Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 136) (1880 03 02)
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Oa. ae om a V) 4 pt ttl | open ae cmmle, - I ae Allies by BEADLE AND ADAMs. March 2, 800 No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. NIGHT-HAWK KIT: o,, THE DAUGHTER OF THE RANCH. BY JOSEPH EF. BADGER, JR., AUTHOR OF “YELLOWSTONE JACK,” “‘BLACK JOHN, THE ROAD-AGENT,” ‘“ HURRICANE BILL,” “‘ MUSTANG SAM,” ETC., ETC, 5 Cents. “KTRK’S LEFT HAND CLUTCHED THE THROAT OF RO\RING SAM AND RTS PISTOL WAS LEVELED AT THE CROUCHING FORM OF YANKEE ZEKR*
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2 ‘Night-Hawk Kit: +8) The Daughter of the Ranch, BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR., AUTHOR OF ‘‘ YELLOWSTONE JACK,” ‘BLACK JOHN, THE ROAD-AGENT,” ‘‘ HURRICANE i BILL,” ETC. CHAPTER TI. “CAPTAIN KIT.” Tux sun had not long crossed the meridian, on a warm, sultry day in midsummer, something less than two decades previous to the present day. tt is-to a slightly rolling ‘ timber-prairie” that we ask tho reader’s attention. ‘his prairie extended for some distance along one of the eonfines of the river Brazos, and was covered with a dense growth of flowers and tall grasses, though scattered in irregular patches. One passing down the stream, with it on his right hand could distinguish before him an abrupt ranze of hills, rough and precipitous, at apparently four or five miles’ distance. They d dark and forbidding, being thickly cov- ered with evergreens and parasite plants. From behind one of these “‘ timber-islands” or mottes alluded to, role a single horseman, with front toward the hills. Both the steed and equestrian were such as would have called forth _ more than a passing glance, although both bore traces of long and arduous travel. The young man—for he did not seem to have numbered more than five or six and twenty years of age—was of an uncommon symmetrl- cal build; tall and athletic, with limbs that, yet im proportion, were seemingly possessed of more than common strength and activity. His hair was worn long and slightly curling, his eyebrows were black and heavy as twin arcs of velvet, arching his brows, beneath which burned a pair of richly-tinted hazal eyes, large, full and expressive. is complexion was a rich wing bro and a heavy mustache and d covered the lower portion of his face. A slouched felt hat rested upon his head, and his garments were an admixture of the ranger oi ranchero type, picturesque and comfort- Balanced across the saddle before him was a short, richly-ornamented rifle of heavy caliber, and from the belt at his waist pecees the silver- mounted butts of a knife and brace of revol- vers. The horse he bestrode was evidently a mus- tang, but yet of unusual size and beauty. Naturally a deep beating chestnut, his smooth coat was now darkened, by sweat and dust, to an alm st blackness. A small ‘‘ blaza” in tho forehead, and one white stocking, were all the distinguishing marks about bim. “Come, old fellow,” muttered the rider, tight- eninz the bridle reins afid speaking to the steed. “We must hurry up. The boys will ba impa- tient. We are behind time, now. Slightly pricking his steed’s flanks with the spur, the horseman dashed over the prairie ata rapid gait, sitting his animal so gracefully that he seemed born to the saddle. A few minutes of this, then he drew a small roll from his breast, and, unfurling, held it aloft over his head. It was a small me with a white star imprint- ed in the center, and bearing a peculiar cipher inthe corner. After waving this to and fro for a minute, the rider replaced it in his breast and then dashed on direct toward a peculiar-looking From the center of this island, and far over- ig the rest, rose three bare objects, not un- the naked masts of a ship, clearly outlined nst the be wing rein when atthe very edge of this ehump, the horseman uttered a shrill, peculiar wast. Almost like an echocame an answer- sound from the timber, and then one man vanced upon foot to meet the stranger. “We war e jing you;.cap’n; leastwise we was a man. ut you look mighty young fer gech a place,” spoke the new-comer, as he ga’ scrutinizing y at the horseman. Do I? But look—here are the signs; the ‘flag, the whistle, the grip; then look in this corner. Yousee thecipher? Well—does it cor- ow ?’ at the same time he handed forth the or “Tt’s the one—an’ you hev t’others all right. Then you’re Cap’n—” “Captain Kit—yes,” laughed the young man. by But are the boys bere—aud how many are meso?” > ~ Nicht-Uawk Kit. “’Leven—with me. T’others’r out on a rdid. We number forty—all told.” “Can they be depended upon?” sg yer life! J picked ’em,” was the proud reply. e Are they brave? and will they obey or- ders without asking questions until the work is done?” ‘“Ef they won't, then swaller me up in a sand-storm! Ef you—or me—was to bring ’em face to face with the devil hisself, an’ shake a finger at him, any one on the cusses ’d up an’ go through him like'a dose o’ salts!” ‘*Good! but they’ll never be tried so hard. The Old Boy is by far too good a friend of ours for that,” laughed the young man; a clear, glee- some’ laugh that ill accorded with his words. ‘*‘ But lead on, I wish to seé them myself. I can tell better then what to dépend upon.” “They’re rigbt in hyar, anxious for a squint at thar new boss. Better ‘light. It’s rather clus ridin’ through this ’ere brush.” The captain dismounted and followed his uide; a burly, hairy-faced, rough-looking man, dressed in a nondescript garb, and armed until he resembled a walking arsenal. A few mo- ments brought them to a small glade-like open- ing, surrounding the three dead trees, thet form- ed a landmark for miles around. In this spot were collected a half-score of men and horses, the former rudely dressed, but su- perbly arméd, and who arose from their careless attitudes as the two a peared. “Boys, this is the boss you’ve heard about— ae Kit.” he parties thus briefly introduced gazed steadily at each other for several moments, as if they would read there what to expect for the future. Then he who had given his name as ** Kit,” spoke: “ Boys, I am glad to see you, and to find that what this man has told me isthe truth. He said that I could depend upon you in every thing. He was surprised because I was no older, and I can see that some of you think thesame. But do not go altogether by that. Young shoulders often bear old heads. You can test me before long, and then, if found wanting, and -there is any one that you like better, I am willing to abdicate in his favor. “Asa token that I will not be neglectful of your interests, I will tell you how you each can make a pretty sum, by nightfall. There will be no risk, either, though I know that would make no difference to you. Will you do it?” ‘*' Yes!” was the general cry. ‘“*Good! Had you asked what it was, first, I should have told you to find out for your- selves. I want no half-way trust. There must be only one voice—one captain of the band I command. But listen. There is a man—a cat- tle-drover from Louisiana—who left Nacogdo- ches at the same time i did. I had quite a tall with him and found out that he was intending to buy up a drove, and had the hard cash to ay for them. By my advice he is comin ere, to buy of the farmers at the Bluffs. kept trace of him, and he will be along here be- fore many hours. We canstop him, and once securing his gold, can dispose of him as the ma- jority votes. ‘* How do you like it?” There was a general chorus of approval, and the outlaws—for such they evidently were— seemed highly pleased. The majority, but not all. One of the number, a small, slight-built man with a most villainous countenance, muttered to his neighbor and then doce doubtingly at Captain Kit. That worthy’s eagle glance did not miss this, and leveling one finger to indicate his meaning, he said: “ You fellow—step out bere and tell me what you are growling at? It don’t sound well, my ote friend, and besides, it is a very unhealthy bit. I have known more than one good-look- ing fellow—like yourself, for instance—to go off very suddenly from its effects.” The man stepped forward boldly enough, but stood before the stranger with a sullen, down- cast look. ‘* What is your name?” “‘ Cock-eyed Smatters.” “A nice name to sleep with! What was it A told that man?’ sternly added Captain it. ‘“- Yer name—that’s all.” ‘« He has ears—he must have heard it for him- self. I spoke loud enough.” “Your t?other name, I mean.” ‘“My—what? Idon’t understand you. Speak out plain.” “Wal, you say you come from Nacogdoches. J sep’ you this mornin’ !” ee? oC ee “You did? I must doubt that, my man. It is not every horse that can cover so much ground as mine has done to-day. But what do you mean? Are you drunk? ‘“No, I ain’t; I mean that I see’d you this mornin’, over nigh Pierson’s ranch. I mean that you be none other than Kirk Dalton, herder to the ol’ Judge.” ** You are a fool—or crazv. I know no such person as you mention. I have not been in this neighborhood for over a year,” angrily cried the , captain, nervously fingering a revolver at his belt. “Smatters ain’t to blame, cap’n,” interposed the man who had advanced to meet the new- comer. “Fer you’re the puffect image o’ the boy he names. I more’n hafe b’lieved you was him, at first. But in co’se it cain’t be.” “Am I so much like him, then?’ ‘*So much so, that ef he was hungry, an’ ’d chaince to see you, he’d be puzzled to know which mouth to stick the grub inter! ‘He would 80 Pr P ‘¢ Well, we will talk this over hereafter. Now I want you to get.in a line and give me your names, so I can put them on the list, and an- swer whatever questions 1 may ask you.” This request, or rather order, was promptly obeyed. Probably not two of the eleven gave the name they had heen christened by—suppos- ing they had ever undergone that ceremony— but those they did give, were at least significant, and fully answered the purpose. Among them were nem-de querres that were then, or have since become, notorious upon the Texan border. The names of men who, in a better cause would have been called heroes, but who were demons in this. ’ There were Old Mose, Bob Rattlesnake, (so called from his restless eyes, that when excited fairly emitted magnetic sparks, or glared like those of an angry cat in the dark,) Uncle Buck, Yankee Zeke, Corneracker, and others who may be introduced as we proceed. This done, one of the band was ordered to climb a tree and keep a close look-out for the expected drover, and then the others composed themselves to careless waiting. The sun sunk -behind the horizon, and the gray shades of twi- light were ss over the earth, ere the wel- come cry came from the tree-top, causing all below to spring to their feet in eagerness. “ Thar he comes!” Captain Kit cautioned his men to keep silent, and advanced to the edge of the motte. Gnozing out for a few moments, he made out the form of a single herseman approaching the tin ber island, and from the expected direction. Al- though quite dusk, he did not doubt but what this was the drover he bad decoyed hither to suffer robbery, if not death. Returning to the glade, he said, gayly: ‘“Well, boys, it’s our game. don’t think he’ll show fight, but if he does, leave him to me. It is two weeks since I drew bead on a Jive man. But wait until I give the word. No need of standing a chase when we can manage without.” The unsuspecting horseman drew near at a slow trot, his horse evidently jaded by a lon day’s ride. When he was within a hvndre ards of the motte, eas Kit rede forth and eisurely approached the traveler, followed by outlaws. The stranger abruptly drew rein and threw forward his rifle, as he peered keenly through the fast-gathering glcom. But then, as if reas- sured, he gave free rein aud rode forward. “Hallo, old man, which way?” cried Captain Kit, in a clear, mellow voice. “het you, Kirk? You gin me quite a skeer, a-ridin’ out on a feller thet a-way. What's 4 thet you’ve got sech a crowd wi’ you—av’ fee a gang, too!” he added, suspiciously , as the out- laws came nearer. ‘‘ A thousand furies!” cried Captain Kit, an- grily. ‘‘ This is not our game!” ‘«Tt’s old Josh Crane!” - “Yas, Mister Robert Rattlesnake, uire, it ar’ old Uncle Josh. An’ s’posin’ ’tis? The raries is free, I reckon, to all as notions to feainp ’em. But you, Kirk: I didn’t think ever to see you in sech a pesky crowd,” added the old man, in a reproachful tone. He was a picturesque-looking personas °, then and there, seen in the dim twilight, seated upon his jaded but fiery mustang. His figure looked gigantic, outlined against the Jess opaque sky. Six feet in his moccasins, Joshua Crane was built in proportion.. Great as was his weight— over two hundred pounds—there was nothin but good solid flesh, bone and muscle in his gi- gantic frame. He carried his half century as well as many of half the number cf years. Brave as a lion, yet gentle as a woman, he
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=—_—_— = + i . see’d the day that Kirk Dalton ’d : word o’ Josh Crane, to his very face. ' sad change; I can’t understand it.” strike in and | I | this long had I tried. Carvie, I — was loved and hated, feared ‘and ag for hundreds of miles around. Loved by honest eople; hated by rogues and scoundrels, <A ee. and faithful friend, ho was a bitter and unrelenting enemy. Naturally peaceful, he had yet been forced to leave a trail behind him, marked with blood. An attack was mado upon his cabin, but the outlaws fled, leaving three of their number dead upon the ground. Since then he had not been disturbed. **Who is this man?’ demanded the outlaw leader of his followers. “An’ you ax thet, Kirk Dalton? Ax who Uncle Josh is?’ eried Crane, in a tone of great surprise, mingled with reproach, “T don’t know you—l am not Kirk Dalton.” “T don’t know why you shed try to deny our namo, lad. It ain’t like’ you. No more’n tis your keepin’ comp’ny with sech as Old Moss an’ Rattlesnake, thar’. But my eyes is still good. I couldn’t forgit you ef I tried, Kirk.” “You won’t believe me?) Very well, then; so be it! Since you seem to think so much ot me, Uncle Josh, perhaps you'll be so kind as to givo mo a promise,” retorted Captain Kit. “Ef Ikin, Iwill I’ve al’ays bin you fr’end, Kirk, an’ I shed hate mightily to hev to change my pinion this late in the day, but take the old man’s advice, boy, an’ steer cl’ar of those ras- cals as you’re with.” “Look hyar, Uncle Josh,” angrily cried Rat tlesnake, his 5 be flashing with a strange, dead- ly glare. ‘‘ You’d best remember whar you air, an’ keep a civil tongue in yer old head. You mought chaince to git a bullit through it fer ou. * An’ you, mister hoss-thief, mind what J say. T niver yit see the time as I was afeard o’ sech scum as you be, an’ it’s too late to begin now. You needn't finger your pistil. Afore you could raise the cock, I’d plug ye, fr’ends or no fr’ends. You know me—ef you don’t, jist make another call at my shanty!” sternly retorted Crane, half-raising his rifle. i ‘* Hold!” cried Captain Kit, spurring his horse between the disputants. “Keep your temper, Rattlesnake, and you, old man, drop our gun. If there’s any shooting to be done ere to-night, I’ll do it.” “Have your will, boy,” cried Crane, slowly uncocking his rifle. ‘‘ I’m a peaceable critter when they don’t rub the wrong way 0’ the fur. But ef Lam old, I don’t "low nobody to spit in my face, and then rub it in.” ‘Well, we'll let that drop. You shall not be hurt if you will give me a simple promise not to tell anybody of what you have seen and heard this night, for the next two weeks. Then you may use your own judgment. Will you do it:” “You talk mighty queer, Kirk, Sounds ’s though you was tryin’ to skeer the old man. I thought you knowed me betier’n thet.” “Tam not trying to scare you. I only wish ou to promise me this. I have good ‘reason or it, as you may find out before long. I want this little ride kept secret fora bit. More than all from Pierson.” “ Wal, I don’t see what you’re drivin’ at, lad, but I reckon I kin trust you. So fer two weeks from this night, I won’t teil ary pusson—not even Hepsy—that I met you hyar.” “Me nor the others?” “Them too, ef you say so,” ‘Very well. Now you can ride on, I wish you a very good-night, Uncle Josh,” laughed the outlaw leader, in a peculiar tone, ““Won’t you come ’long, too, Kirk? ’Tain’t right fer sech as you to be a-ridin’ the ken over ’th sech trash as them, Come, go ‘long ’t the old man an’ let’s talk this over,” urged Crane. “Sorry to disoblige you, uncle, but really must decline your invitation. {[ have more im- portant business on hand. But remembar your promise.” ‘*T do ’member it, but I never thought to ’a’ | “ Don’t try to, then. It might injure you. Good-night.” **Good-nizht be it, then, sence you won't | take a fr’end’s advice,” and Joshua Crane rode slowly away, not once turning his head to glance at those he left behind him } | There was a grieved expression on his homely —_— Night-Hawk Kit. such men as Rattlesnake, Old Mose, and the | others, conan | of whom were known outlaws and desperadoes, pained his heart still deeper. As he said, it was a sad change. CHAPTER IL. KIRK DALTON. Ir was an hour or so before sunset, upon the day next succeeding that with which our story opens. As then, the scene is the wooded prai- rie. As then, the figure of a horse and rider might be noticed. But the one now before us is a lady, who sits her mettlesome steed with the grace of an ac- complished equestrian, added to the peculiar ease and dashing self-reliance only attained by lessons learned in the wild freedom of the prai- ries of the great West, She was rather below than above the medium hight, of a neat, well-turned and rounded fig- ure. A brunette, with merry, laughing eyes that could yet sparkle wickedly or flash with anger. er face was one of those irregular in ont- line, but yet perfect; plain in detail, yet when taken together, forming one bewitchingly pi- quant. It was the face of one formed to love and be loved; not worshiped. Her cheeks were flushed brightly, whether with exercise or some other emotion, and there was an expectant look in her eyes as she reined her mustang down toa walk. Her quick glance noted the form of a horseman just emerging from the shadows of a little motte, and avert- ing her head with a wicked smile, she gave free rein and sped off over the prairie.- The other gazed after her for a moment, and then, as if satisfied, ed his horse forward, calling aloud with a clear, ringing voice. As if startled, the maiden abruptly drew rein and turned her head. “Why, Mr. Dalton, how you frightened me fF’ she exclaimed, as he rode up. ‘‘ {am very sorry, Miss Carrie, but I saw you ; | 3 “T do know it, Kirk, and lama feodish gick I know you love me—have known it fur a yeur, Pact. you have never spoken it in words be- fore. If it had been very displeasing, I stouid have acted differently from what I hive done,” earnestly replied Carrie, raising her dark eyes and gazing openly into those of the young herder. “Carrie, you cannot—you are not playing with me, now? You know what you say?” ‘I know this, Kirk: that you love me—that [ love you—and have for a year past,” softly murmured the maiden, her eyes drooping. And then with a joy too great for utterance, the young herder bent forward, and winding an arm around her lithe waist, lifted her to bis level, and then their lips met in the warm, pas- sionate kiss of pure, holy love. “There, now—you great, rough beart” cried Carrie, blushing furiously. ‘‘ See what you’ve done, mussed my hair, rumpled my dress, and let Cap stray off without me! Let me down this instant, or PU—” ““My darling!” fondly murmured Kirk. ‘* Let me down at once, or I'll take it ail back —every word!” ‘Well, then; wait here, Carrie—my Carrie now !—until I can catch Cap for you.” Gently lowering the maiden to the und, Dalton rode off at a gallop toward the spos where the gray mustang was eating, and stoo ing, at the rein. But at a shrill whistle from its mistress, the horse threw up its heels, and wheeling, soon stood beside its fair rider. ‘You promise better than you perform, Kirk,” laughed Carrie, but her glee was sud- denly interrupted by a little cry of surprise. Dalton rode up beside her, and stoopine, raised her lithe form from ‘the ground and de- ited it snugly into the saddle, stealiag at st one kiss during the operation. “That makes amends, pet,” he laughed; then adding, in a graver tone: ‘but it is growing late and we had better ride toward the ranc!). riding by, and as I wished to speak to you, I | There is much I would like to talk over wi_k called. It would have been useless to’ have given chase, while you ride Cap,” he returned, } extending his hand, sun-embrowned and toil- | hardened. “ One would think you had not seen me for a year instead of only this morning, by that,” ut the proffered hand was allowed to clasp the tiny, gloved fingers. “It is not that alone, Miss Carrie,” replied Kirk, ‘“ But I have something to tell you, and thought I would guard against your running away before I had your answer.” “Indeed! Then you may as well free my hand, for I will not speak while you hold it.” She spoke boldly enough, but there was a fluttering at her heart that caused her eyes to droop and a bright flush to suifuse her cheeks. Right well she knew what wos coming; but as she made no effort to withdraw her hand, it is not likely the expectation was very unpleasant. And if was a handsome man that looked down upon her face; one that might well exeuse such a feeling, Tall and shapely, his suit of najf- hunter, half-ranchero sat pictuiesquely upon him, and revealed his symmetrical form togreat advantage. . Dark and sun-embrowned, with long black hair, slightly curling; eyes a deep: brown, heavy yet silken eyebrows, mustache aud beard; a slouched felt hat, looped up in front with a simple knot of crimson ribbon. Such was Kirk Dalton, the very vunterpart of him who hac called himself Captain Kit. If not the same, there was a woudrous resem- blance between the two. “T hope you will, Carrie, for a great deal depends upon your.answer. It will either make or ruin me. What I ask you now will deter- mine the whole future of my life. Shall I speak?” “You are the strongest—I don’t see how I am to hinder you if you choose to speak,” re- oubt the | torted the maiden, with a shy but roguish It’s a | glance at his handsome face, “T will, then, although you must know what mean, I could not have hidden it from you love you!” ‘Indeed! and is that all?” ‘* All?” ** Yes; I expected to hear something dreadful by your solemn tones and owlish looks. | murder, or a buried treasure, at the very but honest face, that told how deeply he had | least!” declared the girl, with a roguish laugh; : : been hurt by the strange change in one whom | but the color deepened on her c he firmly believed to be his young friend, Kirk | soft light shone in her eyes. Dalton. He had loved the boy as though | i: own child, and now te be denied, as he bed been, was bitter indeed. . Ang eek, and a ‘Carrie, did you understand what I said? If | you know how serious this is to me; how ' deeply, madly I love you, you would not trifle ‘yen to see his friend associating with | with my feelings.” / | | | | | { you before meeting the Judge.” “Why so—you are not going—?” faltercd Carrie. ** Yes, it is the better way. I shall tell bim to-night, unless you forbid. Carrie, what will be the answer?” “Ido not know. He loves me dearly and — you, as I believe. But then he is proud. and has often said that I should marry no men who was not rich and well born,” thoughtful: y replied the maiden. ‘And I am neither!” bitterly added Kirk. ‘* A poor herder, I have only one horse end ny weapons. I do not know where I was born, who were my parents, whether thy were honest or guilty, pooror rich. I feared my hap- piness was to great to last!” ““Wait—it may not beso bad. But, Kirk, if I dearly love my father, I love you more. If he tries to separate us, be will lose me also. I could not live without you, now!” Their subsequent conversation was more in- teresting to the lovers than it would be to the reader, and we pass it over. The sun bad sunk behind the horizon for some time, when the long rambling ‘“‘ranch” of Hiram Pierson was reached, and the two young folks separated. Kirk Dalton left the premises and then struck — down the river. His steps were slcw, for bis thoughts were busy. After walking thus for considerably over « mile, he pa . Before him, upon the svm- mit of a little knoll, stocd a rude-lcoking Lut substantia] log hut, from whose doorway streamed a blaze of rudd light, that, added te the savory scent, told of the evening meai’s — pre . ore the door sat a man, whose huge ferr: told that it could be none other than the own, r of the solitary Se ade Joshua Crane... Nit another such figure cou d there be found withia a radius cf fifty miles. ‘Hallo! Uncle Josh, busy with your vifie, as usual,” cried Kirk, in a cheery tone. The old man paused in rubbing his lorg-bar- reled rifle, and er? Si bt The friendly twi- light hida sad, half perplexed expression that rested upon his face. He did not speak, but looked steadily at the young herder as though he would read the in- most workings of his heart. Dalton approached and seated himself upon the same log, adding, | | wonderingly: “Why, uncle, what is the matter with you to-night? You don’t answer me, and then you look so queer! What has aay eS “Kirk, I was over to the ‘Three Pines’ this a’ternoon,” at length said Crane, slowly, while he gazed keenly at the young man.
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—_— aes “ Were you? Did you see any thing thers to vgcare you, that you look so grave?” * Yas—I did !” ** And what was it?” “ Kirk, tell me what you was a’ter thar, yis- ‘@aay night?” “T there? I was not within three miles of the . am all day! What do you mean, Unole wosh * Not—then I didn’t see you thar last night sas I was a-comin’ from Michler’s?” “ You did not, most assuredly !” “You wasn’t with Bob ttiesnake, Old Mose an’ t’other rascals? You didn’t speak to “wee an’ ax me to make you a promise not to tell nobody ’at I’d met you thar for the nixt ‘hwo weeks?” “A promise? Wy. Uncle Josh, you know “this is the first time T h four days!” cried Kirk, in a tone of cutest, steal If sextiied staamped him as a most adroi a bler. **T hev two eyes yit, boy, an’ ef they ain't “ayaite so sharp as es use to was, they’re plenty yrood enough to tell a man ’at I’ve knowed for well-nigh three years. I don’t see why you ‘whed deny yourself to me, now that we're alone. t was dusk, I know; jist about like ’tis now, ut I was so cluss thet I could ’a’ tetched you y retchin’ out my arm. I see your face, I *heerd your v’ice; how could I be fooled?” “*T don’t understand this,:uncle. You say syou saw me there at this time, while I was over ‘yn the ‘barrens,’ gathering in some cattle that “had strayed from the herd, You must have tbeon mistaken; and yet, I do not see how that ould well be. There is no one in this section “who so greatly resembles me, that you should the deceived,” thoughtfully said Kirk, “* Was any one with ye, lad? Could you prove ul you was thar at thet time?” eagerly added Trane, *“No, I was alone. Myrick was sick this wu rning, and I had his share to attend to, as twellas my own. I was alone all day.” “*T am sorry for thet—blamed sorry! I could most doubt my eyesight an’ hearin’, ruther’n wour word.. I would give my rifle hyar, much sms I’m ’tached toit, ef so be you could on’y grove thet you was some place else, jist at thet ime! ** What do you mean, Uncle Josh? Even if I severe there, and’ with those you mention—which ws an impossibility, for I despise them too much flor that—where would be the great. harm?” *‘ Kirk, do you know what 1 found out thar, Ray-day?” “* No—how should I?” “Not fifty yards from the timmer, thar lies “Whe body of a man—a stranger—shot Seepngh “ihe he It war did some time last night, fer whe dew hed fell on him. He wasn’t thar vwhen I rid by, fer he lies plum acrost the Trail.” “* A dead man?” “* Boad an’ robbed. An old man, too, who ~~wasn’t lowed no time to fend hisself; fer thar ‘was no marks o’ a scuffle.” 1 is sad—but what has all this to do with ome “You war thar at bout the time.. You wanted it kept secret. You said when you rid samp cluss an’ see’d who I war—‘ Boys, this ain’t sour gume ? Thet poor cuss war somebody's agame. “You do not—you can not think that I had swnght to do with this devilish crime?’ hotly «xvied the young herder, springing to his feet. “* Two days sence I’d’a’ knocked the feller down ows would ’a’ hinted at sech a thing. But I see’d “you thar—I'd take my Bible oath on’t!—an’ yit » the deny it, What kin I think, when I ’mem- ter who you was with?” “Uncle Josh, if anybody else should say half “iat rauch to mo, I would stop his jaw with a ‘bullet! You have been my friend for a long Veins. but even you can go far,” sternly re- qiied Kirk. And in truth, there did not seem much of the seriminal about him, as he drew his tall, hand- «some form erect, with the moonlight glowing fall upon his open, indignant countenance, “YT bev bin your friend, Kirk, an’ I will be »yit, cf so be you'll ‘low me. We must go to- aight an’ put the poor devil under ground. Ef d thar it’d raise a big muss, sure!” No—I will do nosuch thing. I shall tell the «eis bors of the body, and have the matter in- westigated,” firmly replied Dalton. “Tt would be the death o’ you, boy! Ef Iam waxed on oath—as I will be, sure—I must tell the full truth.” “You are at liberty to do so, for aught I care; % aim innocent. And now, good-by,” “2 ave spoken to you for , | “Won't you come in an’ stop, lad? I'd like to talk this over ‘ti youfurder.” “No. You doubt my truth. I will never take you by the hand, nor eat a bit under your roof, until you take back a words. Ido not know what I have done that you should try to blacken the character of an honest man. lam poor, but thank God! there is no such stain upon my heart!” ith these words Dalton turned and strode rapidly away, not heeding the voice of Crane, who called after him. ere was a heavy pain at his heart, for he had loved the old man al- most like a father, and to be ae of sucha foul crime by him was a bitter blow indeed. The young herder strode rapidly away, to- ward the dwelling of Judge Pierson, ng little note of surrounding objects. The though of Carrie and the sweet confession he had won » from ber lips, quickly overpowered and dispelled all the suspicions evidently entertained by Crane. Dalton had just crossed a little creek and as cended the summit ofa slight knoll, when he was suddenly arouse! from his pleasant reverie by the unmistakable sound of footsteps, Glanc ing quickly around, while one hand instinctive- ly drop to his reyolver-batt, he beheld the orms of three men at but a few yards’ distance, pis kre him, yet evidently wishing to do 80 un ** Hallo! there, do you take me fora deer, that you try to stalk me this way?’ said the young man, half-drawing his pistol. “Ts that you, Kirk Dalton?” ‘* And supposing it is me; what has that todo with you, k-eyed Smatters?” “T've got sumthin’ to tell you. Wait till we up. ‘*No you don’t! Whatever you have to tell, it must be from there, I don’t care about being over close to you, especially in the night-time.’ “You ain’t afeerd, be you?” sneered Smat- rs. “Not much! But there are several animals one likes best at a distance. A -pole-cat, for in- stance—and yourself!” ‘© You crow mighty loud an’ peert, my covey, but we kin cut yer comb an’ blunt yer spurs. Come, boys—one rush together an’ he’s ourn!” As he spoke these words, Smatters leaped forward, evidently counting upon taking the herder by ag ote and overcoming him by their united strength ere be could draw a weapon. But in this he was doomed to disap- pointment. Dalton’s keen eyo noted the movement, and divining his danger, drew his revolver as he leaped back a pace, still facing his foes, Then one arm straightened out and the moonbeams gleamed upon the polished tube of a revolver. “Stop!” shouted Kirk, in a tone of stern com- mand. ‘ One step nearer, and you die!” There was a cadence in his tones that caused the trio of outlaws to pause, involuntarily, rather than from any personal fear. Then the four personages were brought almost together upon the crest of the knoll. Dalton standing firmly erect, with keen eye glancing along the polished tube. The three mo tea half-crouching before him, clutch- ing knives and pistols that were not yet drawn from: their belts. *“Cock-eyed Smatters, Yankee Zeke and Roaring Sam! A pretty little surprise party, upon my word! Halt! not a step nearer, or I fire! What is it you want with me?” **Fust tell us who you air?” ‘Kirk Dalton—as you ought to know by this time.” “Then you ain’t the man that sent us? You ain’t Cap’n Kit, tryin’ to foolish us?” added Smatters. : “T have not sent you any. spiace-re yet. Though if you don’t keep your distance, I will send you—upon a longer journey than you care about taking.” ‘Take him, boys! Ef he’s the boss he’d orter know better’n to-fool th us so, Take him, but don’t hurt the cuss!” snarled Smatters, as he crouched down and leaped forward. A clear report rung out, and, met in mid-air a we death-dealing bullet, the cock-eyed out- ] tumbled headlong to the ground, with a shattered skull. A single groan—a convulsive anne of the hands upon the soft earth, was all. There came two more shots, quickly follow- ing; then a short, confused struggle, As the smoke cleared away upon the fresh breeze, the moonlight shone upon a thrilling scene. The d man lying in his blood! The tall form of the young herdsman standing upon = paca anys ‘ 2 A LOT aS NES ELL of Roaring Sam, who had been partially stur ned by a blow from the pistol-butt, whose muz zle was now leveled at the crouching form of the third outlaw, whose cheek bore a ghastly wound. ‘“You've played your band, Yankee Zeke,” said Kirk, coolly, following the movements of the outlaw’s head with the dark tube; ‘and ou’ve got badly euchered. My pistol has three oads yet—half-ounce balls, and driven bhome— and if I crook my finger the least bit, where will you be?” “Ef you miss, you’re mine!” growled the outlaw. ‘“‘But I won't miss. Don’t try to draw that revolver! If you do, I'll ti you! Tell me what you fellows meant by this?’ ‘* Shoot an’ be durned!. I won’t blow!” ““T Save half a mind to take you at your word, by all that’s good! But your way. One is enough for now, and Smatters will never ambush another honest man. I give you one minute to travel. When I count twenty, if you are in sight, I’ll crack your skull like a dog! In a slow, measured tone Dalton began count- ing The desperado slowly rose erect, and said: ‘All right—Tll go. You’ve got the vantage now, but I'll pay you yit fer this!” and touched the wound upon his face. “Don’t blow. Better be thankful that it didn’t bore your skull, instead of only cuttin Ler’ cheek. Come—you had best start!” adde alton, sternly. The desperado turned as if to depart; but then whipping out his pistol he faced around and fired. But he had a cunning and watchful foe to deal with, and the young man dropped to his knees as the flame spouted forth. Then he arose, and as the outlaw saw the deadly muzzle bearing full upon him, he turned and fled. Swift as was his motion, the bullet was swifter, and with a wild yell of agony he sprung high into the air, falling ina quivering heap to the grouud. tt is rough, but how could I help it?” mut- tered Dalton, as he allowed the body of Roar- ing Sam to drop at his feet. ‘‘ He brought it upon himself, and I warned him twice!” Rapidly reloading his pistol, Kirk proceeded to where the Yankee had fallen, and bending over him, lifted his head. Then he let it drop with a shudder. ‘ The bullet had pierced his neck, killing him almost instantly. The young herder was deeply pained at the occurrence, but turned to secure Sam, intendin to take him to the ranch, where the case ould be investigated, and their reasons for the attack learned. As be reached the t, he saw the outlaw plunging into the underbrush bordering the cree paige he had feigned insensibility, in order the better to effect his escape. When left by Dalton, the desperado had improved his op- are mk “Well, it can’t be hel now, though I am afraid it will make trouble for me,” muttered Kirk, as he turned and slowly proceeded toward the ranch. CHAPTER III. THE OUTLAWS’ DEN. THERE was considerable stir caused among tbe neighboring settlers by the discovery of a murdered man near the Three Pines, although nothing like what would have been in a longer settled country. Such crimes—murder and robbery—were by no means unfrequent, and then the unfortunate was a stranger. There was more interest in the story of ae Dalton, of his encounter with the jires es- peradoes, and it excited strong feelings of both nleasure and revenge. The men slain were iked only by their own stripe, being both feared and hated by the honest settlers. The young herdsman was generally liked and respected, and his words were not doubted when he told his story. Even Joshua Crane seemed to have forgotten his suspicions, and made ad- vances toward the young man, who received them but coldly, Roaring Sam had not since been heard from nor seen, but knowing his vindictive nature, Dalton kept a good guard against treachery, As for an open attack, that he did not fear, There had come a body of new settlers to tho . neighborhood a day or so after the prairie tragedy, whose actions were so strange ag to excite considerable curiosity ee the older inhabitants. They numbered some balf a score in all; there being no women or children in the company. They seemed to shun all intercourse wit} one side, with his left hand clutching the throat ‘ the neighbors, and, selecting 4 site, began so ae.
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ee -_ -- >_———_——_——_ -----—_ —_———_——— ———__—_-_—— erect a dwelling. The position chosen was a strange one, Near the foot of one of the hills where at some remote period had occurred a land-slide, a spot was léveled and a stout copfengt 4 house was erected, its rear fairly touching the hill- side. And yet, when the house seemed com- pleted, the work still went on. The men labored steadily, wheeling out dirt, and hewing timbers that were carried into the building, but which never came out again. Disagreeable suspicions began to fill the minds of the settlers as to the characters of the new- comers, but, as yet, nothing definite had been learned. While the subject of the murdered stranger, and the two desperadoes were being discussed, Kirk Dalton kept his own counsel in regard to his love affair, at least from the ears of the J esp He resolved to wait until he was cleared of all suspicions before speaking. Even under the most auspicious circumstances he knew that his prospects of success were gloomy enough. As he had said, he was poor, and knew nothing regarding his birth. The Judge was a very proud and haughty man, who had left Virginia because, failing, he would not live as a poor man where he had been, for so long, one of the most wealthy and aristocratic. Emigrating to Texas, where he soon found an advantageous location, he was now in a fair way to retrieve his lost fortune. But as his yorldly goods increasex. x also seemed his ride bo gain strength. Was it likely, then, hat he would look fa~srab.7 upon the suit of the young herdsman? }, The lovers had daily interviews, and alto- ‘gether passed the time very happily; but that (ee misgiving would often come up to shatter eir mm and dispel their bright dreams. But , Carrie loved ay and fervently, and renewed her resolve to abandon all, should her parent rove inexorable, for the sake of him whom she ved far better than all else upon earth. ~ One heenen over a week after the conflict with the outlaws, Kirk Dalton sought his em- poyer in his own room, and bravely opened his eart. His love rendered him eloquent, and he ause until he had revealed all. The planter heard him out without any inter- ruption. He was too polite to treat even a de- pendent rudely. But when he spoke it was ina cold, hard tone. He bade the young mansay no more. That his hopes were ridiculous and such as could never be fulfilled. That he liked him well enough, as @ man, but a son-in-law such as be was evident- ly out of the question. Kirk pleaded eloquently, but it was like at- tempting to soften iron with cold water. Then he grew excited and declared tat have her he would, if*he had to run off with her before the father's very eyes. “That is enough, sir,” sternly said the Judge, rising. ‘‘I will excuse you further speech. Here are your wages, due, with a month’s ad- vance. I shall have no further occasion for your services. And since you have spoken so plainly, I will be mtg ge My seme If you are caught lurking around t ouse, Or upon my premises anywhere, I will drive you from them with the dogs! I shall give my servants orders accordingly.” “You talk as though I was one of your ne- ! But this is a free country, and if you any such expsdients, I will not be the only one tosuffer. Do and say what you will; I love Carrie and she loves me. I will have her yt in spite of you and your servants!” cried irk, bitterly. “Enough, sir—go! Go now, before I forget myself and chastise you as yourinsolent threats deserve! I am old, but there is sufficient strength in this right arm yet. Go, I tell you, or I will call the servants and haye them kick you off my grounds!” “T will go—but not for long. You have my word that f will foil you; make the most of it,” sneered Dalton, as he turned and left the house. He was met in the garden by Carrie, who was pals and trembling. She sunk into his arms, sobbing as though her heart would break, “Oh! Kirk you have quarreled with father!” “Yes, darling—or rather he quarreled with me. That hope is gone now. I must leave you here, but only for a few days. Then I shall come and claim you. It may be best for us not to meet for a short time, as you will doubtless be closely watched. But I must hear from ou. ** And how?” “You know the live-oak on the hill by the ford? It is hollow, and you can easily drop a \ | note in there withon$ baing gugpected. By Cay | atter to-morrow, at tha furthest, I shall expec: | one. Will I receive it?’ ‘““Yes—yes, I willdoit. And you?’ “IT willdo the same. I can roe you inforsa- ed of my plans, and you must tell me how you are beoateit, here. Now, Carrie, can I nd upon you? Will you redeem your w 80 otten given, when the time comes?” **T will! When you bid me come to you, I will obey. UT am all yours—through good and evil—joy and sorrow!” “My darling!” murmured the enraptured lover, as he strained her to his heart in a wild ecstasy of joy. Just then they were interrupted by the voice of the planter calling his daughter, and fearing to be discovered should he linger longer, Kirk pressed one passionate kiss upon her pale lips and then glided away into the shadows, just as the father came down the walk. The exterior of the log-house built by the new settlers was dark and gloomy, although well lighted within. As it may be reverted to, more or less frequently, hereafter, a glance at its in- terior may not be amiss. There were two good sized rooms, near square, with an open doorway between. Bot were now lighted up and occupied. In the two there were probably twenty men, all told, rough, villainous-looking fellows, rude- ly dressed, but superbly armed, with rifles, re- volvers and knives. They were gathered around a couple of rude tables, paying assiduousdevoirs to the bottles and jugs of strong liquor that thickly studded the tables, and conversing in eager but low tones. moug their number there were several men well known at the settlements, whose presence | would have still further strengthened the sus- picions entertained of the new-comers, could | they have been seen. It was quite evident that the strange settlers were none of the most honest. “Sam, you hain’t tuck thet ’ar Dalton yit, hev you?’ asked Bob Rattlesnake, addressing the worthy Roaring Sam. “No, but I'll do it yit, though! Cuss the devil! I kin feel his claws a-grippin’ my neck yit! They’re wuss’n a blacksmith’s vise—a durned sight!” ‘* What is the boss so durned pertickler about us not a-hurtin’ him fer, anyhow? We could easy pick the varmint off ef so he’d re low us to burn powder,” growled Old Mose, as he wiped his lips with a not over-clean shirt-sleeve, after “throwing himself outside of” half a pint of corn-juice. “D’ye know what J think?” whispered Bob, confidentially. *‘No—how sh’u’d we?” “You won't blab ef I tell ye?” “‘No—honor bright!” “Wal, then, durned ef I don't b’lieve ‘at Cap’n Kit an’ Kirk Dalton is the same critter! One feller couldn’t look more like hisself *n the do, an’ then he sw’ars as he’ll shoot the fust fel- ler as hurts this Dalton. Ive tried to see ’em both at a time, but I can’t. Ef find one t’other is missin’, I tell you,I b’lieve I’m right. Wish I had as many dollars as I’m sure they’re the same!” declared Bob, emphatically. ‘*T don’t think so!” slowly replied Old Mose. An I tell you ’tis so! I say that Cap’n Kit _ The words of the desperado had been spoken in a loud tone, but he suddenly pa’ and stammered, as the outer door was flung open and the tall form of the chief appeared upon the threshold. ‘Well, Mister Rattlesnake Bob, why don’t you goon? ‘Cap’n Kit is what?” There was a peculiar shade upon the leader’s face, and a ga in his dark eye that awed the desperado, bold and impudent as he generally was. His eyes dropped, and his voice was husky as he faltered: nepal I —_ ky ee tell “‘It is an unhealthy practice, let me and I advise you as a friend to break it off. t tell you, my man, that tongue of yours is en- tirely too glib of speech for your own good. Beware how you let it wag about me and my af- fairs, or I may crop it for you!” The desperado did not reply, but as Captain Kit turned away, he cast a covert glance of deadly hatred toward him that might well have caused its recipient to feel uneasy, had he no- ticed it. 2 _ “Boys,” said the outlaw leader, ‘drop the liquor now, and listen to me. Our den is fixed up all correct, and it is high time we set about regular business. Thee meddiesome settlers ' i : ys & . are growing two inquisitive, and we may morrow, and we must set them a good example. We'll make araid on Judge Pierson’s corral, and then take Claiborne’s. The two will give us as many head as we can manage. We cai take down the river to the lower ford, and them throw them off the track on the ‘shingle.’ Long enough, anyhow, to allow our reaching the first station. Once there, our share of the work isdone. They must look to the rest.” A low but hearty cheer answered this speech. and from the eager faces, it was evident that the ones there assembled were not in favor of idleness. “Good! Isee you are just what I expected Now we will arrange it all, so there may be m» chance of mistake. You, Red Hirble, will take half the men and go through Claiborne’s corrui, only choosing the best head; two for each mar will be enough. I will look to the Judge’a. Dut® mind ye, boys, there must be no blood spilled unless you are driven to a fight. If you can’ get around it, why then give them the best you've got.” “Air we tocome back hyar to-night, Capt” asked Mose. “Yes. It isonly some forty miles in all; we must be here in case we should receive a call ia the morning.” \ The chief now proceeded to give his men moit | minute directions, as to how they were to pro ceed, and then took a place at one of the tables helping himself freely to the liquor. It was ye too early for them to make the venture. CHAPTER IV. THE MIDNIGHT RAID. | ArreR another hour had elapsed, the met arose, and opening a heavy door in the rear oF the building, entered a sort of tunnel, of pei- haps seven feet in hight by five wide, excavated from the hill. After a few yards this suddenly expanded into a good-sized vault, dimly lighted by rude lamps. The roof was braced up by numerous strong timbers, and at one end were a number of rude stalls, where were secured a score or more of horses, although there was accommodation for thrice that number. At the opposite extremity was a strong slab door apparently set in.t) & earth, and which was secured by strong bars and braces. The animals were speedily saddled and bri- dled, when they were led forth from the cave, through the building. As he mounted, Captaim Kit turned to the two men who were to remain at the building, and said: “Now, boys, you must be more cautious thar usual to-night, Keep well barred, and don't admit anybo@y unless they give all the als. ‘If our plans succeed, this night’s work will net a tidy little sum for each one of us. You wilh share equally with the rest, and have less work as well as risk. Can I depend upon you?’ “Mighty right ye kin, cap’n. You'll find the den as safe\as you leave it. Tom ’nd me kim beat off any who may ’tact us hyar.” “That will not hate I'm sure. But if they give you any trouble before we get back, do the youcan. You may look for us about day~ dawn. That’ll do now. Go in and close up. Come, boys, we must go. A long road lies be~ us, and we have no time to lose!” Red Hirble and Captain Kit separated, eacts followed by half a score men, and rode rapidly toward their destination. With the reader's permission we will follow the latter. That leader seemed well acquainted with the lay of the house and es and led the way at once tothe most feasible point of the horse co as well as the safest for their purpose. In these days of mammoth stock-farms, the scale of Hiram Pierson’s operations would be looked upon with contempt and derision. Put at the time treated of he was accounted a we'l- oman. His wealth consisted in most of cattle auc. sheep, but he had some few horses;more for home use than sale. These—probably fifty irs number—were corraled every night to guarti against their straying, either with or without help. the cattle, at this season, were allowed to kee» their range, both day and night. There were men whose regular duty was to watch both cor- ral and pastures, at night, but oftener they would sleep the time away than keep honest guard. J P= NaF ‘“Ntebt and h TF yrpetey Lage Pes
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ee ee eee a ee er | ' wand dashed madly bh me—bring your ropes along—and help select te brutes. Ths rest will stay here to fix them fit for traveling.” The men selected rode silently through the gap in the corral, knowing that while mounted they could succeed in their purpose easier than ‘when afoot. As an offset, they ran more risk of seen and made a target of, but for this % little cared. ey were generally men who loved danger Yor danger’s sake, for the mere excitement of the thing, and now when this was strengthened by the knowledge that they were working for their benefit, it would be a great danger that could awe them. “Take your time, boys,” called out Captain Kit, in a guarded tone; ‘‘there is no hurry. Pick and choose. We can’t manage more than tx¥o apiece when pressed so hard for time as we will be now. Take the flower of the lot, and be quick.” One by one the best looking animals were golected and caught, then passed over to those who stood outside. In this manner nearly a score had been secured, without the slightest disturbance, But then there came a sudden interruption. A oud cry arose from one end of the corral, wand a voice shouted out: “Hello, thar! what you— thieves! Help hyar!” As he yelled, the somnolent watchman sprung to his feet and discharged his rifle at the ma- Fauders. “Take those you’ve got, boys, and travel!” yelled Captain Kit. “Il stop this fellow’s mouth and thenfollow you. Ride as though the evil was driving you with a hot poker—off with you!” The outlaws, though knowing their young Yeader for so short a time, had learned to obe iuim, and without demur or pausing to ask his reasons, And then the significant bur-r of the ragged bullet so close over their heads, told them what they might expect when the house- fold was once fairly aroused. With wild yells and hoots they sped away half - leading, ‘half-driving the terrified and snorting animals they had stolen. With whick- ers of alarm the remainder rushed for the gap away over, the prairie, weighing and screaming wildly. ptain Kit urged his snorting horse toward the spot where he could distinguish the dusky re of the watchman, whose cries and shouts ‘were still being sent forth. Ths outlaw knew that, could he silence this aman before the others came up, his men were s2fe for the present. They would gain such a austance that pursuit would be useless. “Curse you!” he hissed, as he leveled his wevolver at the fizure, “stop that infernal mcreeching—do you hear?” ** Who air you?” * Captain Kit—who sends you to the devil, ‘his brother!” snarled the outlaw, as he fired. The man staggered; he did not fall. Then ‘his arim rose and a bright flash accompanied the harp report. With a half-stifled yell, Captain Kit threw up his arms, and reeling in the saddle for a moment, fell headlong to the ground. His horse danced madly around the inclosure for a short spell, and then wheeling, fled through the gap, uttering a shrill yell of triumph and rejoicing at being freed from a cruel rider and master. With a shout of exultation, the watchman sprang forward and stooped over the prostrate ‘orm. But he uttered an exclamation of won- dering surprise and started back as he caught sight of the pale and ghastly face revealed by ahe moon’s rays. The entire household had been aroused by the @onfused uproar, and flocked, half , to- ward the spot, bearing such weapons as had tain most. convenient to their hands. At their thead strode the tail form of the planter, Hiram Pigrson. Hallo! there—you watchman—what does all this mean?” he cried, as he reached the gate of the corral. ‘‘ Where are you?’ * Hyar, Jedge,” said the men, advancing. “*That you, Myrick? But what’s up? Where are the horses all gone to?” “To tae devil, I reckon, post-haste! "Twould ‘be bard to say whar else.” “‘ And the firing? Confound it, man, speak out. What is the matter?’ raged the Judge, Thieves—hoss- . opening the gate and entering. ‘¢ Tt means jest this. A lot of the critters hes bin stole—t’others hes run away!” ““Stolen—and you here? What were you doing—where were you?” pa id the fence. Boys, half of you come ‘““T war hyar. Mebbe you heerd my shot, But they war too many fer one man to stop. They rid away—thet is, all but one on ’em,” slowly added the herder. “But one—and where is he?” “ Out thar—lyin’ down, sorter.” “You shot the scoundrel?” “*’Pears like I did. Anyway, he dro as I tetched trigger. But J’m dub’ous’at I’ve did a harm, Jedge,” said Myrick, showing the way. ‘How so? He was a thief—wasn’t he?” “T thought so. Anyhow, he shot at me fust. He must ’a’ knowed ’at I niver pull twicet on one critter. He’s see’d me shoot afore.” “Then you know him?” eagerly added the Judge, as they advanced toward the spot where the outlaw leader still lay. “Don’t 1? Haven’t I rid with him for n’arly a year?” fhe Judge stooped over the senseless body, and then he too drew back with a cry of sur- prised horror. He too had evidently recognized the man. **My God! Myrick, it is Kirk Dalton!” “Jest so,” gloomily responded the borderer, a tremor 9 ed agen in his voice. ‘‘’Tis indeed the lad! Ef Td ’a’ known who he was, I’d ’a’ thought twicet afore pullin’ on him. But what could I do? His face was in the dark—ho rid at me so ferce an’ ’tarmined, like, an’ told me he was Cap’n Kit or some sech outlandish name, an’ swore he’d send me to the devil. Dve got his mark hyar—he shot fust—as you kin seo fer ourself. The ball creased my neck. Then I— dropped the r cuss!” “You did right—perfectly right, Myrick, and no one can blame you,” warmly cried the Judge. “He deserved it eall—but my God! I didn’t think that bad of him! A horse-thief—a murderer!” * Look—look! He o cried Myrick, kneeling ain’t dead—I didn’t kill him! fer that!” “Tt would have been better for him, perhaps, if you had,” gloomily added Pierson. ‘‘ Death is better by a bullet than a rope!” ** A rope for him—hang Kirk Dalton?” ‘Yes! He isathief—he has stolen my horses. That is a crime punished only by death, here, as you should know. Your word will hang him!” * But there may be some mistake—thar must be, 1 tell ye! Kirk Dalton niver was a hoss- thief!” ‘But you say he tried to kill you—that you saw his men run off the cattle!” “IT may hev bin mistook. I was confused— I hed bin asleep. No, no, Jedge, the lad is in- nercent. He’d niver bin so mean as thet ’mounts to! He kin ’xplain it all, I don’t doubt, I'll sw’ar he kin!” Cap*2in Kit now raised his head, and as he beheld those who surrounded him, he glared around in astonishment. Then the truth flash- ed upon his mind, and he attempted to draw a pistol, uttering a snarl of rage and fury. But before he could use rhe strong hand clutched his wrist, and wrenched it from his grasp. Then in obedience to their master’s com- mands, the servants securely bound the outlaw with his own belt. Then the little party re- turned toward the ranch, which was now fully lighted up, and the scene of a great bustle, as the women servants, greatly alarmed and con- fused, ran to and fro. “Bring him right into my room,” said the Judge, entering the building. ‘I wish to ques- tion him.” ** But the hoss critters?” ‘Tt is too late now to start afterthem. They are beyond sight and hearing, long before this. We will wait uutil daylight and then take the trail and run them to earth.” Captain Kit was carried into the room and deposited in a chair, still bound. Though there burned a strong glare in his eyes, a half-mock- ing smile wreathed his lips. ‘Well, sir, what have you to say for your- self?” began the Judge. ‘“* What were you do- ing in my corral?” “Taking a look at your horseflesh—that is all,” was the cool reply. “You have seen them often enough, Kirk Dal- ton. Do you know what may be the result of this night’s work?” ‘* Better than you do, perhaps!” *“ You are a horse-thief, caught in the act, and you must know the punishment for such a crime.” ‘**[ do—a hempen rope cravat, and a dance on nothing. But the seed is not yet planted that will grow the rope for my neck,” **The sun will never set for you again, Kirk Dalton!” solemniy added the Judge, ps his eyes!” eager] side the outlaw. ‘ Ho Praise the Lord aR Sh NIE EDe EES EERE PONE TE G ADB AY NaC ** Tt will, and I'll tell yen why. Iam horse- thief, if you please, tut I can muster four secre nee and true men who would face the devil imself if I bade them do so. We area regu- larly organized band, and each member is sworn to sacrifice his life, if need be, to aid a com- rade, Their motto is—blood for blood! If J am harmed, they wiil sweep this entire settle- ment from the face of the earth. That is my safeguard!” ‘T doubt your speaking the truth, but were I assured that it was so, you should not escape punishment. I have treated you like an honest man and a gentleman, before this, end now you turn upon me and try torob me. Kirk Dalton, I thought better things of you!” ‘* You say you have treated me like a gentle- man? Is it so polite afavor to swear ycu will hunt a man with dogs—that you will have your servants kick bim off the place?’ sneered the outlaw. ‘“*Your actions since show that I was not far wrong in so doing.” ‘‘Notso. It was because of those threats that I did this. I told you then that I would not be the only sufferer, and I am not. Half your horses are gone now. When my boys come back, they will make a clean sweep. I tell you, Judge Pierson, you are doomed! “You will only live to behold your wealth gone—your house burned, and your lands laid waste. You will live to see your chilé—thke one whom you thought too good for me—the wifo— ha! ha!—of myself, or,else some of the band. You will see this, but not much more. You will meet what you threatened me with—a hempen cord and a swinging bough!” “Kirk, my lad,” said Myrick, coming for- ward, ‘‘don’t talk that a-way. Say that you don’t mean them words. ou ain’t a hoss thief !” **-You are the man who shot at me?” “Yes, but I didn’t know it was you. hed, I'd ’a’ spotted myself as soon!” Just at this hy coe the door was flung vio- lently open and Carrie Pierson entered. ith an agonized shriek she sprung forward, and pation’ § beside the outlaw, flung her arms around his neck, crying: “Oh! Kirk, what does this mean? Why are you here—and a prisoner?” ‘“* Jt means that he’s a convicted horse-thief,” coldly added the Judge, as he strove to loosen his daughter’s arms. ** Carrie, arise—go to your room!” ““No—I will not! You want to murder him! You shall not while I live! I love him—love him!” The prisoner gently bowed his head and pressed a kiss upon the upturned face of the pale and trembling maiden. As he did so, a great drop of clotted blood fell upon her arm. My God! he is wounded! You have killed him!” gasped Carrie, her arms falling nerveless to her side as the gory blotch caught her eye. “No, darling, ’tis only a scratch. I am not hurt,” murmured the outlaw, and his arms mov- ed as though he would ruise her up. The Judge stooped and raised the fainting form in his arms, and turned to leave the room. Carrie roused up at this, and struggling desper- ately, strove to return to her lover. “ No—I will not go! You will murder him— my Kirk! Let me go to him—he is wounded— he needs me!” But despite Carrie’s endeavors to free herself, she was borne from the room in the strong arms of her parent. The prisoner struggled fiercel to burst his bords, but the stout leather belt was true and would not give. He strove to rise, and doing so, fell to the floor, where he. was pounced upon by Myrick and several of the servants, He was then rais- ed to the chair once more. He cast a quick, surprised glance around upon the faces of those near him, and noted a peculiar expression upon that of Myrick. Then the bor- derer withdrew to the further end of the room. The Judge now re-entered, and again com- menced questioning the outlaw, but received no satisfaction. Captain Kit would not admit be- ing one of the thieves, nor would he inform who were the others. : “Sam,” added Pierson, addressing a servant ‘‘take this man out to the stables and d him well. Keep your eye upon himall the time and if he attempts to escape, shoot him without mercy. I will answer for it.” “You will answer for it sooner than you expect, mayhap,” significantly retorted the prisoner, ‘Take him out.” The outlaw was led to the door with a firm gripe upon either shoulder, but then a startling Ef I
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/ a a Sao iv Night-Hawk Kit. occurrence tuok place. As he reached the door, | leading out upon the veranda, the desperado | suddenly tripped up his two guards, and shook | their grasp from his person. Then turning, with a fierce yell of rage and defiance, he lev-led a pistol full at the head of | the Judge, as that person sprung forward. At} the report, Pierson fell to the floor with a faint groan, and then, before a hand could be raised to stop him, Captain Kit had vanished through the open doorway. There came back a single taunting laugh, and then all was still. As the servants flocked to the entrance, they heard the quick trampling of iron shod hoofs, a shrill neigh, and then an- other laugh of defiant exultation. The outlaw was free! CHAPTER V. A BITTER ALTERNATIVE. Tue excitement was intense at this bold | stroke for liberty, and no one thought of pur- suit until it was too late.. In the night the dar- ing outlaw vould easily have baffled them. At first it was feared that the Judge had been killed, but as one of the more collected bathed his head, their hearts grew lighter as they perceived no great harm had been done. He was only stunaed, not injured to any ex- tent. The outlaw had not paused to secure an aim, and even this burried shot told how skilled he was with the weapon. One little half-inch lowor, and the Judge would have died. Myrick was the only one who could have ex- jlained how the prisoner had so suddenly freed rimself, and how he had come by the pistol after being disarmed, But he kept his counsel and manage to pick up and secure the leathern belt that had fallen to the floor. The smooth eit edges would have betrayed too much. As he stooped over Captain Kit, the borJerer had freed him and slipped the pis- ‘tol into his hand. Like most of the men about the settlement, Myrick loved Kirk DaJton, and would not see him die a shameful death, knowing that his hand was the principal means of bringing him there. He firmly believed that this man was his fellow-herdsman. Pursuit was made after the horse-thieves at day-lawn, but the trai] was lost on the stretch of shingle that covered the ground near the lower ford, and at length the quest was aban- doned. After this, night and day the stock was guarded; no fear of sleeping on post now. Carrie Pierson had been prostrated by the fearful blow, and had taken to her bed. The knowledge of her lover’s being a criminal was indeed bitter, but still her love did not falter. He had won her heart’s love. Let him do what he might, she would never change. She believed that he would yet prove innocent; that there was some terrible mistake. Nothing had been seen by the settlers of Cap- tain Kit since that night. Some believed that he had fled the country, upon being unmasked. Others shook their heads and maintained a wise silence. ‘ The settlers at the hill-foot still came and | went, seeming to shun all intercourse with their neighbors, and were suspected more strongly than ever. Tt was about mid-forenoon of a day perhapsa | week subsequent to the midnight raid, that a strong body of horsemen filed along the path leading from the outlaw den, and took up their route toward the settlement. They numbered over a score, all told, and were thoroughly armed. At their head, riding the strong chestnut mustang that was noticed in the first chapter, was Captain Kit. His bronzed face was a little paler, and less full, perhaps, than usual, and a snowy bandage could be seen beneath the brim of the soft felt hat; but nothing else told of the severe wound he had received so re- cently. At their head he soon reach the ranch of Judge Pierson; and abruptly drawing rein, he turned to his lieutenant, Hirble, saying: ‘*Do you remain here, Hirble, and keep the boys from straying or doing any mischief. If you hear me whistle, then charge the house and Clear every thing before you. Understand? “Mighty right I do!” responded the red- faced and red-haired giant. _ ‘*Mind—unless I give the signal, you are to do no harm,” continued Captain Kit, as he leaped from the saddle and stro/le rapidly to- ward the ranch, unheeding the frightened ebon- hued faces that were peering at him. Ruaning lightly up the veranda steps, he en- tered the open door, crossed the 1 and claimec turned the knob of the door leading into the Judge’s “‘study.” He did not falter or hesitate, showing an intimate knowledge of the interior of the building. Opening the door he entered, and then noise- lessly closed it behind him. However, the planter, who was seated at his desk, was aroused, and turning, Judge Pierson sprung-to his feet as he recognized his visitor. “You here? How dare you, after—” he be- gan, in angry surprise, as he reached toward a loaded revolver that lay upon the desk. “‘T dare more than you think, Judge,” coolly replied the outlaw, as he drew his pistol. ‘* Drop that—if you touch it you area dead man! I came here upon a peaceful mission, but if you force me to extremities, you will suffer, not I!” ‘*A peaceful mission—you, and to me!” ex- the farmer. “Yes; but before I make it known, just glance out the window and tell me what you see.” The Judge turned his head as bade, and then started back with a cry of surprise. ‘* Who are those men?” ** They are honest people who call me captain. I merely brought them along to insure a decent reception. They have orders to remain quiet unless I signal them. That signal I shall not give unless you force me to do so. Butif I must, they will clean this ranch out in a twink- ling. Now will you hear me?” ‘“T must. But be speedy. Your room is far more agreeable than your company,” bitterly responded Piersen. ‘ More truthful) than polite; but let that pass. I have you in a pinch, and it would be a pity to tie your tongue as well as hands. But take a seat; this business may require some time to dispose of it satisfactorily.” “T prefer to stand.” “And J prefer that you sit. I ama little weak yet, from this favor,” and as he removed his hat, the outlaw lightly touched his bandaged head; ‘‘ but I could not be so impolite as to sit while you remain standing.” With a glance of deadly hatred, Judge Pier- son resumed his chair. Captain Kit laughed; low and mellow it sounded. “Lucky for me it is that looks can not kill. Remarkably keen eyes, those of yours, Judge. But a truce to badinage. You remember upon what terms we last parted—I mean in this room?” “Yes, and in the other, too, when you tried to murder me!” “It may be as well not to recall that, my friend. The thought is not the most pleasant to me, and besides, long ago, I swore an oath never to leave any thing half-done—to com- plete whatever I attempted; and the fancy might strike me to make my word good in this case as well. ‘**But never mind that now. I mean here, where I asked you to give me the hand of your daughter, in marriage. You have not changed your mind since?” **Changed—are you crazy? Have your deeds | since then been such as to render a change like- ly? You steal my horses, shoot me, and then | ask such a question?” cried Pierson, angrily. “As I said once, let that pass. If you have not changed, you will soon. You noticed my men out there? Well, I can muster full four | times the number, any or all of whom would gladly burn this shell over your head, did I but give the word, and not be over-particular whether only rats were scorched or not. What Isay they will do.” ‘*Do you come here only to tell me this?” “No, That is only the prologue. It was necessary, I see, toimpress upon your mind that I am not the r, friendless vaquero that you once knew. If I am a borse-thief, I am a king among them, I command; they obey.” ad | Caiete you said asmuch before. You are tiresome, as well as ins lent, Kirk Dalton.” ‘Short and sweet, is your taste, then? Very well; it is immaterial to me. Then, to come to the aes I love your daughter, Carrie.” Pierson glared at the outlaw. ** And more—your daughter Carrie loves me.” ** A lie—a base lie!” “You know that I do not lie. You have heard her say as much herself,” coolly re- plied the d rado; although there was an an- gry ate in his dark eye that told how little he relished this plain language. “Go on—finish quick, or I shall choke!” mut- ae the Judge, trying in vain to compose him- self. “Don’t; it might be disagreeable—to you. | “Never! * I will die first!” ‘““You certainly will die if you do not, and then lose her besides. I tell you that you have no choice. If you refuse me now, I will scorch you out of here; I will give my men free license to act as they will. There will not be a hoof left you—not one stick upon another of the building. Your slaves will be run off and sold, and you will be roasted at the fire made by your own house!” The Judge could not speak. He seemed to be suffocating. His fingers worked convulsively at his throat. ‘On the other hand, if you give your con- sent, I will disband my men, and settle down here as an honest and peaceful citizen. Ta to protect you from all other persons, and treat: you as an honest father-in-law. Carrie loves: me. She will gladly consent to this. It will be a joy to her, and will save you from all the evil | threatened.” Still the Judge did not speak. ‘She will be mine anyhow. If she will not | leave you of her own free will, I will carry her off. But I should not like to do that. [love her, and would make her happy. If you are sensible, all will be well. If not—I have told you the consequences, and I swear that I will make my word good!” “You are a devil, Kirk Dalton!” muttered the Judge, great drops of perspiration starting; out over his face. He saw but too plainly that the outlaw had. spoken no more than the truth. He had the power to make his threats good against what— ever force the honest settlers could gather. And that he would be as good as bis word, nex one who heard this bitter speech, and saw his stern-set face, could doubt for a moment. Death and ruin stared the Judge full in the face. True there was an alternative, but it was one _ could not be accepted. A thousand deaths rather! “You are about half right, I believe, Judge,” laughed Captain Kit. “But never mind Time passes, and I have not yet received your answer, I bclieve. You have heard all—now your decision.” “It is quickly told. Do your worst; I d you and your gang of cut-throats!” despera cried Pierson. ‘*You are foolish, man—and worse than fool- ish. Remember that she will be mine anyhow. whether you consent or not. The only eftect of your yp ee will be to insure your own death. flect well before you answer,” coldly replied the outlaw chief. ‘I have reflected—I have answered. I will not submit to such a rascally persecution. IF will enter into no agreement or compact with a murdering horse-thief!” “You are excited now, Judge, and do not . know what you say. Still, I advise te bridle your tengue. I can stand a and know how to make allowance for men i your unpleasant predicament, but if you go too far, it will be the worse for you. ‘Now I will tell you what I will do. 7 will give you one week from to-day to reflect upon my proposition, and then I will come for your- decision. I warn you to pause and think twice ace you reject it, for I will be as good as my wo “‘ Another thing. Beware how you attem to fool me. I will have your actions we watched, and not a person will stir outside thee building, but that I will know of it. If you at- tempt to flee, or send away your daughter, that~ will be the signal, and my men will turned loose to work their pleasure. ‘*But I have said —— I guess you under- stand me. Remember, in just one week from to-day, I call for my answer, Until then, good* by. Please remember me to your charming ome ke J Carrie—ha! ha!” and with ax ironical laugh, Captain Kit turned and strode. toward the door. Judge Pierson eagerly clutched the revolver” from his desk, and turning, cocked and leveled: it at the outlaw. As the metallic click met bis: ear, the desperado turned with a sneer, saying, in a nonchalant tone: ‘Fire, Judge. It must be a great pleasure: fora man to pronounce his own death~dloom. My men are only waiting for some such sound, = I warn you, they will maké a clean job of The Judge stood glaring at his strange en- tagonist, with the pistol leveled full at his head. Captain Kit did not quail or flinch an atom, although he could look straight into the dar Well, then, 1 ask you to give me your daughter | tube of death. “Come, old fellow, that is enough. You. Carrie.”
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? cm oa my a 1 6 Dante sere aoe A SAS! TT EEE ER IO if compelled to obey against his will by ane more powerful, the Judge suffered his arm te droop, and then he simk back into his chair. With a low, taunting laugh, Captain Kit turned and left the room. Gazing out through the window Pierson be- held the daring outlaw vault lightly to the sad- @e of his magnificent chestnut, and then ride at a mad gallop away over the plain toward the hill retreat. As the riders vanished from view, he bowed his head upon his hands and sunk into a bitter and painful reverie. : CHAPTER VIL. JOSH CRANE AT WORK. Uncie Josa CRANE appeared unusually rest- ’ less and fidgety as he strolled aimlessly around the little rude cabin which hecalled his home. Fall twenty times during the last two weeks had the worthy Mistress Hepsy wondered whether the old man had not ‘“‘ gone an’ got ” he acted so queer and out of sorts. truth was he had received a severe blow in learning of his young friend’s sudden change from an honest, steady, trustworthy settler, to a pitiful, mischief-making horse-thief, if not murderer. He had loved the boy so strongly and deeply, that it was yery hard to bear. At first he had been inclined to doubt even his own senses, but now he was no longer alone. There were full half a score who could prove the biack deeds upon the herder. This last affair—tbat of robbing Pierson’s corral—had set the old man’s wits to work, and he strove in vain to see his way clearly ; the mist was too thick. At the best there was only the shadow of a plan in his mind, but one of which he hoped to make something. like the rest of the honest settlers, had en- ed his suspicions regarding those located near the hill’s foot; anda short time since, while ng by the place, Crane had observed Kirk m ride directly to the log-house. Could it , be that he was staying there? At len old Crane abruptly paused and a or of decision overspread his countenance as muttered a few words inaudibly to himself. Then he entered his little cabin. i“ psy old gal,” he said, as he took down his long heavy rifle from the deer-horn brackets above the fireplace, closely examining the state of the lock while speaking, ‘‘ whenever you feel like it 4 go to roost. n’t wait up for me.” “Ww you goin’, pap?’ the little old woman rejoined, with an uneasy look upon her face and in ber still bright black eyes. “Don’t ax qnennons, epsy. "Tain’t no good habit. Mought make a feller tell a lie, fust “Josh, you’re goin’ to meddlin’ with them fellers, Don’t doit. They hain’t peeve you, an’, if they’re,the kidney you think, the sooner you let ’em be, the better,” Pm old enough an’ ugly enough, too, Hepsy to take keer o’ myself. But you rest easy. i won't git inter no fuss. I’m Ped to play moke, like, an’ see ef ’tis raaly Kirk as is stoppin’ thar. I hope ’tain’t, for onless I eatly miss my guess that is a -hot hole o’ ho’nets. ' *But you said you see him?” “So I did, an’ at the Three Pines, too; but he sw’ars I didn’t. It cain’t be thet thar’s another feller so much like him; an’ yit must be. Don’t seem like the boy could ’a’ changed so mighty suddint. But ef I git a good squint at this ’ere feller, I see if it’s Kirk. ou know the scar he hadon his right hand—whar the brin’le steer tored it? I kin tell by thet.” “You'll be keerful, pap?’ anxiously added the old woman. “Sure. Why fer not? I hain’t tired o’ livin’ t, ef I be well nigh seventy y’ar, an’ you air a leetle sharp o’ the tongue onc't in a while,” chuckled Uncle Josh, as he turned and left the He strode along rapidly, and yet with a won- drous degree of lightness for one who had passed through the trials and struggles of seven de- cades. He was slowing the same path as had Kirk Dalton when attacked by the outlaws led by Cock-eyed Smatters, but then abruptly leav- ‘ing the beaten trace, he plunged into a dense growth of underbrush, heading so as to ap- proach the outlaws’ den from the further, or south-western side. He had no plans mapped out, but trusted all * to the spur of the moment. His principal ob- ject in the scout was to gain a fair sight at the strange man called Captain Kit, and to learn ' There was a regularly-defined plan, or rather skeleton of a plan, turning and twisting itself.in the cunning brain of the old hunter, that he be- lieved he would yet he able to carry out. More to confirm this resolve than aught else, had he entered upon his venture this night. ; Entertaining a sincere feeling of friendship for Judge Pieyson, Crane had heard of the threats of Captain Kit with indignation, not unmingled with a spice of uneasiness. He knew that, did the outlaw chief push matters, he could easily make his threats good. As the old hunter neared the vicinity of the outlaws’ den, he slackened his pace and in- creased his caution. Thoroughly acquainted with the lay of the ground, he resolved to ap- proach the building upon its south side, and then, trust to fortune, aided by cunning, to gain the desired information. As yet not one of the settlers—and by this we mean the more honest portion of the community —had been allowed to approach within arm’s length of the building. yhen so rudely re- pulsed, their curiosity was not sufficiently strong to incite them to a second attempt. Dropping upon bis stomach, Josh Crane glided with the silent caution of a serpent toward the building. He could now and then discern a bright ray of light as the door opened, and could hear the sounds of many voices in excited conversation or revelry. Evidently the outlaws were having a good time, and bent upon enjoying themselves. A grim smile shot athwart the rugged counte- nance of the old hunter, telling that he was by no means displeased at this fact. Ina few minutes Crane gained cover of the south wall, and crouched beneath shelter of a scrubby bush. Then his hands were slowly and carefully passed along the wall. A little exclamation broke from: his lips, as if at some gratifying discovery. Then he w his knife and set to work. He had found that the house was built of logs, unhewn, the interstices widely ‘‘ chinked ” with blocks of wood, then dau over with clay. be this hope, his plans had been founded. ith his knife, Crane cautiously picked -out the dried mud, piece by piece, until a small block was left free. This he also removed, and then he placed his eye to the aperture. The room was fully lighted up, and around the rude table, sat over a dozen men, all more or less under the influence of liquor, and still paying assiduous court to the subtle demon that wielded such influence over them. He could recognize several of the number as men of whom he had long been suspicious, and some of whom he had seen,with Kirk Dalton on the night of the stranger’s murder at the Three Pines. ade of anxiety overspread his honest countenance as he glanced around the room. He dreaded lest his worst fears should be confirmed, that he would find his young friend and Captain Kit to be one and the same man. For the time, however, he was disappointed, most a ein 6 The outlaw leader was not in this room, and if in the outer he kept so close that Crane could not catch a glimpse of him. Satisfied of this, Josh turned his attention toward the conver- sation of those nearest to him. ‘* It was a gco | haul thet we made thet night, at Pierson’s an’ Claiborne’s,” nted Bob Rat- tlesnake, or Carter, as he bad been christened. “The boss was yA in gittin’ off as he did. Why didn’t you fellows ride down thet cuss, Myrick afore he tuck the cap’n?” Wai, P see it’s jest this a-way,” replied Roaring Sam. ‘He told us to skedaddle when the feller hollered out, an’ he’d settle Ais hash. We did, in course, ’ca’se the cap’n ain’t a feller to be fooled with; not much! We heerd the | shootin’, but thought ‘twas him—see? We rid on, an’ s'pected him to jine us, every minnit; ; but he didn’t, an’ so as we knowed it’d do no good to turn back then, we kep’ on an’ left the critters as told. Then we- kem back hyar an’ found the boss all Hp ‘cept a skulp wound. He said as how we did jest right.” ‘*Thet’s it? I didn’t know jestly how it kem about afore. But now how is this? Js he thet Kirk Dalton, or not?’ whispered the fellow, with an uneasy glance around him. ‘ An’ ef so, what kind o’ a cussed game is he a-playin’, anyhow?” ‘You won’t none 0’ you blow?’ 3 _A general murmur disclaimed any such inten- tions, and then Roaring Sam continued: ** Wal, you know how Cock-eye an’ Yank was rubbed ‘out, don’t ye? I jest got cl’ar by the ! a skin o’ my teeth. Ye see, the cap’n kem to me an’ told me thet thar was a young feller asj he wanted put outer his way, fer fear he’d make mischief. I axed who, an’ he said Kirk Dalton, ‘* He told us over an’ over 2g’ixi thet we wasn’t to hurt the feller om ne ‘count. Ef we couldn’t take him alive to let ‘im go un’ wait fer another chance. He said the’ he’d “boot the feiler as hurted even a ha’r vu’ the bov’s head axed him what was his reasons, but he toia ec ‘het it was none o’ my durned bizness; thet ef I was afeerd to take the job he’d give it to some other feller who wasn’t a coward. “He picked out the boys as he said must hel me, an’ they war them as hed made him ma fer some reason or other. It kinder set me to thinkin’, thet did, an’ I see’d through it a’ter- ward, too late. We found the man, an”he faced . us like he knowed he was safe. You know the rest. He whi us, ’ea’se we didn’t dar’ use the we’pons. I gotcl’ar as I told ye, but t’other was killed. ‘Now I hain’t sech a durned fool, but what I kin see through a hole, ef so be it’s big enough an’ straight enough. I tell you thet Cap’n Kit is Kirk Dalton, an’ thet it was a put-up job fer him to git us all outen his way. I'll take my *davy thet they’re one an’ the same feller!” “T b’lieve ye, Sam. We must watch him an’ see what came he’s up to. I dont like it a bit, an’ I think he’s playin’ things so’s to git us all inter limbo, while he’ll fatten on what we’ve made.” Uncle Josh listened to this conversation with great interest. He found that othérs besides him had suspected that the two were one; and these men should know, if anybody. Just then he saw the door open and Captain Kit enter. After a glance around the room, the outlaw leader motioned to one of the men, and entered the apartment beside which Crane was concealed. He was followed by a tall, muscular man, a stranger to Crane, It was, however, none other than the lieutenant, Red Hirble. Captain Kit drew a rude bench away from the table, at which all conversation had suddenly ceased, and shoved it against the wall nearly in front of the hole made by the spy. Then seat- ing himself, Captain Kit spoke: ‘Sit down, Hirble. I want to woes to you, and if you stand, all those gaping fools can hear* me, That’s better. Now how about that job I told you of? Have you done any thing toward it since ve been gone?” ‘* No, simply beca’se [ couldn’t find him,” was the low reply. ‘But he is around here—he must be. If he had left we would some of us have noticed him. I would give five hundred dollars to have him me e shut up in the little room in the vault!’ ‘Ef it kin be did, you shell hey him,’ replied the tall outlaw. * Well, I think I can i youa bint of where heis. But not here. I don’t like the looks of Bob Rattlesnake and Sam, yonder. Do you go out and wait for me at the spring beneath the live-oak. I will be there in a few moments.” Josh Grane fairly quivered with suppressed joy and ane) as he hearkened to this con- versation. He believed they were referring to none other than Kirk Dalton, and the last words of the outlaw chief resolved him to at- tend the rendezvous, although as a silent part- ner. Possibly he might glean some important news. At any rate there could be no harm in trying. le understood the allusion to the live oak and wee. B pengen b More than once had he quenched bis thirst there and rested his weary limbs from the chase beneath the shady tree. To this point then he must go, and leaving his post of observation, Crane g ided aay and silently away, making a wide detour, the better- to approach the spot without being seen. Dis- yee Si there would be almost equivalent to eath. And yet the old hunter fell into the very error he strove to guard against. He did not know that Red Hirble had already sought the rendezvous, and was even then awaiting the captain’s appearance. ; ay sty Be lose time, Crane was pressing through the bushes without much regard to si- lence, when he was suddenly startled by the sound of a low, clear voice. Glancing in its di- rection he could faintly distinguish the outlines of a tall man. ** Ts thet you, cap’n?” asked the voice. *Yas—it’s me,” muttered Crane, almost be- fore thinking. But he soon discovered his error. The outlaw . | ] .
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+2 oem + had noted the difference in his voice from the one he expected to hear, and suspecting that one of the men was playing the part of spy m his actions he advanced, saying sternly: “ Hold on thar, you feller; keep yer ey: or by all thet’s holy ll bore yer skull with a bul- lit! Who air ye, an’ what ’re you doin’ hyar?” Crane quickly formed his plans. He saw that did he attempt to flee a bullet from the drawn revolver would assuredly ovértake him, Neither could be remain where he was until the outlaw chief came up, as to be arrested as a spy would be his death-warrant, There was but one resource; he must dispose of this man, as ily as possible, e did not hesitate but a moment, for he knew it was life against life. Unless victor he must be vanquished. So drawing his heavy knife, in the use of which he was an adept, keeping it concealed by one arm, he replied: “T kem hyar to gita drink. Is thar any law ag’in’ thet? “Who air you? You ain’t one o’ us—you’re too tall.” “You ain’t nuther, then, ’ca’se you're as big as I be.” “None o’ your sass, my fine feller, but tell me who ye air, an’ what you’re up to hyar?’ “T told you onc’t—a’ter a drink.” By this time the two men were not over ten feet apart; the outlaw bending his head for- ward the better to scrutinize the countenance of the stranger, while his pistol was half raised; then he started erect, uttering: ‘* Ha! you’re thet Crane feller!” “ Yas, an’ you’re—a gone sucker /” hissed the old hunter, as he drew back his right arm with a lightning-like motion, and hurled his weapon full at the exposed throat of the outlaw. True to its aim the heavy blade sunk to its very haft in the massive neck of Red Hirble, who tottered and fell, stricken unto death. But as he did so, his fingers contracted and the pis- tol exploded. Instantly there was a loud tumult at the den and the door opening, a broad blaze of light fell almost to the spot of death. Josh Crane knew that to delay now would be fatal, and only pausing to extricate his knife, he turned and fled at full speed, choosing such tangled paths as he knew could not be followed upon horseback. He did not fear being overtaken there, and only felt regret that he had failed in his main object. He felt confident that his blow had —_ — — layed oe it cdevrne ever suspect © part he n tragedy. But in this he wes at fault. Red Hirble had not_been killed instantly, and as Captain Kit knelt beside him, he to reveal who had dealt the fatal blow. And then, over his dead body, the outlaw chief swore to wreak bitter vengeance upon the murderer for the death of his loved friend and comrade. Joshua Crane hastened as rapidly as poss‘ble to the house of Judge Pierson, and upon knock- ing was admitted by a servant, who said; ‘Golly! Marse Crane, I was jest gwine fo’ you, De Judge wants to see you right away.” “All right, Ebony; whar is he?” “Here, Crane,” cried Pierson, making his a ce. ‘‘T have great news for you, my old nd,” and together they entered the library. CHAPTER VII. THE ASSIGNATION. ON the second day following the which Josh Crane disposed of Red horse and rider slow] ht upon irble, a left the spacious yard before Judge Pierson’s house, and proceeded along the road leading down the river toward the lower ford. This rider was a lady—Carrie Pierson. Her cheek is still pale and a thought less plump than when we first beheld her, but her eye is fully as bright and sparkling. _ : : ere was an expression as of anxiety restin upon her face as she eet uneasily aroun her, and once she half-checked her horse as if to abandon some pe But then, with an ex- clamation of impatience, the maiden urged her horse forward at reckless speed, as if all doubt- 7 were settled. ; he did not draw rein until the hill overlook- ing the ford was surmounted, where she paused beneath a good-sized live-oak tree. Standing | upon her saddle she reached one hand into a small hollow at the base of a huge limb, and withdrew a small, neatly-folded net. i yp her seat the maiden tore open the missive and eagerly perused its contents. It contained but a few words, and ran as follows: 4 Night-Hawk Kit. “In THE SADDLE. “My Carrin: “Treceived your note, and hasten to reply. I will meet you at the place mentioned. I cannot write much now, as lam on my way to meet some of my men; but will have all the more to tell you when we do meet. I shall expect you without fail to-morrow. Until then, adieu, “Tn haste, yours, 7) Krrg.”’ For some minutes Carrie Pierson sat intently gazing at this note. There wasa Sgceameen gi 8 ish pallor upon her features, that seemed un- natural. In truth, this was an answer to a note of hers, asking for a meeting with the robber captain. Or rather she had tirst received one from him, requesting this as a favor, and she had con- sented. Then turning her horse’s head, Carrie rode slowly toward the hill retreat, evidently with the intention of keeping the assignation. As she neared the spot, her face lighted up and her eyes sparkled more ghee f Ase approached a small grove of trees at but a few hundred yards from the outlaws’ den, a horseman spurred from beneath their shade and rode rapidly toward her. As the forest breeze lifted the brim of his slouched hat, the features of Captain Kit were revealed. “Carrie, my angel—my true-hearted woman —I knew you ther not fail me!” he cried, in an ardent tone, as he clasped her outstretched hand; the prancing of her horse could not prom- ise more. “T trust you—why should not you trust me?’ was the softly breathed reply, as her bright eyes met his fully. “True—but come; it is warm here, The sun has little power yonder in the shade. Let us go there and converse. I have so much to tell you —so much to listen to.” Side by side the handsome couple rode until the shade was reached, when they allowed their horses to crop the short, rich grass, while they conversed. ‘Let me assist you to alight, Carrie.” ‘*No, I would rather sit here. It seems like old times. It has been so long sinceI have been able to ride, that it rests me more in the saddle than it would there.” ‘So be it, then. But now—before less agree- able subjects—have you chan any, Carrie? Do you still love me as you did before I joined these men?” " te oak is still the same; I love you now as wellas when you were my father’s herdsman. What I said then, [ repeat now. When I love once, that love will never change, unless it grow stronger. Are you satisfied?” was the soft reply, as her wondrous eyes rested upon his ace. “Yes—a thousand times yes! My darling ——, me, if fora moment I doubted you. i eared you would look upon me as your father does. That you would think I had forfeited all claim to your love when I became a thief.” “Then it is really true that you are the chief of this band of—of outlaws?’ “Yes, I am, and | glory in it. They are men—genuine men; not milk and water imita- tions. And they look up to me as something far superior to them. With the majority I am almost revered. I am proud of them, and they are proud of me!” “Tt must be glorious to be so free—so inde- pendent! Do you know, Kirk, that if I were a man, I could almost envy you?” ““My darling, you can share this all with me. They will hail you as their qaeen as gladly as they do me as their king. Will you share it with me? Say yes!” “But my father?” hesitated Carrie. “ Has he not changed? I gave him a week to decide; to-morrow is the last day; I intend call- ing for his answer then. What will it be?’ ‘The same as ever. He swears that you must work your will—that he will never con- sent. But stay,” she added, hastily, as the brow of the outlaw chief darkened, “listen to me. You must not make that visit, Kirk.” “Must not? My word is passed, and I will redeem it,” was the stern —- y. “‘Task you to grant a little more time. Will you refuse me ?” softly pleaded Carrie. “‘ My men know the time. They would laugh at me if I should falter.” _* But hear me—tell them that it is working right—that he wili submit.” ‘ But will he?” eagerly cried Captain Kit. **T can honestly say that I have the strong- | est hopes of its all turning out right, if you will but be patient for another week. If, at the end of that time, he does not te!l you to take me, I ' will go with you willing], wi-hout his conseut, if \ you bid medoso, You know that 1 have ao t influence over him, and that I can do m “ba I please. I have had an interview with him since your visit, and he has yielded a little. He says now that if you had not robbed him, he would raise no further objections. Have pa- tience, Kirk, and it will all come right, never fear.” ‘*You promise this—that if I wait another week you will come with me, whether or no?’ *“Yes—I promise it, if you ask me to do so. You can trust me.” “Yes, I can—I do. When we tet last— that night in your dather’s grounds--you said: ‘When you bid me come to you 4 will obey. fam all yours-~through good 4u0 evij—joy and sorrow! | wilt claim fuiliiment of your vow then.” “Tf you do, I will obey you. Then I may tell father that you grant him another week?’ “Yes, if you wish. But I must call upon him to-morrow, if only to satisfy my men.” ‘* Now, Kirk, that you have set my mind at ease upon that one great point, I must confess to you that I am very curious to see how you live out here. There are many and strange tales going the rounds, of the mysterious rites and incantations performed in that gloomy- looking house of yours, And some of the neigh- bors ada that you nave found a vast gold mine in there, or else why have you removed so much dirt from the building?” half laughed Carrie, glancing shyly up at her dark lover. ‘They are fools, darling. The only gold mine we work is the purses of our enemies,” laughed Captain Kit; but he gazed keenly at the maiden as if to read her inmost thoughts. “But you have not answered my question, Kirk?’ you ask one? Pardon me—I did not understand,” he slowly replied. “Tf not, Limplied one. You are not half as quick-witted as of old, Kirk, or you would have - offered to satisfy my curiosity at once. It is I Me should accuse you of change—not you me?” “‘ Is it only curiosity, Carrie?” ‘Why, what else could it be, Kirk?’ with an air of surprise. ** You will meet rough and rude men there, darling.” *‘ Rough, maybe, but not rude, while you are with me. Besides, { wish to see those over whom you rule, and to see if I should like to be their queen as well as I think,” was her soft re- ly, and again her lustrous eyes met those of er lover. For a moment he gazed intently into their depths, and then, with a low cry of intense pas- sion, he clasped her in nis arms and a a wild, ardent kiss upon her lips. Her cheek was deeply suffused as she released herself from his — but her voice was soft as ever as she spoke: ‘** You have obtained your reward beforehand; surely you will not deny me my wish any longer? “No, darling—I can refuse you nothing. You shall go, and if-any of the men see fit to blame me for breaking the law I made myself, the will regret doing so. Come, darling, we wi go. Whatever of suspicion the outlaw chief may have entertained, was now discarded as without foundation, and he led the way with a look of gratification upon his face. It seemed as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart. For although he knew that Carrie loved him, he feared that she would not move in direct op- position to the will of her father. But this fear set at rest, he saw that his threat of compul- sion would not need to be put into execution. He assisted Carrie to dismount at the door, and then securing the horses, he took her hand and led her forward, unheeding the looks of wondering rise, not unstable with displeas- ure, that upon the rough faces of those who had flocked tothe door at the sound of hoof-strokes. “Men and comrades!” uttered the chief, in a clear, firm tone. ‘You all know the laws that I have made and you subscribed to. That none who were not legal members of our copfederac should ever enter this door, save as prisoners. break this now, for the first time, if not in spirit ag Have any of you aught tosay against it? “No, not ef you say it’s all right, cap’n,” cried one of the men. ‘Good, Hardress. It saves us both trouble, for my mind ismadeup. But now I will ex- plain. This lady whom you see here is my promised wife, and it may be that at some cay not far Cistant, you will be called upon to obey =
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10 her will as well as mine, to become your queen!” “Hooray for her! Three cheers for the queen o the band!” yelled Hardress, und then a score of stentorian voices caught up the refrain until the old hills reverberated again with the echoes, Carrie clung trembling to the arm of her lover, as if affrighted at their rough welcome. The outlaw chief divined her wish, and motion- ing silence, said: ‘There, my men, that will do. Stand aside an wo will enter, I wish to show my friend the house.” She has half promised Obeciently the rude men fell back, and with | a native delicacy that told of a soft spot yet un- seared by crime far down in their hearts, un- covered their heads as the young couple passed, Many were the glances of respectful admira- tion that the fair young maiden reccived as she ghded along. “You see, Carrie—there are our quarters. How do you like them?” “But these weapons; really you—that is—” and then she faltered as her eyes roved over tho array of fire-arms and cutlery that was sus- pended against the walls or were standing in the corners. * They are the implements of our craft, pet,” said Captain Kit, with a hard, metallic laugh. “But we do not use them wantonly. Only when forced to it.” “It is rougher here thanI thought. Aro those the only rooms?” ““Except the loft, up-stairs. But do not fear that I will ask you to share such quarters as these. If you consent to my plans, we will have a nice little cottage buiit out yonder in the grove, where you will not be disturbed, and yet be near enough for us to guard you against all danger,” and the outlaw chief gazed Gown upon = flushed and bright face with a look of ardent ove. “ Well, that will be an improvement, but we ean settle all such matters hereafter. For now that I am well again, I intend to take daily ex- ercise, and we—that is—” * Yes,” laughed Captain Kit. ‘‘I need exer- cise, also, and none so good as horseback rid- ing. Besides, you k.cow it is not exactly safe ‘for you to be without one escort, so we will ride ‘ togecher. Is that what your foolishly sly little 7 refused to utter, my pet?” “You are a wizard, Kirk,” pouted Carrie, and then their united voices rung out in Fi yous Jaughter, sounding strangely musical amid those rude ee ie ‘But, Kirk, what is yonder door? There is i there—does it open out upon the hill- side “ Not exactly; but inside. That leads to our mysterious gold mine—ha! ha! Come, I will show you,” and igniting a lamp, he opened the heavy door. Carrie uttered a little cry of wondering sur- prise as she entered the dimly-lighted place, and saw the numerous pairs of eyes turned upon | them, gleaming like twin stars. But then a shrill neigh that sounded strange and unearthly, told her what they were. “You see, Carrie, this is our gold mine. It is an easier method of enriching one’s self, at any rate, if not quite so rapid.” ‘*'Then these horses are—?” ** Just so. Stolen, as some would call it; we say confiscated. We sent off a lot last night. These came in just before day. You see we have a kind of way-station here, to receive such animals as are brought from above. Then we send them on to the next station, where the are served the same, and so on until they vench a market. Thus at day we are all at home. That is.why we are so often called ‘ Night- Hawks.’” “1 see—but what is there? Another room?’ added the maiden, indicating a small but heavy door built in the ground wall ; the one hereto- fore alluded to. * Well, yes, asmallone. Wekeep it for such of our friends as we value too highly to leave exposed to the dangers of freedom,” and again he gave vent to that hard, metallic laugh, that caused the maiden to shiver. ‘*Ts there any one in it now®”’ “No. It has never been used. Come, and will show you it.” Unlocking the door, oe Kit threw it open, holding the light so that the interior was visible, The walls, floor and roof were all of rock, neatly joined and fitted together. At one end was a rude bench of rough-hewn ~yood, and above was suspended from a huge | giaple a heavy iron chain. A more cheerless vell conld searcelv be conceived. * Come, Kirk, let us go. It gives me the hor- oe SHH erie + meg t tat Night-Hawk Kit, rors in here. Besides, I must be going home. Father will be anxious, and I do not wish him to suspect my having come here.” “Very well; but first, promise to meet me to- morrow where you did to-day. Will you?” ‘Yes, I will come. But will you call on fa- ther first, or after?” ‘First. I save the best until the last, you see. But come then. It is damp here, and you are not fairly recovered yet.” With a few more words Carrie was seated safely in the saddle and conducted by the out- | law chief toa point beyond view of the building. Then, with ore lsst kiss, he stood and watched her graceful form as she rode rapidly away.: CHAPTLR VIII A FIENDISH DIED, As Ceptain Kit turned toward the house, with a low sigh, he was confronted by O'd Moro and Rattlesnake Bob. With a frown—for ho evi- dently did not fancy either of tho worthies over highty, he demanded: ‘* Well, what is it you want?” “A leetle matter o’ business, cap’n,” respect- fully answered Mose, ‘‘’Bout old Josh Crane, ye know,” “Well, what is it? Has he returned yet?’ eagerly asked the outlaw chief, his eyes flashing, as he remembered the yet unavenged death of his friend ard comrade, Red Hirble. “Yas, he hes. Bn got back a bit sence. An’ £8 some 0’ us boys hes got a old grudge ag’in’ him, back o’ his killin’ the leftenant, I made fr’endly visit to-night, so’s to settle all scores.” “You mean to kill him?” “Wal, yas, it mought come to thet ef you sifted if down purty clus. He’s a dangerous | feller to hev so near around us. Thar’s no tell- in’ what devilment he ain’t up to. Ef he’s a- | mind to do it, he could raise enough boys from round the kentry to wipe us out like nothin’, I half b’lieve thet is what he’s bin gone so long fer now,” craftily added Mose. “You think so?” “T do, honest. But how is it? Shal!-I take the boys an’ call on him?” ‘Well, yes, I don’t know but you had better. I had intended punishing him with my own hand, but it will amount to the same thing. You can go te-night; but bring him here alive if youcan. If not, make a clean job of it. As you say, he’s a dangerous neighbor,” slowly re- plied Captain Kit; but with an anxious look upon his face that told his mind was ill at ease. “ All right. We'll settle with him, then, one way or another, to-night. Kin I pick my men, cap’n?” “Yes; take who you please. He’ll most like- ly make a fight of it. But bring him hero if you can,” and then the trio parted; the two coarser ruffians with devilish gleo imprinted upon their countenances. At an heur after dusk a little perty on foot silently glided away from the hill retreat. They numbered some half a dozen, and among them were Old Mose, Rattlesnake Bob, Roaring Sam, and their most intimate comrades: as vile a | crowd as could be picked from the off-scourings of the world. Each and all of the number cherished a grudge agninst the sturdy borderer, and would willingly have satisfied it long since by shoot- ing him down frem an ambush, only for the wholesome dread they entertained of his strong arn and ready kand. To have failed in in- flicting a mortal blow, their own fate would bo ' sealed. It was strange then how eary and careless they appeared to feel now. One would have thought they were bunting some despised foe, whom they knew would offer no resistance. In a short time the Night-Hawks came in view of the little cabin, and paused as if in doubt. The hut looked gloomy and deserted. ‘*How is it, Mose?’ asked one of the men. “Shore ye ain’t mistook?” “Shore? Yes, in covrseIam. Leastways he warn’t thar this mornin’. I don’t think he’s got back yit.” “But he ings Fg “Wal, we kin find out. I reckon thar’s non on us hyar to han’le the cuss ef he ¢s thar. ‘“You talk big, Mose, but you'd be the fust one to run: jest as you did t’other time,” mut- tured the outlaw, with a dissatisfied air, ‘‘Shet trap, Foxv!” angrily responded the leader, evidently little relishing the truth con- tained in his comrade’s words. ‘* We must see Tope ne Br ee re eet re een ee it out, anyhow.” “Wal, ef he is thar, I tell you all aforehand bold to ax you would you let us pay the imp a. thet I’m goin’ to take the back track, now you hyar me!” ““Do as you please. It’ll be a nice yarn to tell the boys,” chuckled Moso. ‘“You won’t be able to tell it, onless you do thesame thing. He’sa devil, thet Josh Crane is,” earnestly affirmed —- Jake, as ho slowly followed his comrade’s lead. ‘**Now look hyar,” said Mose, as they again paused, this time under shelter of a Cense clump of bushes, something to the right of tho house, “We must find out ef tho old cuss ts at homo afore we show our hands. We'll all g> up to- gether an’ I'll knock an’ ax for Josl. comes, why then Jil tell a lio an’slip out o’ it as best I kin. You fellers kin watch yer chaince an’ plug him, ef so be you k'n do it, Understand? “Yes, Sofur. Butef only the old woman is thar?’ asked Roaring Sam. ‘* Wal, then we'll make a clean swecp o’ the hull thing. Ill burt old Josh a hecp sight worse’n ef we'd Killed him, hisself. He thinks a powerful sight o’ the old woman, so they say.” In truth this latter deed was just what the Night-Hawks had sallied out to accomplish. Old Mose had found that Jos) Crane was absent from heme, and thinking he saw a chancoto deal a bitter blow at his enemy without much dan- ger to himself, he had induced scmo kindred spirits to enter into tho project, which they were only too eager to co. Their request of Captein Kit was but a blind, Had they telieved Crano was at homo, not one of wretches would have volunteered for the task, “Tho cap’n ‘Il be rip-roarin’ when ho hears what we've did.” “Bah! leavo thet to me. I'll fix it up all right. We’ll burn the house an’ say thet Crane went with it, or else run away. But walk straight now, an’ kecp your we’pons reacy fer use. Ef he opens tho door, shoot the imp. Be ina hurry, too, or he'll make it warm fcr us,” continued Mose, ashe led the way toward the closed door of the shanty. Not one of the party—although under ordi- nary circumstances they wero beld and darin enough—felt entirely at ease as they hatched + Sh eel, Lf he ! up to the cabin. Josh Crane was a terror to ' them. The hand of Old Mose trembled as he lifted it , and struck a vigorous rap on the door of rough- ly hewn puncheons, A voice was heard in re- ply, the voice of old Mrs. Crane, ‘Who air you? What ye want?’ ‘* Friends. We want to see the old man a bit, ef he’s to be seen,” replicd Mose, trying to disguise his voice; but in this he was only parti- ally successful. 5 ‘What you want 0’ him?” “Business, mum; "bout them peer eee as hey squatted thar by the bill. We're in a hurry, too. Is Crane in thar?” ‘No, he ain’t to hum, an’I reckon it’s all the better fer you thet ho ain’t, Old Mcre. mighty heap o’ biz‘ness you must kev with him / You'd better go back to thim as sent ye. You won’t git nothin’ here to-night,” boldly replied the old woman. “You won’t open the door, then?” ‘*No—I won’t!” ; “Then, boys, le’s bu’stitin, You see I told you right. ie sin’t hyar!” exultantly added the desperado; and not unti! then did tle wo- man realize the perilshe had precipitated upon herself, in part, at least. ‘‘Hyer’s a stick the old ‘coon hauled fer back logs,” cried Rattlesnake Bob. ‘1t’ll do. We'll hey the door down in a hurry now. Catch hold an’ give us a lift,” The Night-Hawks lifted the trimmed trunk of a small tree in their sturdy arms, end then pointing the jagged butt foward tke door. started upon a run, with a wild hurrah of triumph. They anticipated no resistance; their revenge seemed assured them, With a loud thud the leg struck the stout door, shaking the entire house to its founda- tions. But Men was a more terrible sound mingled with its clangor. ‘A blaze of lurid Bene spouted from the side of the cabin; a leaden bullet sped upon its mission of death, settling in the brain of Bob Rattle- snake. ith a wild cry of death-agony the doomed Night-Hawk threw up his arms and staggered back, falling to the ground a dead man, “ Thar—how do ye like thet, you cowardly imps you? Come hotkerin’ round ne scme more, won’t ye? Now git—travel, or I'll carve the hull b’ilin’ on ye the same way as I did thet earr’on!” cried the old woman, in a defiant tone, —
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~ Ena .-onbenneceneeeeeaneenneEnOE The Night-Hawks dropped the log and stood for a moment as if petrified at this sudden cal- amity, Then they believed that Josh Crane was hidden in the cabin, and smitten with a snd len fear, they turned and fled in dismay. Bat this did not last long. The voice of the woman still rung in their ears, and they be- lieved that.she was alone, as soon as they paused to reflect. Had Crane been there, he would have coarged them at once. * Boys, Rattlesnake is gone under. Shall we let thot cussed old ’oman boast o’ whippin’ us all? I move le’s go back an finish up the job,” erie 1 Mose, as they all crouched under cover. “You don’t think he’s thar, then?’ added Foxv Jake. ; “No. Eé he hed a’ bin, he’d ’a’ follered us as | soon as he shot. Besides, he’d ’a’ given us more than ene pill. Come, le’s go back.” The parby reassured, followed the Night- Hawx’s lead, and they ran_ swiftly back to where lay the log. Another shot greeted them, but it only slightly wounded Mose, rendering hiin fairly wild with race. Then the log was hurled again and again | for you. againsh the door, that soon ‘began t» yield, cracking and splintering. Then it was dashed from its hinges and hurled half-way across the room, Mose stumbled through the aperture, almost overthrowing the old woman, who had leveled hor recharged weapon. But for the stumble, he would have received the rifle’s contents; as it was he escaped bY a slight burn along the cheek, scorched by the flash. But it was the last effort of the doomed woman. Several loud reports rung out, whose brilliant blaza filled the room, and she sunk down, still clasping in her hand the rifle that had proven so faithful, stricken unto death. Tnen ensued a frearful scene of barbarity. Tue surviving desperadoes, maddened by thoir loss, when they had anticipated an easy vic- tory, wreaked their rage and fury upon the senseless corpse, Old Mose, finally desisting, called his men off to plunder the cabin of such articles as attracted their fancy. Then the furniture was broken anl pilel up in the center of the room, after which a blazing brand was applied to it. Then leaving the doomed cabin, the Night- Hawks stood around watching the scene of destruction with laughs and jeers of demoniac glee, Slowly at first, then gaining power with every moment, the blaza crept on until the entire structure was wrepied in flames. Not until then did the Night-Hawks pick up their dead and slowly leave the scene of their diabolical crime. They feared to linger longer lest the glare should call some of the helenae to the spot, aud they should thus be recognized. CHAPTER IX. MOTHER AND SON. A Frew minutes after the Night-Hawks, led by Old Mose, sallied forth upon their fiendish mis- sion, Captain Kit also left the Nest, on foot, but thoroughly armed, as customary. There was an undecided look upon his bold, handsome countenance, revealed by the moon’s bright | rays, as the broad-brimmed hat was pushed back from his brow. “Yes, 1 will doit. I must know what to ex- »ect to-morrow. If he should remain stubborn, { must havesome way open to grant him a little | longer grace, without seeming to go wholly against my word. And then—I may see Carrie, my angel—my little true-hearted girl!” he mut- ae with a rapid glance toward the gloomy en, Then, as if all doubts were settled, he strode swiftly away toward Judge Pierson’s ranch. Tn a few minutes he came in sight of the house, thut was not yet lighted up, although the doors and windows were all thrown open. As though feeling perfectly at home, Captain Kit strode lightly up to the veranda, where several persons were sitting. Two of the num- ber arose and entered the house. One the out- law knew to be Carrie; the other he believed was Mrs. Pierson, although not sure, as she was an invalid, and mostly confined to her room. The settler peered cautiously at his visitor, ani then recognizing him, arose with a haughty air, leaning upon the back of hischair. His | psa as he spoke was subdued, yet cold and | rm: “To what am I indebted for this visit? I be- | li-ve the time designated has net yet arrived.” ‘Not until to-morrow morning, ’tis true, but what are a few hours?” rej ined Captain Kit, in an oven tone. ‘I come here to learn what answer Lam likely to receive to-morrow?” ‘ Night-dawk Kit. ‘And I cannot tell you. Or, if you like it better, I will not tell you until the last moment of grace has expired,” firmly replied Pierson. ‘* Tt lies in my power to make you do so; but before we go further, perhaps ’twould be better to seek a spot a litt.e more retired. Shall we walk? I have private news for your ear alone.” ‘*No, we will go to my room. Weare safe there from every eavesdropper. I will listen to you because I also have something to tell—or rather shov- you—in return.” Captain Kit gazed at the settler keenly, but could read no index to his thoughts upon that immobile face. Evidently the planter was pre- paring for the crisis. The conversation that ensued we need not de- tail, as it was in substance the samo as had tran- spired at their previous discussion. But then Judge Pierson said: ** By the way, captain, I have a little surprise An old friend, who is very anxious to see you. Shall I ring?’ *“An old friend?” echoed the outlaw, one hand mechanically falling to the butt of bis ready re- volver, while hig eyes dwelt keenly upon tho composed features of the settler. Yes. Shall I ring?” “Tf you please. But—wait a moment. I know you—and I judge you know me, If not, Be should. I am here alone, to-night, but I 1ave left instructions behind me. You havea little mark of mine there upon yeur face. Should you contemplate treachery, remember that I am tolerably quick on the trigger. An inch lower and to the left of that spot, would— understand?” “But what care I for your threats? If you fear, however, I will not send for this person,” sneered Pierson. “*Fear! I don’t know what that word means. Ring the bell. I am anxious to see this mys- terious friend,” and turning, Captain Kit faced the door. Pierson touched the call-bell, and as if the peso had been in waiting for some time, the oor immediately opened and a woman entered. She was of a tall and stately form, although considerably past the prime of life. She was dressed in plain but neat clothes, and her face, though bearing the imprint of time’s fingers, was still remarkably comely. As these two, the woman and Captain Kit, stood gazing. at each other, the most casual ob- server would have been struck by the likeness between them. Then Judge Pierson spoke: “Captain, you do not salute your friend.” ‘* Mother,” said the outlaw leader, not notic- ing the settler’s words, ‘‘why are you here— what have you come for?” “To see my son, since he would not return to me. But I did not think to find you like this, George. It was sad news for a mother’s heart,” brokenly replied the woman, evidently yearn- ing to rush forward and clasp him to her heart, et deterred by the harsh, forbidding look rest- tng upon his features, ‘Your coming here does not mend the mat- terany. But you, Judge Pierson, what do you expect to gain by this move? How will it bet- ter you ?” he added, with illy-suppressed ire. ** Perhaps much—perhaps nothing. Madame, your proels 7 ‘Shall be kept. George, I ask you to aban- don this wicked plan of yours. These people have never injured you. Then give over your — and come home with me. Will you do it “No, I will not. Ihave tried an honest life until I am tired of it. As Kirk Dalton I drove and herded cattle for a pale wages; but do you think it was because I liked the life? No. There were other charms here. I loved Carrie Pier- son, and to win herI did this. Had you, Judge, treated me as a man, I would never have drop- ped the mask. But you didnot. You insulted me, because I, a poor vaquero, as you thought, dared to love your child. Then I swore she should be mine, despite Ne and your threats. I could have taken her then. She would have fled with me had { but said the word. Idid not say it, because I resolved to be revenged upon ou first. And I say now, what I said then; hat if you fail to acceed to my terms to-mor- row, I will keep my word. I will sweep you and yours from the face of the earth; all ‘but one. She will become my bride, and queen of _my band,” triumphantly cried Captain Kit. ‘George, this must not be!” exclaimed the woman, whom he had called mother. ‘“ You | must nit soil your hands with his. blood—he is our— “My what?” “* Your uncle!” faltered the woman, bowing her head upon her hands as if in shame. ! ——— EE EE eee eee ee ee ee ee eee Ee eee 11 For a moment the outlaw stood as if petrified. Then the old reckless look returned, and he spoke in a low but scornful tone. ‘‘So—that is the ruse you have adopted, is it, my good sir? Truly I must compliment you upon your astuteness. Yours isa very fertile brain; but while about it, why did: not you make me your son? That-would have been still more melo-dramatic.” ““Goorge, do not speak so. I cannot bear it. I would never have told you this, only you forced me to it, to save you from this great sin. As God hears me, he is your uncle—you are the son of his brother. I swear it by my love for you, my only child.” “Go on—I am becoming decidedly inter- ested,” mocked Captain Kit. **Oh, George, have pity! Say you will aban- don this, and Jet us return home, where we may be as happy as we were before you were led into evil ways,” pleaded the woman, weeping bitterly. “Tt seems that I came fairly by my evil ways, as youcall them. I am his son—yet do not bear his name, The puzzle can be read in but one way. Isit the right way?” ** Yes!” desperately cried the woman. ‘‘ Since you force me to it, I wiil tell you all. You are his son—and mine—but I was never his wife. These are your kindred—do not have their de- struction upon your head.” ‘You rave; very foolishly, too. His famil has degraded me; I will but return the compli- ment. If I hesitated before, I will do so no longer. And you—my uncle—remember that to-morrow I come for my answer. Let it be favorable, or by all the fiends I will make my oath & . Before this time to-morrow night I will have a bride—my hand a queen!” “* You refuse to listen to your mother’s plead- ings?’ added Pierson, as he arose, ‘No; I have listened to them, and I assure you, they have great weight with me. Only— unfortunately for you—it rests in the wron side of the balance. It decides your fate. But adios until to-morrow. May pleasant dreams attend you—ha! ha!” mockingly laughed Cap- tain Kit, as he backed from the room. Judge Pierson stood in the doorway, his head bent as if listening intently, an eager look of expectancy upen his features. Then a i smile flitted athwart his countenance. He heard the tones of loud voices from the gar- den. Then a hoarse cry—a_ pistol-shot—fol- lowed by the sounds as of a co; struggle, Then for a moment all was still. CHAPTER X. OLD MOSE’S REW. : Aw hour later a dark form left the grounds of the Pierscn ranch, and took upits way towerd the Night-Hawks’ nest. During that period the tragedy at the old bunter’s cabin had been ac- complished, A faint glow still marked the spot, but that was fast ying out. More than one anxious glance did the man cast toward this point, and twice he half-pauted as if he would have turned his steps in that Girection; but then with a mut- tered sentence he resumed his way. His long, swinging strides speedily brought him to the hills, and then he uttered ‘the pecu- liar signal used to denote the approach of one of the band: the sbrill, screeching whistle of a night-hawk. A small slidé was opened in the door and a voice sounded through the aperture: ** Who is it?” **TI—the captain. the reply. “ Ail right,” and then the door swung open to admit the new-comer, being closed and bar- red behind him. hurt! What's hap- Open and Jet me in,” was “Why, cap’n, you're pened?” exclaimed the door-keeper, as he gazed at the chief, whose head was rudely bouud up with a blood-stained cloth. “A scratch; that’s all. I called at Pierson’s ranch, and as I was leaving I had a little turn- up with one of hismen. The fellow made a fair snap-shot, but a little too high. He won't’ of it, though,” and the outlaw chief uttered a peculiar laugh as he drew a pistol and began re- charging it. “You settled him, then?” ‘* You see—one chamber is empty. I seldom have to pull twice on one man. There'll be a funeral at the ranch to-morrow.” “‘ But how is it, captain?” asked another, who had drawn near during the conversation, Mar- tin Homer, the lieutenant since Red Hirble’s death. ‘‘How will it go to-morrow? With Pierson, I mean?” ; 2 ss
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| fore Iam done witn you. ~~ neta my Ae 1% him a call to-morrow as promised, and when he | finds that we are bound to keep our word, he’ll knuckle under.” * An‘ the girl—Miss Carrie?” * As you know. She will keep her word, too. When I say the word, she will come to me. You heard what she said here that day? that she would like to be queen of a band of such men. After this affair she must be obeyed as much as lam. How do you like the idea?” What reply Homer would have made is not known, Just at that moment another signal was heard, and the voice of Old Mose replied. _ The door-keeper uttered a cry of surprise as he glanced out, at the sight that met his eyes, re- | vealed by the broad blaze of light. The Night-Hawks entered the building, bear- ing between them two bloody forms, which the then dropped upon the floor, rudely and care- lessly, like some lo pushed back hia hat and faced the captain, ‘ | | y | There was a look of defiance, as if assumed to | hide an apprehension that could but too plainly be read upon his ugly countenance. Evidently he intended to bluff his way out of the scrape he had fallen into. . Well, sir, what does this mean?’ demanded t, after a brief silence, nodding to- ward the dead bodies, “ Fe did it,” muttered Old Mose, his eyes quailing before the stern glance of his chief. “He? Who is he ?” * You know—the feller you sent us a’ter—old ne. “That I sent you after? But go on. Tell it all, and be quick about it, too. k me in the e, if you can. I can’t trust you, else, Old ose.” _ “* Wal—we went thar—as you told us too, an’ ffust thing we knowed he shot at us, an’ dropped Bob, yonder.” F <What—without speaking? Didn’t he ask yyou who you were and what you wanted?” sus- piciously demanded Captain Kit, “ No, he didn’t—didu’t say a durned word, but jist blazed away. Then we went for the eabin with a log o’ wood, an’ bu’st o et As Jad we seen 80 con Roarin’ ugged . al, we pu trigger, too, an’ critter fell ’ithout a word.” : “You killed him—Crane?” “No we didn’t, nuther,” muttered Mose, un- we Bat you said—?”" - That the feller went under, but *twasn’t “Whothen? Come, speak out! Don’t mouth your words so.” ; “Wal, then—’twasn’t our fault. We thought ‘twas him, or we wouldn’t ’a’ shot. Who'd ’a’ thunk a woman ’d ’a’ acted so f’erce-like?” “4 woman ?” “ Yes—'twas the old man’s wife. She—” “What! You killed her—Mrs. Crane?” cried vously &ngering a Decree ault, as I said afore. The y fool brung it on meee sullenly replied ose, edgin: a@ pace, evidently not ng the Idoke of affairs ‘ “ Mose Carter, I believe you lie. You are too big a coward to have even one whom you thought Josh Crane. You know that he has ‘been gone from home for several days, and had not got back yet. You knew the old woman would be alone, and put up this job to get even with him; you and with you. «Them’s rough words, cap’n, to speak to a feller what went by your orders; durned rough! Taint right, ef you be boss,” muttered Mose, an ominous glitter in his treacherous eyes, as one hand glided slowly to his belt. “You may have better cause to think so be- Men, what is your mio! Are we to turn into women-mur- derers? Have we come to so low a pass as that? I have always foun I say that Mose Carter and those e cowardly dogs who went I hope not. heretofore. who were with him in this outrage are coward- | ly, murdering dogs, for whom a man’s death is too good. How many a with me?” As he glanced around the crowd assembled Captain Kit was greeted with a loud cheer of approval by the majority. But there were near a dozen others who remained silent, with sullen looks. Old Mose also noted this, and made a peculiar gesture to them. As if understanding the sig- nal, they a working around together. “Tt is well. Iexpected as much, from men. \ * you men, | | | asked - Nigh er, ‘* What fer?” sullenly demanded the outlaw. “To stand trial. If we find that Josh Crane had not returned home before you did this deed, you will be punished. If he has, we will look | upon it as a mistake on your part, and overlook it. Come—do you hear?” ** Yas—lI hear.” “Then obey. What! ‘You won't?’ hissed Septet Kit, as the outlaw whipped out his re- volver. “ Drop that—drop it, I say, or I'll send you to the devil—your master!” “Go thar fust, an’ tell him I’m a-comin’!” a Mose, as he threw up his weapon and fired, Instantly all was confusion. Captain Kit staggered back and fell to one knee, his face fairly blackened, so close had been the pistol’s muzzle to it, But then he threw uphis right arm. A quick of wood. Then Old Mose | flash followed, and with a howling groan Mose fell ae to the floor, his skull shattered like an egg-shell. : Meanwhile the others had not been idle. Foxy Jake and his comrades were joined by those whose voices had been silent at the a of Captain Kit, and drawing their revolvers, stood upon the defensive. As the chief staggered and fell, his adherents, led by Homer, raed upon those who stood u for Mose. Fora brief minute, horrible yells anc oaths, pao oo with the clash of steel and ring- ing pistol-shots filled the room. ‘then the voice of the chief rung out, clear and distinct above the din: “Hold! not another blow! disobeys, I will shuot like I did this dog! up your weapons.” © was promptly obeyed, and as the smoke cleared away, the result of the conflict was per- ceptible. Besides Old Mose, Foxy Jake and four of his friends lay dead or dying upon the floor, while not one but bore marks evidencing the deadly ferocity of the brief strife. Of the other party, three had fallen; Captain Kit escaping with only a scorched face, as by a miracle. ose had fired too quick for aim, and The man who Put the | his bullet only left a discolored welt along the m; he | chieftain’s cheek. “Captain, what shall we do with the dogs?’ omer, brushing aside the blood that trickled over his eyes from a ghastly cut upon the head. “Bind them and put them in the ‘ jus.” There’s room if they lie close. We won’t have time to try them until after this job for to-mor- row. Wemust make an example of some of them then, though, or the league may as well break up first as last. Such actions would ruin any organization. But take them out, and then come here.” Captain Kit sunk into a chair, and quietly began reloading his pistol. Despite its distigura- tion by the treacherous shot, his face wore a peculiar look; one that appeared exultant—tri- umphant. As the rautineers were bound—some six or eight in number—he followed the party to the vault, and saw them safely locked within the cell, taking charge of the key himself. Then beckoning omer aside, he spoke in a low, guard- ed tone: “Well, that is a good job over. Mose and some of the rest had been a drawback long —* I'm glad we’ve got rid of them so handily. But you are hurt, my friend?’ ‘A little—but it don’t matter. The boys used to swear that Mart Homer was proof against both steel and lead, but this will let them out, I guess,” laughed the lieutenant. ‘“Well, Homer, I was about to about We must take the our ‘oe for to-morrow. saddle early—about daylight. Will you see to getting them ready? t is, the time and what they may expect if Pierson holds out stub- born. ere’ll be nice pickings if he refuses my | terms.” ‘Are you in earnest about ne this? I mean burning him out if he don’t knuckle | down.” ‘* Indeed Iam; never more so. I don’t like to give up beat, and whatever I’ve said, I’ll do, if man can accomplish it. But now, you un- derstand?” “Yes, All willbe ready by day-dawn. But you will be here?” “Yes. Only my face smarts so that I be- lieve I will take a little walk in the night air, to Two pistols fired at arm’s inside of an hour, are not Who is cool my brain. length in one’s face the most oy rey A thin gs imaginable: door-keeper for t e rest of the night?’ i \ en + your h It may cause you trouble if neglected,” and as he spoke thus, Captain Kit turned and left the building cautioning Hardress to keep a close guard, and be ready toadmit him when he returned; great- ly to the surprise of that worthy, who prided himself upon the high opinion the chief had en- tertained of him. With a quick glance around him, Captain Kit hastened toward the grove sheltering the ring, and was soon lost to view amid its dense shadows. CHAPTER XI. JOSH CRANE STRIKES FOR VENGEANCE, THE eastern horizon was faintly streaked with gray ere the outlaw chief returned to the nest, and being admitted, he flung himself wearily upon a bench, and bowing his head upon the table, appeared lost in deep thought. He did not answer until Homer touched him lightly upon the shoulder; then his face showed y ghastly white in the lamplight. ‘*My God! captain, you are sick! What is the matter?” ‘*No, I have only been thinking. It is a mo- It will mentous day to me, Homer, this one. either make or break me. if I fail now, I be- lieve I would kill myself!” “Ts it so bad, captain? I knew you were smitten with the lady, but didn’t know it had gone so deep.” “Tf I succeed, she is mine—mine wholly and entirely! If I fail, you will be advanced yet another step, my friend,” and Captain Kit smiled a peculiar smile, sad, yet mocking. ““ Why speak of failing? If we can not work your will by fair means, then we will by foul. You do not think Pierson will be foolish enough to resist, do you?” **T don’t know whatto think. But I feel as- sured that something momentous is about to occur. It came to me as I lay here, and I can not banish the belief. But never mind that now. Are the men ready?” “Yes, It only needs your signal to set them “Give it, then, Homer, and have my horse ys here. Iam not myself to-day.” ** Cheer up, captain. An hour from now you will laugh at these idle forebcdings,” gayly’ re- sponded the lieutenant. “Or else you will feel as I do. But let it oo Time flies and we must not keep the udge waiting. Iam anxious for the end.” Homer gave the signal, and the Night-Hawks filed from the vault, through the building, and then, led by Captain Kit, they rode off ata rapid trot toward the Pierson ranch. The majority of the men were in high glee, in anticipation of plunder and rapine, hoping that their intended prey would really prove obstinate, and thus orce their chief to redeem his word. h they neared the ranch, and to their ound it oa and just as usual. Evi- dently there would be no resistance on the part of Pierson that day, else he would have greeted them with closed and barred doors. ‘““You see, captain,” said Homer, cheerily, “‘ your fears were ill-founded. All will be pla sailing to-day.” “Tt really seems so. But for all that, there may be a trap hidden beneath this appearance of quietude. He is a stubborn, haughty man and hardly one to submit so tamely. But we will see. Stop the men now. They can hear all that is said, and yet not be so’close as to ewer bullying. I will find out how the ground es. Dismounting, Captain Kit deliberately walked up to the veranda, where the tall form of the settler now appeared, having apparently been aroused by the ringing tramp of hoof-strokes, The outlaw chief, after a slight nod, spoke, his voice sounding clear and distinct, as if for the benefit of his men. “ Good-morning, Judge. No doubt you re- member what day this is?” : ‘You have reminded me of it, often enough, At len st, at any rate,” sullenly replied Pierson, a strange glow in his dark eyes. i “Very well, then. It will save the trouble of recapitulation. You know whatI have come for, then, and also what they are with me for. an merle oy a ”” “Supposing I say that it is the sam fore? hat would be the consequence a gp **In ten minutes ron and your family—with one exception—and your servants would be bound to these pillars, with the blaze burstine out from the house-top. That would be your
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+ rewarl, while I would have my fair bride—my band its rene as well. You see, I hold the whip-hand of you. You can not resist—you are not fool enough to doom yourself to certain death; are you wise enough to accept what fate decrees you?” “You have got me at your mercy; then act the part of a generous foe, and give me a chance. ‘““No—except the chance I have already of- fered. Give me your ain year Carrie, and all will be well. And be quick with your answer. I am getting impatient.” 4 wil ou take her answer?” “Yes, I will—gladly!” instantly replied Cap- tain Kit. ‘‘ Boys,” he added, turning: to the Night-Hawks, ‘‘he asks us to aceept the deci- sion of his oe py ey one whom you saw the other day. Shall we do it?” “‘ Yes—yes!” was the general reply, following Homer’s voice. “You hear,” and Captain Kit smiled as: he turned again to the settler, ‘‘ They consent. Her will shall be law to us.” Pierson did not’ reply, but stepping to the door, called for Carrie, As though: e ; the summons, the fair maiden made her a ance, and stood baside her father, her lustrous eyes resting shyly upon the face of t outlaw chief. “Daughter,” said Pierson, taking Carrie’s hand in his and pressing it reassu would have ed you this trial, coul done so, But now you must speak. The fate of us all—our life: or death—lies in your hands. But answer truthfully the questions I ask you. first—do you love this man?” * Yes,” was the faintly-murmured reply, as she cast another shy glance at the radiant face of the outlaw chieftain, who sprung forward, seemingly oblivious of the. fact that fully two score pair of eyes were curiously watching him, and clasping Carrie to his breast, rained pas- sionate kisses down upon her lips. A low, chuckling murmur ran through the flock of Night-Hawks, but this was checked by a peremptory word from Homer. Pierson bit his lips and his face flushed, while his eyes glit- tered curiously. “ There—there, I believe that will do, I haven't a foot left to stand on. Carrie, ] am astonished at you!” at length said the Judge. “ Why-I—I couldn’t help it, father. He is so big and strong,” murmured the maiden, shrink- ing behind her parent, from the curious gaze of the outlaws. ‘‘ Well, then, I suppose it is all settled satis factorily, except when I am to claim my fair bride,” added Captain Kit, joyously; and yet his manner was not devoid of a certain tinge of anxiety, ‘Sho shall answer that, alsu.” “Well, then—if I must—one week’ from to- day,” faltered Carrie. “You hear, captain? Is it satisfactory?” ‘A week earlier would have pleased me beét- ter, but I suppose I must remain contented as it is.” “ Very well, and now to confirm our new re- lations, we must drink the health of the bride and bridegroom,” cried Judge Pierson, who ap- peared to be strangely excited. ‘‘Come with mé, captain, and we will fied something to do the honors with. I have some pure ‘corn juice’ here that I can honestly recommend. Tell your thts. gpeech greeted with hearty ch ee hare was with hearty cheers by the Night-Hawks, and then the two men en- tered the house. In a few minutes they return- ed, followed by servants bearing gourds, jugs, and leathern flasks, filled with the fiery home- made whisky, with deer-horn cups and smaller gourds for drinking utensils, ” ‘Then each man filled a hearty draught, drink- ing the health of the couple so strangely be- trothed, with stentorian yells and cheers. Then, after a few whispered words to Carrie, Captain Kit returned to his horse, and dashed off at the head of his men, taking the road to the lower ford. ‘ “T thought you were going back to the nest, captain?’ said Homer, ‘ You know you prom- ised to send some men to-day up to Clafline’s. ‘That can be put off. We must try those fel- lows to-day. I wish to go by Crane’s cabin to see’ what ean be learned about the affair. There must be no mistake.” ‘Perhaps it would be best. Bi earnest about pare | them—with deat “Tf guilty, Tam. It own months, unleas there was some semblance ‘Jaw and order maintained. yourself.” But are 1% in / “Yes, I agree with you there. But, captain, The le ould not exist six r thers “Whe of | who selected stations just without rifle range, Night-Hawk Kit, a _ it will make trouble for us. I have heard the | boys—that is, a good many of them—say that there has been enough punishment. If you press | it, there will be another mutiny.” | _ ‘*Se be it, then! The sooner all such scoun- drels are weeded out from the band the better | for such as have some decency left.. You will stand by me, of course?” ' “Yes, You can count upon me. There will only be about a dozen whom you need fear. It isa — that Bogarth is off with hismen. They would uphold you in every thing. But we can keg rier to their ss 1t - 19 sous ‘‘T hope we can get along without an uble. We will try, anyhow.” tt 7 The party was now riding along near the spot occurred the conflict) detailed in chapter second. At the foot of the little rise, this road wound through a patch of quite dense underbrush eS tee live-oaks: Crossing the hill, the Night-Hawks rode slow] into this place, unsuspecting any danger, cha ting idly over the scene witn at the Pierson ranch. But they were deomed to a startling awakening. A loud cry aroused them from their sense’ of security. d then it seemed as though the woods, before, behind and upon either side of them, were one mass of fire. A fearful volley of rifle-balls was into their crowded ranks, with a deadly effect, Over one half of the:entire number fell dead in their tracks, while those who escaped a wound, were the exceptions. Then came the quick, spiteful cracking of re- volvers, as with wild yells, a score of moun men sprung from ambush, rushing to close quar- ters. An herculean form led them, a pistol in either hand, his naurtally placid features horri- bly distorted, his eyes burning like those of a maddened wild beast. It was Josh Crane, striking for vengeance! Each blow was dealt with double force as he thought of his murdered wife. He seemed a devil—not a*man. Homer and Captain Kit had both gone down at the first discharge, side by side. ithout a leader, the Night-Hawks did not think of resist- _ although nearly equal in numbers to their oes. ; Demoralized, they only thought of flight. Once within their nest, mares Coase bid defiance to whatever force might brought against them, until the rest of the band returned to their relief. For a time this attempt was unsuccessful. Hemmed in, the outlaws fought desperately, striving to cut their way through the cordon of death. Then the line was broken, and fleeing in ra rode haste, closely pressed; the Night-Haw for life. More than one, whose animal was wounded, fell beneath the knife, rifle-butt or pistol-bullet of their fierce enemies, but others were more fortunate. Their horses had been chosen for and endurance, so essential to success in their call- ing, and fresh, easily carried their masters be- yond reach of the settlers, Nearly a dozen in all reached the nest, and were admitted by Hardress,- who had been alarmed by the contin- uous sounds of —- As they entered the building and secured it for defense, they presented a woful sight. Not one of the entire remnant but was wounded more or less severely. “Whar is the cap’n?’ demanded Steve Har- dress, as soon as he could make himself heard through the furious curses and angry oaths of rage and pain. “Dead an’ gone, I reckon!” muttered one of the men, bowing his head upon the table, while great gouts slowly slid from his left breast and fell to the floor. ‘Don’t talk that a-way, Hank Felloes,” an- grily cried Hardress, bis face flushing deeply as he placed a heavy hand upon the ruffian’s sboul- der. ‘“‘He never did— Ah!” He uttered a loud cry as the man sunk back upon the floor, a tremor convulsing his features and a death rattle in his throat. One great, gasping groan and he was dead! CHAPTER XII. CAPTAIN KIT AND HIS DOUBLE. THE day dragged on soba ahod enough to the besieged; for such was now the condition of the surviving Night-Hawks, Within half an EERE must be done for our | hour from the arrival of the fugitives, the build- ing was surrounded by the triumpbant settlers, You know that | apnarently resolved to starve the outlaws out. Believing this to be their purpose, the latter 13 were not inclined to force hostilities. Every hour gained thus was another chance for safety, The squad under command of Bo must soon return, and then they would wreak’ a bloody revenge upon the settlers. An hour after sunset a voice uttered the reg ular signal, and peerin forth, Steve Hardress recognized the form and features of his captain, With a glad cry of joy he opened the door and admi the outlaw chief, That worthy had one arm in a sling, and looked rather the worse for wear. He ex- ooo his unexpected appearance ver'y satis- actorily. His horse had received the bullet intended for him, and, falling, had smashed one arni of its rider beneath the saddle, the pain causing the outlaw to faint. But while the’set’lers were in pursuit of the Night-Hawks, he had crawled off into the bushes, where he remained concealed until nightfall. Then by close creeping he had worked his way through their lines, to rejoin comrades, Soon afterward the majority of the outlaws ht rest in’ shimber, nearly all more or less under the influence of liquor. One of the nien who had remained at the nest was detailed as door-keeper, the prisoners in the cell all having been fréed before Captain Kit’s return; so they might do their part toward defending the house —— the anticipated attack. 8 outlaw chief sat at one of the tables, his head bowed upon his‘hand, while ‘his face’ was turned toward the man on duty. That worthy, his senses blunted by his frequent potations through the day and evening, nodded drowsily ever and anon, apparently overcome by sléep. The other Night-Hawks were all within the in- ner room, or else the vault, sleeping upon their arms, ready to flock to the defense at a mo- ment’s warning should their fears prove true. eo a there came a low, stealthy rap at the door, that caused the somnolent sentry to spring erect, with the customary challenge passing his lips. In answer came the ‘secret password, and then immediately after it the pri- vate signal of Cuptain Kit! The sentry stood aghast. He gazed first at the door and then at the outlaw chief, who sat with his head still bowed upon his hands. ° Evi- dently he was unable to comprehend how there could exist two Captain Kits at one and the same time. fe em signal was repeated and a low voice ad- ‘*Come—let me in—quick! There are a lotof those cursed devils out yonder, and if they get a glimpse of me it will be all up. n, I say!” ‘Open the door and let him in,” quietly re- marked the outlaw chief, as he arose from his seat and drew nearer the door. There was a peculiar smile upon his face, and a glittering light in his eyes that might not be easily analyzed, One hand—the unwounded one—fell upon a polished revolver-butt, and seemed to be caressing it; more than once it was attgnny raised, as if to ascertain whether the scabbard clung to it or not. The wondering sentry My ms tho door a few inches, and then, as an agile form glided through the aperture, it was closed again and hastily barred. The new-comer s in the full blaze and glare of the rude lamps, his form and fea- tures plainly reveaied. A cry broke from tho three men, as if in- voluntarily. The sentinel gazed first upon one and then the other, in opeu-mouthed. astonish- rent. Herubbed his eyes as though desirous of awaking himself from some dream. And truly it would have becn no slight task for one to havo told which was tho genuine out- law chief, the two men bore sucha marvelous resemblance to each other. The same form, the same eyes, hair, features and complexion; only differing in garb. And as if to carry out the resemblance still more completely, these two men, the counter- parts of each other, uttercd a name at the same time, and in tones of wonder. * Kirk Dalt:n!” ‘ The wounded man was the first to collect his wits, and he glided forward a paco, sternly gazing into the face of the other. Thero was a hard, steely glare in his cyes, and a_ccld set smile upon his features that boded ill for the welfare of the intruder, ‘You here? You are very kind, Kirk Dal- ton! Ihave spent considerable time in search- ing for ycu. Now that we have met, we will not part soon.” “True,” retorted the new-comer, ‘we will not part very soon. I agree with you there, But whether this period will be as pleasing as yon seem to intimate. remains to he seen,”
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‘Crane reached the ranch of Judge 14 ““Why have you come here? Is life so worth- less that you can afford to throw ft away in this manner?” “Ha! hal that is good, I must acknowledge,” laughed the other, sardonically. ‘‘ You talk as though = were somebody. Pray, have you joi the band and been elected as supreme ruler, that you speak so confidently?” “T have—and you know it.” “T do not know it. This band follows one Captain Kit,” angrily returned the other. .“T know it—I am Captain Kit,” coolly replied the outlaw chief. “ You—Captain Kit!” “T—Captain Kit; yes, sir. Have you any-~ thing to say against it?” ro added the new-comer, turning to the sentinel, ‘‘how is this? You know me; which one of us is the captain?” The doorkeeper helpless] his h staring from one to the other with an air of ludicrous dismay. His mouth slowly med and shut, but hedid not speak. Evidently the enigma was too intricate for him to solve in his present'state of mind. “Hallo, boys!” cried the second Captain Kit, in a loud tone, his eyes sparkling enyrty as he drew his revolver and confronted his coldly smiling antagonist. And then ensued a sudden change in the tab- leau. As the heavy tramping of the awakened outlaws resounded from the inner room, the wounded chief sprung forward, and with a ee -like stroke, felled the second claimant of the honorable office to the floor. The heavy revolver-butt instantly deprived him of sense. This move was so quickly and adroitly made, that there could be no ing against it. The stupefied sentinel did not note the action until the lifeless form touched the floor, Then the chief turned toward the confused began scratching group which had just entered the room. His voice was clear and calm as he spoke: “There is some deviltry on foot, boys. You see this fellow—Kirk Dalton. Well, he came here and pretended he was me, though I don’t believe he knew I was here. He was the one who shot my horse to-day. He aimed at my head, and I suppose he thought he’d finished me ‘or . “What do we think was his object in coming tain?” here, cap “ He could have but one,” slowly replied Ca tain Kit. ‘“ Believing me dead, he most likely thought he could pass himself off.as your leader, and thus betray you into the hands of these cursed seiitlers. ou see he *5 very much like me—only he forgot the @ uss) Why even Jim yonder, didn’t know what to say when that foo asked him to tell him which was which,” laughed the Night-Hawk chief; a peculiar laugh, but then he was a peculiar man, as the band knew only top well. ““He is like you,” added the Night-Hawk who had spoken first, in a thoughtful tone. “Only for the dress he might easily have de- ceived us, had you been away. He is a danger- ous person, and I for one am glad he is where we can keep our eyes upon him.” **Tt is Kirk Dalton. You all know I have tried hard to get hold of him before, for I feared he would work us some harm, with that face. He could have passed for me with almost any of the boys, and might have learned too much for our good, in that way. But he is safe now, and we willsee that he remains so, Take him, some of you, and put him in the hole. My arm hurts me worse, but I will go along and see him se- The still senseless body was lifted up and con- veyed to the hole, and there securely fastened by the iron chain and girdle. Then Captain Kit relocked the door, slipping the key into his own CHAPTER XIIL. THE OATH OF THE BORDER. Tue reader will remember that when Josh Pierson on the night he encountered the Night-Hawk lieu- tenant, Red Hirble, a servant told the old hun- ter that Pierson wished to see him immediately ; and also the greeting words of the settler: “T haye great news for you, Crane!” Truly, a welcome surprise awaited the old hunter, when he entered the vraag £ A tall form sprung forward, and clasping his hands, eueel him warmly. For a time the scout was fairly dumbfounded. He could scarcely believe his eyes. He was the person whom he had believed he had seen at the nest—Kirk Dalton! Tn a few words the seeming mystery was ex- plained, and both men saw they had greatly \ Night-Hawk Kit. wronged the young herdsman by their suspi- cions. They comprehended that there must another man wondrously like Dalton, who had well-nigh proved a fatal ‘‘ double.” Crane listened to a strange and romantic story that will be explained in due time, and then the three friends consulted together and concocted a feasible plan for the discomfiture of the outlaw band. ch had a part to play, and with the stake at issuo there was little likelihood of their failing from lack of energy. Crane was to secretly depart and collect a number of his old comrades in the recent war for Texan independence. He felt assured that he could gather at least a score ; perhaps more. We have seen how he succeeded, and also at what a fearful sacrifice. He returned to find his cabin in ashes, and, within the ruins, the charred bones of his dearly beloved wife. He was at no loss to account for this deed, and before another day had passed he knew who were the murderers. Only one of them lived, Roaring Sam, and against him Crane had sworn ‘the oath of the border.” From that moment the Night-Hawk was a doomed man. They both were concerned in the fight hereto- fore detailed, where the Hawks were so cun- ningly entrapped, and upom Roaring Sam’s heart Josh Crane had drawn a bead, By a narrow chance—the sudden turning of his horse’s head—the outlaw escaped the bullet. Then he had dashed through the melee, and fled for dear life. The point chosen was the weakest, but yet it was in nearly an opposite direction from the nest; a fatal error on the fugitive’s part, as he speedily realized. ith a hoarse howlof rage Crane urged his huge charger through the crowd, and with only thought for the one man, he dashed wildly after the ing murderer, Roaring Sam heard the ery, and glanced over his shoulder. A livid shade crept over his features as he noted the avenger upon his track. He felt that he was doomed. What brute co he naturally possessed, deserted him now, just when he needed it most. his very life depended upon his doing so, he could not have met the borderer now hand- to-hand. He ret > only of flight, and know- ing the quality of the horse he bestrode the | outlaw plied reins and spurs until the tortured animal uttered shrill neighs of pain and@-anger. Crane did not or utter a single sound after that one wild, mad cry. He bent forward and gave his horse free rein. The noble crea- ture seemed endowed with wings, so rapidly did he go over the ground, apparently uncon- scious of the heavy weight upon his back. For fully two miles the Night-Hawk main- tained his vantage, and even increased it. But his beast was light built; a clinker at a brush, but lacking in bottom. His bolt was already well-nigh shot, The black horse thundered on in his rear, as though a mere machine. Not a hair was turned; not a single drop of sweat as yet stained the glossy blackness of his coat. Josh Crane knew that it was only a question of time. He had implicit confidence in the power of his horse. But one other upon the Texan prairies had he found that could equal him. The outlaw plied his spurs until the long rowels dripped blood. He cast many a glance over his shoulder dere And as he noted the strides of the black horse his heart sunk within him. He felt that he was doomed, A broad stretch of ‘‘rolling prairie” lay before them. Two hours, even at their present rate of speed, would not suffice to cross it. And yet, in less than that time, his horse would fall dead, if indeed he was not overtaken before. Then he bethought him of his weapons. A lucky shot might disable the huge black or its rider. If so, he would be safe. Scarce fifty yards now separated the enemies; less than three-fourths of what it had been at the start. There was no time to lose. He saw Crane disengage the lasso from the saddle pommel. Turning in his saddle, Roaring Sam fired two shots. The tall avenger still sped on, un- touched, Again and again the revolver cracked, until the chambers were all empty, and yet nothing was gained by the Night-Hawk. On the contrary a good deal was lost, for unassisted by the reins, the chestnut horse stumbled fre- quently, and thus lost ground. Then the long lasso was hurled through the air. Roaring Sam flung up his knife arm, but the noose fell over it and his shoulders, en he was plucked from:the saddle and hurled violently to the ground. His horse instantly paused, his bead droop- a ing, trembling in every limb. The straia had been too great, and with a feeble neigh, he tottered, reeled, and then sunk down, the hot blood gushing from his nostrils. One great quiver, and he was dead. Crane rode up and dismounted, and bound the outlaw’s hands behind him Then he sat down and awaited his recovery. There was no expression upon his face other than the same cold, stony look that he had worm ever since he had first gazed upon the scene of death and desolation. He seemed like a gal- vanized corpse. Roaring Sam speedily recovered his senses, and then, without a word, Crane tightened the noose of the lasso around the outlaw’s neck, and mounting his horse, jerked Roaring Sam to his. feet. or did the fateele speak. The stony calmness of the old hunter awed him. The avenger rode on, never once casting a glance behind him. Forced toa half run, Roar- ing Sam trotted along behind, the noose tight- ening about his neck at ever lagging. Once he stumbled and fell upon his face. Crane did not pause. The groans of the tor- tured wretch were horrible as he was dragged along through the harsh stubbles and prickly pears. Then, with a desperate effort, he man- aged toscramble to his feet, black in the face, with blood streaming from his nostrils and from the lacerated flesh. It was high noon -when Crane drew rein be- side the charred ruins of his once cheerful little cabin, It was now dreary and chilling. Roar- ing Sam trembled iike a leaf: his teeth chat- tering together, his form quivering with vague horror. Crane moved about in stern silence, Evi dently his course was fully decided upon. The Night-Hawk could bear it no longer. Better know the worst at once, than be left in such agonizing suspense. ‘* What ’re goin’ to do ’th me, Mister Crane?” he faltered, his voice husky and dry. The old hunter did not speak. He went to the little stable and wrenched apart the timbers with his naked hands, though an ax lay at hand. This exerting his enormous strength, though upon an inanimate object, appeared to afford him a peculiar satisfaction. These timbers were flung in a pile, and then selecting one of the strongest beams, Crane de- liberately sharpened one end with the ax, and then drove it firmly into the ground, The craven wretch glared upon the prepara- tions wita a horrible fear racking his heart. He could not misunderstand the meaning of these actions He knew that he was doomed to the stake— that he was condemned to suffer death by fire ! He burst out with a storm of pleadings and prayers for mercy. He would submit to any punishment but that. He begged that Crane would shoot him through the brain at once, but not to torture him at the stake. Coldly stern and impassible as before, the huge borderer proceeded about his task, and never once ibe in answer to the supplications of the Night-Hawk. And then as the timbers were stacked up around the stake, to which was fastened a long log-chain, Crane turned toward Roaring Sam. Tn his Herculean grasp, the burly outlaw was but a pang | child, and despite his frantic strug- gles and kicking, Crane held him against the stake and then bound him with the “log chain. Though his head was free, the chain wound around his body, held the outlaw upright. Then Josh Crane spoke to his victim, for the first time since his capture. His voice sound- ed harsh and strained, very unlike the bold, free tone habitual to him. The blow had changed him fearfully. “Sam Hebron, you’ve bin brung here to make amends as fur as your wuthless karkidge ll do it, fer a black hellish thing thet you did— ou an’ your pardners. You've did this,” and e nodded toward the charred ruins of the little cabin. “‘ An’ you must pay fer it, too. “T didn’t—’twan’t me,” faltered Roaring Sam, his teeth chattering audibly. “Don’t lie—twon’t do you no good; not a smich. I know you did do it; you an’ Old Mose, Foxy Jake an’ Bob Rattlesnake. T’others is dead: so’ll you be, in a hour from now, I wouldn’t ’a’? minded it so much ef so be you'd ‘a’? come an’ did all this when I was to ens ’ea’se then it ’d’a’ bin a more even thing, I count myself good fer the best hafe a dozent: fellers as. you kin rake an’ scratch up out o’ your gang 0’ eg es ar tb “But you wai ontil I hed gone away. You was afeerd to tackle the old oak he ae, . an’ so snaked around ontil ke hed gone, so’s you é a oh ; \ | |
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Qe Se ee. oer. _ ne TE ee gn ek A Nicht-saw: T5 Pie | EE SAAN AE a 8 | OREO AE TD PE fer it; “You see what I’m goin’ to do’th you. I’m aneath the bla«k-jack, is whar I’ve kivered up all thet was left o’ my poor Hepsy. You kin look thar, an’ think fer what you’re a-b’in’ punished.” ‘‘Marcy—marcy fer the love o’ God, Crane; don’t do this!” groaned the craven wretch, bis face livid with fear, and form quivering with agonized terror. . “No; thar hain’t no marcy for sech as you be. You cain’t ’preciate it, ef you see’d it. Youd dn’t show no maicy to her—you_ mustn’t look fer none from me. Lve sworn thet you shed dice the deatu o’ a doz. I tuck the oath o’ the border on it, t»0,so you may as well givo up all thoughts o’ Jiie, fust aslast. But Pll act the white man by ye. “Ef so be you hev any messidge or word to anybody, tell me what it is, an’ il do my best but what they shall hev it, Speak out—is thar any thin’?’ ; : ‘Spar’ my life—I don’t want to die—I catn’t die—tI ain’t fit to die! I’m awful wicked. Let me hey time to grow better an’ pent o’ my sins, won’t ye? Say yes, an’ I'll bless ye for- ever. I'll lick yer feet—I’ll be nigger and lot you walk on me all day, ef so be you'll on'y spar’ my life!” . “ It’s so, you’re not fit to die, but nuther be ye fit to live. Ef I let you live ontil you ’pented, you mought be old Methuselum’s great gran’- daddy, as fur asage is consarned. No, Roaring Sam, your time has come. You’verunto the eend o’ your laryit. But say a bito’ a pra’r, ef so be you was ever l’arntany. It may do you some food, herea’ter, though I doubt it ’mazin’- ly. Goon. I give you jest ten minutes afore I tech the fire off.” ; Tho doomed Night-Hawk continued his plead- ings, but he might as well have spoken toa stone, as to the man whom he had so bitterly wronged. All the love Crane had felt for his murdered wife—the companion of his youth as well as old a med turned to hatred and all showered upon the murderer. The minutes slowly rolled by, and the old hunter crouched upon the ground, his head bowed over the huge ‘“‘ bull’s-cye” watch, that lay in his broad, horny palm, while Roaring Sam pleaded, raved, cursed and prayed b turns; but in vain. is doom was sealed. e must die, in part expiation for his fiendish crime. = “The time is up, Sam Hebron,” slowly utter- ed Crane, as he arose and produced his flint and steel. The outlaw was silent while the click. clicking continued, and bis bloodshot pom were fixed with a horrible intensity upon the tiny shower of sparks as they descended from the friction, Then one caught be the piece of punk, and under the breath of theold scout, it gradually rew larger. 4 Then tiny shavings were placed upon the glow- ing spark, and breathed gently upon until they burst into a bright blaze, tiny and feeble at first, but fast gaining strength and power. Carefully feeding this, Crane heeded not the prayers and supplications of his victim. Then at several points the fire was placed among the dry mass of timbers, and when it once ly got under way, Crane withdrew from the spot, and stood leaning upon his rifle, coldly watching the ascending flames, and the distorted features of the ill-fa Night-Hawk as he writhed convulsively beneath the first pangs of that horrible death. But we care not to dwell upon thissubject. It was too fearful. And yet it was y more than _—. A fiendish deed had been committed in cold blood. An innocent person—a woman—had been sacrificed to glut a vengeance against one whom the brutal murderers dare nf confront rson. oshua Crane had received a frontier educa- tion. His father, mother and “og f sister had been murdered by the Indians; he himself bad been taken a captive and brutally treated through four Jong years, ere he could effect his escape. Two of his sons had been killed by the Mexican guerrillas; a third had been shot from ambush by some cowardly miscreant most prob- ably one of those very men who had dealt him this last deadly blow. ‘ A kinder heart, naturally, never beat in human bosom than that of Joshua Crane’s. But this calami.4 Fe? Crseet oli. ot else t warped his brain util he was no longer himself. He thought ay of vengeance now, and since all but this one had escaped him—for such he regarded their deaths by other hanis than his own—he felt it a solemn duty to punish this one whom he held in his power to the utmost ex- teat. An hour later he’ still stood in the same posri- tion. He gazed upoa the faintly flickering embers. The post still stood, blackened and charred. To it hung, suspended by the chain, a horrible remnant of what had so recently been a strong man, full of life and spirit. Then with a long-drawn sigh, the avenger turned away from the spot, heart-sick and weary of existence. Only for one thing he would have ended his life, then and there. But until the last remnant of the accursed Night-Hawks was exterminated, he must live. After that, he cared little what became of him. The last tie that bound him to earth had been severed in the death of his wife, CHAPTER XVI. THE NEST RIFLED, Tae Night-Hawks did not seem inclined to return to their slumbers after this startling in- terruption, but stood around in \ittle knots, con- versing eagerly, but in low, subdued tones. More than one anxious or curious glance was cast toward Captain Kit, who had resumed his seat at the rude table. His head was bowed upon one hand, and his eyes closed, but a keen observer might have noted the occasional quiver of an eyelid that told he was not above stealing a curious glance toward the more earnest talkers. But he seemed perfectly at ease, for all that. Suddenly he started up, saying to the door- keeper, who was still confusedly scratching his head, as though endeavoring by that means to restore his wits to their natural equilibrium after the shock they had undergone: “Jim, what did that fellow—Dalton—say about there being a lot of the settlers out yonder?” ‘Ho said thar was. Thet he was afeared as how they’d shoot him ef I didn’t let him in quick.” ‘“Of course he lied; but yet there may be some who are watching the nest, ready to pick off any of us who may step out in sight. The grove is at short range for such men as they “You don’t think they be thar, do ye?” stam- mered Jim, shrinking away from the door; for the tales told of the desperate valor and feroci- ty of the settlers, by those who had escaped from the ambush, had greatly agitated the wor- thy sentry. ‘I don’t know; but it is easily found out. Who will step outside and take a look?” added Captain Kit, glancing around upon the crowd; but no one stepped forward. Perhaps they objected from principle to ex- pose their tender bodies to the probable salute of a leaden bullet, merely to demonstrate the truth or fallacy of asuimise. The outlaw chief peced around with a peculiar smile; but then e was a peculiar man. However, it lasted only for a moment; then he spoke in a quick, sharp tone, that told how determined he was in the course he proposed to pursue, “Very well, then. I don’t blame you. But I will Fy myself, There will be but little danger, fer if they are there, I can pass myself off as Kirk Dalton, you know. He is in here. And then I can find out their plans. We must beat them off until Bogarth returns with the rest of the boys, when we will have it all our own way. And I promise you, we will make these cursed meddlers sweat tears of blood for this rumpus. We will sweep every horn and hoof before us. I swear it!” Loud _ cheers followed this , apeee and the Night-Hawks seemed reanimated by their lead- er’s spirit. Then he bade them remain out of sight, and keep quiet until his return, but upon no account to open the docr until fully assured of his identity. The door opened and he glided forth, proceed- ing directly toward the grove that surrounded the on He was obliged to cross a bright, moonlighted space, and evidently trusting in the strong resemblance, he strode boldly until he reached the outer trees. A tall form confronted him, and a voice spoke; the voice of Josh Crane: “Ts that you, Kirk?” “Yes,” was the immediate reply; “ it’s me.” “Wal; how does the thing work?’ “Finely. Couldn’t be better. But I came ong tp ee pepe er eee 15 ———=z near getting into trouble. The real Captain _~ made his appearance, and I had to settle im. ‘*'You didn’t kill him?” ‘“‘No—God forbid! But I have him a safe EE OS OS prisoner. Now what have you decided upon— what we spoke of?” “Treckon. But you know best. You’ve bin inside. How is it? ‘“ Well, there are only about a dozen of them in all, and | think I can get them to go and lie down again. Then I will settle the fellow on watch, and let pou in. You can each pick your maz, and do the job up as you please; either wipe them out at once, or take them prisoners.” “T?ll ‘mount to the same in the eend, any- how, but we will keep ’em to stretch hemp, I reckon. How long lit be afore you’re ready for us?” “*T can’t say. .As soon as possible, though, for there is no telling when the other gang wi be along and if we are caught between two fires, they’ll serve us worse than we did them to-day. I will hold a candle before the loop-hole in the door when I want you. Then come u and we will make a clean sweep of it,” hurried- ly spoke the outlaw chief. “Allright. But go back now, for some o’ the rest mought take a notion to come out, and then stumble on some o’ the boys.” “T frightened all such ideas out of them,” laughingly replied the young man, as he turned. and retraced his steps. As the moonlight fell upon his face it re vealed a strangely conflicting expression. There were joy, delight, fear and a peculiar shade of regret playing upon the handsome features, that told the captain’s mind was far from be- ing at ease. After some little delay, caused by the doubt- ing fears of Jim, the door-keeper, he was ad- mitted and eagerly questioned as to what had occurred, and whether there was any truth in the assertion of the counterfeit Captain Kit. “Not one word—as yei* although there may be some lurking around, I didn’t see any one, and I searched the grove thoroughly. You may as well go and finish your snooze, for there is no telling when you will have another such chance, Those devils mean to make a clean ob of it, I fear. Either they or us will have to. wiped out. ay arm won’t let me sleep if I lie down, so I wil ne stand guard.” After some little ussion, the outlaws re tired to the inner room and soon were soundly sleeping. After assuring himself of this fact, Captain Kit turned toward the door-keeper, whose head rested upon his knees, while a heavy, rumbling snore, told how sound was his slumber. Glid- ing toward him with a catlike step, he at the same time withdrew his left arm from its sling. From the manner in which he reoved it, the wound could not have been a very serious one, or else it had healed with marvelous celerity. For a moment he stood over the somnolent sentinel, a shade of regret resting iy er his pele features. Then a stern smile chased the shadow away, and he drew a long knife from his belt. One arm shot qulekay around beneath the Night-Hawk’s head, and drew him forcibly back, thus garroting him. Then almost ere the eyes could open, there came a brilliant flashing as the steel shot down and sunk with a dull, thrilling thud to its very hilt in the unfortu- nate man’s chest. A single spasm distorted his features; one quiver agitated his form, and a sullen, gurgling moan rose to his throat, But the strong arm checked its utterance, and then with an invol- untary shudder the slayer gently lowered his victim to the floor, and withdrew his knife. Then he moved one of the rude lamps from its bracket, and opening the slide in the door, used as an observatory or loop-hole, he held the light where it could be seen from the grove without. He remained thus until there came a low rap upon the door. Gently replacing the lamp, he opened the door aud admitted the herculean form of Joshua Crane. After him came over a score of hardy settlers and hunters, who had been col- lected by the old scout for this purpose, as be- fore mentioned, ‘They are in there, boys. Step lightly and take them prisoners. Don’t use your weapons unless absolutely necessary. Let them have a fair trial. There has been enough bloodshed already,” and the young man shuddered un- easily. Headed by Josh Crane, the settlers gently glided into the second room, and likewise the vault, each outlaw being singled out by one or more of their focs. Tien at 2 signal from the
Page 16
8 . 1 young man, the unced upon their prey, and without an exception, had pe eee securely bound with cords provided beforehand, ere they could ~salize their peril. “sep, bitter and vindictive were the curses _ ~wered — the young man, by the betrayed Night-Hawks, as they beheld him standing free and unbound, smiling at their discomfiture. The smile deepened to a laugh as he replied: “Spare your curses, my good friends, until you are sure who you are addressing. I am not your leader—never was, only in seeming. You were kind pou to assist my Ee by makin Captain Kit, as*he calls himself, a prisoner, an utting him in the hole, yonder. I am Kirk ‘ te ° eee ys at your service,” and the young man bowed mockingly. The real Captain Kit was now brought from the stone cell, and as the outlaws perceived how they had been duped by a bold and cunning en- emy, their rage was frightful. But the harm was done and it was entirely too late for re- i 4 . The prisoners were secured in the vault, and the settlers assumed their places, the better to receive the anticipated visit of Bo bh and his men. On the next day those worthies came in with a fine lot of stolen animals, and being sur- were secured after a brief but desperate ‘| which several were killed upon either side, A week afterward the lot were brought before Judge Lynch, and the more desperate sentenced to be hung, while the rest were terribly scourg- ed and ordered to leave the country. An order they were only too glad to obey. The capital sentence was carried out, and oved the means of stopping all further depre- tions ia that section of the State. A few words will suflice to connect all scat- tered threads, The night that Captain Kit visited Pierson’s ranch, alone—when he met his mother—he was captured in the pte by Dalton and several others. Then Kirk assumed the outlaw’s part, yo Lag by Carrie regarding the interior of the house, he bad taken the chietf’s post, the bet- ter to exterminate the band. Captain Kit—or George Harkin—had only thought of his scheme since accepting command of tha “station.” He had noticed both Carrie and Kirk at their meeting near the grove, (chap- ter second) and, fired with a wild passion, re- solved ‘to win her for himself. Spying around the ranch afterward, he had even heard the conversation between Judge Pierson and the vaquero, when the suit of the latter was scorned. And following Kirk, he also eavesdro the vow uttered by Carrie, in the garden; rward making adroit use of the penetra to sustain the belief that he was in reality the young herdsman, In his first disappointment, Dalton had ridden assiduously to Millican, where he met a friend who delivered a message, telling him that the mystery of his birth would be solved, if he has- tened at once to Galveston. He did so, and found Katherine Harkin, the mother of Captain it. She told him a strange story, but substantia- ted by ample proofs, that he was the legitimate son of Caspar Pierson, then residing in Ala- bama. He had been stolen in infancy by her, in revenge against the man who had first de- ceived and then deserted her. Finally Kirk Dalton—or Caspar Pierson—pre- vailed upon her to accompany him to the home of her he loved, confident that his wnele would no longer reject his suit. Fortunately, they es- caped the notice of Captain Kit’s spies, and the visit resulted as detailed. Carrie, too, had played her part in the drama. It was absolutely essential to the success of their ey that some definite knowledge was had of _the interior of the nest. Hence her note to, and meeting with, Captain Kit, acting as though she believed him her true lover. Before the trial took place, Katherine Harkin managed to gain access to her son, and together they committed suicide. Better that than death by the rope, that otherwise awaited him. So died Caspar Pierson’s half-brother. Caspar, first received by his family, wedded the true-hearted Carrie, and lived upon the place where they first learned to love one an other, and are now among the wealthiest stock- growers of Texas. Josh Crane sunk into a sort of stupor, after the excitement was over, and died within a month from the brutal murder of his dearly be- ‘loved wife. United so long, he could not exist without her, THE END, Night-Hawk Kit. BEADLE’S Half-Dime Library. 1 Deapwoop Dick, THe Prince or THe Roan. By Edward L. Wheeler . 2 YELLOWSTONE JACK. By J 8 Kansas Kina. By B 4 Tue Wrip-Horse Hunters. Mayne Reid. 5 Vaaanond Jog. By Oll Coomes..... .... .... 1 6 Brut Brppon, Trapper. By Edward §. Ellis., 7 Tue Fiyine Yankee, By Col. Ingraham 8 Sern Jones. By Edward §. Ellis 9 THe ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN..... 10 Nat Topp. By Edward §. Ellis. ............ 11 Tae Two Derecrrves. By Albert W. 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