large size were plain- ly visible in the water below. The trapper leaned over, and, carefully watch- ing his opportunity, darted down his hand, and threw out a plump fellow upon the bottom of the canoe, where it floundered and glistened in the moonlight. “* Now we shall soon have a supper,” said he, as he transferred several burning brands to the. | four to twelve years, were frolicking aroun shore, and building a larger fire, began-cooking the fish over it, first cleaning it and thn rhage 3 it out like a fan upon a pronged stick. It required but a few minutes for him to cook it nicely, and Bess made one of the best meals she ever ate. ‘ |This done, she lay down in the canoe, and Buck laid one of the shawls, which he had | Stripped from the half-breed and Apache, over her, and told her to sleep. It was yet early in the evening, but Bess never opened her eyes until broad daylight, and then she saw the trapper preparing to start down-stream. He had pr gto the few leisure moments in catching and cooking some more fish, so that he had a breakfast prepared, and enough to last them through the day. He done something else during the night, of which Bess never knew anything. They were within the immediate vicinity of the cave which had been the scene of the siege, and first securing the girl some distance from the shore, where he felt it would be safe to leave her awhile, he repaired to the cavern, to see’ what had become of the body of his comrade. He found the mutilated remains, and with his own hands, tenderly lifted and carried it some distance away, where he buried it in a ‘left of rocks, and covered it with rocks and stones, so that it could not be disturbed by wild animals. , This act of humanity and friendship complet- ed, he returned to the cave and explored the in- terior, faintl poping that the -skins might have overlooked his peltries. But they had not; not a single fur remained. But thanking Heaven for bis own marvelous es- cape, he hastened back to where his precious cha: lay slee 4 After Bess vio they shoved away from shore, and resumed their. homeward journey, ’ y ? a ee , " a | } | | so mad I | by water. | ! ‘3 a1 ie | ; | i which was continued with scarcely any inter- i! mission until sunset. ; During the afternoon, they entered a much larger stream, and Buck Buckram announced that they had but a short distance further to go CHAPTER XXIT... THE BEST THING ALL AROUND. THE following morning, which was a beauti- ful sunshiny one, as they were paddling along in the canoe, Bess remarked: ‘‘ T have been here before.” i ** When?” : “With Velasquies; this is thé way he went home.” “*Cur’us we neverjmet each other: fur when I’m trappin’ it’s the way I ginerally take.” By-and-by they landed. Buck pulled the canoe up the bank, and hid it under a thick clump of bushes. Bess watched him curiously a few moments, and then.said: “It wasn't far from this place that he used to land.” ‘“‘ That’s cur’ouser yit. Qua’r ef our shanties ain’t fur from each other. Shoot me!” ex- claimed the trapper, suddenly stopping and slap- ping his thigh, “ef I don’t blieve 1 know whee is place is—that is, his fam’ly. He’s an Injun wife off a good ways from hyar.” And then Buck proceeded to describe a mis erable hut which he had occasionally passed in his travels, and which he now believed to be mr = gy belonging to the family of the half, reed, Such proved to be the case—Bess readily re- éognizing: it from his description, and there way great wonder expressed by both, to think that they had been so near each other, for so longa time, without ever suspecting it. ** How far do you live from here?’ she asked, as they walked briskly along. “ce We'll Not a creat ways,” was his reply. reach thar long before sundown.” The‘sun had barely crossed the meridian, when the two entered a small clearing, in the center of which stood a’ tidy-looking cabin, while several children were playing around the outside.’ The face of Buck Buckram was lit up witha smile, as the little cnes ran forwerd to meet. him he caught them in his arms and kissed the er and over again. The next moment a buxorm-looking wcman came forth; and was folded in kis arms, while the faces of all were lit up with happiness. ; oF In a few words, the trapper explained the ie: facts regarding the little stranger he had brought, and she was at once received asa friend and daughter. Three little girls, varying from we b ie, ay ~ the house, and making glad the hearts of their parents. The third,a boy named Kit, after the renowned Kit Carson, an old friend of the hun-— ter’s, was off on a hunt, and was not expected — back until nightfall. ; It was a touching picture—the trapper’s home, Here he was surrounded by thcse he loved best of all upon the earth, and here cnly was he ever happy. Like the celebrated scout Carson, he: was a model husband and father, but the roving disposition which he had formed in his yonth controlled him gene life, and after a sho stay at home, he genekally went forth again t engage in the perilous duty of hunting ps Bie ‘ ee ee) is extraordinary skill in these pursuits had been rewarded, and he had accumulated qui a moderate competence—so much so, that he now felt at liberty to carry out the pledge he had made his wife some years before, of remon ing to Santa Fe and engaging in some less peril- ous business, — ; “Only one thing yef to finish,” said he, as hi wife sat on his knee, while the children frolicked aroyhd the floor. y es pee ™\“" What's that?” Pe find out the home of little Ress, fer could rest easy till that was settled, Jou know, Alfrina, that I’ve an idea that I seer this little one somewhere before?” a. \ “So you have; I remember your her. ait a moment,” said she, turning toward their guest. ‘‘See here, Bess.” tz The girl looked tip at her. Jt “Your name is not Bess. Now listen, tell me whether you ever heard the name—, FRINA—the same as my own,” a Thé little one started as if she had been by something, and then she stood several utes wrapped in a reverie so deep, that she | unconscious of what was going on around Finatly she raised ber head, and said; _ “ That's my name i” ae eRe
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It would be impossible to depict the interest that shone in the face of the trapper and his wife at this avowal. ‘ Vhe wife now turned toward ber husband, and said: *“Don’$ you remember, ten years ago, when a Sins came home one day, and teld me what a _ beautiful baby you had seen, and that it had the same name as nityself?” * *“ What else?’ asked the hunter, whose mem- ory evidently was not equal to that of his bet- ower half. *‘ ere was it I see’d her?” _ “In Santa Fea She was in a child’s carriage in the street, andl as she was about the same age a3 our Alfrita, and was a beautiful child, you took cular notice of her,” Buck’s eyes now sparkled. It had all come _ _ * Ves, lremember it. Shoot me! what a fool _ Jwas that I didn’t think of it before! Yas, I - remember it well; but I don’t know what other ‘name she or who she belonged to.” ' ** You can find them, 1 suppose.” _ _ “If hunting to the ends of the yarth will do it, I shall,” was the determined reply of the ae PaReer ee wife now went to Alfrina pe she is no _ longer~ Bess), and endeavored to follow up the "3 “a ions she had begin with, aud by which she i succeeded in partly awaking her train of remembrance. __-** Do you remember who called you Alfrina?’ Again the little head was bent, and a look of : rplexity settled upon her countenance for full Be ee minutes. Then she raised her , and with inexpressible tenderness, repeated the sin- gle word: | 4Wheret When?” were th 3 wee” Where en?’ were the eager queries, | which foliowed this reply. s The giri tried as hard as before to think, but fer mind wan-lered; it was a fruitless effort — _ **Tcannot tell. I can sometimes see a beauti- ful h with brothers and sisters all around me; but then it is ail gone again. Oh! I cannot think; I have tried hard often before.” _ «That’s so,” assented Buck. __ and questioned her till she wasn’t able to’ stand ce Aiglee, t the gal alone till 1fter dinner.” ___ A good, old-fashioned m ‘al wae prepared, and _ the family gathered aroum| it. ere Wag some wisappointment at the absunce of Kit, as be could hardly be looked for until nightfall _ there was no anxiety about him. He was ol v =e and skilled enough te take care ef him- es the woods, and was nc¥ unfrequently ab- _ gent for several days at a time. ae as night was closing in, Kit returned. He was a |! strapping, rosy-cheeked boy, vheerful and Pall of spirits, and as rollicking and jovial as his sisters, running over with joy a6 the return of his father. Kit was laden down with game, for he was a worthy son of such a hunter as Buck Buckram. After the congratulations were over, Kit ave an account of the hunt m which he had a e . All his game had been bagged _ durinz the afternoon. ' ; “What were you doing this morning?” in- quired pis mother. =. _ _ * Helpmg a poor family get off to Santa Fe. wanted a little help at starting: that’s " “Yoy didn’t allow fem to go alone?” de- manded the mother, in amazement, while the to see them into Santa Fe. They ‘were in a great hurry to get off, as they were afraid that the wife’s husband would get back and stop her. He must have-been a great hus- band, T think.” _ Further inquiry elicited the fact that Kit had helped off the wife and children of Velasquies, the haif-treed, she having been > mca by several friends to go to Santa Fe to escapé his brutality. res On the morrow Buck Buckram bade his family and Alfrina good-by, for a time, while i> went to Santa Fe to endeavor to gain traces other friends. He expected to be back in the course of a week, although, as a matter of course, he hal gone upon a very uncertain undertak- ittle Bess, as we may ¢all ber for og ec & Beadle’s HalfDime Library. dialiae’ ae “ Ive pumped. | Taos.. some time before. had displayed such skill and met with such suc- cess, that the Apaches called her Bache Tana- mas, the Female Trapper. She set their traps, and on the succeeding morning, each of them contained a_ beaver, while there was not one in the others. Singular as if may seem, this operation was repeated night after night in succession, until it came to be believed that she had some secret by-which she attracted the timid and sagacious animals. In the meantime, Buck Buckram was prose- cuting his inquiries with a perseverance and vigor that could scarcely fail of success. After reaching Santa Fe, he was at loss, for a time, as to the course to pursue. e was now able to recall distinctly the circumstance to which his wife referred. When his eldest daughter was just beginning to walk, he was passing leisurely through the streets of Santa Fe, whcn he met a small Mexi- can child’s carriage, in charge of a female servant, and a girl seated within of such re- markable beauty, that he paused and gazed at it in admiration. He inquired its name, and asked the. privilege of mp it. Both Sy Sa were granted, and he placed his grizzled beard and scarred face against the peachy lips of the infant. He learned that its name was Alfrina, but the latter name escaped him or was forgot- ten; and, as it was, he never would have re- called the other, had it not been the same as his wife’s, and had ske not first mentioned it. As the best that could be done, he sought out the family of Velasquies, and made inquiries of the half-breed’s wife. She could tell him noth- ing, except that her husband had brought her there, when ‘an infant, and had never revealed’ a word regarding her. She then asked in such a terrified mannér whether he knew anything regarding her hus- band, that he told her he had seen him killed in an affray. The relief with which this sad tid- ings was received by his wife, was touching and strange, and satisfied the trapper that, had she known the full circumstances, she would have looked upon him in no other light than that of : benefactor. ane had turned to leave, when she called him ck. “I once heard him speak of a wealthy Mexi- can named Jarilla, who had done him some injury, and he said that he had made himself equal with him. He never referred to it after- ward, but I sometimes imagined that it was his child that he brought to our house.” ** Like enough,” was the comment of Buck, as he walked away. He repeated the name over and over to him- self, to see if there was anything familiar about it; but he could not remember ever to have heard it before. However, he clung to the fancy that he was on the right track, and deter- mined to make search for a family of that name. , Here, again, he was puzzled, for diligent in- quiry failed to reveal any one of that name. But good-fortune came to him in a shape which he least expected. A half-hour after- ward he encountered Kit Carson in the street. The latter individual had just 34 appointed irits. Indian nt, and was in ri ds, and had The two old friends shook quite a chat. ‘“ What are you doing now, Buck?” abked Carson. ; The particulars of little Bess’s history was quickly related, and he said at the conclusion: “Fist now I'm looking for a man named Jarilla; and ef anyone can put me on the track, I think you’re the man.” The Indian agent bent his head a few minutes in thought, and then looked up with a bright look so characteristic of him, ‘*T know him.” ‘Where is he?” ‘« He has a hacienda not far from my home in He is one of the wealthiest Mexicans in the country, and one of the best men I ever knowed.” “ Are you well acquainted with him?” “Not jist now; but I knowed him well ten vears ago. Yes, Buck, you’re on the right track!” exclaimed Kit, in considerable excite- ment, and with no little pleasure. Buck asked him to explain. “Ten years ago he came to me, and wanted me to hunt a child of his, that he thought had | been carried away by a party of Apaches that | had been through the country near his hacienda He offered me ten thousand dollats if I would bring her back.” “Did you undertake it?” “Yes; I followed the Apaches for over two hundred miles, buf there was a mistake e. ; NST Le am tw Big = Cpe Ear They hadn’t taken her, and I came back nc wiser than I went. He paid me a thousand dol- lars, and looked more lke a heart-broken man } than anybody I had ever seen.” ‘“‘ Of course he was mistaken, for she was stole by a scamp of a half-hreed, of the name of Vel- -asauies. ‘The dog! And he was one of the mcct act- ive men in the search. Jarilla never suspected him, although I knew the half-breed had a grudge against bis employer, because he detect- ed him in and prevented his cheating a man that he was trading horses with. Queer that I didn’t have my eyes opened.” Satistied that he was now rg tan the right trail, Buck bade Kit Carson good-by, and mounting , his mustang, made all haste to Taos. He knew very well where the residence of Carson was, and after some inquiry, he was directed to the hacienda of Senor Jarilla. i It was just at nighlfall that Buck rode inte ; the lane or road leading to the house, and gave his animal in charge to a servant who was wait- ing. The trapper had little respect for and fear of rank, and he asked at once to see Senor Jarilla. “Your name, please,” inquired the servant, with gen obsequiousness, ~* . it out! Never mind m to see him mighty quick, or P down.” This was said in poor English and still poorer Spanish. The creando understood him, bow- ever, and a few minutes later Buck Buckram was ushered into the preseice of a middlesaged gentleman, with very gray hair hair, who show- ed the gentleman in every movement, and in the expression of his face. e inquired after the trapper’s health, offered him wine, and made him perfectly at home, be- fore he gave him time to hint at his errand. Buck was a little puzzled to decide how tw in- troduce the matter, but he concluded to do it without any circumlocution, and in the most di- rect manner possible. We will not attempt to describe the scene which followed, when Senora Jarilla was called into the room, and the astounding truth made known to her, We leave it to the imagination of the reader. Two days later, ‘Little Bess,"—Alfrina Ja- rilla—bade her friends good-by, and mounted on the mustang in front of Buck Buckram, rode to Taos, and then to the hacienda of Senor Ja- rilla, where she was placed in the arms of her parents, who were nearly beside themselves name! I want bu’st the door with joy. During the interview, Buck Buckram stepped away unobserved. A few weeks later, he and i his family removed,to Santa Fe. They had been here but a short time, when Senor Jarilla called upon him, and insisted that he should take the ten thousand dollars which had been offered ten years before, for the re- covery of his daughter. The old trapper resolutely refused to take one cent, although he was urged in the strong- est manner. ““You will then accept a present from AlI- frina?”’ ‘* Wal, I s’pose so,” was the hésitating answer, . as he suspected this-was a subterfuge to get round the same thing, The present consisted of a handsome residence in Santa Fe, turnished in admirable style, a magnificent horse to Buck and one to his son, poe a splendid wardrobe to the wife and chil ren, The old trapper attempted to resist, but in vain. The friendship between Kit Buckram an Senorita Alfrina grew with their years until it FS my into love, and the father was as proud en the two were united as thongh his daugh- ter had married the emperor ul Mexico, THE END. The sunny ide Library. 1 Lanta Rooxn. By Thons Moore ...... 10¢, 2 Don Juan. By Lord Byron... ..... .,. BAe, i 3 Parapiss Lost. By John Milton .. .. .. 10e. ; 4 Tur Lapy or Tue Lake, Sir Walter Scott . 10c, zi 5 Lucite. By Owen Metedith Bs 10, fe 6 Unpine, on THE Watrenr-Spirir. From the German of Friederich De La Motte Fouque... 10¢ For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, post. °: eae on receipt of twelve cents for single pod ; double numbers twenty-four cents. ‘ ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., Publishers, 98 William street, N.Y.
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i. et i ee . _ Sey ae ; = ee pIALOGU Aa ao IME D gEEIBI TIONS oe cae et a is For scHOO ~ HOME EN* Mec. 1 % BS imciusiva. AK to 25 Popular Dialogues and Dramas in each book. Each yvoleme 100 itme pages, seat Py } post-paid, on receipt of price, TEN CENTS. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y. [These volumes bave been prepared with especial reference to their availability for Exhibitions, being adapted to schoois and parlors wits { gr without the furniture of a stage, and suited to SCHOLARS AND YOUNG PEOPLE ci every age, both male and female. It is fair to assume {iat no other books in the market, at any price, contain so many useful and available dialogues and dramas of wit, pathos, humor and sentiment, OT : Dime Dialogues, No. 1. Foutie America. For three males and two femaies, | Zhe Golden Rule. For two males and two femates, male, The Gift of the Fairy Queen. For several femaes, Jose e’s Destiny. For four females, one of the Muses, For nine young ladies. The Folly of the Duel. For three male Taken in and Done for. For two characters, fiaiting a Live Englishman. For three boys. Dogmatism. For three male speakers. Country Aunt’s Visit to the City. Several fasso’s Coronation. For male and female. The Ignorant Confounded. For two boys. The Two Romans. For two males. fashion. Yor two ladies. The Fast Young Man. For two males, Eig J the Characters. For three males, he rehearsal. For six bo: The Year’s Reckoning. Twelve females, one male, | The ap y Family. For several “ animals,” Which will you Choose? For two boys. The Village with One Gentleman, Foreight females | The Rainbow. For several characters. {me Queen of May. For two little girls. and one male, How to write “Popular ” Stories. For twe males fhe Tea-Party. For four ladies. The New and the Old. For two males, aree Scenes in Wedded Life. For male and female. Dime Dialogues, No. 2. A Sensation at Last. For two males. The Greenhorn, For two males. i ne Mission of the Spirits. For five young ladies, | The Genius of Liberty, Two males and one female, | The Three Men of Science. For four males, The Old Lady’s Will. For four males. Ronnconet, For five kers. Cinderella or, the Little Giass Slipper. Secret of Success. For three speakers. Doing Good and Saying Bad, For several characters. The Little Philosophers. For two little girts, z How to Find an Heir. For five males, The Virtues. For six young ladies, A Connubial Eclogue. The Public Meeting. For five males and one female The Enylish Traveler. For two males, Dime Dialogues, No. 3. The May Queen. For an entire school. Dress Reform Convention. For ten females, Keeping Bad Company. A Farce. For five male, Courting Under Difficulties, Two males, one femmes — National Representatives. A Burlesque. Fourmaleg ag Sm the Draft. For numerous The Genteel Cook. For two males. ; Masterpiece. For two males and two females. The Two Romans. For two males. The Same. Second Scene. For two males, Showing the White Feather. Four maleg, one female, -The Battlo Call, A Recitative. For one male, The Frost King. For ten or more persons, Starting in Life. For three maler and two Faith, and Charity. For three little iy bem: Joan. For two males and one tel “he May. A Florai Fancy. For six little ee, The Enchanted Princess. 2 males, several . Honor to Whom Honor is Due. ee way. What the Lave st Says. For two males. The Crimes of Dress. A Colloquy. For two bogm, The Reward of Benevolence. For four males, ; The Letter. For tyro “nules. Dime Dialogues, No. 5. The Three Guesses. For school or parior, Sentiment. A * Three “ersoas’ ’’ Farce.’ He Behind the Curtain. For malesand femaka. il | The Eta Pi Society. For tive boys and s teac¥ear, vt Examination Day, For severa) femaie characte, = Trading ih “* Traps.” . For serene! n.ales. oan ! Whe Schoolboys’ Tribunal. For tex buys —Ey “A RREADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM STREET, N, ¥. General Dime Book Publishers, a Settee” a SS SSS raat waaraAne ae eee - AG SEO ETS » AE LORE CT STAMPS MR LR wrx <sinuaialiy masa seepiatnamenidhonn * te B 9 . : Me ee nee
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Costa, ick or, Trapper Tom’s Little Wildiire, the Young Prairie Nomad. , The Parson Detective; or, The Little Range. 248 The Disgulsed Guide ; or, Wild Raven, the Ranger. e aes Pare-Pevil Duan, the Young Prairie Ranger. ar Minkekin Mike, the Boy Sharpshooter. ; tle Foxfire, the Boy Spy; or, Old Caleb Arbuckle, e Sky Demon; or, Rainbolt, the Ranger. te 4 Whip-King Joe, the Boy Ranchero. 409 hercules; »r, Dick, the Boy Ranger. 417 Webfoot Mone, the Tramp Detective. 487 Wingedfoot Fred; or, Old Polar Saal. - 468 Tamarac Tom, the Big Trapper Boy. | Boe Biundering Benth, the Herat Boy Trap a ng Baall, the Hermit _ 652 Don Barr, the Plains Sites of ‘670 Norway Nels, the Big Boy Mountaineer, «-§ts Wiebland 1 the Wisard Rifleman, ; pat Po Ge Shak, tad Doloctive Sport. r j BY T. 3. FLANAGAN. 209 Midshipman Dare, the Pirate Catcher, . e You Cewbeoy Captain. 935 ane Twe (Midshipmen ;, or, The. Corssir-Chaser’s First BY DAN DUNNING, & 4 Jack, the Seeret Service Spy. ae and Jack, the Invincibles; or, The Disbotteal Three. Ree Betective Dave’a Close Call, . Farrel Fox and Mis Girl Ferret, 898 Farrel, Fox’s Sweep-Stakes, oy BY GEORGE ©. JENKS, Git The@Owney the Unknown. Git Thar Owney’s Pledee. The mon Doctor; or, Deadhold, the Kid Detective, Double-Curve Dan, tne Pitcher Detective. a ng Boe Singer Detective; = Owney in a New Role, 518 S > r4 The Pitcher Petective’s Fotl: or, Dan’s Doable Play, 651 736 asa lefe iP * +, The Ocean Detectives or. The Last Crutee of the riack Bear, The Piteher Detective’s Tonghest Tussle. Larry the Thoroughbred; or, ten on Every Side, 9 Iron Hand, the Charmed Detective Unele Sam’s Detective in Chicago. y, BY WM. G. PATTEN. ° 629 Violet Vane, the Velvet Sport; or, The Jubflee of Jacktown ‘$ Vinlet Mos a Vietory; or, The Jasper City Cleaa Out. Violet and Dalay, the Posy Pardes. ‘Tes Violet Vane’s V or, The Cratty Detective’s Cratt. Violet Vane’s Vengeance; or, The Wipe-Ont, - © Violet Vane’s Verdict; or, The Game at Coffin City. sat Violet Vane, the Ventriloguist Vidocq; or, Sport va. Sport. Violet Yane, the Vanquished, or, The Life Strngg'e, Violet Vane’s Vistong or, The Fiery Hand of Fate. Mamond Sport; or, The Double Face of Bed Rock, in siete? y or, Five in One. Ware the Sport from Denver. ah ies ramp Detective: or, The Doubie Grip Witness ve’s Dandy Pard; or, The Clue to Capt. Claw 651 Bound Bey F rank, the Young Amateur Detective 2 - Wild Vulean, the Lone-Range Rider, 4 4 Old Misery the Man from Missouri. | ‘4 Clear-Grit Cal, the Never-Sey-Die Detectiv>, % Sam Sheridan, the Secret Service Speci” Cowboy Steve the Ranch Mascot. : Nobby Naty the Tenderfoot Detective. 8 Sharper Stoke’« Double Deal. ; Spotter Robin_New York. potter Bob’s Bowery Rackct. BY COLONEL DELLE SARs, The Lion of the Sea; or, The Vailed Lady. CoG Desmond for, The Gambler's Big Ganie. BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER, The Sen-Wat; or, The Witch of Darien. The mb Page mae The Doge’s Deughter. 4 AS Diek Darling, the Pony Express Rider. oe *-ance und Laxao; or, The Children of the Chaco. The Sword Hunters; or, The Land of the Elephant Riders The Loat Captain; or, Skipper Jabex Coffin’s Cruise, Roy Madoutnes or, The Brothers of the Phimed Lanes Wolfgang, the Robber of the Rhine. nae. 9 Milo Romer the Anfinal King: or, Round the World, : The Tiger Tamer ; or, The League of the Jangle. i ‘nek Niek, the Demon Rider. «8 ‘ornia Joe's War Trail. BY CAPT. J. F. ©. ADAMS, a7 og he coal Seager Sia ys > wekram ; or, Bess, the Female er, ¢ Grizzly and Petss or, The Wi! Hostre> 2 RA SO ae a as ™ . 3 ; HER ie } E98 Jimmy the Kid; or, A BY T. 0. HARBAUGH. Niek o the Night; or, The Boy Spy of ’76. The Hidden Lodge; or The Little Hunter. Nightingale Nat; or, Tne Forest Captains, andy Jack; or, The Outlaws of the Oregon Tralt. {it Harefoot, the Wood-Hawk; or, Old Powder-faca, 94 Midnight Jaek ; or, The Boy Trapper. 106 Old Frosty, the Guide; or, The White Queen. 128 Kiewa @uarley the White Musimnger. 189 Judge Lynch Jr,: or, The Boy Vigilante. 155 Gold Tritger, the Sport; or, The Girl Avenger. 169 Tornado Tom; or, Injun Jack From Red Core, 188 Ned Temple, the Border Boy; or, The Mad Hantes. 198 Arkan-caw ; or. The Queen of Fate’s Revenge. 207 Navajo Niek, the Boy Gold Hunter. 215 Captain Bullet; or, Little Topknot’s Crusade. 231 Plucky Phil; or, Rom, the Rew Jezebel. 241 Bill Bravo; or, Tie Rowghs of the Rockies. 255 Captain Apoliv, tne King-Pin of Bowie. 28 87 az 64. 82° 267 The Kackskin Detective; or, The King of Road-agents. 279 Old Winch 3 or, The Buckskin Desperadoes. 294 Dynamite Dan; or, The Bowie Blade of Sochetopa. 802 The Mountain Deteetive; or, The Trggei Jar Bully. 816 Old Eclipse, Trump Cardof Arizona, 826 The Ten Pards; or, The Terror of Take-Notice, 886 Bie Benson; or, The Queen of the Lasso, 845 Pitiless Matt; or, Red Thunderholt’s Secret. 856 Cool Sam and Par4; or The Terrible Six. 66 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detectiee. 86 Captain Cutlass; or, | he Brecaneer’s Girl Foe. 896 Rongh Rob; or, The Lwin Champicns of Blue Blazes. 411 The Stiken Lasso; or, The Rosec Ranch Robin. 418 Felix Fex, the Boy Spotter; or, The Gold Gang of New Yous 425 Texas Trump. the Border Rattler. 486 Phil Flash, the New York Fox; or, The Mystery of Room 21, The City Vampires; or, Ked Rolfe’s Pigeon. 461 One Againat Fifty; or, The Last Man ef Keno Bar, 470 The Boy Shadow; or, Felix Fox’s Hunt. 427 The Exceisaior Sport; or, The Washington Spotter, 499 Single Sight, the One-Eyed Sport. 502 Branded Ben, the Night Ferret. 512 Dodger Dick, the Wharf-Spy Detective. 5621 Dedger Dick’s Beat Dodge; or, The Gotham Gold Gang, 528 Fox and Faicon, the Bowery Shadows. 588 Dodger Dick, the Dock Ferret. Dodger Dick’« Double: or, The Rival Boy Detectives, 558 Dodger Diek’s Desperate Case. r Dick. the Boy Vidocq; or, The Gang of Three. wo Sha dows; or, Dodger Dick’s Stop Game, 582 Dodger Dick’s Drop; or, The Man from Jersey. 594 Little Lon, the Street-Singer Detective. 610 Old Skinner, the Gold Shark; or, Tony Sharp on Guard, 626 The Champion Parda; or, The Luciler of Silver Bar, 687 Dick Doan, the Dock Boy Detective. 645 Kit, the Pavement Sharp. Geo ust Dan’s Gath; or, Reckless Regniass 928 Gold-Dust Dan’s Snap-Shot, f BY JOSEPH E£. BADGER, JR, 2 Yellowstone Jack; or, The Trapper. 48 Black John, the Road-Agent; or, The Outlaw’s Retreat, 65 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustang Sam and His Pard, 119 ctor: Sam 3 or, The King af the Plains. Night-liawk Kit; or, The Maughier of the Ranch, Dainty Lance the Boy Sport. 151 Panther Paul; or, Dainty Lance to the Reseue, 160 The Black Giant; or, Dainty Lance in Jeopardy. 168 Deadly Dash ; or, Fighting Fire with Fire. 184 The Boy Trailers; or, Dainty Lance on the War-Pai®, 208 The Bay Pards; or, Dainty Lance Unmasks. 211 Crooked Cale, the Caliban of Celestial City. 310 The Barranea Wolf; or, The Beautiful Decoy, 819 The Black Rider; or, The Horse-Thieves’ League 885 Old Double Fist ; or, The Strange Guide 855 The King of the Woeds: or. Daniel Boone’s Last Taste 449 Kit Fox, the Border Boy Detective. 625 Chineapin Dan, the Boy Trailer. 677 Chineapin Dan’s Second T 688 Chincapim Pan’s Home Stretch. 698 Old Crazy, the Man Without a Mead, 708 Licht-Heart Lute’s Legaey. 718 Light-Heart Lute’s Last Trail. 728 Silverblade, the Shoshone. 729 Silverblade, the Half-Blood; or, The Border ihe 789 Silverblade, the Hostile; or, The Border Beagie’w 748 Silverblade the Friendly; or, The Border Beagle’s Bey Pause BY ©. DUNNING CLARK. 185 Captain Paul: or, The Boy Spy of the Mountains. 280 The Yankee Rajah} or, The Fate of the Black Shovel, BY LIEUT. i. D. PERRY, U. &, N. 176 The Boy Runaway; or, The Buccaneer of the Bay, 180 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow Well Kept. 192 Captain Kit; or, The Mystery of Montank BY JACK FARRAGE0UT. 815 Ned, the Cabin Koy; or, The Witch of the Fert, 820 The Sea Sorceress; or, The Boy Skipper. ; BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID, 78 Blue Dick; or, The Yellow Chief's Vengeance. 187 The Land Pirates: or, The League of Devil’s Istand, 187 The Helpless Hand; or, Backwoods Retribution. 289 The Gold-secker Guide? or, The Los: Mountala, BY BRACEBRIDGE NEMYN6, 89 Taland Jim: or, The Pet of the Family. 191 The Captain of the Cimby or. The Rival Athletes, 101 Jack Markaway in New York. MISCELLANEOUS AUTHORS, . 4 The Wild-lMorse Munters. By Capt. Mayne Rete, Frederick Whittaker. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen, 12 Gulliver’s Travels, By Desp Swift. 14 Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Pp. 16 Robinson Crusoe. (27 Ilinstrations.) 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. 22 5 he Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crasce. By Juce wis. ; 88 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pirates of the Carribees. By S. W. Pierce. 86 The Boy Clown: or, The Arena Queen. By F 8. Finn. B88 Ned Wyle, the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 51 The Rey Fiffes;: or. The Underground Camp. By A.C. Irons 95 The Rival Rovers; or, The Freebooters of the Mississipp» By Lieut.-Col. Hazeltine. 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 Fhe Mad Humt ‘The Caye of Death. By Burton Saxe 112 The! unter: or, 'heCayve eath. 124 Exppy, the Texan} or, The Young Champion. By Georg: Gleeson. . ; 128 The Young Privateer; or, The Pirate’s Stronghold. Be H Cc dieh. “ 148 ghare Sau 3 or, The Adventures ot a Friendless Boy, By 3 Alexander Patten. 227 Dusky Darrell, T ; or, The Green Ranger of the You lowstone. we, ee 9 ni, ¥ wk Boy ie 2 rene Fearnaug I Da 9 > Ly at as6 kilitrar. the Guides or, Davy Grockcti's Grecked Trai! By Ensign C. D. Warren. t 298 Red Claw, the One-Eyed Trapper; or, The Maid of ths Clit By Captain Comstock. 817 Peacock Pete, the Lively Lad from Leadville. By Liew tenant Alfred Thorne. 828 The Sky Retectives or, A Boy’s Fight for Life and Hones By Maior Mickey Free. : 850 Rea Ralph, the River Rovers or, The Brother’s Re venge. By 4 Bun rg i Detewe eR 65 Baltimore Ren the ac’ ve. . bh. Moria Hs Gold-Tuat Tom: or. Ben’s Double Mateh. @ FL. More 876 Callfornia Joe’s First Trail. By Colonel Theme Hoyer Monstery. fl 418 Billy Rombahcll, the Cliff Climber. By F.S. Winthrop, 475 The Black Ship. By John S_ Warner. 484 Comanche Pick and His Three Inyincivies. By Henry J. Thomas. é 582 The Cowboy Duke. By Edwin Brooke Forrest. B52 Artel the Athlete. Ry David Druid, 682 The Dead 721 Maverick Mose, the Ar irkos Pasa, By Vill Lizenbee. 809 Don Danton, the Gent from Denver, By King Keene, of @ a14 v. vay “the Wetine P Bee. E. Try, A Ace High, the Frisco Detective, By ©. - 880 The Grim Lodgers in Rag Alley; or, Citlen Rub of Number Smen. By Ren D. Halliday, ’ R81 The Chieago Drnommer’s Deal. By J. 6. Bethaee 841 Prinee Chartic, the Cat’ Paw Sport. by Sar 861 Rilly Rrine, the Swamp Fox. By Chaa, F. 879 Biwe-leht RIM, the Sapphire “port; or, The Teer tive’s Lone Hand, Py Kiog Keene. A New Iasue Every Tuesdey. The Half-Djme Tibrary is tor sale erate per copys sent by mail on Bose d t rar
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Numbers 1 to 24, inclusive. Eaeh § Dime American Speaker, No. 1. J. Jeboom’s Oration, A Dutch Cure, The Weather, a kas copied, ilosophy Appli An Old allad., Penny Wise, Pound Fool- True Cleanliness, {ish, Young America, Birthday of Washington, Pilea for the Maine Law, Not on the Battlefield, The Italian Struggle, Independence, Our Cownstry, The Equality of Man, Character of the Revo’n, The Frus of the War, The Sewing-Machine, ‘True Manhood, # The Mystery of Life, ; “In a Just Cause, No Peace with Oppres- } sion, A Tale of a Mouse, The Ups and Downs, A Thanksgiving Sermon, The Truly Great, The Cost of Riches, Early Retiring and Ris’g, | Great Lives Imperishable A. Ward’s Oration, The Prophecy forthe Y’r ‘true Nationality, Unfinished Problems, Our Natal Day, Honor to the Dead, Solferino, Immortality of Patriots, Intelligence the Basis of | Webster’s Polit’] System, ‘The War, [Liberty. ) A Vision in the Forum, Charge ef Light Brigade, | The Press, After the Battle, Woman’s Rights, The Glass Railroad, Right of the Geverned, Case of Mr. Macbeth, My Ladder, Prof. on Phrenology, Woman, Annabel Lee, Alone, ae gsr, ey te Name, The Rebellion of 1861, Thé Sailor Boy’s Syren, | Disunion. Dime National Speaker, No. 2. Union and its Results, Ohio, Mur Country’s Future, Oliver Hazard Perry, The Statesman’s Labors, | Our Domain, True Immortality, | Systems of Belief, Let the Childless Weep, | The Indian Chief, gue Country’s Glory, | The Independent Farmer nion a Household, Mrs. Grammar’s Ball, Independence Bell, How the Money Comes, The Boholar’s Dignity, Future of the Fashioris, The Cycles of Progress, | Loyalty to Liberty, 4 Christmas Chant, | Our Country First, Last, Siability of Christianity, , and Always, The True Higher Law, | British Influence, he One Great Need, | Defense ef Jefferson, The Ship and, the Bird, National Hatreds, Tecumseh’s Speech, | Murder Will Out, Sat'd'y Night’s Enjoy’ts, | A if A String of Onions, | A Tragic Story, Debt, | Dow, Jr.’s Lectures, | Ego and Echo, Dime Elocutionist, No. 5. SEC... Prrycreirs or True EnvuncraTion.—Faults in Enunciation; How to Avoid Them, Special Rules and Observations. SEC, Il. Tse Arr or Oratory. Sheridan’s List of the Passions: Tranquillity, Cheerfulness, Mirth, Raillery, Buffoonery, Joy, Delight, Gravity, In- uiry, Attention, Modesty, Perplexity, Pity, Grief, Melancholy, Despair, Fear, Shame, Remorse, Courage, Boasting, Pride, Obstinacy, Authority, Commanding, .Forbidding, Affirming, Denying, Difference, Agreeing, Exhorting, Judging, Approv- ing, Acquitting, Condemning, Teaching, Pardon- ing, Arguing, Dismissing, Refusing, Granting, De- pendence, Veneration, Hope, Desire, Love, Re spect, Giving, Wonder, Admiration, Gratitude, Cu riosity, Persuasio., Tempting, Promising, Affecta- tion, Sloth, Intoxication, Anger, ete. | SEC. Ill. Tae Component ELEMENTS oF Ax ORA TIon.—Rules of Composition as applied to Words and Phrases, viz.: rity, Propriety, Precision. As applied to Sentences, viz.: Length of Sentence, Cléarness, Unity, Strength. Figures of Speech; the Exordium, the Narration, the Pusoposition, the Confirmation, the Refutation, the Peroration. SEG. IV. RepresentTatrve EXERCISES IN PROSE AND VeERSE.—Transition; A Plea for the Ox; Falstaff’s Soliloquy on Honor; the Burial of Lincoln; the Call and Response; the Bayonet Charge; History of.a Life; the Bugle; the Bells; Byron: Macbeth and the Dagger; Hamlet’s Soliloquy; Old Things; Look Upward; King William Rufus: the Eye; an Essa Onto Musik; Discoveries of Galileo. SEC. V. OssERVATIONS OF GOop AUTHORITIES, Dime Humorous Speaker, No. 6. Sad Sto: | Poetry Run Mad, Right Names, Scientific Lectures, The Ager, The Cockney, | The Codfish, ; Fate of Sergeant Thin; | The Features’ Quarrel, | Hamerican Voodchuck, Fashionable Women, | The Harpof a Thousand Fern Thistles, | Strings, Good-Nature, | The Last of the Sarpints, Jats, Courtship, Devils, Permanency of States, Liberty of Speech, | New England and Union, | The Unseen Battlefield, | Plea for the Republie, Ameriea, * Right of Secession” a Life’s Sunset, Human Nature, Lawyers, Wrongs of the Indians, Appeal in behalf of Am. Miseries of War,[Liberty, A Lay Sermon, A Dream, Dime Juvenile Hoe Out Your Row, Six-Year-Old’s Protest, The Suicidal Cat, A Valediction, | Popping Corn, The Editor, The Same, in rhyme, The Fairy Shoemaker, What Was Learned, Press On, | The Horse, The Snake in the Grass, Tale of the Tropics, Bromley’s Speech, | ; ; / : | | A Boy’s Philosophy, The Same, second extract | The Fisher’s Child, Shakspearian Scholar, -| A Maiden’s Psalm of Life, A Mixture, Plea for Skates, Playing Ball, Ah, Why. Live for Something,” Lay of the Hen-Pecked, The Outside Dog, Wolf and Lamb, Lion in Love, Frogs Asking for a King, Sick Lion, > Country and Town f__-e, Man and Woman, Home, [Fallacy, | | Choice of Hours THE DIME SPEAKERS. peaker, 100 pages 12mo., containing from 50 to 75 pieces. * See Ee LS - . Astronomical, The Moon, [zens Duties of American Citi The Man, Temptations of Cities, Broken Resolutions, | There is no Death, | Races, | A Fruitful Discourse, ) A Frenchman’s Dinner, { | Unjust National Acqui'n The Amateur Coachman, John Thompson’s Dau’r, House Cleaning, ~ It Is Not Your B asiness. Speaker, No. 9. How the Raven Became Black, A Mother’s Work, The Same, | Who Rules, A Sheep Story, | A Little Correspondent, | One Good Turn Deserves | My Dream, [Another, in | I'll Never Use Tobacco, | A Mosaic, Some Old am A | Prayer to Lig: | Little Jim, ” Angelina's Lament, Johnny Shrimps on Boots Mercy, Poor Richard's Sa ng Who Killed Tom ny Nothing to Do | Honesty Best Policy, | Heaven, | Ho for the Fields, Fashion on the Brain, On Shanghais, A Smile, Casabianca, Homeeopathic Soup, Nose and Eyes, e Malt, . (Come, Territorial Expansion, Martha Hopkihs, The Bashful Man's Story, The Matter-of-Fact._ Man, Rich and Poor,* Seeing the Eclipse, Beauties of the Law, Ge-lang! Git Up, The Rats of Life, Creowning Glory of U.S., Three Fools, Washington, Our Great Inheritance, Dulogy on Henry Clay, | Beautiful and True. | The Worm of the | Man and the Infinite, | Strive for the Best, ay Rising, - | Deeds Gates of Sleep, | The Bugle, | A Hoodish Gem, of Kindness, Purity of the Struggle, Old Age, Sstin, Language of the Eagle, Washington, The Deluge. ‘Dime Patriotic Speaker, No. 3. ae Be the World, Ve Oo} un Right, of Self Preserva- cur Cause, a Kentuckian’s appeal, Kentucky ‘ast, Timidity is nD, The Alarum, April 15, 1961, The Spirit of *61, The Precious Heritage, The aby —e, frain’s § t ehristy’s Byeech;, Let Me Alone, Brigand-ier-General, The Draft, Union Square Speeches, The Union, an Oa ntry’s Call, The Little Zouave, Our Cou ay E Tree, | ¢ » The Story L-e-g On My Leg, History of Our Flag. T. F. Meagher’s Add We Owe to the Union, tion, | Lincoln’s Message, Les | Last Speech of Stephen A. Douglas, : Great Bell Roland, : The New Year and the King Cotton,’ [Union, * Rattle Anthem, ~ The Ends of Peace, Freedom the Watchword Grisis of Our Nation, ~ Duty » of - Christian triots, Turkey Dan’s “ration, A Fearless Plex, The Onus of Slavery, A Foreigner's Tribute, he tors. atholic he ** Spe Dime Comic Speaker, No. 4. . Klebe ‘ ; ge Bluntly Considered, > ly Rising, _* Phe Wasp and the Bee ‘omic Grammar, No. 1, Man, ; aeereo and Juliet, Por: eet: A Texan Euloginm, "How to be a Fireman, ‘The United States, £" X's Acc’t of Himself, - Practical “irenology, Ee Beautifr . - Cabbage, oy Disagreeable People,’ | Like? hat isa helor acna Boikes - . ‘vossonthe War, ' A Song of Woe, _ antl * lath Trip to Richm’d, ee The Mountebank, Compound Interest, A Sermon on the Feet, Old Dog Jock, * The Fishes’ Toilet, Brian O’Linn, a a ee ag 0 is My Opponent Poktical Stump Speech, Comie € Hwa <4 No. 2, Farewell to the Bottle, The Cork Leg, : The Smack in School Slick’s Definition of Wife, Tale of a Hat, The Debating Club, A Dutch Sermon, Lecture on Locomotion, Mrs. Jaudle on Umbr'lla, | Jo | Lay of the Henpecked, Gottlieb Klebcyergoss, Schlackenlichter’s snake, | Hosea Biglow’s Opinions, | | How the Money Goes, | The March to Moscow, The Mysterious Guest, The Pump, The Sea-Serpent, Hun-ki-do-ri’s Fourth of | The Secret, July Oration, | The Shoemaker, If you Mean No, Say No, | The Useful Doctor, ws on Leap Year, Lot Skinner’s Elegy, Matrimony, | Nothing to Do, The Waterfall, | To the Bachelors’ Union Leagi ie, United States Presidents, Vagaries of Popping the | Questien, A Hundred Years t¢ ; The Madman and he | Little Sermons, [Razor | Snuffles on Electrieity, | The Two Cradles, | The Ocea 1 Storm, | Do Thy Little—Do it WeB Little Things. A Baby’s Soliloquy, Repentance, A Piea for Eggs, Humbug Patriotism, Night After Christmas, Little Puss, Short Legs, | Base-Bal [Fever | Shrimps on Amusements, | Prescription for Spring | Dime Spread-Eagle Speaker, No. 10, Phe Lotus-Planter, : | Old Grimes’s Son, Authors of our Liberty, | Natureand Nainre’s God } Ossian’s Address to the | ¥ anaticism, Old Caudle’s Umbrella, | What I Wouldn’t Be, Paddle Your Own Canoe, | Yankee Doodle Aladdin, Parody on “Araby’s | Ze Moskeetare, Daughter,” { 1933. Dime Standard Speaker, No. 7. The World We Live In,_ | John Burns, Gettysburg, Woman's Claims, No Sect in Heaven, Miss Prude’s Tea-Party, The Power of an Idea, The Beneficence of the Suffrage, [Sea, Dream of the Revelers, The Real Conqueror, The Citizen’s Heritage, Italy, The Mechanic, The Prettiest Hand, Paradoxical, Little Jerry, the Miller, The Blarney Stone, The Student of Bonn The Broken Household, The Bible, .| The Purse and the Sword My Country, True Moral Courage, What is War? Butter, My Deborah Lee, The Race, The Pin and Needle, The Modern Puritan, Immortality of the Soul, Occupation, Heroism and Daring, A Shot at the Deeanter, The Modern Good, [Sun, Independence Bell—1777, Forey Thowglde ; Oggy oug The Ladies’ Man, Life, The Idler, , The Unbeliever, The Two Lives, The True Scholar, Judges not infallible, Instability of Suecessful | Agriculture, {Crime, Treland, The People Always Con- Music of Labor, — {quer, Prussia and Austria, Wishing, Dime Siump Speaker, No. 8. Hon. J.M. Stubbs’ Views | The Lkimits to Happiness, on the Situation,” Good-nature a Blessing, Hans Schwackheimer on! Sermon from Hard-shell Woman's Suffrage, Tail-enders, (Baptist, All for a Nomination, The Value of Money, Old Ocean, [Sea, | Meteoric Disquisition, The Sea,the Sea, the open | Be Sure You are Right, Star Bangled Spanner, | Be of Good Cheer, Stay Where You Belong, | Crabbed Folks, [Shrew, Life’s What You Makelts| Taming a Masculine Where's My Money, Farmers, [Our Country, Speech from Conscience, |The True Greatness of ’s Relation to Society | 'The Cold-water Man, HowCyrus Laid the Cable” Ben Buster's Oration, Hans Von Spiegel’s 4th, Josh Billings’s Advice, A Hard-shell Sermon, The Boots, The Squeezer, Noah and the Devil, A Lover's Luck Hifalutin Adolphus, Digestion and Pareties. eis Disadvant- Smith, ed BE Gushalina Bendibus, A Stock of Notions Speaking for the Sheriff, Daking a Sh weat, Then and Now, Josh Billings’s Lectur*ng, Doctor De Blister’s Ann’t, Consignments, a ares, ss ‘ an Bryant's Speech, A Colored View, Original Maud Muller, Nobody, Train of Circumstances, Good Advice, The Itching Palm, es, Debater and Chairman’s Guide No. 1 pee 1.—Dersatine Socrery. Its Office and Usefulnees, Formation of, Constitution of, By-Laws of, Rules of Government, Local Rules of Order, Local Rules of Deba*e, Subjects of Diseussion,. m.—How To DrepaTte. | Why there are few good | _ Debaters, 4 | Pr uisites to Oratori- }_ cal Success, he Logic of Debate, The Rhetoric of Debate, Maxims to Observe, ; Order of Argument, | Summary. ¢ The Preliminary Premise, | — tions, er. | The ** | Drum-head Sermons, Schnitzerl'’s Philoso ** Woman's Righter Luke Lather, The Hog, Jack Spratt, New England Tra | The Ancient Bachelor, | Jacob Whittle’s § | Jerks Prognostica | A Word with Snooks, Sut Loven A Mvle Ride, Josh Billings on Buzzera, Il Trovatore, - Kissing in the Stree». Scandalous, Slightly Mixed, The Office-seeke Old Bachelors, Woman, r The Niam Niams, et People Will Talk, Swackhamer’s Ball, Who Wouldn’t be Fire? - Don’t Depend on Daddan Music of Labor, The American Ensign, __ 5 ey 111, —CHAIRMAN’s Giipn, Ordinary Meetings and Assemblies, Me The Organization, ; Order of Business and _ sedings, : The * Question.” How it — ean be Treate . Question,”” How te. be Considered, Sah oe <a som, arte ights of a Speaker . Against the Chair. | af Calling Yeas and Nays, Interrupting a Vote, — Org tiv bet Bodiery, Conven Annual or Ger oy pie rae nization of Delibera ag = ‘9
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-. PARSON BEECHER AND HIS HORSE. By “Brrcxtor.” “BIG JOKE BOOK SERIES, “OH! MAMMA, BUY ME THAT!” A CoLLection or JOLLY Joxes AND Funny STORIES. Illustrated. GRIN’S CATECHISM OF FUN. 64 pages. Illustrated. 64 pages. THE TROUBLES OF MR. AND MRS. BOWSER. Illustrated. 64 pages McGINTY’'S JOKE BOOK. Illustrated. 64 pages. WIT AND HUMOR OF THE BENCH AND BAR. 48 pages. WIDE-AWAKE SKETCHES. SOME SCREAMING YARNS. ROARING JOKES FOR FUNNY FOLKS. ‘‘ JOLLY JOKES FOR JOLLY PEOPLE.” Illustrated. 64 pages. Tilustrated. 80 pages. Illustrated. 64 pages. Illustrated. 64 pages. “THE BUTTON BURSTER; or, FUN ON THE RAMPAGE.” Illustrated. 64 pages& LAUGHING GAS; or, DRIVE DULL CARE AWAY. Illustrated, 64 pages. PUT THROUGH; or, FREEMASONRY AND ODD FELLOWSHH EXPOSED. By “ BricxTor.” «FUN ON THE ROAD.” Illustrated. 64 pages. A Recokp or AMERICAN Wit AND Humor. 48 pages. PRICE 12 CENTS EACH BY MAIL. POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN. HUMOROUS PUBLICATIONS. THE CELEBRATED MY MOTHER-IN-LAW. By “Brrcxror.” Hopkins. 88 pp., Paper, 8vo. . This is one of the most humorous stories of the day. Every man and Yoman in the country should read this serio-comic experience of aman with jas mother-in-law, who made home torrid for him, and how hesucceeded, after Pany attempts and failures, in getting rid of her. JOR FIRST BABY; orn; Tae ANFELICITIES OF Our Honey- moon. By the author of ‘‘ My Mother-in-Law,” etc. Illus- trated. Paper, 8vo. This is a witty and charming narration of a young married couple. It pre- gents vividly the first attempts of a young husband at housekeeping. SMITH IN SEARCH OF A WIFE. By the author of “Our First Baby,” etc. 64 pp., Paper, 8vo. This story is not founded on fact, but there is so much comical human pature in it that truth couldn't make it any better. It should be read by every: body contemplating the great lottery of marriage. Laughably illustrated by Thoraas Worth. =ARMING FOR FUN; or, BACKYARD GRANGERS. By “ Brrcx- Top.” Illustrated by Thomas Worth. Paper, large 8vo. Illustrations by A laughable story. The experience of Timothy Budd and his wife at city gardening is brimful of fun; and thousands who read it will exclaim: “I've been there!"’ Titustrated by Thomas Worth 96 pp., Paper, large 12mo. ‘his is a thoroughly enjoyable book, brimful of fresh, brilliant humor and wughable situations, the author claiming it to be the best of his many humor- ous productions. #RED DOUGLAS AND HIS MULE. Companion to “ Parson K Beecher and His Horse.” By the same author. Illustrated. 96 pp., large 12mo. As astory of the iate war it deals with people who “ were there,” and will Se doudly popular with the “ Vets,” many of whom enjoyed the very fua that is hers depicted. Aay of the above books sent by mail on ve ~ receipt of 12 cents. Postage stamps taken. “h a Ul. ee & Co., Publishers, (ames sunivan, Proprictor,) 379 Pearl Street, New York - ‘LAUGHING SERIES. BOUNCED; or, THE ADVENTURES or an Untucky Man. By Joun Carpoy. Illustrated. Paper, 8vo. THE QUIET YOUTH; on, Jusr Lrxe Hos Uncus. By “ Brscm- ror.” Illustrated. Paper, large 8vo. BEANWHACKER’S TROUBLE; or, Nor a Brr Like He Uncie. A sequel to ‘‘Just Like His Uncle.” By Jonny Carpoy. Illustrated. Paper, large 8vo. DEACON BOGGLES AND HIS LIVER PAD. By Wi Wanper. Illustrated. 64 pp., Paper, 8vo. This book is a humorous record of the Deacon's frantic struggles with than malignant enemy of the human race—the dreaded Liver Pap. THE KNIGHTS OF PYTHIAS SHOWN UP. By “Bnrrcs- top.” Illustrated. Paper, 8vo. ‘‘ Don’t make any mis- take.” JOINING THE GRANGERS; or, Expertence or SassaFRas Doverr. By the author of ‘‘ My Mother-in-Law.” 64 pp., 16mo. DRY GOODS DRUMMER. By Tom Wonper. 88 pp., 16mo. This is one of the funniest of all the Laughing Series, and its glimpses of the trials, scrapes, and troubles of a Drummer on his traveis are precisely the medicine to cure the blues and make the reader happy. TRIP OF THE SARDINE CLUB. By “ Bricxtor.” 16mo. Profusely Illustrated by Thomas Worth. This book is full of fun and sentiment, giving personal observations ané historical reminiscences of places on the Hudson between New York and Albany. ; z ‘ SORAPES OF FARMER SKOOPENDYKE. Illustrated. He buys a Billy Goat. He Gives Widow Snagg a Sleigh-ride His Experience with Dr. Bungle. Mrs, Maloney’s Goat » ete., etc. Paper, Svo. 80 pages. x 96 pp, Pa - a ee Oe ae’? a PMs wea E Ss Se} we Pay ate dale =