Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 1146) (1904 02)
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NOT RETURNABLE “ie Copyricat, 1885, By BrapLe & ADAMS. ee ey nal re reel Jd Vrl Se lol al le lem] ma lb Published Every Month, Waitt Baby dam, The Boy Giant of the Yellowstone; QR, Old Spokane Jdoe’s Trust. BY OLL COOMES, ‘HERCULES, THE STROYER,” ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I. THE PLEASURE PARTY. Far up on the borders of the Yellowstone Park, on the rugged breast of the grim old mountains, Mary’s Lake lay sparkling like a jewel under a bright September sun —mirroring in its crys- tal depths the environ- ing peaks that rose thousands of feet above it on all sides. Dotted with several little islands and in- dented with narrow tongues of land cover- ed with the richest of foliage that was now all aglow with the soft autumnal tints, the lakelet and its sur- roundings presented as grand and romantic a picture as ever en- raptured the human heart or filled the mind and soul with the majesty and power of the Creator. A party of four per- sons, drawing rein on an eminence overlook- ing this lake, gazed in speechless wonder and admiration on the scene outspread before them. Two men and two women composed the party—all in the very prime of young man ‘and womanhood, The eldest of the four must have been about five-and-twenty years of He was a man a little above medium hight, with a well-developed phy- sique, a handsome, in- telligent face, dark- blue eyes and a4 brown mustache, 8 sat his horse like a young cavalier, and no-one looking upon Frank Rodman could have regarded him as AUTHOR OF DUMB DE- “‘ME? WELL, I'M PLAIN KA-RISTOPHER KO LUMBUS BANDY, aND—" DETECTIVE?’ EXCLAIMED SAM. MM. J. LEVERS & CO., Publishers, (JAMES SULLIVAN, PROPRIETOR), 379 Pearl Street, New York. aught else than a gallant and manly young man. He was well-dressed and well-mounted, and carried a rifle and a pair of revolvers hung at his saddle-bow. At Frank Rodman’s side rode Miss Sarah Marshall, a blue-eyed, fair-faced girl of eigh- teen, whose ladylike bearing and vivacious spirit made her in every respect worthy of the atten- tion of her gallant cavalier. The third person, Frederick Sears, was a young man of two-and-tWenty, strong and ro- bust, with an intelligent face and pleasant ad- | dress, Like Rodman, he was well-mounted and | armed with rifle and revolvers. At Sears’s side rode Wilma Rodman, Frank’s | than any one of the four. She was, perhaps, seventeen years of age, with a form, while rather petite, possessed of all the graces of per- fect’ womanhood, and a face of rare beauty Sal) Saw — hee \ ee RAS sister, who would have attracted more attention | : | nor peace until he had not only premies to take : : : : / ‘“‘NOT OLD KIr BANDY, THE 1 BHOULD LAUGH TO SMILE THAT I AM THAT MAN,”” | brightness and the peerless bearing of its | were of a dark brown, large and lustrous. SORES C075 be | ~ ‘Fes., 1904. Vol. KLIN. PRICE 5 CENTS. 50c. a year. made radiant in its loveliness by its intellectual Os Her eyes, shaded with long dark lashes, Her rosy cheeks and dimpled chin had been touched with brown by exposure to sun and wind, but this served rather to highten her beauty than te mar it. These four young people were residents of the Gallatin valley, and were on their way for a trip through the Yellowstone Park, of whose wonders they had heard so much. Wilma Rodman had been the leading spirit in getting up the party. She so dearly loved the wild, romantic and rugged scenery of the mountains that she would give her brother Frank no rest sessor, her to the Park, but had actual trip. They were well equipped for the journey, being provided with tents, cooking utensils and food, all of which were loaded upon the backs of four pack horses. They had come in by the old Bozeman trail, and before leaving home it had been ar- ranged that they ge into camp at Mary’s Lake fora day or two, or until they were joined there by a fifth person who. was to be their. guide during their stay in the Park. This person was none other than the noted Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellow- stone; and when they came in sight of the lake, its presence sent a thrill through Wil- ma’s breast that per- haps none of the others experienced—not that they were less enthu-s siastic or less capable of appreciating the scene—but because it was the appointed lace of meeting with er big-hearted boy lover. Besides the young mountaineer their number was to further increased by a party of three men, on their arrival at the Yellowstone Lake. One of these was Wil- ma and Frank’s fa- ther, who, with an old hunter named Spokane Joe, was assisting one Professor Drood, of the Government ser- vice, in making some geological researches in the wonderful val y started on the MOUNTAIN -
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Mary’s Lake was not over two miles away when it first burst upon the sight of the four happy you 2g tourists, and their animals seem- ing to become imbued with their own eager and exuberant spirits quickened their pace and in | -. a short time the western shore of the lake was ~~ reached. To dismount, unpack and unsaddle their horses | and tether them out to grass that grew luxuri- ently hard by, occupied but a few short minutes, - when the party sought the shade of a cluster of “ pines close by the lake and sat down to rest and enjoy the beauty and majesty of the scene out- spread before them. . Baby Sam was to have met them there at noon that day, when he was totake them, in a canoe he had concealed somewhere along the west shore, to a lovely little island out some ’ forty rods in the Jake, there to si the after- noon and the coming night. The Boy Giant | had named it Wilma Isle, for he had often told | her that it was the loveliest spot he had ever | seen, being possessed of some strange and ro- mantic sights and sounds, It was just ten o’clock when they reached the lake, so they would not have long to wait should Baby Sam be on time. ‘* That,” said Frank Rodman, pointing toward the nearest island in the lake, ‘* must be Sam’s Wilma Isle.” ‘*T presume so,” replied Wilma, her fair face aglow with expectancy and admiration; “and I'm quite anxious to visit the island. Sam says _that after night the waves chafing the pebbly shore make a faint, weird, sweet music that fairly charms the soul.” ‘*o him, I suppose, the music of the waves is like that of your voice,” remarked Trank, “which accounts for the name of the island,” whereupon he«burst into a peal of rollickin laughter that was caught up by tho wonderfu echoes around them and sent dancing away into the mountains, like the laugh of a hundred satyrs. “Oh, Frank!” quickly exclaimed Wilma, as the dying echoes suddenly filled her mind witha vatue fear; ‘‘ what if those bloodthirsty Sioux should dig up. the hatchet again and raid over into the Yellowstone?” -* Such a thing is possible, though hardly probable. If they should strike anywhere, it would be at the settlements in the Gallatin and Upper Yellowstone. All a raid in the Park would benefit them wouldn’t. pay for the trou- ” ‘Pye been inclined to think, Frank,” said Fred Sears, ‘“‘that the cattlemen over in the “seas Yellowstone are really uneasy, for they’ve been a talking of moving their herds into the Galla- i 2 ‘‘Oh, the red-skins will steal cattle at any time, Fred, and for that reason I suppose the herders want to get further from them. Gen- erals Custer and Reno are keeping a watch on old Sitting Bull, and the first break he makes you'll hear of some lively music, But, Pl tell you: I believe that outlaw, Scott’Dresden, is at the head of half of all the devilment accredited to the Indians. If Sitting Bull, the old fool, would scalp him, he might not have any but his own sins to account for. Thus the conversation ran on until the first thing they knew it was noon; but Baby Sam ar had not yet put in anappearance. Dinner was f postponed an hour, but when one o'clock came = the youth had not arrived, and so they ate their ‘meal and waited on. One, two, three hours went by but they brought not the expected guide. Uneasiness now became plainly depict-d ‘upon the faces of the girls, and at length Wilma, unable to restrain her feelings longer, said: | n afraid something has happened him, “Oh, fiddlesticks!” rephed the brother, in his _. blunt, bluff way, ‘‘he’ll be along, rest assured | ‘of that. Baby Sam’s old enough, and I’m sure, _ big enough, to take care of himself. What does i an hour or two,or a half-day for that matter,’ Boe ~ amount to? I didn’t expect he would be here on time to the very minute.” ‘ ““ But he thought he would get here ahead of ” -' ‘* Suppose he did: he'll find-out his— Hark! * I'l) bet that’s Sern coming Bowell i>, The clatter of a horse’s hoofs was heard com- ing down the valley, and springing,to their feet ae tne party ran to the edge of t ey and up the eg down which they saw a rseman riding, at a sweeping gallop, - ‘Acry mine, se from. thelr Tips; for they t was Baby Sam, and Le a into view the men swung their hatsa’ ve their ' re oe... ee cy Ae a , Bog = : Mia ds Rodman, “ to hear “ * oe eC os —— - : - _ see ea but of them we will speak more fully here- | heads and gave utterance toa shout. The Boy : ter. A minute later the youth had reached the lake, and springing from his saddle advanced and shook hands with his friends, saying: “Lam glad to see you all here, but am very sorry I have kept you waiting. How do you all do+#-how long have you been here/—have a pleasant journey ?”’ ‘* Quite pleasant, indeed,” responded Frank Rodman, in his usual happy way; ‘‘ been here since ten o’clock and all’s well, and we are truly glad to see you, for some of our folks were get- ting a little restless.” ‘*T am sorry, indeed,” replied the young moun- taineer, ‘‘ but Pll explain the cause of my delay as soon as I put my horse out to grass.” To unsaddle his hard-ridden animal and tether it out required but a few minutes, when he turned and rejoined his friends by the lake. Samuel. Burling, or as he was better known, Baby Sam, was a boy but nineteen years of age, and yet he stood fully five feet ten inches in hight. He was powerfully built, with a well- knit frame, square shoulders, dep chest, and a large, well-shaped head set on an athlete’s neck. His face was smooth and boyish, yet wore ‘an expression indicative of force of character, cour- age and intelligence. His eyes were large and ef a dark-gray color, his brow broad, and his mouth, though rather large, was well-shaped rr: the most expressive feature of the attractive ace, He was dressed in a neat-fitting suit made after the style so peculiar to the ranchero of the western plains. @ was armed with a Win- chester rifle, a large-sized revolver and a hunt- ing-knife. Around his waist was a belt filled with rifle and revolver cartridges. Most of this boy’s life had been spent in the settlements of. the Yellowstone and Gallatin valleys. When but twelve years old he was left an orphan in the care of a kind-hearted yet eccentric old bachelor uncle who divided his time between cattle-raising and hunting. The old man was very cousiderate of Sam’s welfare, and being a person of a fair education, he took great pains in teaching Sam, who soon obtained an excellent tnowledge of the usual English branches. ; But the lad had always loved the mountains, and so became a hunter and trapper, and some years before Professor Hayden’s formal explo- ration of the Yellowstone Park, Baby Sam had seen every object of wonder and interest in the valley in his ramblings after game. Asa rifle and pistol-shot he had no equal in the valley, and as a cowboy he could handle the whip or lasso with consummate skill, and was, as well, a splendid and daring horseman. But the most remarkable thing about this Western Jad was his physical strength. Nota man among all the stalwart residents in the Gallatin was a match for Him, and it was this prodigious strength more than his stature that had given him the name of Boy Giant. a ‘‘¥Yes, I'm sorry I kept you waiting even an hour,” repeated the young hill-haunter, ‘‘ but the boys and I got into trouble over in the Yel- lowstone. You see, we’d concluded to drive our cattle over to the Gallatin, and had started, when we were attacked by about fifty Indians and outlaws—” “Oh, dear! dear!” cried the maidens, — - * Now, don’t get excited, girls,” the boy went. on, ‘for remember all this occurred over one hundred miles from here: moreover, we frus- trated the Indians’ attempt to stampede our herd, and turned inand gave them a runnin fight for over half a day, and that is what kept me behind. In fact, had it not been for the speed and endurance of my horse I'd been a full day behind. As soon as we got the herd across the range, I ijeft the boys and struck out for Mary’s Lake. Now, Isu the next thing is to get over to yonder island—Wilma Isle.” ~ ‘Yes, we're all anxious, Sam,” said Frank your musical island give an evening concert.” + “But, Sam,” demurred Wilma, thoughtfully, “will it not be dangerous for us to venture into the valley if the Indians are maki nT expect I foolish s: thi “T expect I was ish saying anything about Indians,” y Sam replied you'll not have a moment’s enjoyment, Wilma, I’m afraid: but ee need have no fears, I'll go and see if I can 2 d the canoe I left over a year ago round yon- der rte _ He hurried away, and while gone the youn pate ante preparations for dnbarking to the et alittle cavern.” turned with his boat, a i gz 7 But few minutes had elapsed when Sam re- | Sarah to the island the first trip, and you boys To this there was no objection; so taking their seats in the canoe Sam pulled out into the placid waters of the lake.and paddled carefully to Wilma Isle. Assisting them to land the eg guide said, as he again took hisseat in the | boat: : | ‘*Now, while I’m after the boys, you girls can reconnoiter the island and see that there are no bears around,” and with a laugh, he dipped the | paddle and glided out from the island. With a wave of her hand Wilma and Sarah turned and walked back among the dense pines that covered the little island, while a few vigor- ous strokes carried the Boy Giant back to where Frank and Fred were waiting. ‘Pile in, boys,” he ordered; ‘“‘ Til run you oe and then come back after our camp raps. he two young men seated themselves in the boat, and the craft started on its return trip to the island; but it had gone less than ten rods when an exclamation burst from Fred,Sears’s lips, and pointing downward alongside the boat, he said: ‘“A floater, by smoke!” Baby Sam backed water with his paddle and, gazing down at the object, beheld the lithe r cdy of an Indian lyirg in the water—all but his face being submerged, and around that some aquatic grass was tangled. Ata glance Sam saw that the Indian was alive, and recognized him as a young Crow, known as Sparrowhawk, a true and faithful friend of his and the settlers of the Gallatin. ‘Good gracious, Sparrowhawk! what are yor doing here?—what—” English: “Don’t talk loud—Sioux hear you |” *“Waat do you mean, Sparrowhawk?” ‘*One, two—four—six Sioux warriors hid on island—no go there—git killed—scalped—Spar- rowbawk come tell white friend quick he git way “out Sioux see him.” Rodman. : ‘* That Indian is as true as steel, Frank; I ha- lieve him.” * Great heavens! what will become of Wilma and Sarah?” asked Fred Sears. _““Yes—they git in trouble,” declared the In- ‘Sparrowhawk, where did you come from?” questioned Sam. ““From island—lay in water by rock—Sioux close by—no git away till girls come to island— then Sioux sli away—me friend to pale-face—me Crow—Sioux kill me if onic 3 back—quick—they kill you!” _ “Sparrowhawk,” began Baby Sam, but be- fore he could finish the sentence a faint scream came to his ears from the island that teld him the girls were in trouble—that the young Crow had told the truth. = figs “My God! what shall we do?’ exclaimed Frank Rodman. The situation was indeed a critical one. Quick decision and proms action were now is traying his inward emotions, “our coming to this place has been anticipated. by those red — yt a a 3-5 a“ eS — repeated the young giant, all the latent cou of. bis nature gi aroused; ‘‘we can die, Frank. going straight to that island— ad ANS Sea ify a rs wt 4 T now ; d—alone if no" The Indian shook his head, then said in broken ; : “Can that be possible, Sam?” asked Frank = p into thicket—then me swim — now fully. One 1 yy en r~
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cares to go with me, and fight the whole horde till I whip them or tail!” ‘Ay, Sam! my heroic young friend, I will go with you!” declared Frank Rodman. “JT too, Sam!” added Fred Sears. *“ Boys,” warned Sam; ‘‘ weigh the matter well in your minds before you act. He who starts to yonder island takes his life in his hand. Every one of us may be riddled with bullets be- fore we're ten rods from this shore.” “* We will all die together then,” was Frank’s response. * All right, boys; let’s get ready,” and Baby Sam examined his revolver, buckled bis cart- ridge-belt around him and took up his rifle. Frank and Fred were soon ready, and the three entered the canoe again. With the same steadiness of nerve and long, vigorous strokes that had marked his os passage to the island, the Boy Giant plied the paddle. Soon the island was reached without any de- monstration from the foe, and in hopes of keep- ing the Indians in ignorance of their knowledge of the situation—the presence of the foe on the island—Daby Sam leaped ashore, and in a loud voice called out: ** Hullo, Wilma—Saral! where are you, girls?” There being no answer, the brave fellows, yrhose courage was now undergoing the crucial te:t, began whistling a sprightly lay—at the same time leading the way across the island. Near the ceater of the island they debouched into a little opening, which was half crossed when they were Lrousht to a stand by a quick movenient in the bushes before ther. Instantly the hands of the trio sought their revolvers. A sharp, wild yell, more like the bark of hyenas, broke tke silence of the place, and ihe next instant eight savages burst from ambush with uplifted tomahawks and rushed upon the whites. Quickly the revolvers of the latter rung out almost as one. A savago fell dead in his tracks; another stopped short, reeled backward and dropped in the edge of the shrubbery; while the third, dropping his tomahawk, sunk to his knees, clutching wildly at his breast. At the same time a fourth savage fell dead, his head cloven by the tomahawk of a friend who, coming in wild haste behind, and endeavoring to throw his hatchet, caught it against a twig, thereby deflecting its course with fatal result to bis brother brave. : Sinultaneous with the fall of the red-skins Frank Rodman and Fred Sears sunk down un- der the blows of flying hatchets, and the Boy Giant stood alone contending with the foe. A brawny red-skin rushed forward and with scalping-knife in hand was bending over the prostrate form of Rodman when a lithe form— that of Sparrowhawk, the friendly’ Crow— leaped through the bushes, struck the savage a deadly blow, and then seized the form of young Rodman and dragged it into the thicket. All this had occurred in almost a moment. At one blow, as it were, five of the red-skins and two of the whites had been stricken down, and the Boy Giant now stood alone, confronted by three powerful warriors. Before he could fire a second shot a flying tomahawk struck his revolver and knocking it from his hand carried it out of reach, thus leaving him empty-handed, to continue the struggle. But, never flinching, he leaped at the red imps with clinched fists, his eyes fairly burning with their fierce glare and his features set with the rigidness of marble, Scarcely aware of what he was doing, he struck right and left in his frenzied might, and in a moment two of the remaining Sioux were down and the third one —he who had accidentally slain his comrade— turned to flee. But at this very instant, when victory seemed within the grasp of the young giant, a white man—a confederate of the savages, who had hitherto kept concealed in the bushes—dashed from ‘his covert and running oP: struck the young athlete on the head from bebind with a club that brought him to his knees, half stunned, and before he could recover, three more white men rushed from the bushes and grasping him bore him to the — A desperate struggle now ensued, in which the young giant gave the villains a hard fight, but the odds were too t for even his marvelous strength, and, nally overpowered, he was s2curely bound. hen he was permitted to rise to his feet and look around him, a sight met his gaze that would have dispelled all hope from the breast of one less resolute and courageous than Baby Sam. His young friend, Sears, lay dead among the savages, . man was gone, but whether living or dead he knew not. He had seen him fall and he had seen Sparrowhawk drag him ee eee eee ee Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of th® Yellowstone. away. Before him stood three living savages and four white men. The latter he knew were outlaws, for among them he recognized the no- torious Scott Dresden—an outlaw leader whose security had been guaranteed within the village of Sitting Bull in view of his services against the white settlers in the Yellowstone and Gal- latin valleys. Wilma and Sarah could not be seen or heard, and the boy felt satisfied that they had been spirited away from the island. The surviving savages became furious over the death of their friends, and it was as much as the outlaws could do to restrain them from slaying the youthful Hercules. Among the warriors was one whose voice told that he was a white man arrayed in the paint and para- phernalia of a Sioux. He was tall and angular, with long arms, a sharp face, a peculiar-shaped head, enormous mouth, large ears, and small gray eyes, overhanging shaggy brows. He seemed even more vindictive toward the pris- oneg than did his friends, but as he was the man who had accidentally slain his comrade at the beginning of the conflict, it was probable that that mishap had something to do with his fury, for, not knowing but his surviving friends had witnessed his fatal blunder, he was en- deavoring to maintain his standing as a war- rior by boasting and forced expressions of re- sentment, . “Waugh!” he exclaimed, es he brandished his nea kale before the face of the pris- oner, ‘‘ Big Horn, the Sure Shot, is thirsting for the gore of the pale-face! He would scalp him alive and then roast him in fire like a dog! Waugh! let me at him!” ‘Stand back, Big Horn!” commanded Scott Dresden, the outlaw chief; ‘‘I want to save that fellow. I’ve use for him.” “Uh!” grunted Big Horn, with a vicious snap of the eyes; “if you want to save him you'd better tie me up—I’m mad—I’m wild, ferocious! The Great Spirit has let me loose. The pale-faces are my enemies. They invade our huntin’-grounds and slay our braves. Waugh! the spirits of forty~leven dead war- riors are surging in my brcast, pantin’ for the gore of that big prisoner. To shake the scalp of the Boy Giant of the Yallerstun under the nose of the great Sittin’ Bull would land me in the breech-clout and head-gear of a great and mighty war-chief.” **You’re a mighty fool of an Indian now,” retorted Scott Dresden; ‘‘ you slop over won- derfully in the presence of a helpless foe.” “My Indian blood’s fermenting, Captain Dresden,” replied the renegade, evidently net- tled by the stinging sarcasm of the outlaw, “and don’t you forgit to disremember that I'm the crack pistol-shot of the far Nor’ west.” ‘You can claim that honor now, since Baby Sam is off duty, but if my memory serves me right he had the reputation of being boss of the revolver in this country.” ‘*T deny it, captain, and challenge you to prove it now while youcan. I say that I am, and have been the prince of the pistol, and dare you to prove the contrary. Now then, ye want to come to the scratch or gig like a man. I are ready to prove my claim in any way you may elect. I’m sure that’s fair as a summer sky.” “All right; you'll stand to that, will you?’ respouded Dresden, with a sinister light in his eyes. ““T generally do what I say [ will,” declared i Horn; “Tm no crawfish or chicken-giz- you “That'd be a reg’ler duel,” exclaimed Big Horn, in apparent surprise. ‘‘T know it, but the best shot’d win. If you're what you claim you are, you'll run no risk; but if Baby Samuel gits in his work on you, why he'll be permitted to go free. This, now, is the way I elect, and you can come tothe scratch now, or gig.” ‘T tell ye I never go back on my word,” averred Big Horn, boastfully; ‘‘ but then, it’)l be too bad to let that big Ingin-shooter go free if he plugs me. He’s the wu’st enemy we Sioux have got.” en you want to drop him, and if you're the superb shot you claim to be, you do the Sioux a favor as well as prove your claim.” ** All right; I'm ready for blood, Yoop-pee! I’m the big Ingin from 'way, ’way over!” howled the renegade; and while he was thus ing hiniself, Scott Dresden took two of his men aside and said to them: ee ed “I’m beginning to think that we need that renegade out of the way as bad as the indians want Baby Sam removed. I believe he is a treacherous old scamp, who has wormed him- self into the confidence of old Sitting Bull. I have been led to this conclusion by his presenc> here. He was not selected as one of the part~ for this expedition, but, somehow or other, b:- eavesdropping, I suppose—he has got wind of 1% and forced himself upon us, Ill swear, if we'e. got here during the fight I'd have dropped him accidentally.” ** Tt isn’t too late yet, captain,” suggested one of the outlaws. ‘Yes; them Indians ‘d report us to Sitting 3ull, and then we'd be out our best friend. No, I think the best plan is to let him and Baby Sam settle the question as to their marksman- ship—for which I care nothing on earth—and in doing so I think they'll settle each other, fcr both are undoubtedly fine shots.” ** But, suppose the big hoy refuses to fight:” “No danger of that on the terms I offered. Of course, if I thought he’d escape being killed, I'd withdraw that offer; but I have no fears but theyll finish each other. However, we can see what can be done, and that at once.” Meanwhile the renegade kept up his wild boastings in the presence of the captive, and finally he stole up to him glaring him squarely in the eyes, with his knife raised as if to strike. But Sam never flinched, and like a cat stealirg upon a bird the villain crept closer and clese1 until his sharp nose alincst touched the boy's cheek, and ina low tone he hissed some wor’s in the prisoner’s car that caused the ycuth to start as though it were the hiss of a serpenf. Then, with a wild yell, the eld renegade leaycd backward, brandishing his knife before the p1is- oner’s face and grinned like a snarling wolf. “Say, let this mcnkey work stop,” ccm- manded Dresden as ke came back; ‘* Raby Sam, what do you say; will you fight that fool, Big Horn, on the terms I have stated?” ‘Yes; if you give me my own revolver,” re- sponded the Boy Giant. ‘* All right, you shall have it. the beach,” The prisoner was conducted across the island to the east side, where lay a long, level stretch of sendy beach fully four reds in width, and as they passed along Sam saw where something had been dragged from the grove to the water’s edge. He knew at once it had been a canoe, in which Wilma and Sarah had doubtless been remoycd from the island. The cuelists were stationed near the water's edge, ey paces apart, with backs turned upon each other. Baby Sam’s left hand was fastened at his back and his feet so tied together that he could take but a short step. The outlaws would not trust him with too much liberty. His own revolver was given him, the empty chambers being all refilled from his cartridge-belt. An outlaw remained with him asa second. Another stood near the renegade, while Dresden and the others used at the edge of the grove,about half-way etween. A resolute look was upon the face of the Boy Giant as he cocked his revolver and stood awaiting the signal to act. ; “Ready!” suddenly rung out the voice of Dresden. The combatants started and every nerve in their bodies seemed called into action. ** One,” counted Dresden, and the eyes of the Boy Giant flashed lke a startled buck’s. * Two.” The youth’s head turned slightly. Three !” The word was but cleverly out of thé out- law’s mouth ere the duelists spun round upon their heels, and, as they did so their revolvers rung out as one, butinstead of the prinnpenss the two seconds feli dead! And before Dres- den and his companions could realize the terri- ble situation, the weapons of the two deadly pistol-shots. spoke again, and an outlaw and savage fell lifeless at the side of the outlaw chief! With a cry of bafffed triumph Dresden and his surviving friend turned and fled for their lives into the. grove, leaving the two strange duelists, the. renegade and the Boy Giant, standing alone and unharmea on the field of honor! \ Let us retire to +——— : CHAPTER III: OLD KIT, THE moment that Baby Sam saw his enemies disappear in the grove with affright, he turned and began hobbling toward the renegade, Bi Horn, who also advanced until they met—hbis face convulsed with silent laughter. Whipping out the knife he had flourished but
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4 Baby Sam, the Boy Giant o afew minutes before in the face of the boy, Ant siege severed the youth’s bonds, and then said: ‘* Now let’s git to cover, lad, or them other fellers may take a hand in this shootin’ mati- nee.” Sam followed the renegade into the bushes, where the latter turned, and putting out his big bony hand, said: “Put her thar, Baby Samuel!” and the two dee came together with a sharp smack. ‘‘ Ha, , ha, boy! It’s a tie atween the two great pistol-shots o’ the North! Great horn of Joshua! did you ever see a nicer job set up on the chil- dren of Satan? Did ye ever see a duel worked off in sich a bang-up style? You thought I war jokin’ when I fu’st whispered to you thar, in the eas, didn’t ye? Lordy! don’t 1 makea savory, uxom Ingin, though! Can’t I put on the vari- ations and curlamacues with frillsin front and gores up the side! Didn't I split that Ingin’s gourd accidentally a-purpose in a real Mosaic style! Say, lad, I know you're a fine shot, a brave boy, and all that, but if you’d run with me awhile, you’d soon be a double-breasted roarer from Roarerville.” ‘* Well, who in the plague are you, anyhow?” demanded Sam, as soon as able to get in a word, for the man’s action, and talk, and the faithful manner in which he had carried out the whis- pered promise made in the grove, puzzled him most completely. Looking carefully around him cs if to be as- sured that no one was near, he said: “| reckon them survivin’ fellows will pike out for a place less malarious, for this is a sick- ly island; but, oh! horn of Joshua! Tl be marked for red-skin vengeance forthwith and forever, amen! Id liked o have saved them two gals, boy, but situated as I was I could do nothin’, and so they were hurried away from the island in charge of two big bucks that kept the island between you and them so’s you couldn’t see em, They're to be taken to the Ingin village, and mebby you and me can catch -’em before they git there.” “But say,” interrupted Sam, “who are you ?” ‘“Me? Well, I’m plain Ka-ristopher Ko-lum- bus Bandy, and—” “Not Old Kit Bandy, the Mountain Detec- tive?” exclaimed the am Sam. “‘T should laugh to smile that I am that man —ay, I am more than that! I am a refugee from the turmoils and sorrows of domestic in- felicity. With this paint off my face, and these Ingin habiliaments somewhat reversed, you'd sée a poor, haggard, heart-broken, down- cast, storm battered-lookin’ old relic of a once gay and festive gambolier. But marryin’, boy —marryin’s done the destructive work for me! My wife, Sabina Bandy, I hold responsible for the old, blistered, cadaverous, reel-footed hulk you see drifted afore you. She war a devoted wife—an affectionate helpmeet, but she allers kissed me at a distance—said distance lent en- chantment. Do you see that scar there? Well her proxy, an iron skillet, kissed me there; an there’s whar the carvin’-knife, flipped from the ends o’ her pink-nailed Sngers, embraced me; and there—right there, Sammy, ’s whar I war oxculated with a sad-iron. This sunflower here’s not a birth-mark, Samuel; oh, no! it’s where ‘Bina love-branded me with a red-hot shovel. Oh! I’m a total wreck—I'm the ruins o’ Baby- lon—the downfall of the Roman Empire—the destruction o’ Herculaneum! That's why ’ma refugee—why I took to the timber—the moun- tains—the Ingin village. I’m here for peace, rest, safety. I war baptized into the Si-ox faith, but I’ll be rimracked if I could stand it to see you deestroyed in the bloom o’ youth—the mornin’ twilight o’ manhood.” ‘“‘ Mr. Bandy,” said Baby Sam, in a grateful voice, ‘I thank you for your kindness in help- ing me out of my difficulty, but I must confess ouwre a badly mixed-up man, and still worser nged-up. Between your wife and the Ingins and outlaws, I’m thinkin’ you'll have to emi- grate now to Japan.” ’ ‘¢ Ja-thunder! boy, I intend to die on Ameri- ean soil that has been so gorgeously enriched with my blood—blood that’s come down from Noah and the ark in all its pepe purity. Boy, you needn’t. be afraid to trast me, though you wweedn’t believe everything I say less you want to. My tongue’s a kind o’ an independent ranger and rambles away sometimes on its own hook while my mind’s off prospectin’ somewhar else. That comes through force o’ habit—makin’ ex- cuses to one’s wife while thinkin’ 0’ some place to d ; but I’m gittin’ over ’em now—ar’n’t one- so bad as I used to be. But now, Baby, yeu kuuw who and what I am, and I’m ready for work. What shall it be fu’st? Just procla- mate, boy, what it shall be, and you'll find me your twin-brother till death do us part.” ‘“‘Tf I knew,” said the young mountaineer, ‘* what brought you Indians and the outlaws to this island, [ could determine then what to do first.” **Boy, I can tell ye what I know ‘bout it. se Ameg Dresden, you know, stays in the Ingin village, and I’ve been makin’ it a p’int to watch him closely, and by a little systematic eaves- droppin’ I learned that a select party of red- skins, with a reserve of outlaws led by Dresden himself, war to visit this island, but for what purpose I couldn't learn. But I knew it was for nothin’ good, soI made up my mind that I'd go on a little expedition o’ my own, and so I pulled out for this lake and got here ahead o’ the others. When they found I war here they couldn’t do any better than to take me into their party. They told me some white squaws would come there soon, and that we’d git the scalp of the Boy Giant. This tickled meso that I couldn't hardly hold in. _What follered you already know, and had I been able to get ashore I’d’a’ warned you of the ambush. Now my honest opinion is that this expedition war made here in the interest of Scott Dresden, or a friend o’ his that’s been hangin’ round the village some months. And if that be the case, then thar’s some one in the settlement of the Gallatin that posted Dresden in even the details of your trip to this place.” ‘Yes, that’s very plain to be seen, Bandy,” responded the boy, *‘ but I can’t think who tiie traitor can be. But say, my handsome red- skin, itll pay you and me both to see that those other fellows. don’t escape alive from this island.” “Verily you speak the truth; your head’s level as the calm, blue ocean. I know it'll be healthier for me if all the witnesses to our duel are tunneled with lead, so let’s hunt the rascals down.” ‘““Come on!” cried Baby Sam, grasping his re- volver. “That sounds heroic —‘come en}!’— noble words! I’m better on a follow than a lead, when the danger’sin front. To follow you is protec- tion, for you’re broad and deep enough, boy, to stop a six-pound cannon-ball. Yes, Pil follow, for I want to show ye some o’ my fightin’ quali- ties—that I’m a bu!l litter o’ wild-cats, a flock o’ bald-eagles—a mule team with a brindle pup thrown in—a Jersey bull with a curl in thé fore- head. But look sharp, lad, that the varmints don’t git the drap on your barn side.” With noiseless celerity the Boy Giant glided away through the bushes, his form slightly in- clined forward, and his big eyes on the watch like those of a deer that scented danger. And the eccentric Kit Bandy moved along—not be- hind, but at his side, with all the silence and | suppleness of one accustomed to the dangers of the trail. Thus the two searched the grove, but finding nothing of the foe they made the circuit of the island, and, to theiv regret, discovered where Dresden and his two friends had escaped in a boat. ‘‘ Horn of Joshua!” exclaimed Bandy, regret- fully; ‘‘I’m to blame for their escape, I stood down thar and cackled like an old fool when P'd ought to been at work. But that’s the trouble with me, Baby—too much lip! I’m a splendid fighter, feeder, and a sound sleeper, but when this old mouth gits seta-goin’ it makes a *tar- nal fook o’ me. But what now, Baby Sam- uel?” “ T must look about for my friend, who fell in the fight,” the young mountaineer said, his voice full of sadness, : ; : They proceeded to the little opening wherein the lifeless form of poor Fred Sears lay, but no- where could Frank Rodman be found. They followed the. trail where he had been dragged through the bushes to the water’s edge by Spar- rowhawk; but what disposition the young Crow had made of the body they could not imagine, unless he had consigned it to the waves, But why the Indian himself had disappeared was another query in their minds which they could not answer on any other grounds than that he had become cognizant of Baby Sam’s capture, and fled before he had learned the result of the singular duel. Sam and the old mountain detective hollowed out a grave with their knives and bands, and with beavy hearts, placed the body of Fred Sears therein, and carefully covered it. over with dirt ani stones. Then the bodies of the savages and outlaws were consigned to the lake, and preparations made te depart from the ill- fated ‘eiand. ee f the Yellowstone, To his great joy, the young giant not only re-- covered his revo)vers, but his trusty Winchester and cartridge-belt. The two latter had been: taken possession,of, when the lad was captured,,. by an Indian, who had carefully set them aside when he went out to witness the duel in which) he himself had fallen. Crossing over to the west side of the Jake, an-- other bitter surprise awaited Sam. His and the tonrists’ horses had ali been stolen along with all the most valuable part of their camp outfit, and the trail left behind told that the: thieves had taken a southeasterly rcute around. the lake. The boy guide regarded this loss with philo- sophical coolness, but instead of following the horse-tracks he started off around the lake in search of the trail of Wilma’s and Sarah’s ab- ductors. They had no difficulty in finding where they had landed, nor in determining the: course they had taken after leaving the lake.. It led away through a defile descending gradu-- ally toward the Yellowstone valley and touch-- ing the river near the lower extremity of the: Yellowstone Lake. This left no doubt in, the minds of the two scouts as to the destira- tion of the abductors, and so they at once: started in pursuit. They did not keep their: eyes upon the trail as they would have dene: had they been on the open plain, for they knew’ the foe would follow one straight course to the: river, at least. And being satisfied the Indians would not be expecting pursuit, unless Dresden and his fnends had overtaken them and in- formed them of the outcome of the fight, the: pursuers had high hopes of overhauling them efore even they had made half the distance to- the river. Before they were scarcely aware of the fact, however, so eager were they on the trail, night was upon them, and as the darkness in the pass was almost impenetrable, they were compelled to stop and wait the coming of daylight. To Sam it was the longest night he ever ex- perienced, He did not close an eye in sleep, for the sweet face of Wilma was ever in his mind, and the fate to which she was being carried filled his breast with a restless fear. With the first streaks of dawn they were up and away through the dewy shadows of the densely-wooded pass. They had gone supperless and went on without breakfast, for they had no food, nor did they like to lose time to procure it. But as the hours went by and noon approached, Old Kit, whose strength the boy was taxing to its utmost, said: ‘* Boy, I observate that the waste of caloric is roducin’ a sort o’a goneness in my stomach. ’m considered a Ae. traveler, but [ll be blest if I can hold my own with you without refresh- ments, once in a while. 3 isn’t it "bout time to dine? I'll swear, by the hornof Joshua! that T could eat a grizzly bear.” “T presume we'd better be looking out for some game for food,” said Baby Sam, ‘‘ for I’m beginning to feel a gnawing at the stomach, ? Before they had gone a mile further a young deer came out from the shadows on the right and stopped and looked at them a moment, then bounded away down the vailey. But before it had gone three rods the rifle of the Boy Giant, rung out, and the fawn sunk down dead, Old Kit advanced, and securing a quarter of the deer, carried it to a little spring where they halted. A fire was kindled, and in a few min- utes the aroma of broiling venison was mingled with the odor of the pine woods, making the ap- petite of the two all the keener. After having partaken of a hearty meal, a few slices of meat were broiled for future need, and then they were ready to resume their tramp. But before they had started, Old Kit happened % to glance up the acclivity on their right, when he ipa started back, crying out in sudden alarm: ot Se “‘ Godin Israel. k thar, Baby Sam!” : pS ae The Boy Giant glanced in the direction indi- a cated when he, too, uttered an exclamation of © - horror, his form became motionless and bis gaze transfixed at the sight that he beheld. It was et that of a huge, glossy panther dragging a hu- man body along a narrow ledge fifty feet above them, and a single glimpse of the white face of ” pe SE the animal’s prey told him that it was the life- war less body of his sweetheart, Wilma Rodman! "eee CHAPTER IV. IN CAMP ON THE YELLOWSTONE LAKE. On the shores of the Yellowstone Lake—un- der the sheltering branches of stately pines, three men were encamped one bright tem- * ber day. The spot selected was.one that com- manded a fair view of the lake and ite sur- roundings, and revealed to eye and ear the
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was at a time, too, whe lilac and gold tinted the landscape and touched into a richer beauty the wonders of Wonder- land. Two of the three men were bordermen; their ‘dress and general appearance were evidence of this fact. The eldest was a man of fifty years -—of rather small proportions, with a keen, gray eye, a bearded face, and a prominent nose that was truly indicative of the Roman courage of ‘Old Spokane Joe, the hunter, trapper and ‘guide. He was dressed in a full suit of buck- ‘skin, and carried a revolver and hunting-knife : -in his belt. The second man was Henry Rodman, a settler ‘of the Gallatin valley, and the father of Frank ‘and Wilma, between whom and Old Spokane ‘Joe there existed a fellowship warm and devoted as psa bound by the ties of blood—a fellow- ‘ship and attachment at which those who ‘knew -not the secret of their bond of union often mar- ‘veled. In general appearance Mr. Rodman was ia tall, finely-proportioned man, with an intelli- igent face and a pleasant, affable disposition. The third man was Professor Anson Drood, a ‘ere agent of the Government, sent out by the Secretary of the Interior, to make some ‘further geological researches in the great Park. Being a former friend of Henry Rodman’s in \the East, he sought out his old acquaintance in the Gallatin, and through him secured the ser- (0? his utanic Majesty’s voice,” -“* Tt’s a good thing for the Park they think so,” thought the xeolowiets “but I do wish we had - 1a canoe here, I shoul islands that seem like to visit yonder little ‘sting, like eotton- of their vegetation, But. I fh and with the fu 1e EBs ssumever, _ +80 they have no desire to live within the sound | don’t see it, and I war romantic beauty and peandont of the place. It | boats hey been seen skippin’ 'round over the ay, folks, by the eternal—” is speech was here interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and turning, the three men found themselves face to face with a stranger who had approached unseen, The new-comer wasaman of perhaps five- and-forty years of age a little above the me- dium hight, with a cold, steel-gray eye that flashed quick and furtive glances around, His hair was closely cropped, but his face was cov- ered with a long, full beard that had faded in the sun to a dirty reddish color. He was dressed in the blue shirt, gray pants, high-top- ped boots and slouched hat of a miner. He wore a heavy belt in which hung a revolver and knife. Hegave his name as Donald Strahm, and his busmess as a mining prospector. At the sound of his voice Old Spokane Joe ‘vices of Old Spokane as a guide, as well as Mr. | has lain dormant in memory’s casket for years, -Rodman as a companion. “Well, Mr, Strahm,” said the*professor, after At the time we introduce these three men | a general introduction, ‘‘I am glad to have met ‘they had been in camp there since the previous ; you, and hope you can report success in your day, and it was their intention to remain a day | prospecting.” ‘or two longer, or, at least, until Baby Sam, “T regret tosay that I can make no such re- Frank and Wilma Rodman, Fred Sears and | port, professor,” Strahm replied, with an air of ‘Sarah Marshall had joined them, as had been | disappointment and disgust. ‘This Wonder- ‘arranged between the two parties some two | land is a most gigantic fraud. All’s not ‘weeks previous—the time at which the explor- | gold that glitters here, by any means, Nature ‘Ang party had left the settlement, expended so lavishly on her majestic moun- d Spokane had been in the Park many times | tains, yawning canyons, grand waterfalls, stu- ‘before, but to Henry Rodman and Professor | pendous geysers, and wonderful scenery, that -Drood the scene was new and far beyond their | she had to embellish with the cheapest of jew- conception of romantic Baring Standing by | elry. There isn’t an ounce of gold or silver in ‘the lake they could see the cold, gray mountain | all this boasted Park, but when it comes to ‘peaks that pierced the sky reflected in the azure | sulphur-beds, volcanic glass, cheap petrifica- ‘depths of the water. They could see scores of | tions, rainbows, hot mud and boiling water, little islands that seemed bursting with vegeta- | itll take the rag off the bush the wide world tion scattered over the bosom of the placid | over. You see, gentlemen, there’s no romance ‘sheet. They could see thousands of aquatic | in my composition, consequently I can’t live on fowls Backing the silvery surface of the water, | warm water and rainbows, and I am now fully ‘or winging their way along the shores, They | prepared to denounce the Yellowstone Park as ‘could see the snow-white steam from the boil- a more gigantic fraud than the Garden of Eden ‘ing springs along close to the lake’s rim, rising | ever was.” pantin’ porsers, their traditions say, are the es- | With this, Donald Strahm took his departure, jpe-holes 0’ the wrath o’ the Evil Spirit, and | and Henry Rodman noticed that Ol 8 Joe w deep mental reflection. mer __ ‘What do you think of him, anyhow, Spoky?” the settler finally queried. _ “Oh!” exclaimed the guide, with a sudden start, “‘I reckon he’s all right; but he’s terrible sick o’ this sea? ve SP ‘‘He pretended to be,” said: Professor Drood, ‘but he acted to me a good deal like a fellow telling a lie, and as I claim to be a judge of hu- man naturo, I think you'll find I’m not far from correct, Ten to one he has struck it rich, and is uneasy for fear we may, in some way, run in oni Bay, folks,” adenly called out 0 Spo- _ “pay, folks,” suddenly called out Old kane, as he glanced out over the lake, “‘ whar’s that island with the but on’t gone? I'll sw’ar I +k gist goin’ to remark when Strahm come up that the island war movin’. 5 * : To the surprise and astonishment of Drood the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone. fa | whom were In eee "Ss 2 watched his retreating figure with knitted | brows and ceo rn lips, like one absorbed in | and Rodman they saw that the island had really disappeared from where they had first seen it, nor could it be seen anywhere upon the lake, “By heavens!” exclaimed Mr. Rodman, ‘that’s queer, Idon’t understand it, professor. Surely, eating islands can’t form a part and parcel of the wonders of Wonderland?” “Tt really looks as though they did, Henry,” responded Drood. ““May a grizzly hug me, if I ever heard o’ sich a thing before!” declared Old Spokane. ** Reckon it couldn’t ’a’ been a phantom island, eh, men?” and the old hunter broke into a low chuckle that was not enirely the spirit of mirth. »** It’s something that must be inquired into,” decided the professor. ‘‘ Ah! look off there, men, and you'll see our floating island, sure enough, moving with the wind toward the western shore.” True enough; with the aid of the glass, they saw the little island floating out from among a cluster of fixed islands, and moving slowly west. ward, They could see the comb of the cabin upon it, and as they stood regarding it m sient amazement, Old Spokane remarked: ‘““Men, I’m goin’ to make a reconncissance tround that way and look into that thing. Mr. Rodman, I’d like to speak with you a moment, before I go, please. Professor, excuse us,” “Certainly,” replied Drood, as he continued watching the floating island. Rodman followed Old Spokane out into the bushes. ~The latter seemed a little restless and uneasy. ‘* Henry,” he said, in a low tone, ‘‘ I’m a little troubled.” ‘What about, Joe?” “That man Strahin.” “Tn what respect?” **T solemnly believe he is Norton Fenwick.” ““What?” and it was Rodman’s turn now to betray uneasiness; ‘not the man who left the child in your care?’ “The very same. I thought I recognized his voice the moment he spoke, akhough it’s been nigh onto fourteen years since I see’d him— since he came to our cabin and gave into my and my wife’s care that little limp o’ humanity that has since made your life so bright, Mr. Rodman. My Lord, Henry! if it is so, we can’t give up our idol now, can we?” . ‘‘No, no, Spokane, never; but if that was Fenwick, I feel sure he did not recognize you. If he did, however, and played ignorance, then he has got a clew and is following you up. You know the professor said he believed the fellow was lying. But that floating island may throw some further light on the matter.” » ‘* That’s what I thought,” returned ca rag © ‘*so, if. weu’ll look after our hosses if I don’t git back afore dark, Tl be off.” ‘All right, Spokane, all right.” The cid guide moved rapidly away, and Rod» man went-out.to see about their horses, for evening was fast S| pesca an Keeping well under cover of the Ccns@~pine timber, Spokane hurried aleng the Jake. He had roceeded nearly three miles when he concluded e must be nearing the vicinity of ‘the island, Feed so turned and moved cautiously toward the as. : _ He had gone but a few paces, however, when a voice hailed him from behind, and turning quickly he found himself face to face with the miner, Donald Strahm, who appeared from a cluster of bushes in which the quick eye of the old hunter — sight of several men, most of Bs ian warriors ! CHAPTER V. : THE MYSTERIOUS BENRAYMOND, ADVANCING toward Spokane Joe, Donald Strahm extended his hand, saying: : . ‘ Ah} we meet again! -Good-evening, Jack
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6 Nebraska. Do you knowme now? Canyou tell me why you ran away with my child, and as- sumed the name you now bear?” * Your child? You did not tell us it was your child when you gave it into our care!” replied the hunter, in a firm, decided tone. ‘*T tell youso now, and isn’t thatenough? You proved recreant to your trust, Jack Prunty— you and your wife—” “Have a care!” exclaimed Old Spokane, fiercely, as he dropped his rifle into the hollow of his left arm; ‘‘my wife is dead, sir, and no man shall speak evil o’ her and live long.” ‘* And my child—is she dead, too?” demanded Strahm. “ For all I know.” “T don’t believe you.” He could afford to talk so, with half a dozen friends close at hand, ‘“Then seek your information elsewhar,” re- torted Spokane. ‘*T have been seeking it elsewhere for two years, at great cost and privations, Jack Prunty. I learned that you had not been murdered by the savages—that you’d escaped with my child, and Ihave been hunting you. Here I find you un- der an assumed name; but where’s my child that you agreed to keep for me, and to deliver up whenever I called and paid her keeping? Now, Jack Prunty, [am no miner—” : “‘ Never believed you war,” Spokane. ‘© And Tam here,” the man went on, without heeding the interruption, ‘‘after my child.” “Well, you'll have to go away without her.” “Do you know where she is?” “Tf T did I wouldn’t tell you.” ‘Why not?” ‘Because I never believed she war your child. I always did think, and do yit, that she war the victim o’ somebody's cussedness,” ‘‘ What's that to you so you get your pay?” ‘‘Thave human feelin’ and don’t keer a cuss for all the wealth in the land.” ‘‘But what of your honor? You made a fair agreement with me.” ‘* That's run out by statute o’ limitation, Ten years in Nebraska outlaws all verbal agree- ments—written ones, too,” “Jack Prunty, stop your trifling!” Strahm cried, in sudden rage; ‘‘ you shall not rob me of tiny child with impunity!” ** Ah! you threaten me, then?” ““f will have my child or your life-blood. I will put you on the rack and |torture the secret out.of you!” ‘“Don’t forgit,” and Old Spokane’s eyes flashed with a fire of resentment and indigna- tion, ‘‘that you're treadin’ on dangerous ground. I’m-no coward to be skeered by you and your ambushed minions there in the brush!” “Then you still refuse to tell me Where my child is?” ae Ido Pr Strahm turned and uttered a low whistle. In answer thereto, nearly half a score of Indians and white men emerged from the thicket, Old Spokane saw that he had got to fight for his life, and that, too, against fearful odds, but he was not the man to flinch. Instantly he passed a mental resolution to die rather than yield the secret the villain sought, and thereby add to the life of one he loved—yes, worshiped with all the devotion of the human heart— misery and suffering. By this time the sun had sunk behind the main range of the mountains, and shadows were gatbering. Back of the old hunter wasa deep, dense border of undergrowth running along the lake shore. In this he might have dodged the foe, and, aided by the gathering twi- light, have escaped unharmed, but his. man- hood, honor, and the happiness of others seemed to depend upon his facing his enemy there, and had the ruffians numbered a score he would as cat rarea have maintained his‘tonvictions of right anc duty by facing them all unto death. “You see,” said Strahm, as his band came out and aligned themselves before the hunter, ‘‘that I am not alone, so you'd better surrender gracefully.” “Back, scoundrels!” yelled Old Spokane, fiercely, a deadly light gleaming in his eyes; “the first one that crowds on—” * He did not finish the sentence, for a savage, half-crouching, darted toward him like a pan- ther; but the old man, accustomed to quick work with the rifle, threw the muzzle of his weapon around, and without an aim sent a bul- let crashing into the top of the red-skin’s head. A wild yell burst from the lips of the others; and they made a ‘rush in a body*for the hunter, but, eee! his rifle, the old man swung it about him like a whip of iron, knocking the interrupted Old _ Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone. foremost of the foe heels over head and clearing a space around him.” “Take him alive! take him alive!” shouted Strahm, who kept at a safe distance in the rear. This, however, would have been a difficult, if not a doubtful undertaking, but for the fact that one of the renegades who had been knocked down crawled up on all-fours behind the brave old man, and seizing him around the legs, threw him heavily to the earth, at the same time deal- ing him a stunning blow on the forehead with a heavy revolver. Butthe renegade’s victory was short-lived, for scarcely had he struck the old man ero a long, glittering blade of steel was thrust from the bushes, hard by, and driven into the breast of the outlaw! Then forth from the cover of the thicket leaped the figure of a man, with a sword in his hand, and confronted the band of infuriated ruffians, his eyes blazing with an unearthly light, and his features wrought into a terrible expres- sion. He was a man of perhaps forty years, tall and athletic, with dark-blue eyes, a noble face covered with a full brown beard reaching to his chest. His head was bare and bis hair was thrown back from a high and intellectual brow, across which enerereay ran a bright red scar. He was dressed in a blue flannel shirt, the collar of which lay open revealing a deep, hairy chest, a pair of dark-colored pants and handsomely wrought Indian moccasins. He was armed with but a single weapon—a long, slender sword, but there was something in his presence—his flaming eyes, his stern, set fea- tures, that caused the savages and renegades to recoil slightly before him. As the stranger sprung from the thicket and turned facing the mob, he shouted in stentorian notes: ‘* Back, devils! back!” An exclamation of surprise burst from Strahm’s lips. The savages and renegades rallied, and pre- pared to renew the conflict with their new foe. Old Spokane was rising to his feet when the haft of a flying tomahawk again brought him to the earth unconscious. Another was aimed at the head of the mysterious stranger, but the latter threw a his sword and received the weapon so that it glanced harmlessly into the air. Then as flashes the lightning among the storm-clouds, so flashed the saber of the unknown about his head and in the faces of the foe. The head of a savage “a toward him eA peared to leap from the shoulders and drop to the earth, while the body, obeying the impulse of the will, continued to advance a step or two before it fell, a horrible headless thing—the blood spurting in jets from the severed arteries of the neck. Not a sayage dared to advance within the reach of that scintillating blade, for their toma- hawks had been mee with dexterous skill until only their knives and firearms were kept in hand. Donald Strahm, who from the first had kept in the rear, saw that his friends were wavering before the deadly steel of the one swordsman, He saw that something must .be done and that speedily, or all would be lost, and drawing his revolver he essayed to shoot the stranger. But the latter was on the alert, and seeing the move- ment of the man, he lunged forward far enough to catch the revolver on the point of his sword, and by some dexterous twirl of the blade snatched the weapon out of Strahm’s hand and sent it spinning out of reach into the brush! With a muttered curse Strahm backed into the bushes, turned and fled, followed by his sur- viving friends. The mysterious swordsman glanced around him, passed his hand over his brow and then, as something of the past seemed to flash éhrough his brain, he turned like a wild beast and with glaring eyes and set teeth fairly hissed: ‘*God in Heaven! that man was Norton Fen- wick! Fool that I was not to recognize him sooner, and slay him like a dog! Curses upon him! will I never get rid of his acewrsed pres- ence? Will the vengeance of Heaven ever—” His mad soliloquy was here cut short by a groan from the lips of Old Spokane, and ad- vancing he bent over the hunter, lifted him in his arms as though he had been a child, and car- ried him down to the water’s edge where a lit- tle canoe lay upon the beach. Placing the wounded man in the craft he pushed it into the water, then tna, himself, took up the 2 dle and drove the boat out into the lake. ith long and vigorous strokes he sent it fairly seep ing through the water in the direction of a little island. Gradually Old Spokane recovered his senses and before his rescuer was aware of it the old hunter had risen to a sitting posture and was gazing around him in bewilderment. ‘* How is this, anyhow?’ the old fellow mut- tered, passing his hands over his eyes. “Tt is all right now, stranger,” assured his rescuer, and at sound of bis voice he glanced rai around as though aroused from a ream. ‘* Ah! I see! It’s you, stranger—things have been a leetle mixed with me. Be you the grim boatman rowin’ me over the Dark River? or be you the man that come to help me out in my light?” “I’m that man, sir, and you're safe in my | boat and care.” | Bully! bully!” exclaimed the bunter; ‘I ; am right now—got my bearin’s. I remember that I got a whack cn the head that kind 0’ | knocked me endwise. But say, stranger! Did | you wallop that outfit o’ red and white devils?” ) ‘**T did, and routed them, horse and foot,” ‘* Kill any of ’em?” “Yes, I had to, but the one I ought to have | slain got away.” ‘““Who war that— Norton Fenwick?’ | ‘‘Ah! then you know that man?” | The man glanced at the old buriter as if search- thoughtfully; ‘‘I guess you and me never met | before; but I should say you war made 0’ good material, and that you slashed that blade round in a fearful nasty way. Id like to ’a’ see’d it all, but— But say, Mr. Benraymond, whar be you takin’ me to?” ‘‘ Here—to this island,” replied Benraymond, as the canoe came toa stand among some droop-- ing willows at the edge of a little island. “Wal, Pll sw’ar, stranger, | hadn’t ought ‘to: stop here, for I left a couple o’ friends over on. the lake.” ‘* Wait a few mizutes—until it is fairly dark,,. and I'll take you ashore,” announced Benray-- mond, rising and stepping from the canoe onto, the island. ‘ Qld Spokane could not object to this offer of: his gallant friend; so he, too, rose and leaped. out of the boat, and as he did so he felt the: whole island tremble under him. In an instant. the startling truth flashed across his mind—be was aboard the mysterious floating island that. he and his friends had discovered from camp! CHAPTER VI. A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. “On Lord! Oh Lord!” groaned Old Kit Bandy as he stood as if rooted to the earth, his eyes fixed upon the panther that was drag~ ging the body of Wilma Rodman along the narrow ledge, “the poor gal’s dead, dead, Baby Sam!” ‘* But, Kit, her body shall not be mutilated by that beast!” said Baby Sam, his face pale, and his voice balf-choked with the grief surg- ing up in his breast. Then he threw a cartridge: into his rifle, and raised it to his shoulder. ‘ Be keerful, boy!” cried Old Kit; ‘ ye’r’ nar~ vous—the gal may only be ina swoon and ycu might hither. Steady, boy, steady !” ut there was no need of these words of cau- tion, for the Poy Giant was calm, cool and de- liberate, and glancing along the barrel of his: gun he took a careful aim and pressed the trig- er. : ns Simultaneous with the crack of the weapon the panther dropped its prey, uttered a low, fierce how] of pain, lashed the rocks with its tail, them rolled lifeless from the ledge and fell with a thud. ou the rocks below. The death of the panther, however, did not at all release the body of Wilma Rodman from peril, for it was now left party hanging over the ledge, fifty feet above a of jagged rocks, | while the rescuers could find no place where | they could scale the vertical hights. “Horn o’ Joshua!’ exclaimed Old Kit, ‘“* how on earth did that critter ever git up thar, boy, with the gal?’ “i “Kit,” replied the young mountaineer, ** Jet. us run back along the chff in. the direction whence the panther came and maybe we can find an ascent. t beast surely reached that ledge from this valley, and if'so, it was done not far from here,” So they turned and ran back along the base of the cliff, but to their bitter disappointment they were compelled to travel along distance
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s tracted boy. ; / Baby before they found a break in the perpendicular hights. hen they did, however, Baby Sam flew up the acclivity, and then, at a speed that taxed Old Kit to even keep in sight, he glided back along the ledge, ; Before he was aware of it the young guide was out of sight of the old man, but a slash of blood on the ledge before him brought him to a stand. He waited till Bandy came up, then pointed to the blood, saying: “* Kit, look there! we will find Wilma dead,” and the youth’s whole frame now shook with emotion. ‘* Boy,” assured Old Kit, looking around him, ‘this is the very spot whar ye shot the panther —where it bled!” eS “No, no, that cannot ve, Kit, or where’s Wilma’s body?” ‘“*T fear, lad, it’s—” “Fallen over the ledge?’ exclaimed the dis- Kit made no reply, but advancing to the edge of the cliff, shaded his eyes with his hand and glanced steadily below for several moments. ‘* By the horn o’ Joshua!” he suddenly ejacu- lated, turning to Baby Sam; ‘I see the carcass 0” the | painter, boy, but the gal’s body is not there!’ “You don’t tell me, Kit?” and a ray of oa lzindled in Baby Sam’s eyes; ‘‘ then she must be alive, and has been spirited away by—” ‘©Or else she’s got up and deliberately walked away,” put in the old man. “T fear such a thing’s too good to be true, : Kit,” said Sam, ‘‘ but let us hurry on, for if she * went away of her own accord, I know she‘is badly wounded and may yet fall from this ledge and be killed.” \- “Ha! look thar, Baby! that tells the tale,” said the old man, Lag ray down to the imprint of a moceasined foot in the thin layer of dust that had sifted from the rocks above; ‘‘ the poor gal’s in the clutches o’ the red-skins again; and that tells me she’s alive, for a red-skin wouldn’t spend much strength in totin’ off a dead gal. ut let’s hurry on, and maybe we can over- haul them afore they escape into the deep woods.” “ Kit,” observed Baby Sam, as they hurried along the ledge, ‘‘I. see you’re a regular border- man—an old Ingin trailer.” ~ “Yes, boy, if thar’s a gal in the case,” re- plied Kit, with a smile, ‘I’m hard to beat. I allers war a pesky fool "bout pretty gals, Sam- uel, and it’s queer, too, You’d naterally think - that a man that’d lived with Ellen Sabina | » ribbon; that ‘be. I’ve sworn a billion times I’d never look on womankind fen onl W Bandy—that carried a scar for every day of seventeen years’ married life—would be soured female fraternity; but it ar’n’t so, Old as I be, I'll bet a patch 0” blue sky that some sweet little baby-faced gal o° about sixteen | could jist lap me round her little finger like a 's the kind o’ a tormented ole fool I with crucifyin’ daggers in my eyes here I am ready to die for that little gal Wilma, and. that’s some more o’ the kind o’ an ole fool I be!” ‘Baby Sam was in no mood for jesting, yet he ‘could not repress a smile at the whimsical - humor and grievances of the eccentric old man, | _easil we The ledge they were following finally termi- | nated in a broad descent, running ually down into the deep wooded valley, and the trail, which was that of a single Indian, was followed down the slope and through the On reaching the valley it trended away toward the Yellowstone Lake, and as that sheet was not over a mile or two away the pursuers felt exceedingly hopeful of overtaking the red- | _ ‘skin before he reached it, for, as no footprints but his own could be seen, it was quite evident | that, if he had the maiden at all, he was carry- ing her, and thus incumbered could not long keep up the speed with which he had evidently But they were entirely mistaken in tho speed and endurance of the Indian they were follow- the trail e But glancing out over the we- ter, Old Kit exclaimed: Sasa “Phere go, boy !—off yander!” ‘rue enough, a canoe with two occupants was gliding over the lake nearly a quarter of a mile away. one of the occupants—he who lied the die—was an Indian, there was no rca tie, Sos: Pav atedes BER aS Uo te barked in a canoe from that point, there was little doubt left in their minds but she was.in the craft. ‘By the horn o’ Joshua! we're at the end o° our string, Baby Samuel,” Old Kit averred, somewhat disheartened. *“ Why so, Kit?” ‘““ We've no boat to foller’ that red devil; we can’t walk the water, and night’s comin’ on, Isn’t that enough to break a man’s heart? Can you see any hope for us?—any sunshine?” ‘“We must not forgit, Kit,” suggested Baby Sam, ‘that there were two of the captive maidens, and if Wilma’s in yonder boat, Sarah Marshall is still back somewhere in the wooded valleys.” “* Ay, lad, your head’s level; and we should look for her while there is a chance.” ‘Yes, at once!” and Sam led the way back into the valley and-began a careful search for | the trail of Sarah’s captors. But darkness finally coming on put an end to their search for that day, and with a feeling of despondency they began to look about for a place to stop for the night. While thus en- gaged, they suddenly discovered the faint glow of a light some thirty rods away, which they concluded must be thatof acamp-fire. Whether of triend or foe they could not determine from where they were, and so they moved cautiously toward it, making a detour to the right so as to avoid the opening between them and the light. It required but a few minutes toreach a point from whence they could command a full view of the fire and all within its radius of light. As they had suspected, they found it to be en Indian camp, and to their joyful surprise they discovered Sarah Marshall there, though she was bound hand and foot, and fastened to a tree, against which she was reclining. To their bitter disappointment, however, they soon dis- covered that there were eight or ten savages in- stead of the two who had started with the captives from Wilma’s Island; and the only consolation they could get out of their dis- covery was that neither Scott Dresden, the out- law, nor any of those with him at the island at tho time of the duel, was with the yarty. The Boy Giant and Old Kit held a whispered consultation. What to do they could scarcely decide upon in the face of such great odds, but finally the ingenious Old Bandy said: “T've a suggestion to make, Baby; them In- gins are all Si-oxes, and not one of them war on the island at the time of our duel. The two that took the ms away from the island are both there, and I think they’ve accidentally met the others and camped together. Now, Ive a notion te take the bull by the horns, sail right into that camp and make myself to home till a chance is offered to liberate that gal.” “Tt may cost you your life, Kit, if those In- rins have heard of your conduct at Wilma’s sland,” “All right, boy; I'll be dyin’ in a gal-orious cause; so lot’s retire away and arrange the pree-_ liminaries.” _ Rising, the two moved back into the deeper shadows, and when their plans had been laid for the rescue of Sarah, Old Kit announced: “Now, Sine 4 Sam, I’m goin’ to buck the tiger in his den, and if I should go under, and ‘you should ever meet hereafter a fellow named I¢ha- bod Flea, tell him his old pard Kit Bandy, Moun- tain Detective, died with full harness on.” With this request the old wood-tramp turned and moved silently away through ‘the darkness, leaving the Boy Giant absorbed in deep and pain- ful thoughts. - -. > i CHAPTER VII. . SABINA BANDY, Arter their surprise and capture on Wilma Island, Sarah and Wilma were hurriedly taken to the mainland and peed away at a rapid = Se by two large and fierce-looking savages, yhen a mile or two from the lake the girls heard the report of guns behind them and the sound of a mtiact: - They knew what it meant, yet they knew not the fate of their friends. : Not a moment’s rest was allowed them during the day, but as soon es it. grew dark the Indians | from head to foot, Soarehy making it impossible even making it diffi- cult to breathe. And there, through all that | eyes and mouth, where the paint | told that he was a white man in di long night were they compelled to lie in those strait-jackets, suffering untold agonies of body and mind. Bright and early the next morning they were released of their bonds, given some dried veniscn and hard bread for breakfast, then the tran p was resumed, But the captives’ stiergih begen to fail fast, and before noon it wasall they ccuid do to move one foot after another, and finally they sunk down with sheer exhausticn. They ‘| were then lifted in tke brawny arms of their captors and carried from the valley up a steep hillside, around which they proceeded until they came to a ledge or terrace continuing cn around the hill. Here they stcpyed, evidently with the intention of resting their captives; and to make sure that they did nct get away or escape cap- tivity by leaping over the hights, they were again rolled and wrapped in blankets as cn the previous night. Half-dead, the poor girls leaned their heads against the rock at their back and wept in eilence, while the Indians assured of their security, walked away as the maidens suppcsed to procure game fcr fcod. Thus several mcments had passed, when a slight, unnatural sound arrested the attenticn of the girls and they reised their tearful eyes and looked around them. beheld a huge panther crcuching near, his eyes fixed upon them and his tail lashing the rock, as if in the very act cf springing upon them. A cry burst frcm Farah’s lips and she sunk down in a swoon. When she recovered her senses she saw the two savages standing over her, but Wilma was gene! She told the red- skins what had happened, when one of them started in search of the missing girl, but the report of a rifle around the ridge scared him back, and taking Sarah they hurried away, manifesting no little alarm. They traveled on until nearly nightfall, when they were met by a party cf half a dozen Sicux warriors coming into the valley frcem the direc- tion of the Indian village. All went into camp where they met, a fire was lighted, and a con- sultation held, From the fierce looks, the fran- tic gestures, and vehement speeches of each and all, it was evident to the captive maiden that they were greatly excited. The consultaticn finally ended in two of the red-skins. leavin camp, but for what purpose Sarah could ne conjecture, Being supplied with abundance of fresh deer- meat, some of it was broiled and given tke captive who ate it with good relish. But while the food gave strength to her body her mind was sorely troubled. The unknown fate of her friends at the island and cf Wilma almost dis- tracted her. As the minutes wore away, and the shadows of night deepened around them, the savages bound her toa tree so that she could either sit or lie down at pleasure. A blanket was thrown around her shoulders to protect her from the chill air and another was arranged fcr her as a bed. But, she had no desire for slee fears and suffering forbade it; she tat tike_one half-unconscious, taking but little notice of —- nly, , she, as well as the savages, was startled by a. what was going on around, when sudde strange sound like the bleating of a moun ain- oat. : . Instantly the red-skins were all upon their feet, not with the excitement of fear but delight, erying out: ~~ ; * Big Horn! Big Horn! white Sioux!” ; Then out of the shadows of night into the light emerged the author of this sudden excitce- {| ment. He was a tall, angular-built fellow, dressed and fontet as an Indian, but his features, as well as the white a. around his 2ad worn off, ise. -The Indians hailed him with shouts and other de- monstrations of joy to which the ungainly and comical-looking renegade replied: “Yoop-pee! Wr ob adian my red brothers! Big Horn is rejoiced to meet you here. He is tired, but happy asa coyote on the trail ofa wounded deer. He has fit hard and traveled far. But Isee my brothers hev but one of the pretty white squaws. Mahla, where is the other one? ; “Don’t know, sure,” replied the Indian ad- as Mahla ing in hisown lan e; ‘let Big Horn qaeationt the white squaw for she _ cannot talk Sioux.” _ SEE Sat o nd lordly mien that were | 4 bd com J, he strode ov "Wel, litte ’un, this owt 80 nce To their horror they © her . Big Horn, and with a ae ‘to where — ing down before her, said: oe ave so nice as ini
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8 When he first approached her Sarah had turned her face, not deigning to notice him, but there was something so peculiar and sympathetic in the man’s voice that she could not help turn- ing and looking him square in the face. As she did so the expression of contempt on her face vanished, and a faint ray of hope seemed to kindle in her eyes, as she replied: ‘Yes, sir, this is dreadful.” “ Yes, indeedy!” Big Horn affirmed, ‘‘ but be of good heart—these Ingins can’t understand much English.” These last words left no doubt in the girl’s mind but that the renegade’s language was fraught with a double meaning, and she could but iake courage from it, notwithstanding the presence of the leering, savage faces gathered around ber. ‘*Can you tell me, miss,” the renegade went on, ‘‘ whar your friend is that war captured with you on the island?” **T cannot,” Sarah replied, but she briefly narrated all that she knew of Wilma’s disap- pearance, ‘Wal, gal,vyou be 0’ good cheer; thar’s heap wusser things than bein’ an Ingin princess and lordin’ it over the heads and hearts o’ a pack o—” The renegade’s words were here cut short by a sudden, sharp, shrill cry behind him, The say- ages started with an exclamation of surprise, and they turned and beheld a strange intruder be- fore them. It wasa woman—a white woman, too, who, without fear or warning, had boldly entered their presence. She was a woman past mid-life, rather tall and slender, with a thin oval face, a prominent nose, and sharp gray eye. She was dressed in a coarse brown frock, a flaring sun-bonnet, and coarse cow-hide shoes. On her left arm she carried a small, time-worn reticule, and in her right hand an old faded um- brella, Scarcely deigning to notice the red-skins this woman, with her bonnet thrown back and her eyes fixed upon the renegade with a triamphant light flashing from their depths, made her way toward him, fairly screaming in a sharp, fal- setto voice: “At last! at last, oh, please the Merciful Master!” ** Oh, Lord!” groaned the renegade, ‘‘ tis she —my wife, Sabina Bandy!” , “Yes, vile wretch!” hissed the woman, and she dealt Old Kit a whack over the head with her umbrella, that rattled like an avalanche of dry bones, ‘tis she, your wronged and deserted wife, your helpmeet—she whom you wooed and won in her girlish innocence only to desart— fling aside ike an old shoe—crucify, when the freshness and bloom and. sweetness of maiden- hood had faded from her form and face. Oh, ungrateful monster!” and she again gave vent to her feelings in another rattling blow with the umbrella, over the renegade’s head. The Indians seemed to understand the. situa- tion and to enjoy the scene of domestic infelicity with infinite delight, and so made no attempt to arrest the woman or check her fury. ‘“Woman—Sabina, have mercy!” pleaded Old Kit Bandy, for he was the renegade. ‘* [ll have mercy !” retorted the wronged wife, ** you iron-hearted monster—y ou soulless wretch ! Til show you how to desart.a true and loving mate and flee unto the mountains and tribes of the wilderness, you vagabone! ~And oh, to think!” and she broke into a sob, ‘I find you heré—monster of fifty years—billin’ an’ coo- in’—makin’ love to a baby-faced girl of sixteen! Did ever'a wronged wife bebold such heaven- high, world-wide unfaithfulness?” “Sabina, hear me,” said Old Kit, pleadingly ; ‘*T can prove by this gal herself that I sai nothin’ ’fectionate—nothin’ in any way that'd confliet with my marriage vow to love, cherish and pro—” “Oh, hush your palaver, Kit Bandy! I've heard that same old, old strain billions of times before! [ would not believe you again—never / You're a multitudinous liar, a monumental rob- ber of woman’s affection—a murderer of wo- man’s happiness, a Judas Iseariotic betrayer of woman’s love, Ingins ”—and she turned to the leering savages, ‘‘noble red-men of the forest, thisman is my lawfully wedded husband—my buck—my brave. He left, my wigwam without meat; the fire by which we’d often smoked the ipe of peace and chatted, went out, and cold and ace and lonesome I went out, too—in search of the gallavantin’ scalawag. For many suns have I searched for him, and now that my labors are ended with reward, I feel happy, rejoiced, sublime,” » She addressed the Indians, much to their sur- prise, in their own language, which fact seemed it. Wes” ae Ts SE ee a — Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone. to have at once won their friendship and savage confidence, After submitting meekly to his wife’s tirade -for several minutes, Kit Bandy arose and walked to the fire, and squatting down before it, plucked a brand from the blaze, then tossed it back again in akind of mental abstraction. This he had repeated the second time, when, all of a sudden, a yell that seemed. to come from brazen lungs burst from the gloom of the woods, and the next instant Baby Sam, the Boy Giant, with a huge club in his hand, dashed into the camp! Before the red-skins could comprehend the situation the young mountaineer was upon them, dealing terrific blows right and left; and amid the crunching blows of the boy’s club, the yells and howls of the savages, the ‘ ping!” ‘ping !” of a tiny revolver in the hand of Sa- bina Bandy rung out as the old woman danced about the camp, apparently wild with excite- ment. To still add to the confusion of the mo- ment, all was suddenly plunged in darkness by Old Kit Bandy scattering the fire with his feet in every direction. This act was followed by yells of savage dis- may, shouts from the lips of Old Bandy and shrieks from Sabina and Sarah. But this lasted for only a moment—in fact tne entire conflict lasted only a few brief seconds—then all be- came quiet, save the sound of hurrying foot- steps and the deep groans of the wounded Sioux, A red-skin hastily raked a few red coals to- gether and fanned them into a blaze, and its light revealed to them a startling sight. Half of their number lay prostrate on the earth, while none had escaped without more or less injury. The Boy Giant, Kit Bandy and his es- timable spouse, and the captive, Sarah, were all gone! An examination of the dead warriors showed them some had fallen under the boy’s club, others had been shot with a tiny bullet, and one or two killed by knife-thrusts. 2 It quite readily occurred to the savages that the Boy Giant had not wielded all these wea- Pons and then it flashed through their savage rains with the force of lightning that the renegade, Big Horn, and his wife, had dealt deadly blows against them in the conflict! CHAPTER VIII. OLD SPOKANE’S RETURN TO CAMP. OLD SPOKANE JOB was not a little surprised when he discovered that he was on the myste- rious floating island, but he experienced no fear or uneasiness when he realized that its occupant was Benraymond, the man who had rescued him from danger. He said nothing, however, of his discovery and advancing with his friend through the border of dense willows that fringed the island, he was conducted into a little tent that was pitched a few feet from a low, thatch-roofed cabin. There was nothing in the tent but a couch, and upon this the old hunter was re- quested to seat himself. Then Benraymond pro- ceeded to dress the wound upon his—the hunter’s —head, and when he had completed this second act of kindness to him, Spokane said: ‘*- You're a good Samaritan, stranger, [ swan you be, as well as a hill regiment in a fight. Agai n am [ indebted to you for helping me out,’ ‘‘ Not at all, Spokane, not at all,” replied Ben- raymond, seating himself before his guest; ‘* but I would like to ask you a question or two.” ** Drive ahead, stranger.” “Do you-know that man, Norton Fenwick?” ‘‘T see’d him once before; he’s Donald Strahm, now.” : ‘‘ When did you see him before, Spokane?” ‘*Some years ago.” ; ‘“You and he seem to be enemies. T over- heard some of the words that passed between you.’ ; ‘* We never war enemiés till to-day. He tried to crowd me and I wouldn’t be crowded.” ‘He's a villain, Spokane.” ‘Then you know him well, stranger?” “Yes, but it was thousands of miles from here,” “Whew! then you must be a foreigner! Dutch? Irish? or English?” ; A smile passed over Benraymond’s bearded ace, **T am an Englishman,” he replied. “Come of good blood—away up’mong the nabob regions, eh?” ‘“T come of a good family, I am proud to say, Spokane.” ‘* What the all-fired mystery you doin’ here in this lonely, out-of-the-way place?’ ‘* Why, Spokane, this is the grandest spot on | God’s earth. I have traveled the world over and found no such place as the Yellowstone Park.” ‘t Are you livin’ here all alone?” “T like solitude,” Benraymond replied, with | some evasion; ‘‘ but since this place has been de~ filed with the presence of that man, Fenwick, it will searcely be to me what it has been.” ‘¢Then he’s an enemy to you, eh?’ “Yes, worse than that—a curse. He is a de- mon at heart, and I a:sure you he is in this valley for no good purpose, Whether he knew I was here or not until we ret this evening, I know not, but I do know that I leathed the very soil he trod cn and came kere to be rid of his presence—the sound of his voice—the men- tion of his name, and now, like the curse that he is, he comes here, I tell you, Spokane, this valley will not hold both of us long. But what surprises me now is your being acquainted with him, and his demands of you.” oo presume s0, stranger, but I’ve nothin’ to say now about it—reckon you overheard what passed atween us?” ‘*T heard some of it “What we said ’u'd ger.” ‘‘Ay! but maybe it would; I have always thought that ihat man’s sins against me have reached even into America. He always swore that he would have my life-blood after having destroyed my happiness and ruined me.” ‘Stranger, I think you’re mistaken; it’s scme- thin’ else besides your life he seeks here in Amer- ica—somethin’ that I alone can give—scmethin’ IT never will give, so help me God.” ““T overheard some remarks he made about a child,” said Benraymond, his eyes fixed search-. ingly on the hunter’s face, Spokane started slightly, and for a moment both he and Benraymond were silent, To the hunter there was something almost irresistible: in the presence and voice of the mysterious: man, and through fear of his own. weakness— that he might be led to reveal the one great se- cret of his heart, he changed the subject of con- versation by saying: : ‘* Stranger, pardon me, but it’s now dark, and as I’m awful afraid that demon Strabm ‘ll slip ‘round and injure my friends, Vd better be goin’.” ‘*Spokane, unless you insist on me goin ashore with you, I will loan you my canoe i you'll return it to-morrow.” Anxious to know more of Benraymond, the hunter promised that he would return the boat. He was satisfied there was some mystery about the island and its brave and noble occupant. He had seen but very little of the place, and once was sure he heard other footsteps than those of Benraymond on the island. Bidding him good-night, Spokane proceeded to the boat and was scon afleat on the lake un- der the shadows of night. He headed south- ward, but owing to the darkness he could not tell exactly where to land;and to make sure that he did not pass beyond the camp, be put ashore about two miles from where he had met Strahm and his minions. By this time the moon had come up, flooding the surroundings with a weird and wondrous light, and the first thing Old Spokane saw on landing was the imprint of a booted foot in the Spokane.” ye nothin’ to you, stran- sand, In fact, there were scores of tracks, but all were evidently made by the same person yassing to and from the lake. They led back into the shadow of the jeans and Old Spokane made up his mind that some one must be in camp thereabouts, and proceeded to make a re- connoissance, But he had advanced but a few yaces into the weods when a voice, accompanied the click of a revolver, demanded: ** Who comes there?” “Don’t shoot, man!” quickly responded the hunter, for the voice was familiar, although he could not just then recall the name of the per- son; ‘don’t shoot!” ha repeated; ‘‘it’s I.” voice, “‘T should proclamate it, was,” was the lacon- ic reply, ‘‘ and for the life of me I can’t name you.” ; “T am Frank Rodman.” * No!” exclaimed the hunter. “Yes, and pretty well used up, Spoky.” Good Tout ! can this be, io 4 ? “Walle out into the moonlight, and you'll see,” Together they walked out of the shadows into the light and as Old Spokane looked upon the man a cry burst from his lips. It was Frank Rodman true enough, but he could scarcely recognize him with his pale face, bandaged head and soiled garments, ‘““Who are you? Spokane Joe?” asked the Vee a } " i 4 - é i] rt | " | PLE ee 4 1 _
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» the Indian dragged me from the field down into ) bread on the waters; but whar'’s the 4T should say so, boy—see that?” and he head; ‘‘a red-skin’s hatchet did it.” learns the fate that has befallen our party. How far is he away, Spokane?” ; but it'll nighly craze him when he sees his boy all battered and pounded up. : Sam! the Gallatin valley will weep for him and as dition of the valley for a thousand years— But . -say, Frank, we'd hetter hurry along to camp. 5 etek a : Baby “ Great geysers, Frank! have you been in the clutches o’ a grizzly? Tell me, boy, what’s wrong?’ “Everything Spoky,” replied the young man; ‘‘do you know that the Sioux are scat- tered all through—” hb yes, boy; but you don’t mean to say they— “They attacked us at Mary's Lake. Several of them were ambushed on Wilma’s Isle, and when Baby Sam landed there with Wilma and Sarah the girls were captured, and when we three boys went to their rescue we were set up- on and Fred Sears, and for all I know, Baby Sam, was slain.” \« And are the gals still captives, Frank?” ’ “*T know nothing to the contrary.” “Oh, Lord!” groaned the old hunter; ‘‘ this'll kill your poor old father! Boy, what’s the meanin’ of it?” “‘T know not, Spoky, but there is treachery at work somewhere. Those savages knew to the very day when we were to be at the island. By agreement, Baby Sam met us there and carried us to the island in his boat—taking the girls first, for the boat was too small to carry all. On the way over with Fred and I, Spar- rowhawk, the Friendly Crow, who'd also been on the island and had discovered the intention of the Sioux, swam unobserved by them along- side our canoe and warned us of our danger. We were about half-way to the island but at once turned back to the mainland, and after a consultation we resolved to attempt the rescue of the girls. So we re-embarked for the island, on which we landed and were in search of the irls when attacked by eight or ten savages. oor Fred fell dead at the beginning of the fight, though not before he got in his work on ared-skin. The next moment I fell under ths blow of a flying tomahawk at the side of Baby ‘** But how came you here, Frank?” ““That’s the remarkable thing of the whole affair; after Sparrowhawk had warned us of our nag iad he swam off. He is such a peculiar Indian that we thought nothing of his not go- ing to help us; but when I recovered my senses after the Rent I found Sparrowhawk sitting at my side in under a great a talon rock at the water’s edge. From him I learned that he did ‘ake a hand in the fight on the island; but after I fell and the battle seemed to be against us, the lake unobserved by the Sioux, who were intent on killing or capturing Baby Sam. How the Indian accomplished it I cannot imagine, but he swam with my body to a place of refuge and there 1d and bandaged my gashed head. But, Spoky, that noble act of the Crow was my reward for caring for him and giving him medicine and food when he lay sick in our settlement a year ago when all others refused to go near him, believing he had the small-pox.” "Boy, ye know the Scripter says to cast_your ngin now?” ; ies : : ; “ Off in search of Wilma and Sarah. I came here in hopes of mee you and father, but feeling weak and tired, I told the Crow I would rest here till he came back.” _ ““ Wonder the red-skins didn’t find you here,” said Spokane. : ‘‘ Are they around here, too?” -yaised his hat and displayed a bandage on his “Is father safe, Spoky?” the young man asked, the shadow of a fear creeping over him. “Was when I left, boy, bout an our before sunset. He’s been feelin’ happy all day over the thoughts of meeting you young folks to- morrow or next day.” A inte eR eta “Poor father! it will almost kill him when he ‘Not over a mile away this blessed minute; And poor Baby refuse to be comforted, but never, no never, will the Boy Giant be forgotten. His name, rave and noble soul, will go down in the tra- owhawk Td remain Cone \ fi Fee to find Mr. Rodman and Professor Drood sorely uneasy about the old hunter’s safety. But the presence of hisson there in such a plight, and the news be brought of the Wilma Island tragedy almost drove the father frantic with grief, and it was all his friends could do to re- strain him from rushing madly away in search of his idolized daughter, and talk him into quiet and composure. Vhen they did, however, Old Spokane narreted his adventures around the lake, though he withheld that part relating to Donald Strahm’s demands upon him for the restoration of his child, and his timely rescue by the mysterious Aaron Benraymond, After hearing the old man’s story; Henry Rodman made up his mind that Donald Strahm and the man Benraymond, were some way, di- rectly or indirectly, responsible for the pres- ence of the Indians there in the valley; though, in view of the kindness and help given Spokane, he could not associate Benraymond in criminal league with Strahm. His views, however, were entirely at variance with those of Old Spokane, and the more they discussed the matter the more it became involved in perplexing mystery. CHAPTER IX. BABY SAM IN TROUBLE. In the conflict in the Indian bivouac where Sarah Marshall was held a. captive Sabina Bandy, the wife of Old Kit, pares an import- ant part. Concealed in her bosom was? a tiny revolver, which she did not hesitate to use when the life of her recreant lord was endangered, but what was the most surprising was that she used it against the red-skins, her husband’s boon companions. Then as soon as all had been wrapped in dark- ness by Old Kit sweeping the fire in every direc- tion, she turned and ran to where Sarah stood, and with a keen-edged knife severed her bonds, at the same time saying: “Come, child—quick! escape with me!” Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Sarah rmitted herself to be hurried away into the gyptian darkress of the woods, nor was she— — | sta | So | th |r permitted to stop until a point was reached ata safe distance from the scene of conflict. Then old Sabina seemed to realize for the first time that they were alone. ; - Please the Merciful Master!” she exclaimed, ‘“we are away from them horrid savages, but have become separated from Christo her and that big as F and in this darkness we'll never find them. If I only dared to I'd call Christopher, but that’d just tell the Ingins exactly where we were,’ “Mrs, Bandy, what if your husband and Baby Sam were slain?’ said Sarah. “Tt'd be dreadful, child, dreadful; but if Christopher’s the same man he was years ago he'll dodge them Ingins, for he’s an old dodger. I've known him these years, the old deceiver,” Meanwhile the ‘‘ old deceiver” and Baby Sam had taken advantage of the darkness that fell so suddenly on the combatants to escape into the woods, going in the direction they supposed Sabina and Sarah had taken; but, to their dis- appointment, they soon discovered that they were separated from the women entirely. ‘‘ What in the plague are we going to do, Kit?” Sam asked. ; “We'll have to do the best we can, and if we don’t run across the weemen to-night, maybe daylight ‘ll make matters all right. [f it wer’n’t for that: leetle gal, I'd not bother myself *bout that old lady, for Pl ‘bet if a be ‘d carried her away from that camp she'd turn up all right some day with reticule and umbrella in d. She’s no tenderfoot, is Sabe, and when it comes to a real fight she’s a hull litter 0’ wild- cats, she is by the horn of Joshua! Say, didn’t ye hear the peace ‘her little shooter when the ball opened? hy, Baby, she can hit the Goddess o’ Liberty on a silver dollar ten yards every POP} but, say, did ye git hurt any in the racket?” . “Not the least; everthing worked like a charm in the attack, but our bad luck comes in losing the girl.” . and ae ered AY pe aor be Ey ie i Unbuckling his bel rifle, through to Kit, then turning his left side ‘to the passage, he said: 4 “Tl squeeze through, Kit, or bu’st this old mountain.” With all his eo strength the young moun- taineer crowded himself into the ge, but be- fore half his body was concealed the jaws of the great rocks seemed to fasten upon him and hold him as if ina vise. ; The voice of the pursuers could now be heard but a few paces away. oS, ‘Ts no use, Kit,” Sam protested; ‘TI can’t make it—Ill have to fight.” a ‘“Then git back, boy, so’s I can help you— quick!” ordered Kit. = “T can’t, Kit, I’m fast—wedged in—flee, man, while you can!” Scarcely had the last word fallen from the brave boy’s lips ere Scott Dresden, the outlaw, - burst into the retreat followed by a dozen or more companions, most of whom were savages. With a yell that went rcaring up through - the black defile, Dresden, like a panther, sprung forward to seize the Boy Giant. EF ; ter’s strong right arm was free, and when the | villain came within reach he seized him by the shoulder, and with all his prodigious strength swung him around and drove his face with mighty force against the rough, : wall, cave and mashing it in a most fr manner, and knocking the breath out of But the next moment. a dozen violent hands hag seized the Boy Giant and dragged h : Mr : | him from the — aws of the trap that had caught him a gz R| p , ) 7 din’ the way through which four savages g. it pursuit of Old Kit, ra a a sued between Baby Sam and the boy bid fair to hold his own, when a } ren ; ect revealed to the gaze of the victors oan ; of their leader, Scott Dresden, - ‘che : a A desperate hand-to-hand struggle now en © But the lat- ade Struck him on the head from behind” . — ta. s é a wa rhe oe
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iO fering the most intense agony, the outlaw chief turned to his followers and, in terrible passion, exclaimed: ‘* Man, take that fiend incarnate to the near- est boiling spring and throw him in alive! The devil shall have man broth for his breakfast!” CHAPTER X. DONALD STRAHM CALLS ON SCOTT DRESDEN. EAGER for the fiendish work, Dresden’s fol- lowers seized the Boy Giant and started to drag him away to the nearest boiling spring, but be- fore they were out of the retreat the outlaw chief said: ** Hold on, men; let us wait until morning. I want the young demon to brood over his fate | awhile; besides, I want to see him flop and flounder when he goes into thé broth-pot.’ With evident disappointment the outlaw’s menials brought the prisoner back and rebound his feet and forced him to be seated. The suffering of Dresden was fully equal to his revengeful fury. One of bis eyes swelled shut in a few minutes, while his whole face was cut and bruised beyond recognition. The only alleviation he could find was in constant appli- eation of cold water, and to obtain this he had to go to a little mountain-stream, over two hun- dved yards from the ‘'Grotto,” as the outlaws called their rendezvous. He took three men with him as a body-guard, and there for hours he sat and bathed his face and swore, and swore and bathed. It was long after midnight when he returned to the Grotto, feeling considerably easier, but in nowise improved in looks. To his joy he found that the number of his friends had in- ereased during his absence, and that Donald Strahm, one white man, and three Indians.were the parties joining them. “Great hounds of Satan!” exclaimed Strahm, as Dresden entered the Grotto. Dresden, you look as though you’d been fighting a wind-mill,” ‘““ There’s the cause of it!” hissed Dresden, pointing toward Baby Sam. oe understand; but I congratulate you on his capture.” ** Thanks, my Lord Fenwick,” returned the outlaw, ‘‘ but if we’d succeeded in getting that cunning devil we’ve known as Big Horn, then I'd be py, for the ends of justice would soon be meved. I tell you I mistrusted that rene- rade all along, and now to him and that big ummix of a boy there, we are indebted for the | loss of both of those girls that we have worked and planned so long to capture at Mary’s Lake.” ‘* Thunder and Mars! you don’t tell me, cap- tain?” “*T do, sur; after the girls had been captured, and that Boy Giant: also, I detailed each one: to kill the other, for I wanted Big Horn out of my way as well as Big Sam, and cuss me if they | didn’t turn on us, killed Stackpole and Doyle who were acting as seconds, and then dropy two more men, and the rest of us barely escaped with our lives, Then again—just to-night— Big Horn joined a arid of our red-skin friends who'd still one of the girls in, custody, and layed his role of ‘big Ingin, much brave,’ and ** Captain | ) ) | camp of an explore Porny to-da 9 | | } | | he first them red-skins knew, that big hound | was upon them like a hurricane beating them | down with a or while Big Horn shot, and | kicked and cut, The result was that the girl was rescued and run off in the night, We heard the battle and hurried forward to take a hand, but were two minttes too late, You see, not one of the Sioux knew of Big Horn’s treachery at the lake, and so he played it handsomely. Lord Peter! if I’d only been there in camp when he came in, I’d made him ‘blat.’? So you see our campaign’s a flat failure so. far as the cap- ture of the girls is concerned,” T think I can tell you where one of the girls is, captain,” said Donald Strahm. “* Indeed?” “To-day, or yesterday, rather, toward even- ing, we saw a small canoe gliding across the waters of the Yellowstone ke, and it con- tained two occupants, one of which was a woman beyond a doubt. The boat touched at a little island which we aftersvard discovered was a floating island. ‘The deuce you say!” exclaimed Dresden; ‘‘my lord, I’m afraid our game’s going to be checkmated all around—we've been given away by a traitor.” ‘Then that traitor must be Big Horn, who, while we were holding secret. meetings in your lodge in the Sioux village, overheard all by eavesdropping. I tell you that fellow’s not a | the fellow’s sword, when my folks, supposing I -well and alive, but m fool by any means, Scott Dresden. But I hav’n’t captain.” ‘Well, I’m prepared now to hear of ’most any kind of a surprise, my lord,” said Dresden, ** Well, you remember I told you all about my troubles with one Warren Hanover, the son of the earl of Hanover, in England, of his dis- appearance and my trip to America on busi- ness with Mrs. Ann Kirby? Then you remem- ber that I told you that Jack Prunty, the set- tler with whom I’d left my child had been | massacred by the Indians, that the child had been taken captive but was afterward ransomed | by a party of emigrants bound for the West, | and that for two years I'd searched amon all | the settlements of the territories for my child H and that I had finally fixed upon a certain girl | as being mine from her wonderful resemblance | to her dead mother. . “Yes, yes,” replied Dresden, ‘‘ I remember all | that, of course, but where does the surprise come in?” “Why, sir, by accident I stumbled into the | under one and who should | meet there, man, Jack Prunty, sail- ing under the colors of Spokane Joe.” ** Oh, Moses and the bullrushes! you don’t tell ! me Old Spokane Joe’s your treasure-keeper?” ‘““No other, sir, no other than Jack nty, but he pretended not to know me in their own | camp, nor did I pretend to know him. I con- | cluded my bird was already in the bush, and | that it would only be a question of time until it | was in hand. So I said nothing to them more | than to tell them I was a disgusted prospector | anxious to get out ofthe country, but my man, Prunty—Old Spokane—it seems, suspected all was not right and followed me up; but one of my scouts discovered the fellow, and we laid | for him and finally cornered him on the lake- shore. As I had bim foul, as I thought, I de- manded my child’s whereabouts, but, sir, he had the accursed impudence to tell me it wasn’t my child Vd left with him, and flared vp and showed his teeth. So I had to call out my men, | and the old tiger shot one of them down, and but for the fact that I wanted him alive he ) would have been annibilated there and then. | Finally one of the boys tripped him up and the battle seemed won; but before he could be se- cured a tall, bearded man, with eyes glowing like a demon’s, bounded from the cover of some un icrgrowth with a long, whip-like sword in his hand, and so dexterously and so rapidly did he handle the flashing blade that his very head and shoulders seemed surrounded by a nimbus of | flame, \I drew my revolver to shoot him, but he divined my intention, lunged forward, and somehow or other—I don’t know exactly how— he caught my weapon on the point of his sword and twirled it out of my band like lightning. And that man, my dear sir, was no other than Warren Hanover, the son of the Earl of Han- over!” ‘* Great mortality!” exclaimed Dresden, ‘‘ do you suppose he is on a trail, too?” ‘* F can’t see for the life of me bow he can be. I think our meeting simply a coincident.” ‘* Pl be cussed if it don’t begin to look like a co- incident that is likely to bring us more trouble,” replied Dresden; ‘‘but what became of your English swordsman?” “Well, the fight was a drawn battle. After I lost my revolver I leaped backward to escape Professor Dr was lighting out for dear life, turned and ran, too; but our gallant foe did not follow us, the next we saw, him and Old Spokane, as we supposed,. was in a boat pulling out into the lake. They finally touched at the same island where the other boat had Janded its occupants.” ‘“* By heavens! that island’s got to be pulled,” declared Scott Dresden, ‘‘for it may be the point from whence all our trouble is emanat- ing.’ The two villains had carried on all this con- versation in the hearing of Baby Sam, They regarded him as powerless to do them further harmn, but when the subject had so changed as to include the Boy Giant, Donald Strahm turned to the prisoner and said: ‘Perhaps you could tell us something about the conduct of Big Horn, Baby Sam—in other words, what’s he up to?” ‘‘ He's up to your little game,” replied Baby m, ‘* He is, eh? Well, what else can you tell us? —do you know where those girls—Wilma Rod- man and Sarah Marshall are?” ‘You impudent scoundrel!” the Boy Giant fair} hissed, “if I did know Id die a dozen deaths before I'd tell you!" a rest. Bright and early the next morning they were astir. An ample supply of food that was con- cealed in the grotto was brought out, cooked and eaten; and after their matutinal meal, which had been washed down with villainous | whisky, Scott Dresden turned and shouted out: ‘Now, men, to the Devil’s Broth Pot with that young bruiser!” Up to this moment Baby Sam had entertained a famt hope that, if die he must, he would be | killed outright, and not subjected to the hellish tortures conceived by the brain of the monster, | Scott Dresden. It was not over a mile to the great geyser known among the hunters and Indians as ** The Devil’s Broth Pot,” though pointed cut to tour- ists now as ‘‘ Old Faithful.” Its eruptions occur at intervals of about seventy minutes with all the regularity of the flow and ebb of the ocean’s tide. It lJasts about twenty minutes, then ceases, and the boiling flood sinks out of sight in the crater to gather new force for another outburst. It was but a short time till the outlaws and savages, with their captive, came in sight of the geyser.. It was located on the summit of a large, cone-shaped. knoll that for ages upon ages had been forming frcm sediment thrown from the geyser. The sides of the cone were cut into hundreds of little channels by the rushing of the waters. In the little valley at its base was a large channel through which the boiling liquid escaped into the Fire Hole river that flowed hard by. Just across this channel was a gradual ascent crowned with a dense growth of Ye he geyser was quiet when the outlaws came in sight of it. ‘* Hadn’t we better wait here until after the ‘Pot’ boils again?’ said Dresden, stopping at the edge of the pines near the foot of the cone. ‘** Tt hasn’t been twenty minutes since it ceased its tumult,” responded Strahm; “and it will i « nearly an hour yet before there is any dex, ; from its spouting. In that time we can .; over to the crater, dump our game and : back here. » I say let’s push right ahead and ;. 5 the job off our bands.” ‘AN right; forward march!” commanded Dresden, leaping the channel and beginning the ascent of the cone. Four men conducted the dccined boy toward the geyser with his hands tied at his Lack and a revolver at his head. The Indians were all left on the safe side of the cone, Their super- stitious fears would not permit of their ap- proaching nearer to the dreaded ** Breth Pot,” In his fiendish desire to hurl the auther of his battered countenance into the great cal- dron, Dresden hurried on and reached. the cra- ter a hundred paces in advance of those who were laboring along with the captive. Hestcod on the very rim of the crater, whose diemeter was fully six feet, and gazed down into the hot, cavernous depths frcm whence came an cmincus poreling sound. He felt the marble-like earth eneath his feet shake and quiver with internal emotion. He could see the boiling fluid rising slowly in tre porcelain-lined threat of tke cra- ter; and suddenly he heard and felt the roar of underground thunder that was immediately fo}- lowed by the upward rush of hissing steam that caused him to start back in alarm. And this in turn was succeeded by a hoarse gurgling moan, a violent trembling of the cone, when, with the force of a mighty burricane, a river of boiling water six. feet in thickness shot up into the air to the hight of two hundred feet. The rays of the sun, which was just rising above the distant mountain range, shone upon . the mists of white steam and formed a bright rainbow above the summit of the column of in- describable splendor and glory, while the water bursting outward at the top of the column, like a gigantic fountain, descended to earth in a perfect torrent of pearls. But, grand as was the sight, the situation was equally as perilous. Of this the outlaw was fully aware, and turn- ing with a shout of warning to his friends, he dashed away to escape the falling flocd of boil- ing water, which, being undisturbed by the air, fell with equal and thunderous force all around the summit of the cone. Soon a mighty flood was rolling down the slope in one broad sheet, and the outlaws in charge of Eaby Sara, PES SA es eee) en eee reas Seeks ee
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seeing their deadly danger, turned and ran for | | their lives, knowing that the boy must follow | or perish in the scalding flood. he Boy Giant readily realized his situation. | UWesaw that the time for him had come to act | not only in saving himself from the water, but to elude his foes, and throwing all his prodi- ious strengh into one superhuman effort he urst the bonds that fettered his hands and once more stood free, At this very juncture Scott Dresden dashed past him at a wild, breakneck run, and when Dut a few feet away stumbled and fell heavily to the earth. Giant was upon him, and stooping, he seized the villain by each ankle and swung him around upon his back as though he had been a mere child. Then drawing each of the gelling out- law’s feet over his shoulders the boy dashed away, but he did not go in the direction taken by the others but bore sharply off to the left so as to turn his back almost upon those standing at the foot of the cone. Dresden, hanging head downward clutched frantically at the air and yelled like a demon, butin the hands of the young Hercules he was werless. Sam’s sole object in thus carrying im was to protect himself from the bullets of the savages waiting among the pines. It was he boy’s only hope—an expedient that his quick brain had conceived, and his giant strength enabled him to carry out. But the successful execution of the young mountaineer’s plan of escape was greater even than its conception, for by the time he was fairly under way the flood had overtaken him, . but in spreading out over the cone its depth ~ had been so reduced as to enable the hundreds of little channels before mentioned to carry the boiling flood.. But even then the fugitive could proceed only by boars 4 from one projection to another, in doing which a single misstep would prove fatal. The moment the savage saw the boy’s des- perate move, they set up a wild yelling and opened fire with their rifles. Baby Sam could hear their bullets whistling around him, but he knew they were not shooting to kill, for the life of their leader was in equal danger with his own, and he had heard the whistle of bullets too often around his head to be intimidated by the sound. With his eyes fixed on the earth before him, his teeth set and every nerve strung to its utmost tension, the brave boy bounded along amid the scalding, steaming rivulets and at last reached the .great channel that received the flood at the foot of the cone. pa P With a breath of relief he dropped the out- Jaw, leaped across the ditch, bounded up the gentle slope beyond ard plunged into the shadows of the pine woods a wild, ringing shout of defiance proline from his lips. But scarcely had he gone a dozen steps among the trees when a voice called out to him: ‘‘ Here, boy—this way!” He glanced to the right and saw Old Kit Bandy approaching, his face aglow with ex citement and oY: “Glory, Kit! I'm glad to meet you!” the boy exclaimed, breathing heavily. ‘* Here, lad, ’s your Winchester and cartridge- belt—good thing you give em to me—maga- zine’s chock-full—shoot the devils down if they rowd you!” > _ Baby Sam took the belt and quik. buckled it around him, then, as he gr is rifle, a stern smile wreatbed his lips, his big eves flashed with the light of a desperate determination, and stepping behind a rock, upon which he rested his , he said: rages 2: wll ‘* Now, curse them, it’s my turn!” _ : Soon he caught sight of two red-skins— one behind the other—gliding along like hounds upon his trail, and quickly glancing along his rifle he ressed the trigger and both savages fell dead—the report of the gun 1 Jen echoes and mingling with the roar and tu- --ynult of the Devil’s Broth Pot. ; ckly the young mountaineer threw an- Bmp into bis rifle, and the glimpse of a moving figure among the pines invoked an- ther deadly shot. GL ets : "Several Seomnentth of silence now elapsed and no more sav appearing, Old Kit, who had stood an saniring spectator of the young gi- ~ ant’s deadly work, said: ’ ' _ “By the ram’s-horn of Joshua! Baby Samuel, _ you're a splend'd lump 9’ humanity—an u ~ yoar’ous young hurricane. I reckon the devils _ .4)) not tamper with a bottled cyclone soon again. But, say, Baby, what on earth were you doing _gver there near the geyser? i Why, my brave captors took me over there ‘ Before he could rise the Boy | rolling away in sul-, * “ | needed now, lad, if ever you were. to throw me into the crater, to make man-broth for the devil’s breakfast.” ‘* And what saved you, lad?” “*He who controls the destinies of man, and whose mighty power is seen in the wonders of Wonderland. The geyser began to flow before they got me to the crater, and I was saved.” ‘* Bless the Lord!” said Old Kit, reverently. ‘*T came in sight just as you shouldered that feller and started. I’d’a’ put in a shot for you, but I war afraid the report o’ the gun might lead you to think enemies were in front of you, as well as behind, and throw you off your base.” “That scoundrel I covered my retreat with was Scott Dresden, and I don’t see what 1 was doing that I didn’t throw him into the escape- channel that was half-full of scalding water.” ““Tté war a pity, boy, it’s true, but you did nobly in savin’ yourself, for T’ll swear you're Them poor gals—” ‘Yes, yes, Kit, they must be saved!” inter- rupted the boy, and, shouldering his rifle, he turned, and the two moved away through the cool morning shadows, CHAPTER XI. KIT BANDY LETS HIS LIGHT SHINE. In hopes of meeti_g the aaa § Crow, Sparrow- hawk, Old Spokane Joe, Professor Drood, and Frank Redman and his father broke camp at once and pro- céeded to where the hunter had found Frahk and concealed bis canoe, Here they passed the night in anxious waiting, but no Sparrowhawk came And when = dawned great was their surprise to find that the canoe had been taken from where Spokane had left it, and they could acconnt for its disappearance on no other theory than that the Crow had returned while Frank was away, and finding Sti gone and the canoe there had taken it away with m. Frank Rodman sorely regretted this in view of the ge kindness «f the friendly, whose sensitiveness, e was afraid, might construe his absence intoa lack of faith, In hop’s the Indian would yet come and bring some tidings of the missing girls the party remained there in camp, and if they were disappointed in h’s not coming, their patience was doubly rewarded by the sudden appearance in camp of Baby Sam and Old Kit Bandy, fresh from their adventure with the enemy at the Devil’s Broth Pot, : Never were two men more surprised or overcome with joy than were Baby Sam and Frank Rodman on meeting there. They could scarcely believe the evi- dence of their own eyes, foreach had given the other up as dead, The name of Kit Bindv was not new to Spokane Joe, and when introduced to him he said: “I've heard o’ Kit Bandy before; he’s a noted mountain detective, isn’t he?” * He is,”’ replied Old Kit, with a bland smile, “and Ihope merits your compliments, stranger, Vi ad- mit that my physical make-up isn’t as d:lectable as that of Adonis—” ‘* Ah, but it’s not that, Kit, that makes the man— it’s the riggin’ inside that does the work,’’ Spokane averred. ’ Baby Sam and Frank Rodman at once made a ¢om- arison of notes touching on the adventures of each since their separation at Wilma’s Island, and when the Boy Giant had narrated his exploit at the Broth Pot, and then recounted thestory be had heard Don- ald Strahm tell his confederates of bis—Strahm’s— adventure with Be»raymond, Old Kit Bandy did not fail to notice that Oid Spokane and Henry Rodman manifested no little uneasincss. - Taking it for anted that the old huxter was Jack Prunty, as trahm declared he was, the old detective could not understand why Rodman manifested so evident a surprise and fear—why the outlaw’s story should affect him more than any cther rerson a stranger to the transactions between Strahm and Prunty. Mentally the old detective resolved to show his light on the subject as soon as an opportunity offered, and this soon came through Baby Sam, who said: “But. friends, I think Mr, Bandy, here, knows something about this man Strahm—at least, I have had an intimation to that effect, and think nowis a good time for him to let it be known, if he does.” “Well, now,” said the old man, “the boy’s not fur from right, Ican tell yoa. To be plain, outspoken ve. and have been for twenty years or more. I’ve confined myself to the peraroes and thountains al- together, and }ave cperated from Manitoba to Mex- ico, and in order to cireumyent outlaws, rord-agents, murderers, thieves and villainy of al kinds, I've been compelled to assume the character of Ingin, outlaw, miner, hunter, preacher, ranchero—in fact, everything good. and bad, Ill admit I’ve used some eception and trickery that ’d make a less serupu- ous soul restles, but you understand we detectives have to of‘en be rogues to catch rogues. “For three years past me and my old pard, Ieha- it necessary for me to become an Ingin—a bold Si-ox warrior; and jn connection with wh-t I've heard you folks talkin’ about, along with what I've been able to deduce from .the- same, I wont toadd that Seale eee Eee eel entry Bad 8 this possible, K exclaimed Henry Rodman, betraying the } terription -go on.” — 2 : Tie Flee et , e ‘ TS xs ae 2 AO 5,5 ‘ hod Flea, have been workin’ upa big case that made _* Well. to go back to the beeinnin’, it wos bout : three years ago while I was recuperatin’ in Denver, ! grants, and in. Yellowstone. and truthful, I. Ka-risiopher C. Bandy, am a detec. deepest emotion; * but pardon the in- | - Hanover ravin’ distracted, and so his physician ad- an English eres Sees as he called himself— and an elderly lady named Martha Meggs called on me and said they’d a first-class job for me and that if I'd work it up two thousand pounds should be my reward, I told ’em to state their case and I'd » see what there*’was in it before I undertook to foller it up, so Hoopel, the lawyer-detective from London, told me this story: he said that "bout twelve years or so before one Warren Hanover hecame a widcew- . er with a little gal baby left to hiscare. The loss of his wife, along with other troubles, almost drove visei him to travel—to wean himself from his sor- rows by goin’ to some foreign land. Actin’ upon this advice he consigned the child to the care of a widowed lady named Kirby, and } romised. if alive, to be back in two years. About six months after Hanover’s departure Mrs. Kirby gota letter from her only sister, living in America, urging her to come over and live in the landof promise and free- dom, and Mrs. Kirby svas crazy to do so, ku’ she didn’t know what to do with the child in her care. But one Norton Fenwick, a cousin of Hanover's dead wife, cams to her r scue and advised her to go and take the chill with her, and when Hanover re- turned he would make it ell right with him. He also said that he would write Hanover cf the fact so that he could visit them in America when he reached there, as was his intention before he returned to England, So Mrs. Kirby bundled wp and put off for America and settled near her sister in one of them extreme Western States. A few months later who should appear upon the scene but_ Norton Fenwick, who demanded the chile, saying he wished to take it back to England—that Warren Hanover had re- turned from his trip and was fearfully enrag: d over his inducing Mrs.. Kirby to go away with it to Ameri ca, and a whole mess of such stuff, He neverasked Mrs. Kirby to go back with him, but,said that he could manage the child alone—that the good women on shipboard ’d help him take care of it, and so Mrs. K. finally give up and let him take the child. But he was scarcely out cf.sight before she began to mistrust all was not right, and bein’a woman of luck, if not of the best of judgment. she disguised erselfin male attire and followed F* nwick, who, instead of goin’1o England with the child, went west over a hundred mils and there left itin thecare of a border settler, end his wife, named Jack Prunty.” At mention of the name Old Spokane a: d Henry Rodman exchanged significant glances that-the de- tective did not fail to observe. “Mrs. Kirby,”’ Kit went on, *‘fcllowcd Fenwick in his attempt to dodge around to New York, and when the opportunity was offcred made herself known and demanded the reason for his action, and when he informed her it was none of her business she told him she would have him arrested for kid-. nappin’, end he out with a revolver and shct her down dead, as he suppesed. It war months before she recovered so es to travel, Fenwick had escaped ‘of course, and with woman’s tact. Mrs. Kir'y ee- - counted for the shot as an act of her own—attemp= ted suicide. Fenwick had doubtless figured on this theory himself, for he left the revolver lying at her - side where she fell. # aie “Well, havin’ assured herself that baby Hanover | : was in good hands, Sponge she never let o’ the fact *bout the child come to the ears o’ Jack Prunty, Mrs. Kirby returned to England in disguise. deter- mined to bring her would-be murderer to justice. Sbe knew there was something villainous at the bot- tom of his conduct with baby Irene. and the bleod 0’ the avenger plunged madly thro’ her veins. She changed her name to Marth» Mcgee, and sought the confidence of Matthew Hoopel, the lawver-detective who began to lay fcr Fenwick. But the cudacious scoundrel seeméd to have mistrusted that he war iu danger, and soall at once he put out for—well, no- body knew where, and so tha Mergs bteran to fear her game had dodged her for £038: But she waited and wafched with Ingin stoicism, In the meantime Werren Hanover returned ee a trav- rs Me wed gh lee Sem ce” he'd pursued him like a pocorn When Hanover married her he'd to th posted cff for America r the child, but judae of ere: when they reac pletely in Rag in spirit. ‘B ceidageadt 2 who war still on the fron- peor’ a ieve t tured. ates ps ; eer 3 me Oty . min- emi: _
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"] 12 Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone. tered. Prunty had a good chance to escape, and Mrs. Conners thought he did. \,hile a captive, a white man came to the Indian village with the out- law, Scott Dresden, searchin’ for the child Irene, and from the deseription of him Mrs. Meggs thinks it war the villain Fenwick. From a conversation Mrs, Conners overheard between Dresden and the stranger, she was satisfied that Dresden had a hand in the massacre, and he assured the stranger that neitber Prunty nor the child was killed. With this information Mrs. Meges returned to England and again sought the ail of Matthew Hocpel, determined to find fhe child if it wag livin’. “But in the mean time years had passed by. Warren Hanover had not been heard of for several ears, and his friends all supposei he had been illed or cied in Australia. Through Hoopel, Mrs, Meggs also learned that the child, Irene Hanover, through her dead mother, had become heir to an immense fortune which, in case of her death or non-app arance by @ certain time, t e@ court very singularly decreed, should revert to Norton Fen- wick, next of kin. Now this being known to Fen- wick, who’d returned to England off and on, you see it meant a fortune to him for the girl never to turn up alive, and learning that a search was being made for her in America—though he cou'dn't have mistrusted the source, for he was still ignorant of Mrs, Kirby's being alive—he struck out—or this was the supposition—to try and find her and get her out of the way. “Now, as I said before, Matthew Noopel and Mrs, Meggs came and employed me to hunt up the gal. That war three years ag». I took the trail pointed out by the ransomed captive, Mrs, Conners, and now from what Baby Sain overheard at the grotto when he war a captive, 1 think I've found the man, Jack Prunty, aml that’s you, Spekane Joe” Old Spokane glanced quickly at Henry Rodman: the muscles of his mouth twitched nervously; he passed his hand over his brow like one in great trouble of mind, Jor a minute all were silent, but seeing every eye fixed upon him, the old hunter aa said: * Yes, Bandy, Lam that man, J°ck Prunty.”’ “* Well,” said the old detective, coolly, “1t appears that Donald Stranm is Norton Fenwick, and that he is aided in his search for the girl by Scott Dresden, the outlaw, and a pack cf Sioux savages; and if she falls into his hands she’s a dead girl.”’ “Good God! men, this must not happen!” cried Henry Rodman. springing to his feet. “No, no!’ thundered the Boy Giant, ‘nor shall it through my idleness here!" and the next moment the young mountaineer had caught up his rifle and was gone, “What ails the boy, anyhow?” asked Old Kit; “has ke got a jim-jam?—a fit? Ticrn o’ Joshua! men, that’s the bravest, noblest boy God ever cre- ated. But to continue my story: from other things 3aby Sam overheard in the grotto, Norton Fenwick and the father of that gal, Irene, must have met in battle yesterday by the lake-shore. The man Ben- raymond must be Warren Hanover.” Then,” cried Old Spokane, ‘* Benraymond is the father of—” He did not speak the name. His voice seemed to fail him, and turning he walked away as if over- whelmed with emotion, and looked out over the placid waters of the lake through a mist of tears, CHAPTER XI, A DARING ADVENTURD BY BACY SAM. Sapna Danpy and Sarah Marshall fled from the scene of conflict back into the darksome hills, the old woman exercising all the skill und precaution of an old borderman; but being unfamihar with the topography of the surrounding country, she could lead the way tono certain point. And as soon as she discovered that they were separated from Kit and Baby Sam, and that there was as much danger of running into.as from troubles, she concluded that at had better conceal themselves until morning, which they did, Sabina keeping watch while Sarah laid down and slept. And when daylight came and the maiden was still asleep, Sabina cid not wake her, but | indly watched by her side until she awoke, Then the old woman took somé cold meat from her reticule and shared it with Sarah, and after her sl-ép and fruzal meal, the maiden felt greatly re- freshed in bo‘h body and mind, and with high hopes she set off with her kind friend through the woods. They traveled on and on among the hills and throug’ the valleys as much in hopes of meeting their friends as in finding their way out of the be- wilderment into, which they had drifted during the night. But they were doomed to disappointment in both, for suddenly, while pursuing their way through | n a dark, wooded valley, they were surrounded by a band of outlaws and Indians to the number of thirty and made prisoners. This second misfortune crushed almost every spark. of hope in Sarah’s breast, and even Old bina’s usual strone spirit gave way, and she fell to weeping in hysterical sobs. Among the outlaws was Scott Dresden, with his black and purple swollen face. Donald Strahm was also with them, and lie seemed more disappointed than elated over the capture of Sarah and Old Sabina. The captives were at once marched through the woods to the northern extremity of the Yellowstone Lake, where they all went into camp on a densely- wooded tongue of land jutting out several rods into the water. ' On the point an Indian found a large canoe, the possession of which highly pleased Donald Strahm and Dresden. The craft was at once brought into requisition as a prison for the captives, who were ,bound hand and foot and placed in it, Then the craft was permitted to drift with the wind, which was from the north, out about twenty or thirty feet into the water, and there secured by means of an im- provised rope attached to the painter. Thus were the captives doubly secured; and equal precautions were taken by the band to guard against surprise. The shadows lay deep around them, Not a speck of fire was permitted, and ail were instructed to speak in low tones. Guardswere stationed to watch every approach to the point, for Scott Dresden well knew tuat in Baby Sam, Old Spokane Joe, and Kit Bandy, he had wily and cunning foes to deal with. Out beyond the black border of shadows that lay along the marg'n of the lake the moon shcne bright and brilliant. A gentle breeze was blowing sca- ward, softly rustling the feathery pines and moving the waves into a low, mellow ripple; but these changeless, monotonous sounds seemed to make the silence of the night more profound. Dresden and Strahm, lying on the earth, slept souncly. They had laid down feeling perfectly safe in the vigilance of their lynx-eyed savage guards. But along in the night all were suddenly awakened by a sharp cry from the lips of a savage guard. Instantly every man, red-skin and white, was upon his feet, weapon in band, The Indian that had given the alarm ran down to the extremity of the point, and, lifting his hand, pointed out over the water, saying: ** Boat git loose—drift off!” “By the eternal shadows!” thundered Dresden, “the boat is loose and drifting away with the wind!’ And so it was, having reached a point over a hun- dred yards away before discovered, “T was afraid of that frail rope,” said Strahm, “That rope never droke,’’ replied Dresden; ‘*it was either cut or untied,” and hastening to the water’s edge he found the shore end of the rope intact. Drawing it from the water he found it had been euvt, a part of the old painter remaining to the new, A yolley of oaths escaped Dresden’s lips. He stamped the ground in impotent rage, and would have shot the savage guards had he dared to have done so, ‘Here, here!” he finally exclaimed, turning to the crowd, ‘who'll swim after that boat and bring it back? It’s moving slow—an expert swimmer can soon overhaul it.” “Me go git him,” said a savage noted for his skill as a swimmer and in the use of the paddle. “Then go—quick!”? commanded the furious and impatient outlaw. Jropping his rifle and hatchet, and taking his knife between his teeth, the Indian slipped into the water, and, noiseless as a shadow, glidel away through the waves with remarkable rapidity, Scott Dresden watched him with serious doubts as to his reception when reaching the boat, which seemed to move fas.er the further it got away from the shore, Tbis, perhaps, the Indian did not discover, but when a few rods from the boat he did discover that he was not the only person endeavoring to reach the eraft by swimming. Another form was cleaving the waters on his right, swimming obliquely acro-s the waves. He could easily see that it was the head of an Indian, and, naturally supposing it was one of his own friends endeavoring to get in ahead of him. he renewed his exertions to maintain his reputation asa Swimmer and reach the truant boat first. A few moments sufficed to take them both to the craft, alongside of which they glided together, though one on either side, The first savage reached up his hand to grasp the gunwale of the boat, but before he could do so he was seized by the scalp-lock by the hand of an un- seen figure that lay concealed in the shadow cf the boat's prow in the water and»jerked under the waves. He struggled desperately for life, but be was powerless in that strong grasp, and, deprived of breath, his struggles soon ceased, The sound of the plashing water awoke the sleeping captives who quickly arose to a sitting pos- ture and gazed around them in bewilderment. And as they did so they beheld the round, boyish face, over which hung wet elfin locks, and the massive shoulders of Baby Sam, the Boy Giant, rise into view on one side of the boat, while the dusky face and glittering eyes of an Indian rose on the other side, A mingled exclamation of joy and fear escaped the woman's lips as they glanced from the boy to the savage. The boy and the red-skin glared at each other in reg aercss the boat, then as a light of recog- ition beamed in the eyes of the Indian, he articula- ted the name; ‘* Baby Sam!” “S arrowhawk, by smoke!” exclaimed the young mountaineer, ‘Oh, you buggerin’ Injin, and you took the same notion 1 did!” “Ugh!” ejaculat-d the Crow, his face aglow with triumph, * Baby Sam heap much cute like water- snake—swim easy—steal boat from outlaw and bad Injins—me start steal him—Baby Sam too quick— me see Sioux swim after boat—nie swim after him— where Sioux now?” ‘“In the bottom of this lake,’ replied the Boy Giant; “‘ l wrung his neck, so I did, and stopped his trap with water, and now he’s a good Injin; but, sa: me ap iy ieee hold on to that side of the boat titi et in, While the Crow balanced tho boat Sam climbed in- to it, then assisted the red-skin in, The paddle had been left in the craft, and as soon as he got in the friendly took up the blade and plied it with all his strength while Baby Sam released the captives. ‘Ob, Sam!” cried Sarah, joyfully, “you are a brave boy! Surcly if we escape from here ative it will be by your and Sparrowhawk’s daring and fear less bravery.”’ ‘Where is Christopher, boy?’ gasped Mrs. Dandy: ‘‘did he shrink from danger wheu the life of he. | whom he vowed to protect was in peril?” ‘*No, no, Mrs. Bandy,” replied Sam, unable to_ re- press a smile, “Kit Landy is a brave and fearless man, I left him in camp over on the lake, But, Sarah, can you tell us anything of Wilma yet, more than what you told Kit Bandy while a captive in their camp the other evening?” ‘*T cannot, Sam,’’ the maiden replied. : A great sigh escaped the young mountaineer’s ips. aporere Drepaais and his friends could define thy situaticn regarding the escape of the boat, several ° hundred yards separated t..e craft from the shore. Several harmless shots were then fired at the fugi- tivesand were answered back by loud, defiant shouts from the lips of Baby Sam that the midnight echoes gpd in rollicking, satyr-like glee among tke ills, After journeying some two or three miles out into the lake, the Boy Giant suggested that they, land and spend the night on a little island that suc derly ap- peared before them. To this all consented and Spar- rowhawk pulled for ths island upon which they finally landed. Baby Sam now narrated his adventures in stealin the prison boat from the enemy. From his conceal- ment close by the camp he had noted every move- ment they m*de, and when he saw the boat with the eaptives pushed ont into the Jake, and that th) guards had been stationed to watch the ap pron ss by land, he entered the water and noisl. ssly swam along in the shadows.on his back until the boat was reached. Then he eut the painter, and with his body submerged ard head concealed under the prow of the boat, he swam backward, puskirg against the craft with his head—all beirg done so silently and quickly thet even the acute ears of the savages failed to detect his movements, Both Sarah and Sabina ecmplimented him upen the success of his daring adventure, nor aid they furget to bestow equal praise upon Sparrow- hawk. : After they had conversed a while upon the situ:- tion, Paby Sam concluded to lis down and take a nap, as he hed kad but-little sleep and rest in three days and nights. Sparrowhawk told him he woul! stand guard over the island, and having implicit con- fidence in the honor and trustworthiness of the Crow. the young mountaineer dismissed all ceres from his mind and threw himself .om the ground under a cluster of dense foliage. He soon fel] aslecp and slept soundly, and when he awoke he was sur yrised to find it wes broad daylight and the sun high nthe heavens, He rose to a sitting posture to find himself covered with a soft, gray blanket that | ad been thrown over him by kind hands while he_ slept. But by whose? He knew there was not a blanket on the island when he laid down, and so he could not understand what it meant—how it came there. The boy looked around him. To, his surprise he could see neither Sparrowhawk nor the women. He Estened, but heard nothing. ‘Then helooked ys nnd to‘bis left, and to his utmost astonishment saw a small island lying alongside the one he was upon a small canoe bridging the narrow neck of water be tween them. Being positive tre island was not there when they landed, it occurred to him in an instant that it was the mysterious floating island he had seen the day before; and while he still remained seated, wondering what new dangers or mysteries were soon to be revealed, he was startled by a move- ment among the bushes on the adjacent island. Fixing his gaze upon the spot whence the sound came he saw the figure of a young girl emerge from a bush, stop at the water’s edge, and gaze toward nim, Aglad ery of joy burst from the boy's lips, and he sprung to his feet, for in te fair face of the beautiful girl he beheld the radiaut features of Wilma Rodman! CHAPTER XIII. | A PIRATICAL ‘* RAFT. Wiru joy beaming upon every feature of his face, Baby Sam Jeaped across the water that separated the two islands and clasped Wilma Rodman in his arms and imprinted a fervent kiss upon her fair brow. “Wilma, my dear girl!’ he exclaimed, with all the rapture of his big, impulsive heart, and tien for the time being he could say no more. Brushing away the tears of joy from her eyes, and mastering the cmotions of her young heart. Wilma lifted her face, and gazing up into the beaming eyes of her boy-lover, replied: amy : “Oh, Sam! haven't th* days and nights been dreadful since we last met? And ob, how glad was T last night when I learned that you were alive aud unbarmed.’ : * But think of it. Wilma, the suffering we have all undergone,” Sam found words to.r )ly. “Yes, indeed, Sam, our trip to the Yellowstone Park has been one of sorrow and d nger incteadof Jeasure, From. Sparrowhawk learned — that leaner Frank barely escaped with his life, and that poor Fred Sears was slain.” * Yes, was slain, Wilma, and Frank is now ‘with your father, and--” “ Pather?”’ cried Wilma, ‘Have you met him?” * Yes, he and his friends are in camp over.on the west shore of the lake now,” * Oh, isn't that joyful news!” and the maiden fairly clapped her hands and wept with joy; ** but, Sam, docs he krow of my eapture?” * Yes, and he is bowed down with grief,” Age “a q ee lee a. > “Sher 9 ‘ KR Ls sie BS pore 242 ais ¢ Prax” ee , $2 \¢ ae a e
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init s. toe pene how I wish I could go right over to him. I think our danger is all over with now, don’t you, Sam?”’ “Tho so,”’ the young mountaineer replied; “but, Wilma, how came you upon //is island? Who rescued you and brought you here?” “J learned from Sarah, who is now in Mr. Ben- raymond’s cabin, that it was you who shot the yer ner that was dragging me along the ledge, and—"" “ And did the animal not injure you, Wilma?” ‘Not in the least, and you may wonder at if, too, But you see those wretched Indians had wrapped me in so many thicknesses of a blanket, that the panther’s teeth did not reach the flesh. It was Spar- rowhawk, the friendly, who after you had killed the panther, carried me away toa place of safety. He was on the ledge at the time the shot was fired, and as you were concealed in the thick woods below he could not see es but supposed that it was a Sioux that shot the beast.” * Well, good for Sparrowhawk,” said Sam; “‘ but what a queer Indian he is. He never opened his head to me about rescuing you or your being safe.” **He does not talk much, Sam, but he is a good Indian if one lives. Iealso saved brcther Frank's life." ‘‘Yes, so Frank toll me," replied the Boy Gi- ant; ‘‘ but, Wilma, didn’t Sparrowhawk bring you straight to this istand after he fled with you from the ledge?” **He did, Sam, though I was unconscious at the time, and you may judge of my surprise and bewil- derment when I recovered to finda strange, bearded man seated at my bedside.” “Ay, it was Aaron Benraymond,” said Sam; ‘‘do you know who he is, Wilma?’”’ * Nothing only that he is a noble, kind-hearted man, living here alone with no one but Sparrow- hawk, his scout, foracompanion, Ithink he has some great sorrow weighing upon him, Once when I awoke from a feverish aibep, long in the dead hour of night, he was sitting by my bedside wee ing. \It made m2 feel so sorry for him that I could not help weeping, too. Once he knelt by my bedside and prayed, Again [saw him pacing the floor of his tent with his eyes fairly blazing, his teeth set, and his whole being so changed that it frightened me. I thought he was going mad. Iknow you will like him, Sam. for he is such a nobla and kind-heart- ed man. It was he who covered you with the blank- et this morning, and would not let us awaken you. He said you were tired and needed the sleep and rest, and so all morning I have been be eb Hn watching for you to awake. Oh, you don’t know how happy i am,” “T don't, eh?” replied Sam; “ well, I only hope you are as as happy as I am, my dear girl. But, Vilma, did Mr. B-nraymond tell you anything of his past life?” ‘Nothing, Sam, whatever." “Well, I have heard so much of him that I am anxious to meet him.’’ ‘Come then with me, and your wish shall be rratified.”’ said Wilma, leading the way toward the c bin near the center of the island. Reaching the door. she conducted him into the eivoin, and when Mr. Benraymond advanced to meet them, she said: . ‘Mr, Benraymond, this is my young friend, Sam- ucl Burling.” - * Otherwise known as Baby Sam, the Boy Giant,”’ raid Benraymond, with a smile. cs he grasped the boy’s hand and shook it warmly; * my boy, wel- come to my humble bhome—you of whom I hava heard so much, Lam glad to meet you, my boy. TI heard a little maiden talking of you in her sleep the otber night, and for hersake am I also glad, for ] see your coming has brought the roses to her cheeks.” Wilma blushed to the tips of her ears, while Old Sabina Bandy rocked herself to and froand lauzhed heartily at the young folks’ confusion, *Tt is pleasant to know one’s friends think of them when absent,” said Baby Sam. c * True, very true, my boy,” affirmed Benraymond; “but now, Sam, make yourself at home—just as yon would in the cabin of an old hunter friend, and V'll go and prepare you some breakfast. The rest of us have had our breakfast. I would not let them arouse you, for 1 knew you needed sleep as well as fond.” ‘You are very kind, Mr. Benraymond, but do not put yourself to trouble for me,” said the boy, * All 1 can do for.you will be a rle sure, Sam,” replied the man, and he retired to his kiwehen apart- ment with a light step.and happy heart. Ba -y Sam now had an opportunity of looking around him, .He found the cabin small yet a per- fect grotto of glittering minerals wrought into strange shapes by the hand of nature and arranged into groups by Benraymond where the blending of colors rivaied the beauty of the rainbow. Quartz of agate. amethyst, flint, Jeapeks nialachite and carne- lian were there; also, feldspar, opal, pumice, and *voleanic glass that sparkled like cut diamonds—each and all the production of that wonderful valley, Even magnificent 6 imevs of pewiaes wood and imbedded animal life were displayed in great. pro- fusion, and all this fine collection, in addition to a ile of books, magazines and even newspapers, told ow the strange man occupied, at least, part of his time, P After Baby Sam had partaken of a hearty break- fast he sat down to discuss.the dangers of the situa- tion -with his genial host, He told bim of his friends on shore who were no doubt. sorely di over his prolonged absence, and the un fate of the Maidens, and finally he arose, saying: Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone. them, and not only tell them of the girl’ssafety, but warn them of the dangers that surround them.” * Give rome no uneasiness about them, Sam, for I dispatched Sparrowhawk, my faithful friend and scout, ashore early this morning to find them and watch the foe.”’ “Indeed? You are very kind and thoughtful, Mr, Benraymond, and I sincerely hope—yea, I believe— that out of all this there is to come a reward that you are not dreaming of.” ‘Sam, what do you mean?”’ asked the man, fixing | his great soulful eyes upon the boy with an almost | praverful look. | _"" Oh, I expect I’ve sa‘'d too much now,” replied | the boy; ‘ but you'll know all about it, Mr. Benray- mond, as soon as you see Kit Bandy, whom I left in the camp of my friends last night.” “What, the husband of this woman cabin?’ * Yes, sir.” “Who and what is Kit Bandy, Sam?” ‘* A mountain detective.’’ ** And is be—”’ The man’s words were here cut short by the sud- den appearance of Sparrowhawk in the room in great excitement, and before he was scarcely across the threshold he exclaimed: ‘“Pale-faces in danger!—big float come—heap Sioux—heap outlaws—all come!”’ Rising they followed the Indian out of the cabin and down to the water’s edge, and from the cover of a fringe of willows they looked out over the lake and beheld the object of Sparrowhawk’s excitement. It was a large, ill-looking log-raft floating down straight toward the island. Nota sign of life was visible about it, but this was accounted for, when, with the aid of Benraymond’s glass, they saw that a breastwork of logs was laid A the forward part of the raft; the rear bei alanced with stones. Four Indian blankets were as sails, and there being a fair breeze blowing seaward the murderous- looking raft moved at a fair speed. ** By heavens!” cried Benraymond, “ it is an ugly craft, and if enemies are aboard of her they mean to do us harm.” * They Sioux and white outlaws,” said Sparrow- hawk, as if touched by Benraymond’s remark ex- pressing a doubt as to the crew, “ me on shore—see em git on float—dodge here, dodge there—git ’way round and hurry here tell you.”’ ‘* Phat settles it then, and they mean to board us,” said Benraymond, “Tt looks that way, sir,’ replied Baby Sam, “and since I left my Winchester asho:e last night, I hardly know what to do, If I had it here Vd throw afeeler down against that breastwork that would give them to understand we were ready for them.” “* Aside from the rifle and a pair of navy revolvers I have no firearms,” said Benraymond, “and if the effect a landing, as they undoubtedly will, it will surely g0 hard with us.” “Can't you put your island afloat and get away from them?” asked Sam. ‘“*No, it would only float. with the wind, and we would be overtaken, sure, and that, too, when out further from shore. Were we alone—had we not the lives of those women depending upon us, we could give the scouridrels battle. Or, if we had boats in which to flee, we might elude them that way. We could send the women afloat in the boat we have, but we have no assurance that such a con- tingency has not been guarded against by the foe, and that they would not.be captured by enemies ly- ing in wait among the islands around us.” ** Well, we'll have to do something, Mr. Benray- mond, and that pretty quick.” ‘“*Thave a plan in wit head, Sam, that I believe will work; at least, nothing can be lost in trying it. That is, to remove the women and such things as we can to the adjacent island under cover, and then when the foe bas landed on this island, as they will have to before reaching the other, blow it a3 “A good idea, though a desperate one, if you've Got the stuff to blow it up with,’ said the Boy tiant. “Thave aecan of giant — in my cabin that I brought with me for mining' purposes, but nerer used a grain of it.” 8 ** Great smoke! we’d -hardl island, would we, to touch o der?” ‘“We would be apt to hear the report and doubt- lees ont the shock,” replied the man, with a grim smile, * Well, it’s a°desperate case and requires desper- ate treatment, IT’d rather be blown up by my own etard than cut down by asavage, But what we do, r. Benraymond, must be done at once.” ‘* Yes) yes, let us be at work,” said Benraymond. The two turned and walked back to the cabin, Sparrowhawk having supe away a few minutes previous, They found Wilma and Sarah alone-in the room, and upon inquiry learned that Mrs. Bandy had gone.out some time previous. Her absence, at the time caused alittle uneasiness, and Benraymond started out in search of her, At the door he was met by astranger, whosesudden appearance there startled bim How the man-had ever reached the island without being seen by the watchful Sparrow- hawk was a mystery to the recluse. The stranger was a man of about forty years, rather small in stature, with a smooth, beardless face and a keen, bright eye. He was dressed in a closely fitting suit of blue jeans, cow-hide shoes and a ana ir ome 5 head-coyer that could be called neither hat norcap, In his belt was a pair of small revolvers. **Good-mornin', sir," said the stranger, ina sharp, ! “JT must go ashore, Mr. Benraymond, and find | in the be safe on the other a can of that pow- e. pos - Y, ‘ any , “ bh 2 13 shrill voice that sounded strangely familiar te Ben- raymond, “ Sir,” replied Benraymond, rather abruptly, “Ti have not the pleasure of your aequaintance.” The stranger broke into a low, silent Jaugh. “My name is Flea—Ichabod Flea, and I’m the: ard of Old Kit Bandy, Esquire, in the detective usiness.”’ ‘*But how did you get here?” ‘“Came ina boat, of course; but, stranger, seeir* you don't reccognize me, I'l tell you who'I am as there's no need of jurther disguise. You knew me awhile ago as Sabina Bandy.” “Zounds!” cried Benraymond, ‘that is prepos- terous! ridiculous! such a deception is impossible, | sir!’ “Tt might be in any one but Ichabod Flea,” the: stranger went on; “and I'll admit it’s gitting the business down fine for a-man to go gallavantin" around in female apparel, but you see we detectives: have to resort to all kinds of trickery in order to trick the tricker. Moreover, you see I’ve the beard- less face—never a hair grew on it—and the voice full of feminine sweetness to play the wronged wife toa deemonstration and success which Ive did for years off and on. Stranger, if you don’t b’lieve me, can show you my female attire.” “ Waugh!” suddenly exclaimed Sparrowhawk, gliding from the bushes hard by, a savage grin on his dusky face, “‘he tell truth—me see him take off squaw dress—make bonnet all up into dot on he head—waugh! he hcap much durn cheat—he fraud —he! he! he!”’ This evidence was enough for Benraymond, and despite the dangers that surrounded them the re- cluse could not repress a smile at the Indian's facetious remarks. “Well, Mr. Flea,’ he said, ‘Vl have to accept Sparrowhawk's evidence, but it doesn’t seem possi- ble that such deception could be practiced. But why did you throw off your disguise?” “No particular need of it ncw, and seeing you were likely to have some fighting to do, I wanted to take a hand in it and didn't want to take too much advantage of a female’s attire.” “You confounded rascal!” exclaimed the Boy Giant, coming from the cabin, he and the girls hav- ing overheard the whole_cf the conversation be- tween Benraymond and Flea; “I’ve a notion to chuck you into the lake. Such a monumental de- ceptio.! You played the wronged and heart: broken wife so superbly that I shed tears of pity for Ichabod Flea broke into a fit of hearty laughter, and but for the knowledge cf approaching danger, all would have enjoyed the little detective’s quaint and humorous revelations, stories of himself and the character he assumed. By this time the raft of the enemy was not over eighty rods away, and so every moment now was precious. Baby Sam and Penraymond did not make known tc their fricnds the details of their plans of defense but they inspired the breasts of the maidens witk the assuranée of their ability to cope with the foe. Most of Benraymond’s effects were carried ovei to the south end of the fixed island, the remova’ ane made under coyer of the floating island whick st between the other and the approaching raft This done, the maidens were conducted to the same lace, and then, while Sparrowhawk and Ichaboc Mea kept watch upon the foe, Benraymond and the Boy Giant entered the cabin and closed the door be hind them. In the center ef the room they placed the can o! giant powder and _ piled around it a heap of the re cluse’s quartz collections.,. The muzzle of .a zirto loaded only with powder was then inserted in the can and fasten d there, To the trigger of the pisto a long string was tied. the other end of which was carried to the door of the cabin, and substituted for the latch-string with which the door was opened. This done er. left the cabin with. door closed about a foot of the fatal strixg banging out. The one serviceable canoe on the island was now taken around to the south side of the fixed island with the understanding that, in case they failed in defeating the foe on the little floating island, Ben- raymond was to take the girls in the boat and flee. while Baby Sam, Ichabod Flea and Sparrowbawk were.to take to the water and swim for life. By this time the. enemv’s raft was not over a hun- dred yards away, and so Benraymond sent his three male friends to. the fixed island while he remained to watch the craft. He took up a position behind the cabin, and before the raft was within fifty yards of the island, a voice on board called out: “Ho there, stranger!” Bepraymond made no reply. * Hullo there, stranrer!’ again called the voice. **What’s wanted?’ cuswered Benraymond, in a clear, ringing \ oiee, ‘* Your unconditional surr nder,’’ was the reply. “Who are you that makes that demand?” asked Benraymond, “*You'll find out to your bitter sorrow, Warren Hanover, if you raise a band against me or mv ee 1 give you two minutes in which to surren- er. A eens smile passed over the face of Benray- oe , and he involuntarily grasped the sword at his side. ; “You will have to take me dead if you take rhe," he finally replied, then he turned, and, keeping un- der cover of the cabin, hurried over.and join iy Sam on the other island. .. Again the voice on the raft shouted something that was not understood. : : ; Severe moments of the dgepest silence now fol- owed. ‘ ; ’ -
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The Boy Giant and Benraymond stood in a clump of bushes near the center of the island, where they | could command a partial view of the cabin and yet not be seen. Presently a figure was seen gliding among the bushes on the floating island. It was that of an Indian, who peer d all around him and at the cabin; then he turned and went back in the direction of the raft, and a few seconds later Scott Dresden, fol- lowed by Donald Strahm, half a dozen outlaws and a dozen savages, filed around the cabin and stopped in front. of it. * Hullo, in there!’ Dresden demanded, but he re- ceived no answer, and with an oath he advanced cautiously, and rapped upon the door with the butt of his revolver, Baby Sam and Benraymond involuntarily drew back and half crouched in the bushes. **By the etern-1!” they heard Dresden say, “I don’t believe there’s a soul inside of this hut.”’ ‘Open the door and go in,” commanded Donald Strahm, in an imperative tone; ‘‘don’t you see the latch-string’s out?” “Down, Sam!” whispered Benraymond, é¢xcited- ly, and the next instant they were lying flat upon their faces, for they knew the awful crisis was com- ing. CHAPTER XIV, A FEARFUL EXPLOSION. Scarce.y had Baby Sam and goagy ogg thrown themselves on the ground, when the very earth seemed to burst asunder and the heavens to fall with arocr and crash that vivaled the thunderbolts of Jove, The two men were fairly stunned by the awful concussion, and for several moments lay as if dead, while dirt, boughs and de/7is of every descrip- tion rained dowa upon aod around them, compleie- ly burying them under. The shrubbey on the island bent to the earth as if in the fury of a hurricane, and the island itself rocked as if by an earthquake. Digging their way from under the dirt and bushes, Baby ous smoke pane over and around them that was almost impenetrable, and fairly suffocating with its stifling fumes. But asmart breeze finally swept it away, and the two exchanged glances, terror being depicted upon the face of Benraymond. ‘By the smoke of judgment! this is more than we fi-ured on,” said Baby Sam. “My God, I shoul reymond. ‘Just look around us at the ruin and desolation.” Overhead the trees were torn and stripped of their foliage and the boughs broken and blackened. Not a single log of the recluse’s cabin, or the raft upon which the floating island had been constructed, was to be seen, and all that part of the island upon which they stood, from the northerly extremity to within ten feet of them, had been swept clean of vegetation, andeven a part of the island itself was blownaway. The lake still ran wild with angry waves that were black with d«bris. Not an outlaw er an Indian could be seen anywhere. The destruc- ti nofthe foe seemeito kave been terrible in its completeness. ‘Sam, my boy,” Benraymond finally went on, ‘if we’d been ten feet closer we'd have been litled.” ‘No doubt of it, sir,” replied the Boy Giant; ‘I thought once I was dcad—bu’sted wide open; but I yonder how the girls stood the ; hock?—there goes Sparrowhawk and the li tle detective— Say, this way, men—how are the girls?” c * All right’ answered Ichabod Flea, while Spar- rowhawk, turning, giided back to tell the girls of Sam/’s and ‘Benraymond’s safety; ‘it made us all hounee, though, I tell you,” the detective continued; “Vd smile if we wer’n’t badly concussed. Great Jerusalem crickets! I thought the whole infernal regions had bu’sted, And I see’d red-skins and out- laws go straddling up into the clouds of heaven in every shape; and the way cabin, logs, trees, dirt, stones and water flew was a caution to the oldest eyser. * Well, I think that rids the eart’) of some of your enemies, Mr. Benraymond,”’ said Baby Sam. ‘**T hope so,”’ replied the -recluse, ‘‘ for God knows Thave suffered enough at the bands of that man Yenwick, and now—’ Further speech was here cut short by a low, agonized groan issuing from the brush ou the west side of the island, ‘*By heavens! some one of them is alive!” ex- claimed Flea. ; ‘* Let us see,’’ said Benraymond, “ for no creature, be it ev rso vile, if it is helpless, shail want for my help.” They searc’:ed the undergrowth, and true enough found the burned and blackened body of a man still living. His face was black as night, cut and bleed- ing. Most of his clothing-was torn off of him, and as Baby Sam: approached him and spoke, he lifted his face, and in agony shrieked out: *T am blind! blind)” “Yes, you are badly hurt,” replied Sam, kindly, * Yes, and I pray you will shoot me! Lam dying of agony—I am blind—oh, quick! kill me!” and he clutched wildly at space. “ By the kissin’ Judas}’’ exclaimed Ichabod Flea aside to Benraymond, “that wretch is Donald Strahm!”’ “Ah!” exclaimed Benraymond, with a start, a strange light burning in his eyes “then he has been spared to know that-he is to die from his own sins!” He walked closer and looked down into the face but there was little there in the black and disfigured countenance resembling the once arrogant and baughty Donald Strahm, say it was!" responded Pen- | | mand the recluse found a gloom of sulpbur- | : | * No, no,” replied Baby Sam to the man’s a peal to be killed and his misery ended, ‘' 1 never strike an enemy when he is down, I'll help you through though—do what I can to alleviate your suffering.” ‘Then give me your revolver—do/” shrieked the man. **No, I cannot do that.” ‘Who are you? I’m blind—I can’t see!” “I’m Baby Sam.” **Baby Sam,” “Baby Sam! Then why don’t you end my suf- | fering? You’re as heartless with me as I was with you. Is there no one by who will kill me? Where is Warren Hanover? He will kill me—tell me, Baby Sam, where is Warren Hanover?” **Tam here, Norton Fenwick,” replied the recluse. ‘‘Ha! that old voice!” exclaimed the wounded man; " thatis his—the man Ihave pursued War- ren. I do not ask your mercy—I cannot-—kill me— | kill me!” ‘*No, I will not, Fenwick; I will help to care for you—nurse you back to health and strength,” re- plied Benraymond. The wounded man groaned in his agony, then, as | if suddenly becoming delirious, he called out: - “Dresden! Dresden! where are you?” ** He’s dead, Fenwick,” said Baby Sam. ‘Dead? What killed him? What happened? What crushed my body so and blinded me?” the man asked, Benraymond dispatched Sparrowhawk for a blanket, upon which the wounded man was placed and carried to the interior of the grove. Then, de- opte his protestations and his begging to be let alone to die, water was brought atid his body washed and bathed and his wounds bandaged. After this treatment he became easier, and his groans and cries finally ceased, though his suffering was intense Se oa Flea finally took Baby Sam aside and said to him: **Sam, that man’s bound to cie,and we ought to haye a confession from him before he goes off. And by all means Kit Bandy should be here.” “T can bring him here, I think, in a few hours,” replied the Boy Giant. ‘I left him in ‘camp not over four or five miles from hcre yesterday evening, and will start at once.” * All right, I will stay by Strahm, and when he be- comes easier will endeavor to draw him out,’’ said the detective. Baby Sam told the rest of his friends of his inten- | tions of going ashore, and, having borrowed Ben- | raymond’s revolvers and canoe, he tock his d- par- ture, Wilma end Sarah stood by the shore and watched him as he glided over the now trazquil waters of the lake, Benraymond and Ichabod Flea watched by the side of the suffering Strahm. The former looked upon him in his blindness and misery with a stern look of mingled pity and disdain, but Flea kept up a sort of random conversation, An hour nearly bad _ passed since Baby Sam’s de- parture, when suddenly a scream was heard at the Jower end of the island. It came from the lips of one of the girls, and, hurrying down to where they stood, Wilma pointed out over the lake excitedly, saying: ¥ Oh Mr. Benraymond! look, the Indians are after Sam!” Looking in the direction indicated, Benraymond saw two canoes filled with savages in-swift pursuit of the Boy Giant, They had put outfrom a couple of small islands, between which the young mount- nineer had passed, and, as the savages wer: between the boy and_his friends, there was no returning to the island. His only show lay in outdistancing the foe and reaching the shore, but from where bis friends stood it looked cs though kis pursuers were close upon him. “The red devils,”’ said Flea, ** were concealed there to cut off the retreat of the folks from the island, here, in case they fled from the approach of the raft. But the raft, oh, where is it?’ ‘‘Mr. Benraymond, do you think they will catch Sam?” asked Wilma, with tremulous lips, ‘*My child, I cannot say—l hope not,’ “They'll have a lively time if they do, and don’t you neglect it,” put in Fiea; ‘I tell you that boy’s made of the best mettle." The distance between Baby Sam and the foe, how- ever, was greater than it, appeared to those on the island, and was momentarily being widened. The Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone. a ‘‘A little short.” the youth mused, “ but I'll be about right now,” and again he brought the weapon | to bear on the foe. | This time the deadly bullet went home, and a fay- age sunk lifeless inthe boat, But before his friends could scarcely realize the terrible fact, for they were still four hundred yards from the shore, and a shot at that distance seemed a miracle, trey saw another puff of smoke on shore, they heaid the “spat” of a bullet, and another fmend fell lifeless. **Oh, you red fools!” exclaimed the ycungtarp- shooter to himself, *‘! can do that allcay. I’ve got the range now,” i The two canoes ran alongside each other and came toastand. Their occupants seemed to enter intoa council, and while this was going cn Faby Sam sent another ounce-ball of lead on its deadly mission, and as he saw a paddle in the hands of a red-skin thrown intv the air, he burst into a peal of silent laughter, a - i sf smoke! I never had so much fun in my life,” he soliloquized, “ and T’d give afisk-hook if Old Kit Bandy was here to see how I slap—”’ : ‘By the horn of Joshua! I am here,” s id a voice, stepping from the opposite side of the tree, and turning, Baby Sam found his wish fully gratified, for Kit Bandy stood before him. ** Where did you come from, Kit?’ the boy asked, apparently a little perplexed at being overheard thinking aloud. | | That won’t wor Indian’s.canoes were loaded to their utmost capac- | ity, and despite the fact of there being two paddles to each, the Boy Giant soon found that he had little to fear, for the time being, frem his savage pur- suers. And when he found he was safe enough, he took a kind of defiant delight in letting them gain upon him a little, then pulling out @gain. In this way the chase continued for fully two miles, and as the shore cf the mainland was now but a mile away. the fearless young mountaineer bent to his work and finally reached it half a mile in advance of the savages. Dragging hig canoe onto the beach he turned and glided into the woods which, at this point, were quite dense. Not far from the shore he stopped, and, reaching into a hol- low tree, drew therefrom his rifle and cartridge-belt that he had left there the night before when be swam to the rescue of Sabina Bandy ard Sarah Marshall. ‘‘Now, then,”’ the fearless young giant mused, “T’m at home, and woe to them red-skins.” He advanced to the edge of the woods, and measuring the distance to the foremost savage canoe, adjusted the sight, and then resting the wea- | Kit Bandy, Henry Rodman and Old Spokane Joe. pon against the side of a tree, took aim and fired. The ball cnt the water just in front of the boat, boy, only when it misses. But say, them Ingins are / ‘From right around that tree. I see’d you land, boy, get your gun, send a ranger over the water, then pop it o them. You're a daisy, boy, on the shoot—nighly as good as Lused to be when my eye- sight reached out like yours, But say, boy, where you bin?” Baby Sam told him in a few brief words. “ Know anything of the girls yet?" ** Both are safe on the island with Benraymond,”’ ‘*Gal-ory!’’ shouted the old- detective; “‘ did you rescue ‘em, boy?” *T helped.” “Say, do you know what it wasthat bu’sted over on the lake about eleven o’clock to-day? ‘it was Benraymond blowing up bis floating island with Scott Dresden, Donald Strahm and their min- ions aboard of it.” ** You don’t tell me!” “Yes, and every mother’s son of them was blown out of existence éxcept Donald Strahm, and he lays blind, bleeding and dying on the island. Ichabod Flea sent me over here after you.” ; “Ichabod Flea? Then he’s got around. eh?” and Bandy’s eyes sparkled; “but say, do you know any- thing of my wife, Sabina?” “Oh, get out, you old scoundrel!” said Baby Sam, with a laugh; “ youand your old woman are frauds. any longer, Kit; Sabina gave the thing away.” ‘Hal ha! ba!’ roared Old Kit; “‘haydoogins of times have we fooled the sharpest o' folks that way. And.-so the gals are safe, and Dresden’s dead, and Strahm’s dying? Well, well, I told the boys to-day when I heard a roarin’ in my left ear that 1 war goin’ to hear some good news—it’s a sign that never fails, comin’ this way again. Excuse me for distarbin’ your matinee,’ — A few more well-directed shots sert the surviving savages back into the lake, when Old Kit Bandy said: “P]l run to camp, Sammy, tell the folks where I’m going and the gocd news from over the water. 1.1 be back in an hour,” So saying, the old detective took his departure, and Baby Sam remain d to guard his canoe. Meanwhile night was approaching, and thee on the island were passing the moments in doubt and uncertainty. Wilma paced the shore of the lake. ever watching out over the water through her tears forthe cc ming of her boy lover—praying for his safety and safe re- turn to her. About sunset she was joined by Mr. Benraymond who, after he had sp: ken some kind words of encouragement to her, said: ‘Wilma, I hope you will pardon me for introduc- ing the subject when you are feeling so bad, but I have just been talking with Detective Flea, and from him tase I learned that this man, Strabm, now lying on this isle, has been endeavoring to ki¢nap ycu, and for that purpose came into. this valley.” “Why me. any more than Sarah, Mr. Benray- mond?” the maiden asked. 2 “You seem to be in bis way more particularly than Sarah.”’ “What? Iin Donald Strahm’s way?” “Yes: I pee 09 are ignorant of your past life, child—your birth.” 4 Wilma-started and turned pale. Looking up into Benraymond’s face she replied: “Mr, Benraymond, there is nothing in my past life that Iam ashamed of, and while I—” The dip of a paddle fell upon her ears, and turn- ing her head she saw a canoe with four occupants + over the water through the gathering twi- ight. The two listened, They could hear voices, and suddenly Wilma exclaimed: “Oh. T ean hear the voice of Sam!” ‘Halt!’ who comes there?’ the piping voice of Ichabod Flea suddenly called out. “Oh, git away over there with your racket, Ich- abod Flea, or, by the horn of Josbua, Ill salt you!” was the reply that came from the boat “Old Kit. by Jeerusalem crickets!" declared the little detective. The next minute the boat landed, and Baby Sam. stepped upon the island amid glad shofits and crieg of Toy. ;
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so BRR or . Een Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone. CHAPTER XV, DONALD STRAHM’S CONFESSION. For several moments there was general rejoicing on the island, and no one was happier than Wilma when she saw her father and lover before her alive and well; and Sarab Marshall seemed to share ber | joy with her, though there was one whose presence would have filled her young breast with supreme happiness, and that wes Frank Rodman, who had r: mained ashore with Professor Drood, for the canos would not cerry them all. Bardy and Rodman were introd ced to Benray- mond, the latter and Spokane Joe having met before, as the reader will well remember, “They tell me,” said Old Kit to Benreymond, “that you’ve bern blowing up a lot of cuilaws and red-skins to-day.” “Yes, we had to upon the principle that self- preservat on is the first law of nature.” “*A good law, a good law, sir,’ said the old detec- tive, ‘* but is that man Strahm still living?” ** He’s barely alive.” “1s he conscious?” “Yes; I will take you in where he lies." Bandy fcllowed the man into the grove where Strahm lay upon a blanket, breathing heavily. Fenwick,” said Benraymond, ‘here is a man who wants to see you. He just arrived.” “Who is-it?” ask. d the wounded man. “Kit Bandy.” “Ah!” Strahm exclajmed, with a start, * Kit Bandy, the detective— Big Horn, the renegade. You layed your cards well, Bandy, but death ‘ll soon et me out, I hope. But what do you want to see me about, Bandy?” ‘“‘T’ve a warrant for your arrest.” ** A warrant for me? for what?” ** attempted murder,” “Attempted murder? of whom?” wretch gasped. “Mrs. Ann Kirby.” “*My Go! is she not dead?” “No, your bullet failed to do its work, and she lives.”’ ** Where is she now?” ** At Denver.” **] am glad to hear it—hear that shelives. I con- fess that I attempted to kill her, and the deed has haunted me more than all the rest of my sins.” “Then your sins are many?’ cbserved Bandy. ‘* Most of my life has been one of constant wrong, and all have been directed against Warren Hano- ver,”’ ‘Otherwise Aaron Benraymond,” added Kit. or 4. Fd Benraymond bit his lip and his brows contracted, but be said never a word, “What reason had you for sinning against Han- cover?” the old detective questioned. “He took from me the woman I loved—that would have ma@e me wealtby and independent and ha poy sie “You loved her more for her wealth than aught else, didn’t you?” Perhaps I did, but, be that as it may, I lost her, nnd now have lost ail—even my own life is soon to ‘What are you in this country for, when your homes in England?’ att was here in search cf Warren Hanover's ecbiid, ‘**Do you know how that child came here?” “Yes, yes, I know all, Bandy, and I know what you serk to know, Ihave no objection to tell you ail, for Lfear no punishment on earth, and if what I may confess will lead to the bon or or of those I liave wronged, my punishment in the great here- affer may be somewnat less. Give me a sup of water, will you?” : His request was granted, then Old Spokane Joe aud Henry man were sent for to hear the man’s confession. ‘In the first place,’ began Donaid Strahm, or, yore properly, Norton Fenwick, “‘ after the death o: Hanover's wife, her child stood between me and the fortune to which I'd been heir had Constance Han- over, who was my cousin, died childless, To get that child out of my way was the work I had before me, aud when Warren. went abroad to travel, I per- snaded Mrs. Ann Kirby, who had charge of the child, to come to America. A few months after- ward I came over also, and going to her, demanded the child and got it, telling her I was going to return to England with it. Put instead of doing so I took the child West a long ways and left it with a settler and his wi‘e, and—”’ “What war the settler’s name?” iuterposed Old Kit. ; “Jack Prunty. Well; it scems Mrs. Kirby mis- trusted me, and, disguised in male attire, followed me to Omaha, where we bcth took rcoms. In the morning se called me into her room and upbraided me for what 1’d done, when I drew my revolver and shot her, left the weapon et ber side and w nt back to my own room unobserved, but ina few minutes after tock my Gepartwure East. The next day I read of the suicide of a strang- rn med Bates—the name under which she registered—at the Cozzens House in Omaha, and went on my wayrejoicing. At that time I had a friend }ivirg in the West who'd been my college chum in England, but having killed a man in a guarrel escaped to America and assumed the name of Scott Dresden, Being a wild, wayward fellow, ke socn became associ*ted with men and not only became an outlaw but an outlaw Jead- er. Imet bim by appointment et Omaha. To bim I confided the secret ¢f the child and engaged him to steal it away from Prunty and destroy it or carry it to some remote Indian village so that it would be lost sight of entirely, But before he could accom- the miserable \ plish this Jack Prunty had pulled up stakes and with others started on turther west. Determined to carry out his promise, Scott led a band of In- dians and outlaws down upon the emigrant train, determined to kill and capture all. ‘Most all were killed, and among the number were seyera] small | children, and Scott never drcamed but that Prunty and the child bad fallen. I happened, however, that several years went by before the fortune for which I was planning went into the hands of the court to be settled on the next nearest of kin, I | had not a doubt but that it would be turned over to me, but to my surprise some one filed a caveat ask- ing tire court to withhold a settlement of the estate on me, for the reason that he believed the child cf Constance Hanover was still living in Am«rica, and could be produced. The decision of the court was that five years would be given to hunt vj the child of Constance Hanover, and if she could not be found in that time, the presumption of the court would be that she—the child—was dead. “*I could nct imagine*how such an impression got out unless Scott Dresden had played a double game, and as my fortune depended on the caild Irene never being found, I started at once for America and found Scott in Sitting Bull’scamp. I told him of the impression that the child was still alive. He told me then that a Mrs. Phebe Conners, who'd been taken captive at the time of the massacre. had told him that it was her belief that Jack Prunty and the child did escape on horseback, but that he did not believe her story. I made up my mind then that it was through that same Phebe Conners that the idea got out of the child being alive, and I presume now Mrs. Kirby must have met her also.” “That's it. exactly,” said OldKit; “but pardon my interruption.” ‘Having some four years yet to wait before I could inherit the fortune, I resolved to put in the time hunting for the child. I did not expect to know her, for she was, if living, some fourteen years of age. But I hoped to learn through the settlers enough of her to make her identity certain. Scott Dresden volunteered to assist me, and for three years we have been at work searching among the settlements of the West, and about three months ago lI was in the Gallatin valley and there met a young girl whom I knew at sight must be Irene Han- over from her wonderful resemblance to her dead mother, I felt so well satisfied of this that I began to lay plans to get her into my power. I kept a spy in thesettlement all the while, and through him I learned of the proposed tour of four young people under Baby Sam through the Yellowstone Park. I learned all the details of their trip even to their visit to Mary’s Lake, and it was there that T had ar- ra: ged to get the girl into my power, and succeeded but was afterward thwarted through you, Kit Ban- dy, and the Boy Giant.” “Then that girlis Wilma Rodman,” said the de- tective. “Yes,” answered Fenwick. ‘“* The jig’s up with us, Henry,” said Old Spokane, in a whi: per to Rodmaw,. ‘*Go on, Fenwick,” said Kit. “ Well, we,” the man continued, “that is, Dres- den’s followers and a number of Indians, encamped over in the hills, and during a ramble one day I stumbled into the camp of one Professor Drood, and there I met, to my astonishment, Jack Prunty going under the name of Spokane Joe. I did pot appear to recognize him, nor did he recognize me, but we met again that evening and then I made myself known and demanded of him the whereabouts cf the child. He refused to tell. I called my friends, de- termined to take lim a prisoner and extort from him the truth, although I was more certain now than ever that Wilma man was the girl Irene. But the man resisted and a fight ensued, and just as he was overpowered a stranger came to his res- cue sword in hand and we were forced to flee with- out the hunter. That stranger, I recognized as the object of my vengeance, Warren Hanover,” * And that’s you, Aaron Benraymond,”’ said Kit. Benraymond nodded his head. “Then he is Wilma’s father, Henry,” again whis- pered Spokane. ‘**And Wilma Rodman then is your child!” the old detective again observed. ‘She must be! she must be!” the recluse Feplied with the greatest emotion; “I have thought s0, ever since I met her.” * How is it, Spokane Joe? it’s your time to speak now,” said Bandy. oi Wal, there’s no dodgin’ the question, though to lose the gal from the Gallatin,” replied Old Spokane. with a sadness in his voice, “will be to take all the sunshine outen my heart—outen the heart of Henry Rodman—outen all our hearts. Wilma Rod- man is the gal that that man left with me and my wife, and I'm Jack Prunty. After the Massacre where my wife war killed and from which I = as Mrs. Conners predicted, 1 war leftin an awful shape with the little gal baby on my hands; but I could no more think o' givin’ ber away to some one and goin’ off where I couldn't se- her, than I could think of flyin’, So I took her to the Gallatin and placed her in care of Henry Rode man and his ¢ wife. Idid not like the looks of the man thaé first left her with us, and after I'd learned to love her as I loved my own soul, it war arranged that she be called Wilma Rodman, and as I war not known in the Gallatin valley, 1 give m own name as ge e Joe, the hunter. Faia this so’s the man could never find us out by our names, ile Mr. Rodman has raised her to a lovely young lady, I have always remained near where I could see her, and look upon her as my child.” ‘* Just so,” said Old Kit, rubbing his bands in a de- lighted manner, “ this lets you out, Spokane; now, | to Matthew Hoopel and Mrs, Me Mr. Rodman, what have you to offer on the sub- ject?” at Nothing more, Kit, than to say that what Spokane has told you is true,”’ the settler answefed, _ ‘** Well, the case is a pretty clear one now,” the old detective said, “but does Wilma know the facts connected with her eventful life?” * Yes.’ answered Rodman, ‘‘all «xcept the mys- tery of her birth and babyhood previous to the day she was left at Jack Prunty’s, which was unknown to all of us up to this bour.” ‘* Well, the ends of justice have been served all around, and I'll get several thousand pounds ster: ling out of the job,’ said Old Kit, ‘ but I wonder Low that poor little gal will take the news?” ‘*She will receive it,’ said Henry Rodman. “ with a feeling of joy and relief, for tie only trouble that has ever weighed upon her mind of late years was through ‘a kind of presentiment that she was the child of a villain—ay, a murderer. Mr. Benraymond —Warren Hanover, I congratulate you, sir, upon being the father of so bright ard lovely a daughter. But as Old Spokane has said, to take her away from among us will be to throw a shadow over our hearts—over all the settlement—that will remain so long as memory lasts.” “J thank you, Ro man,” replied Benraymond, ‘for the compliment you pay me; and while it is true that I bave lived, for seventeen years, the sad- dest and lJoneliest of hyves—ever thinking of me oar wife and lost child I will not make Wilma unhappy by taking her away from her lifelong friends. Yea, ison think best, my friends, she need never know that I am her father, and I will go my way and bear my burden until life has ended with patience and fortitude.” - ““Benraymond,”’ said Rodman, half-choked with emotion, ‘* there is no nec d of your suffering longer. For your child to know you can but make her happy, and you happy, and God knows all the rest of us will be bappy.’ “Then Wilma shallbe mede happy—her every wis. gratifid |’ said the great-hearted man. Leaving Ichabod Flea to watch by the side cf Donald Strahm, the four men proceeded to where Baby Sam and the maidens were seated. “ Wilma,” said Mr. Rodman. ““Yes, father,’’ and the girl arose and came up tu where he stood * “* My child,” the settler went on, ‘you remember what Spokane and 1 have told you of your past life? of your being Jeft when a little babe with Jack Prunty and his wife?” ‘*To ke sure, father, Wilma. ‘That dying man has made a revelation,”’ ‘* What, father? what was it?” the maiden ex- claimed, half in dread of something terrible. ‘He is the man, so he and Spokaue both say, that left you with Prunty and bis wife.” « “What! that man my father?” the girl shrieked, starting back with a look of distress upon her face. “No, Wilma,"’ replied Rodman. “he is net your father, thank God, but this noble-looking man, Aaron ERenraymond, or rather Warren Hanover, i: your fathr.”’ Warren Hanover stood with bis arms folded across bis breast, his eyes fixed upon Wilma with a fond, admiring gaze, his great heart beating wildly. Wilma utt« red a little ery and glanced wildly from Henry Rodman to Hanover, and then as her eyes met those of the recluse fixed upon her she gave a wild glad cry, and running to Hanover threw her arms about his neck and burst into tears. **My father! my father!*’ she cried; ‘‘God has heard my prayers! Oh, my dear, strange father! I ps that you might prove io be my father, when lay helpless in your cabin’ “And my dcar girl, when I first looked upon your sweet face, the very image of your dead mother's, my yearning, hungering heart told me you were my child!” replied the happy father. The reunion cf father and daughter was a most af- fecting onc, every witness of the event being moved to tears. “Say, folks,’ and Ichabod Flea suddenly appear- ed from the grove, “by the J ¢-rusalem crickets! Norton Fenwick’s deader’n the mother o’ Adam!” ‘You don’t say so?” exclaimed Old Kit. “*T do—be went off as easy as a turtle off a log.” ‘*“May the Lord have mercy on his soul,’ said Warren Hanover, serious! -, ““God’s will be done,”’ added Henry Rodman, bal I remember i*,”’ reptied A week has passed, and we find those whom we have followed through the perils and wonders of Wonderland safely at home in the Gallatin valley. Warren Hanover became the guest of Henry Rod- man, while Old Kit Bandy and Ichabod Flea pushed on to Denver to report the success of their long hunt Hanover was not long in deciding his future course, and that was to remain in the Gallatin val- ley—not only as a matter of choice, but that his daughter migkt be near those with whom she had grown to womanhood, and those whom shesloved. He, however, m-de a trip to England, accompanied by Wilma, and her old nurse, Mrs. Ann Kirby; but as soon as Wilma's right had been established to her inheritance, all returned and took up their abod® in the lovely valley where they are living in the enjoy- ment of a peaceful and happy life. Baby Sam will prebably always be known by tha’ mame among those who have known him from bo,)- hood; but, be that as it may. there will never be a, braver, nobler youth in ali the land—none mc: worthy of a beautiful woman's love than he of WY" ma’s, j THRE END, 15
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