Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 152) (1880 06 22)
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lallalalalalalall J Ae Vi —t ee La oo oo a a YS oy - _ R aq ne ~~ ~ saenenne ooAONNRR «ap j KAR SS NN RYE WE WEA WLW 4 — . . sl ClCEer $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Mail Matter. =~ Copyrighted in 1880 by BEADLE AND ADAMS. Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF “WILL SOMERS,” ‘‘ PHIL HARDY,” “PICAYUNE PETE,” “ DETECTIVE DICK,” “‘ HANDSOME HARRY,” ETC., ETC. ee ne CEE CR ER ee er ne re ne WITH A WILD WHOOP PETE PASSED THEM, DARTING BY LIKE A FLASH.
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2 7 Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. Black Bess, - WILL WILDFIRE’S RACER; Winning Against Odds. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF ‘‘ WILL WILDFIRE,’’ ‘‘HANDSOME HARRY,” ‘“ DETECTIVE DICK,” ‘‘ PICAYUNE PETE,” ETC. CHAPTER I. A MEETING AT THE BELL, To any one accustomed to pores life in Pole delphia, the name of the ‘‘ Blue Bell Inn” will a household word, Particularly to those fond of ‘horses, and of the pleasures of the race-course, the name of the “Bell,” and of its genial proprietor, Sp eed ee must call up pleasant reminiscences of the past. It is seated on the extreme edge of Philadelphia, at the foot of a gentle declivity, near the suburban vill of Paschalville, and close to the borders of a winding creek which forms the southern boundary of the city. In front of the long, low porch of this noted hostelry, on a fine day in the latter part of Septem- ber, was collected a group of sporting gentlemen, to judge from their dress and the subject of their conversation. One of them, a gigantic figure, considerably over six feet in hight, and of magnificent muscular de- velopment, was just lighting a cigar, and listening to the animated conversation of the group. Drawing up a chair, he seated himself in a laz attitude, and puffing a volume of smoke from his cigar, quietly remarked: ‘1 don’t know that I'd mind riding the race my- self. It’s alittle past my jockey days, no doubt, but a a notion I could get some speed out of a horse ye Tk. A volley of laughter followed this remark. “Out of an elephant, you mean,” exclaimed one of his friends. ‘The idea of Pierce Browning on the course! I pity the poor animal that has you to carry." “Now don’t be laying that flattering unction to your soul,” retorted Pierce, quoting from Shake- speare. ‘If you think a horse can’t carry me, just ask Will Wildfire about the time I took him down the steep road to the Falls bridge. Will’s a bold chap, to be sure; but I'll be hanged if he didn't turn the color of whitewash that day.” “You needn't be advertising yourself,” rejoined Ben Huntly, another member of the party, ‘“ We all know you have the devil in you when you are stirred up. I would sooner ride behind a bareback circus performer, than Pierce Browning when he’s in his wild himor.” Pierce laughed, and tilted his chair back, with his feet up on the porch rai 3 “Me! Why I’ma very baby behind a horse. I'll sue you next for defamation of character.” “ And I’d much sooner risk paying damages that way, than getting damages behind your bays,” re- torted Ben. ‘* But, by the way, what has become of Will lately? I have not seen him these three weeks.”’ *“ Oh! he’s alive and kicking,’’ responded Harry Waters, whose slim, alert figure was leaning easily against a t. “Thave a notion, though, that he has a touch of woman on the brain. He seems to be getting dreadfully sweet on his fair friend, Clara Moreland.” “All flirtation. Flirtation, every scrap of it,”’ cried . ‘* Willis not a marrying man. And, speak- ing of that, do you know that the fair Clara has en- pe ena gallant black for next week’s steeple- “The deuce she has!” ejaculated Ben, with a whistle. ‘ Not going to ride him herself, | hope?” “Tf she did I'd bet my bottom dollar on her,” re- lied Pierce, ‘‘for she can ride like Jehu, when her ’s up. Idon’t forget the time she led mea jou chase past the Park rds, and laughed at me the bargain. [doubtif there is another woman a city that can hold acandle to her on horse- k. = > if she rides I want to be there!”’ remark- ed Charley Lloyd, the host, joining the party. “But are any of you gentlemen entering horses for the October races? ere is going to be some fine sport afloat on that occasion, if lam not much mis- “There'll be jess the cutest ridin’ you never see’d!’’ remarked a gray-haired negro hostler. “* An’ T knows a p’int or two "bout de course; for I’s been * You bet he has!” assented the host, energetical- . ‘What Pomp don’t know about horses ain't worth knowing. Why, he was weaned on them; and has jockeyed more races than any other man of his age in the country.” “I's rid more races,” protested the old fellow, a little offended. ‘* Neber jockeyed a race in my life; and, bress de Lord I neber will! ain’t in dese ole bones.” “Oh! it is all right, Pomp, I was only joking,” re- plied the good-natured host ‘* But, how is it, gentle- men; have any of you made entries for the races?” “Ask Pierce Browning. cier in the crowd,” rejoined Ben Huntly. my strong hold is a pair of oars.”’ “And I never owned a racer in my life,”’ respond- ed the indolent giant. ‘‘ A quiet family-horse, now; an easy-going pacer, warranted to stand locomo- tives, and to start at nothing except a bunch of hay. “Tor me, He’s the only horse-fan- | Dat sort of fun | ley That’s my ideal of a horse. None of your break- necks for quiet Pierce Browning, say I.”’ A general laugh followed, as Pierce drew himsélf up with an air of offended dignity at the idea of being taken for a sporting character. “At any rate Will Wildfire has made an entry,” continued the host. ‘‘ Black Bess is down on the books for the races.”’ “That’s cool in Will!’ cried Pierce, rising to his feet excitedly. ‘‘ Does the boy want to be cleaned out? Why, the best horses in five hundred miles round are entered. There’s Lady Clare and Rover— what does he expect to do against such noted thor- oughbreds?”’ Don’t you worry,” rejoined the h laying his finger mysteriously aside his nose. ‘ Will’s a young blood, who knows what is what. There’s better metal in Black Bess than is generally known. I wouldn’t fic! this only I know you're his friends, But I’ve had the lass in training. What have you to say for her, Pomp?” * Sooner let her say it for herself,’ replied Pomp, with the same show of mystery. a a if I was young enuff to ride her, I'd make some folks open dere eyes at de races, dat’s all.” “Why, she has none of the points of a racer,” pro- tested Pierce, ‘I have not seen her stepping out; but the very build of the horse is enough for me.” ‘* Appearances are deceitful, sometimes,” suggest- ed Mo ee: , “Spirit is of more account than shape, any day.” v And who denies that?’ cried a cheery voice from the road, as the tread of a horse came to the ears of the phen ae group. All eyes were instantly turned toward the speaker. They saw a tall, well-built, and well-dressed figure, with a very handsome, frank, and engaging face, whose youthfulness of appearance was added to by the faint lines of a budding mustache. He was seated on a large-framed horse, which he drew up in front of the “ Bell” as he spoke. ** Will Wildfire! or Old Nick never comes when he is called!" ejaculated Pierce. ‘“‘ Jump down, boy. We are talking of you and giving you anything but a good character.” “Allright. Talk it out, if you want. broke a man’s bones,” Will cheeril sprung with a light bound to the earth. Evidently the dashing young fellow was a favorite with the gray-haired jockey, from the haste with which the latter bustled up to wait upon him. “He = wants a minute’s breathing, Pomp. He’s ust from his oats,’ explained Will. ‘‘ How are you, ellows? Glad to see you, Harry! Hey, Ben, I heard how you laid out Jack Price last week. Wish I had been there. Hallo, Pierce! How’sthis? Why don't you bring him out a sofa, Charley? It’s a confound- ed shame to leave him there on his feet.” “Do you think oy could carry a better man?” retorted Pierce. ‘‘Why, hang you, boy, you will have people bidding for me for a lazybones next. If you give me the name, shoot me if 1 don’t have the game; so fetch along your sofa, landlord.” Talk never cried, as he * Haven't got any your measure,”’ replied the host, looki comically at Pierce's six feet three. Is this all true we hear, Will?’ asked Ben. ‘“ Are you entering Black Bess for the Fall races?” / “Oh, yes!” replied Will, indifferently. ‘‘ She can’t be any more than beat, you know. And she will have plenty of ayers in that.” “Tell that to the horse marines!’ ejaculated Pierce. ‘‘ You can’t come the don’t-care game on me, Will Wildfire is not the chap to goin for a sure beat. You’re calculating to win, you villain, or you'd be very clear of oy ae. : “T can take my chance in the crowd,”’ Will smil- ingly replied. ‘But do you know the blood that’s against you? There’s 'y Clare to trot against, for’ one.” “Oh, hang Lady Clare! e’s gota name. Buta name ain't always a game. Come, fellows, I’m as dry as a pitcher plant. Let us have something to Wet our whistles.” There was no ee raised to this proposition, and they entered the bar-room in cope: “What will you drink?” asked Will, as they stood together at the bar. » Ale for me,”’ responded Pierce. “Tl try that prime old Madeira,” said Harry Waters, indicating the bottle with his finger. “And bless you all, gemmen. I won't mind a mouthful of old rye.” They looked around to see who was the owner of this hoarse voice. There stood a blear-eyed, ill-fa- vored old toper, who had silently ranged himself at the bar beside them. “Get out now, Jake,” cried the host severely. “*T will not have you disturbing my guests.” “Didn't this gemman call up the comp’ny?’’ re- torted the old chap, in an offended tone. ‘I'll take three fingers of old rye, for mine.” Will turned and looked at the trembling hands and bloated face of the incorrigible old drunkard. *T don’t think he would be a good subject to waste a temperance lecture on,” said the young man, with a short laugh. ‘He is bound to drink himself into the grave, so I suppose I may as well help him toa nail for his coffin. Give him a nerve-steadier, Char- The landlord silently handed out bottle and glass. The old chap, nothing loth, turned out a brimming draught, and poured down the burning liquor as if it had been so much water. “Thank you, gemmen,’ he muttered. ‘ That’s good fer an honest old feller’s bones. Yer ain’t got the nails in old Jake’s coffin yet.” , There was a sinister look on the old chap’s face as he turned away. He was evidently treasuring up Will’s words spitefully against him. Little cared Will for that, however. He was too young to fully realize the truth of the old saying that a mouse can help or hurt a lion. In a few minutes more the whole party were on the road, Will on horseback, the others in the car- riage in which they had come to the Bell. As they rode off toward the city they gave little thought to the old toper, who was muttering revenge- fully to himself: **Mebbe old Jake mought get some nails in your coffin fust, bold as you are.” CHAPTER, Ii. OLD AND YOUNG JOCKEYS. Nor more than half a mile from the locality of our last chapter, on a rising point in the road that led to Darby, stood a modest brick house, fronting the road to the west, and eastwardly looking far over the broad flat meadows through which wound the Schuylkill river, on its way to the not distant Dela- ware. The house was not particularly inviting in appear- ance, the only evidence of taste about it being a few of the common garden flowers, which grew in the front yard, while a small kitchen garden extended in the rear. Leaning over the fence was a stout-built, sinister- looking fellow, dressed in plaid pants and a well- worn knit jacket. Yet there was something of the sport about his general aspect, and in the jaunty way in which he wore his hunting cap. His whiskers were of the ‘‘mutton chop” pattern, adding to the eneral English contour of his face. He held be- Gee his teeth a well-colored meerschaum, from which he was sending clouds of smoke into autum- nal air. “Tll goa cow anda brace of sheep that I know the cut of that chap’s jib,’’ he muttered, looking to- ward ahorseman, who hed just turned a bend in the road, not faraway. “A blazing little dandy he always was; but he’s got some blood in him, I'll say that for Mark Preston.” The rider came rapidly up. He was of asmall figure, one of those wiry builds that are apt to make up by agility for lack of strength. He was dressed with a neatness that closely approached to foppish- ness, while his long and well-waxed mustache gave an air of affectation to his otherwise good-looking face. Drawing up his horse to a walk as he ascended the slight acclivity, he approached the spot where the man with the pipe seemed to await him with some curiosity. “Glad to twig you, Mr. Preston,” he cried, as the horseman came nearer. ‘I'll be hanged if you don’t always eo to look as neat as anew pin. I be- lieve you could roll in a mud-puddle, and come out as if a tailor had just let go of you.” “I wish I could say the same for you, Luke,” re- marked the horseman, as he checked the animal and brought him to a full stop. “Me! Oh, I'm a rough diamond! waste any rose-water on me.” Mark laughed as he a from his horse, and threw the rein over a paling of the fence. ‘“* How’s business?’’ he asked. “‘Tt’s darned mean,” was the reply. thing's gone wrong, since—”’ “Since you and I went into partnership, eh?” “ Well, anyhow, ever since I tried to get even with that college snipe, young Wildfire. Blast him, he warped my cash first, scorched my back next, and — of = I burnt up all my furniture trying to scorch “But you got the insurance.” Me insurance,’’ rejoined Luke, shaking his head. ‘Iwas a bit afeared to push matters in that quarter, oa for there was some talk of sending me to Cherry Hill as a house-burner.—No, blast him, it all went; and here I am, trying to pick up a living in an honest way.” Mark looked into the hardened face of the man before him, and a ya oan “You are not ditc , anyhow,” he said. ‘No, Lain’t come to that yet.” Luke replaced the meerschaum in his mouth, and uffed out its smoke with a complacency which in- cated that his physical labors were not of a very peseeng Ane. “Look here,” resumed Mark, with a cautious lance around him, “I don’t know how you feel; ut forme, I have no notion of letting up on Wil! Wildfire yet. Don’t talk about the scorching he er you—look how he laid me out! Hang it, Luke, f Thad got hold of Wildflower Hall, which is mine by right, I would have made a royal berth there for ou.’ r “Much you would!” cried Luke, with a contempt- ppus Tang. “None of that taffy. I ain’t that <ind.” “T'll swear I would,” persisted Mark. ‘But that ain’t here nor there. I can’t give what I haven't got. But I'll tell you what it is, my boy, there’s some thing of the hornet in me. Ican sting twice in the same place. What say you? Shall we go for Wild- fire if an opening offers?” ee. “T’m your crow for a thousand!” ejaculated Luke, striking his rough hand into the white palm of th« man before him. : “Do you know,” he continued, ‘it's part tha which brought me out here? I wanted to be neai Wildflower Hall, and keep an eye open for chances. ”’ “There may be a chance before we are muc! older,” suggested Mark, mysteriously. “Tm in with you, then, root and branch. get plenty of help if it is wanted,” “tne young blood is going it heavy on horses,” continued Mark. “And lve gota notion he’s cak u- lating to make a sweepstakes at the Suffolk Parl You better not ‘* Eivery- And can Ya ! | | y |
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y | | | ; Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. 3 races. I'm told he’s playing the brag game on a new trotter.”’ “I’ve seen her,” responded Luke, ‘“ rogpler slab-sided, crook-kneed specimen. She’s as_black as the ace of spades. But color don’t win in a horse- race like it does in a game of faro. She ain’t got one point of a racer about her.” “Then if he can be led on to bet heavy on her speed— But do you know a good horse when you see one?”’ ‘*Me know a good horse?” ejaculated Luke, with astonishment. “Me, that was at every Derby for ten years, and that’s seen emery blooded animal that’s got a pedigree worth a farthing? You bet I ain’t the chap to back my money against a cart horse fora racer. Just take my word for it, there ain’t an ounce of genuine blood in Black Bess.” “Blood be fizzled!’ came a hoarse voice near them. ‘The chap as says she can’t trot don’t know bean from a punkin, an’ I don’t keer if his name’s ing George! Don’t tell me!” It was with a start of guilty surprise that the two ronfederates looked around. There, before them, was the bloated face and ragged attire of old Jake, the surly old toper who had, an hour_or two before, pushed himself on Will Wildfire and his friends. “You kin put this in your pipe,” continued the old chap. ‘‘ Charley Lloyd has had her in ome, and be ain’t wastin’ his time on no slouches. t Black Bess can’t trot then there ain’t no go ina locomotive, that’s all.’’ ‘Hallo! Jake; is that you?” cried Mark. ‘And drunk, as usual.’ : ‘Ain't had but a brace o’ nips to-day, as I’m an honest old sinner.” ‘*But didn’t you swear off for the year? You told me yourself you did.” “So I did,’ rejoined Jake. ‘“ An’I kept it too right squar’ through. There ain’t no slidin’ round corners on a sw’ar-off with old Jake; now you bet!”’ **Kept it? Why the year ain’t done yet.” a Tell you what it is,” said Jake, mysteriously. “There was a bit of a blunder in that bizness. I got d’ceived by Charley Lloyd’s clock; an’ that’s how it is I ain’t guv up smiling.” ** Deceived by the clock, hey?’’ “Tt was half an hour past, you see. I calkerlated tosw’ar off at twelve o’clock, New Year night, an’ nick me if I didn’t do it at half past “leven! So you see it were last year ’stead of this. 1 kept it, too, straight up, like a man, fur the rest of the year. ‘Tweren’t my fault if the blamed year pegged out so soon, A feller can’t be held ‘sponsible for every- body else’s clocks.” His two auditors laughed heartily at Jake’s idea of honor. But the old fellow was as grave as a parson. : ’ “Now don’t yer be swallerin’ any sich blarne ‘bout Black Bess,”’ he continued. “They ain’t a-goin’ to publish her fur the go that’s in her. But I've seen her paces, and I know a peg or two "bout hosses. Jist you see if she don’t make sweepstakes of the races. I wouldn’t lie ’bout her fur a cow, fur I don’t like Wildfire Will fur nothin’.”’ Mark Preston started at this admission, and looked significantly at Luke. **- You don’t like him, eh?’ “Not fur a peanut. I’m a gemman, born and bred, Lam, if luck has gone ’gin me, He's been a- puttin’ on airs, an’ I don’t ‘low no upstart to play that on me.”’ A meaning wink ed between the confederates. The thought struck them both that this old chap might be made use of. He was well known as a hanger-on about training stables, and had the free entree to every locality about the race-course, “Black Bess can trot, then?” asked Mark, gains, ‘Tf she can't a bird can’t fly. Mebbe she ain’t got blood. But she’s got legs, and them’s better.” The conversation continued in a more confidential tone. The three men gradually closed up together near the fence, their voices fi g, while a deep in- terest in the subject seemed to possess them. They grew so intensely interested, in fact, that they failed to perceive one circumstance of some importance, the road-side. Ona smaller s little chap who seems a miniature copy of himself. His companion, in fact, is a pee phe n boy as black as charcoal, with a wonderfully ttened nose, and eyes that shine like diamonds in an ebony setting. But it needs no second look to see that the boy is no fool, There is a shrewd look upon his face, anda sharpness of expression which indicate that it would not be advisable to buy him for a ninny. $f Ttell you what,” said Pomp, with an air of great confidence in the boy, “dar _ain’t no use talkin’, but hoss bizness is jess alive with tricks. Cain’t tell me! It’s jess runnin’ over with ‘em. i *T allers s’posed de bess hosses beat,” murmured the lad. “That "pends, that pends,” replied the old man, shaking his grizzled head. ‘‘ Why, dar ‘Ss more tricks in a hoss-race than dar’s beans in coffee. Sometimes de hosses is doctored afore dey get on de track, and sometimes dey is jockeyed arterward, It’s allone way. It’s de ole betters dat gets it, an de greenhorns dat’s sold. Mought as well put yer nose in a rat-trap as yer money in arace if you don’t know de p’ints.” : Tee ** Bet dar ain’t no jockeyin’ with Black Bess,”’ said the boy, confidently. i pi money on her, an’ I's a-goin’ to pile her through. “You keep yer eyes skinned, Pete,” rejoined the ““Marse Will’s goin’ to pile | 7 / need pushing. a i a a a a tN hg ee Si ee “ old man, with a knowing shake of the head. ‘ You ain’t ’arned de tricks yet. When you’s rid as many races as I has, den you kin talk.” “*Dey can’t beat me stickin’ to a hoss, anyhow,” returned Pete. “You're jess a little monkey at dat,’ acknowl- edged Pomp, looking at the boy asif he took some of the credit to himself. ‘But dat ain’t all. If any ’coon comes ‘round you, on de race say, with @ hunk of candy, or a plate of nice clams, jess don’t you bite. Dat trick were tried on me once, and I got sick as a ’coon in de middle of de race.” ‘* Will you be dar?” asked Pete. “Me be dar!”’ cried the old fellow, with a chuck- ling laugh. ‘‘Me be dar! Why de race couldn’t come off widout Pomp. Dunno what it'll be when I’m done laid up with rhewmatiz, or git took to de church-yard. Jess you seeif dey don’t miss de ole man.” “Tm a-gwine to stick to you,” said Pete. ‘If dey gits de best of me, den it’s all right. But I’s a no- ag) when dey see old Pomp about, dat dey’ll sheer rs) ’ ‘Jess you bet on dat,” laughed the old jockey. “Dar ain't a rascal dat I don’t know like a cat. knows amouse. Hang to old Pomp’s coat-tails, Pete, an’ de rascals’ll keep cl’ar of you.” There was something contagious in the old fel- low’s laugh. It shook him from head to foot as if a small earthquake had broken loose within him. Pete caught the same disease, and laughed until he rolled off his stone helplessly on the ground. A half-hour afterward Pete was trudging alon the Darby road, still breaking out into a gust o ene at intervals, as he thought of old Pomp’s un. ‘* Bet dey can’t beat de ole man,” he soliloquized. “ Hello! who’s dat dar?” He hurried on, with a boy’s curiosity, to try and recognize the man who was strolling on some dis- tance in advance. It was not Pe Dear’ he knew him as the drunk- en loafer, old Jake. With. a sniff of contempt Pete held back, enjoying himself now with a climb over the fence, now with a long look at the distant scenery. But, turning a sharp bend of the road, he was sur- prised to discover Jake in close conference with two men, their talk seeming to be of a very confidential nature, “ By gum!” cried the boy, slapping his knee ener- Sam rei “if dat ain’t de house whar I seen de nglish s , Luke Lister, dar ain’t no use talkin’! An’ who's dat oder chap? Oh! lawsee! It’s jess Marse Mark Preston! It’s Pete’s old boss! My bones! won’t he go for me if he kin cotch me? But Pete ain’t dat sort of a flea.’’ The boy stood a moment indecisive. ** Dar’s deviltry "mong *em, I bet on dat. An’ it’s deviltry ‘gin’ Marse Will, too. Dey’d eat him up widout salt if he wasn’t too tough to swaller, dem two would. I's jess gwine to fine out what all dat talk’s *bout.”’ It needed but a second for Pete to leap the fence into the adjoining field. Arrived there he snaked himself rapidly along behind its shelter. It was not many minutes before he reached the corner of Luke Lister’s garden-fence. Here he crouched down be- hind the close palings, and not ten feet away from the conspirators, in full hearing of their every word. . CHAPTER IIL CLARA MORELAND VEXED, AND PETE SURPRISED. THERE Was a narrow front yard and a neat porch to the house by whose railing Will Wildfire had just psa tie But out of the narrow space some taste- ful ds had formed a very attractive flower-bed, while a graceful vine twined up the pillars of the poe: lending nature’s adornment to the work of art. In the porch sat a young lady of great beauty, and dressed vith a rich toate that tea doubly 5 her charms. She had a book in her hand, which she had been diligently reading, but which she flung hastily down on cate ing a glimpse of her visitor. **Do come in!’ she cried, ‘“‘I am ever.so glad to see you! I was just thinking of you, and wishing you would come.” ** And you know what the old proverb says,” smiled Will, as he opened the gate and entered. ‘*No, Idon’t. And I don’t believe in old proverbs or any such musty old-time nonsense. But I did want to see you.”’ ““And I wanted to see you,” replied Will, taking her hand, and gazing into her spot ling eyes. ‘‘ Now that you will let me see you, without that distracting vail, which you used to wear, and the distressing mystery which used to spread around you.” e lady laughed, with the merriest and most mu- sical of laughter, as she motioned Will to a seat. ‘““What a race I led you!” sag ly cried. ‘And what a dreadful quandary poor “di ildfire was in! But speaking of races, do you know that some busy friend has entered my name for next week's steeple- chase? Idon’t know who it was: but I don’t thank him a bit. Asif I would ride in any such an affair!” “T would bet on your winning if you did!” ex- claimed Will. “That is, if you rode as I have seen ‘“‘T only wish my friends would mind their own af- fairs,’ was her vexed reply. ‘‘ My Selim is entered for the race, and I hardly see how to withdraw him. It is a very unpleasant position to be in, against my will. And I want you to help me out of it.” ‘Why, of course,” rejoined Will, a little confused- ly. ‘‘Anything Ican do, I will ride with you if you wish, and help you to ua Selim. But he don’t Haven't I seen him teke you over a five-railed fence as though the brute had wings?” ! / | ‘hastily up. | disdain. “That does not matter, I certainly shall not take part in this race. You must get me out of it in some satisfactory way. Wouldn’t I like an opportunity of thanking the gentleman to whom I owe this pleasant service!” “Tam glad it was not I,” laughed Will. Imight not enjoy the kind of thanks you have in our eyes. But I will see what I cando. How nice- ly you are fixed here, Clara. I have not been to see you since you moved here, you remember.” “Of course I remember. Young ladies are not apt to forget such kind attentions. Here I have been —let me see—”’ ** Just one week to-morrow,” broke in Will, ‘“‘ You need not be trying to stretch it out into.a month!” “Do you know,” she exclaimed, with a sudden change of topic, ‘“ half believe it was Pierce Brown- ing that ente Selim for the race. It would be — like one of his gigantic jokes. I would make him eval it himself, only I have some fear of Selim’s “Pierce! Oh! no, it could not have been he.” ““T would not trust him,” she replied, obstinately. “ He is full of his tricks. But do comein. I want you to see the inside of the house.” She sprung quickly up, and led Will into the hall, rapidly running over the advantages and charms of her new residence, as she pointed out its several at- tractions. An hour elapsed ere Will again appeared upon the porch, and, with a warm good-by fiom his fair host- ess, turned briskly up the street, followed by her eyes with a look that had in it more than interest. Evening was approaching when Will Wildfire found himself riding rapidly along a country road. It was something over a mile beyond the * Bell,” leading out from the main turnpike half-way be- tween Paschalville and Darby, and running westward through a rolling and well-cultivated country. Just before him there rose, to the left of the road, the gables and chimneys of a somewhat extensive mansion, nearly hidden by a luxuriant growth of trees and bushes, but apparently a place of some im- portance. Will sprung from his horse and opened the gate pry | nto the grounds of this edifice, which was no other than Wildflower Hall, the handsome residence which he had inherited from a rich old uncle. He looked with some pride on the broad facade of the edifice, as he led his horse up to its front. “T don’t wonder that Mark Preston made a fight for it,’ he muttered. ‘I think I would have fought myself, in his place; but hardly in his way.—Hey! Pete! where in the world are you?” He was answered by the appearance of the little =p boy whom we lately saw in close converse with old Pom “T’s "bout! I's allers "bout!" cried Pete, running “Gimme de hoss, Marse Will.—_Looks like as you’s been drivin’ him hard.” “Breathing him a little, Pete. I shook him out rather sharply along the level above the Bell,” He tossed Pete the bridle, and turned toward the porch of the mansion. “Jess wait a bit, Marse Will,” remarked Pete, with a cautious look around. ‘‘I’s got some’at to tell ou,” “To tell me?”’ asked Will, with surprise. “De little nig’s been scootin’ a bit,” replied the boy, ina significant tone. ‘‘Dar’s fun in de wind, you bet. Didn’t I cotch dem three coves a-layin’ dar games? Jess you b’lieve it, dat’s all.” What three coves?” ~ ie! dar was Marse Mark Preston, Pete’s ole boss. Den dar was dat sportin’ cuss, Luke Lister. De oder was old Jake, dat low-down loafsround de Bell.—Dar ain’t none o lubs you much, Marse Will” “ Not the first two, anyhow,” rejoined Will. “As for old Jake, I have never harm him, that I know “Him! Don’t you pa on him. Dat cuss'd sell his teeth fer ‘nough whisky to soak his gums. He jess b’longs to the lass chap dat gubs him a drink.” ‘But what was it, Pete? Did you overhear them ruzzier who dem three . concocting some rascality ?”’ “Tsee’d ‘em,” began Pete mysteriously. ‘* Dey were standin’ in de fence corner concoctin’. Dat’s a good word, Marse Will; dey were concoctin’. An TI come creepin’ ‘long and creepin’ ‘long, for all de world like a_snake frew de grass. Fuss t‘ing you knowed dar I was, in de fence corner, and a-hearin’ ebery word dey said.” “1 don't like that sort of business, Pete,” replied Will, turning away with an air of displeasure, ‘I want nothing done forme but what is done openly. Let me hear of no more spying.” “Like to know how yer goin’ to cotch snakes *thout seootin’?” answered Pete sturdily. ‘Tell you what, Marse Will, dar’s fun in de wind. You's got to keep your eye skinned.” “*T want to hear no more about it,’’ Will sternly re- joined. “Let them try the worst. A man that’s ready and able to defend himself like a man need not fear the schemes of a brace of rascals. Let them show their hands, and I fancy they will find | their match.—And hark to this, Pete. I will have no spying.” He turned on his heel and entered the porch, leay- ing the boy surprised, to say the least. “Show der hands!’ muttered Pete, with a sniff of “Much dey'll show der hands. <Ain’t dat sort of buttercups, dem chaps. Why dey'll jess gob- ble him up like a big turkey’d gobble a worm, ef he goes on dat way. _I’m Kinder ‘shamed of Marse Vill—askin’ me to let upon’em! Jess you cotch me at it, dat’s all! I's a-gwine to ride Black Bess at de races, and I ain’t neber gwine to let dem *coons doctor her. Nary time.” With a look of intense disgust at his master’s lack **T fear *
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j ; | : | of prudence, Pete led the horse to the stables, still muttering to himself. But we musi make a step forward in time, to the date of the great event which had been the talk of sportsmen for a month past—the steeple-chase, which was looked for the last week in September. The place selected for this race was the broad sweep of meadows, which border the Delaware for miles below the mouth of the Schuylkill, and which, with their frequent ditches, fences and embank- ments, afford all the difficulty and danger necessary to this peculiar sort of race. They are, besides, uncultivated, being used only for grass, so that there were no fields of ripe corn, or other late crops, to be trampled down, and no ebstruction to the view over the whole broad mea- dow bottom. The place of the meet was at the White Horse, a roadside inn, several miles south of Darby, the start- jag point of the race being a half-mile eastward from the hostelry, and beyond the line of the rail- road to Baltimore, which here runs at no great dis- tance from the river. It wasa fresh autumnal morning, with a bite in the air which showed that summer had definitel —— though the sun shone as brightly asin mid- ugust, A group of horsemen had already gathered in front of the White Horse, and was being rapidly added to as horsemen and carriages successively ar- rived, there being a good show of ladies among those eceupying the various elegant vehicles which lent such an unusual air of bustle to thac quiet locality. The house swarmed with people, yielding the ho- tel folks as much employment as they could conve- niently attend to. In front the emiatl group which had gathered early was rapidly increased and ex- tended by other groups of excitedly talking individ- uals, each as eager concerning the race as if he had his whole fortune staked a the event. Of our own special friends the only one yet present was Pierce Browning, who had ridden up on a power- ful horse, but who now had taken his favorite position, in a chair tilted back on the hotel porch, where he was surrounded by a small knot of persons to whom Pierce’s words were oracles. “There promises to bea perfect beehive of folks,” he said, looking over the gathering throng. “But I'll swear that I haven’t seen a half-dozen horses that look to have the spring for thigs>sort of work; and I’ve been all through the stables. Ha! there’s Will Wildfire now; and mounted on a sorry nag that couldn't leap a mud-puddile, let alone an eight foot ditch. He’s not booked for the race, that’s certain, with such an animal to carry him. Hallo! Will; where did you pick up your antediluvian?” *‘ Nabbed him just.as he was leaving the ark,” re- plied Will, as he joined the group of Pierce’s satellites. ‘I didn’t buy him for beauty, you can bet, but for his concealed virtues.” “Hidden so deep that they will never make their way to the surface, I fear,” responded Pierce. “Just wait. Power and beauty are not always linked together. By Jupiter, there’s a fine crowd promised! Anda good sprinkling of ladies to give tone to the occasion.” ** Yonder comes one that you should be interested in,’ said Pierce quietly, pointing toa lady who had just ridden up on a jet-black horse, Will looked quickly round, and recognized Clara Moreland, sitting her noble animal with a grace that eontrasted favorably with many of those around her, while her beauty was doubly enhanced by the fine color gained by her brisk ride in the sharp September air, ithout ee bee to his friend Will sprung from the porch and hastened to the fair equestrienne, fol- lowed by a quiet smile from Pierce. **So you have changed your mind,” he said, stand- ing at her bridle hand. ‘ You are going to ride.”’ ‘ Hardly,” she replied, ‘ or I would not have given Selim a trot in advance. I wish simply to escape with honor from the unpleasant position in which I have been placed.” : “Oh! Selim is good for a burst yet,’’ said Will, patting the glossy mane of the animal. i “But he will not carry me,” was her decisive answer. ‘There are some ladies to ride, I am told; but I certainly do not intend to be one of them, You remember what you promised?” “Yes, yes,” replied Will, hastily. ‘I must con- fess, I would have liked to see you ride. But if you are set against it, trust tome. Iwill contrive some means of getting you out of the difficulty without a square back-down.” I shall depend upon you. But why are they stopping here? Itis near the time for the race.” “Wait till I get my horse. I will accompany you to the field.” make In five minutes more Will and his fair friend were riding toward. the starting point of the steeple-chase, to ae a stream of horses and carriages had now set in, CHAPTER IV. THE STEEPLE-CHASE. A sprcrat train from the city had brought down several hundreds of people to the scene of the race. Also from the neighboring towns of Chester and Darby, and from the country for miles around, spectators had gathered, so that the ground present- ed an animated appearance before the cavalcade of horsemen and the long line of carriages came to add a new life to the scene. Most of the horses entered for the race had been in the stables of the White Horse Inn since the preceding day, though some few had been brought over since morning. The repressed excitement of the throng broke out into a cheer of wild enthusiasm, as these animals were now ridden into the field. There were eighteen of them in all, many of them beautifully formed and finely groomed animals. Fox hunting had been long a favorite amusement in this part of the coun- try, and horses trained to leap were far from rare. And their riders looked like perfect dare-devils to whom the worst dangers of a steeple-chase would be but sport. They were attired in full sporting cos- tume, and formed a gallant et as they curbed their restive horses, and waited impatiently for the hour of the start. But what was the rise of those to whom he was known to see Pierce Browning ride forward and take his place in the line of contestants. He had changed his hat for a close-fitting jockey cap, a blue sash encircled his waist, while his short, tightly- buttoned coat was bottle green in color. The horse he bestrode was a mighty bay, of gigantic pattern as himself, and with a look about him that told experienced horsemen that he was not going to be the last at the goal. But Pierce wore his old easy look, as if the event of the race was a matter in which he had not the slightest concern. He lounged on his horse as he usually lounged on a chair, “Oh, yes!” he said to a friend who attempted to break a jest upon him, “I just want to see the af- fair through. There is no fun in watching only the start or the close. I thought I would ride along and see it out.” ‘You don’t expect to take that elephant through?” “Maybe not. Yes, I'll take a cigar. Have you ot a light? There, that’s more comfortable. By 1e way, how much was it you said you would stake against the elephant?’’ ‘*T have no recollection of offering any bet,’’ was the laughing rejoinder. ‘‘ But I wouldn’t mind lay- ing two to one that you don’t come in fourth best.” ‘Done! for a cool hundred,” responded Pierce, reaching out his hand in acknowledgment of the bet. It was with some surprise that Will Wildfire had seen bis huge friend ride into the line of contestants. He was about moving forward to speak to him when he was arrested by an exclamation from Clara Moreland. ‘*Tt cannot be possible!’’ she cried. “What?” asked Will, turning quickly back. “Do you not see? Yonder. It is Mark Preston! He has joined the line of racers!” _ An exclamation of astonishment broke from Will’s lips. ““He! Why, he is no rider.” “Yes, he is. He rides well. I have seen him lead the field in a fox-chase, and take every fence in his way. And his horse is a good one. It cannot beat Selim, however.”’ “Then why not ride yourself, and distance him in this, as you have in other close races?” A new look came into Clara’s face. Her feeling toward Mark Preston had deepened until it had be- come a sentiment of hatred. Why should she not ride, if but to vanquish him? here were three ladies already in the line. Her horse had been en- tered. She had leaped Selim over greater obstacles than they were likely to meet. “Her lip curled de- cisively as she turned to Will. “T will ride,’ she said. “Bravo!” he responded gayly. “ Beat him, and I will be your debtor. I will not be far behind you.” ‘““ What, on that horse?” she asked, with a glance of contempt at Will’s mount. “Don’t despise that horse. He is a rough dia- mond. Ido not expect to carry the field with him, itis true. But I will not be last.” ** You are not entered, though.” “Tt is not too late for that,’ replied Will, as he rode away. A half hour passed, the line of contestants had now somewhat extended. There were twenty-five in all that broke from the start at the word. A shout that made the air ring arose from the throng of pepe gh as the cavalcade of animals, in a line as straight as that of a dragoon parade, burst into full speed, and darted across the firm, short-grassed meadow, which formed the opening ground of the race. But hardly for a minuté was this neat line pre- served. Some lagged, some darted ahead, almost from the start, while others turned toward what they deemed the most favorable spot to cross the first obstruction, a fence of medium hight, several hundred yards away. 3 Pierce Browning rode, indeed, as if he had no personal interest in the event. He held his horse at an easy canter, seeming to be quite careless that half the field were already well in advance of him. Tt was not so with Mark Preston. He shoved his horse from the start, with a nervous eagerness that was not likely to be favorable to his final success. As for Clara Moreland, she had set out side by side with the other lady contestants. But her lip curved with quiet energy as she saw Mark Preston in the front rank of the race. “Who follows me?” she cried, pointing forward van her whip. ‘Yonder is the man I am racing w ye A loosening of the rein, a touch of her white hand on Selim’s neck, and the noble animal darted for- ward like an arrow, reaching the fence almost side by side with her foe. A new shout rose from the lookers-on as they saw the noble black with his graceful rider, dart like a leopard across the fence side by side with Mark, who took it with equal ease. , She looked back with a feeling of involuntary dread for Will Wildfire. She was afraid his un- fhe areas eet nag would hang fire at the start. | ut no. There he rode easily along not far behind her. He cried out warningly: Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. % “Don’t push him so on the start. You will break his spirit before the distance is half made.” “T thought you knew Selim better,’ was all her reply, as she patted the glossy mane of the noble animal, that bounded forward with such long and a strides beneath her. ark Preston, too, looked around. His eyes kin- dled with a sinister light as he perceived his enemy, and caught the signs of an understanding between him and Clara Moreland. “Yonder!” he cried, in an excited tone, pointing forward to a wide ditch not far in advance. ‘You have made the fence. Now for the ditch!” _ Will gave a short laugh. He had no idea of enter- ing into emulation with his eB But it was not so with Clara. Her blood was fully up, and she, too, pointed to the ditch, exclaiming: ‘Tf you dare!” **T will dare more than that before I am done with ou,” muttered the villain, as he turned his horse ull on at the leap. His keen eye had noticed a point of advantage not observed by his fair contestant. The ditch was of unequal widtb, and the spot at which she had head- ed was some two or three feet wider than that cho- sen by her shrewd antagonist. Will, who caught sight of her error just as she headed at the ditch, was on the point of giving a warning ery, but he restrained himself and looked in mute admiration at the gallant stride with which she brought Selim up to the dangerous leap. Mark Preston was already over, and he looked back with an air of triumph just as the noble black reached the bank of the broad spread of water. But there was not an instant’s hesita‘ion. Selim rose as lightly and gracefully as a bird, darted like an arrow through the air, and lighted safely on the other side, though his hind hoofs sent a shower of dirt rattling into the muddy stream. “Bravo!” cried Will, as he took the narrower passage which Mark Preston had chosen. But we must go back to see what bas become of Pierce Browning. There was a loud laugh from the lookers-on as the giant rode quietly up to the fence, pulled up his horse, and stood looking at it as if not quite sure whether it was worth his while to attempt aleap. Most of the riders were already across, but the horse of one of them had balked close by where Pierce stood surveying the obstacle. His eager neighbor sprung to the ground, pulled a bar or two hastily from the fence, and began again to mount his horse. “Thank you,”’ said Pierce, turning the head of his great steed in that direction, and vaulting over the rail or two left in the panel. “T’ll do as much for you at the next,” At the ditch he had still better luck. He struck it at a point where a slight bridge crossed it, over which the great horse went at a ringing gallop. For some distance now there was an way. The broad meadow extended without a break in its smooth expanse. And over its green surface the crowd of racing animals darted, But they were far from preserving the evenline of their start. On the | contrary a good two-hundred yards separated the leading from the rear horses; while they were ex- tended still more in width. On the road that ran parallel to the racing grounds was Visible a long line of horsemen and carriages, driving rapidly forward, eager to follow the hotly- contested race to its close. A few more trifling obstacles and the first mile of the race was covered. Of those who had started nearly one-half were already out of the race, so far as any chance of winning rested. They had all a to pass the first fence, but the succeeding ditch had proved a A pees obstacle. The fact is, that horses which will easily stride sixteen feet over a high fence, will balk at a ditch not half that width, they being usually timid about water until trained to it, Three or four horses had obstinately refused to leap, and another had fallen and thrown his rider, putting him effectually out of therace. Of the ladies who had started but one remained in the race be- sides Clara Moreland. She continued in the first line of racers, close be- side Mark Preston, whose every movement she watched with a lip that curled wit scorn and deter- mination, The fair Clara’s blood was up, and her foe was likely to find it no easy matter to distance mks tor Will Wildfive bi As for ildfire his unpromising nag had done unexpected service. He had, it is tebe; sought easy oe ee to cross the obstacles in his way, but yet he ad managed to keep at no great distance behind the leading line of contestants, He rode in an easy et as ~~ he hig = Ape — —— honed sent only as a sort of rear 0 his fair friend. r — : Pierce Browning rode his great horse with the same careless ease as at the start, though it was noticed that he had made the last few leaps with a readiness that no one had expected. People began to think that there might be more in the horse than they had suspected, He was lagging considerably behind, it is true, but the animal seemed as fresh as if just from the stable. He had not warmed up to his work yet. ‘* Here’s fun!” cried the nearest neighbor of Pierce, pointing forward with his pe Meda’ ‘“What! that low hedge? Why they are making nothing of it.” : “No; but there is a heavy plowed field beyond, Some of them are having a deuce of a drag to get through it. And there goes Joe Elliott! Down on his nose for a thousand. I hope his horse hasn't broke his neck.” : “The horse is all right,” replied Pierce. “T fancy your animal will have a job yonder. He has too much weight for plowed ground,” “We shall see,”’ remarked Pierce, a smile curling
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hislip. “I have not wasted his strength like those It + gr: indeed, a bustling. and attractive scene to ment they were facing the hedge. It was about three feet in hight, and the two horses went over it side by side with graceful ease. But in the plowed ground beyond there was a change. Horse after horse was dragging heavily through it, fetiock deep in the clinging soil. Here the reserve strength of the “ elephant.” began to tell. The black soil flew from behind his striding heels, ashe rushed forward with remarkable. speed, rapidly overhauling the struggling horses in advance, “A race is never settled till the winning post is reached,” remarké@ Pierce, coolly, looking back at nee late neighbor, who was fast dropping behind nim. A half mile more, and the chief obstacle of the race appeared before the eyes of the excited riders. This was a broad, deep ditch, level with the field, and varying from fifteen to eighteen feet in width. Several of the riders hesitated as they came in sight of this formidable obstacle; The foremost horse balked, and could not be made to take the leap. Others rode off to the right and left, in search of a narrower crossing. The next who approached, a heavy-bearded fox- hunting farmer, drove his horse straight at the ob- stacle, touching him sharply with whip and spur as he faced the wide liquid reach. The nobdle animal rose and sprung from his tracks. But his fortune was not in accordance with his courage. His hind legs struck the water, sinking deep in the ditch. ut the experienced horseman was off in an in- stant, tugging vigorously at the reins, and aiding the struggling creature with all his strength. A min- ute’s hard fight, and the horse was again on dry land, and with his master in the saddle. “Tf you dare!’ cried Mark Preston, turning to Clara, and repeating her former words, while he pointed tauntingly forward. Her eyes flashed. She would have crossed the ditch now if she died for it. Her foe was a few strides in advance. His well- trained horse rose pea! to the ditch, taking him lightly over, though his heels dashed the water. And then, with a quick turn of the rein, the horse swerved around, coming side on to the point at which Selim was just rising to the leap. The black hesitated and balked at this obstacle, dropping almost on his haunches in his effort to re- eover. Clara kept her saddle, however, while a loud, sneering laugh came from her foe. It was not repeated, For at that instant a huge animal, bestrode by a huge rider, shot past her, and took the em with a mighty spring. The great beast landed safely on the ee bank, striking Mark Preston’s horse on the Hank with his off shoulder. A laugh of scorn came from the lips of the gigantic rider, as horse and man rolled helplessly to the ground. ‘That’s a game that two can play at,” cried Pierce Browning, for it was he. The next instant the mighty bay was running like a mettled racer for the goal, only distanced by two of his competitors. New shouts now arose. The close was reached, two of the fox-hunting farmers coming in as first and second, while Pierce Browning rode in as an easy third. Ina few minutes afterward several others of the racers came in, not latest among them was Clara Moreland, who had again headed her horse at the ditch, and crossed it at a leap. As for Will Wildfire he had turned away with a laugh from the scene of Mark Preston’s misfortune, and was seeking an easier spot to cross. The fallen man had yet shown no signs of ability to rise again to his feet. CHAPTER V. THE RACE DINNER. a “Yrs, for a good thousand,” remarked Pierce Browning, resting his shoulder lazily against the wal). ‘I don’t know but I would have come in first, only I didn’t want to take all the starch out of your country'riders. A thousand isn’t a bad) lift for ten minutes’ work, ; “ You might as easily have made it ten,” was the ron “You could have taken any quantity of bets against yourself.” ‘ “Thank you. But that ain't my way. Except when I find folks eager to invest their spare cash. I ros a valuable minute, too, in punishing a@ scoun- rel,” ‘ By Jove, but you gave him a settler!” cried the other. “A broken arm or shoulder, I am not sure which. And the r beast had to be shot. He was he 5 ruined.—I pity the animal a good deal more than I do the man. Phere is only one opinion in re- gard to his conduct.” “Hey, Will!” exclaimed Pierce,as his youthful friend passed. ‘ Where have you stabled your nag? You wets not expecting to win a race with that rute ?’” ; ha hanged if I thought it. was in you,’ re- joined Will, turning and eeting the hand which Pierce lazily extended. ‘‘Where in the world did you — upa horse fit to carry your weight at that “To tell the truth,” replied the giant, almost in a whisper, “I didn’t know all that was in him myself until I shook out his speed. The brute surprised me as well as everybody on the field.” “He surprised Mark ton, I ne,” laughed Will. ‘But come in. ‘The dinner is set, and the folks are crowding to the table. A deuce of an ap- petizing set-out, too. The White Horse ain’t bad at a race er.” 1ey entered. A table that groaned with good things extended the full length of the dining- room, while another, of equal length, was set in the wide hall. The seats were already nearly all occupied with the contestants and lookers-on at the race, and the rattle | | of knife, fork, and spoon, was in full play as Pierce | and Will entered. ** Here! Here!’ cried a dozen voices, ‘‘The head of this table is reserved for our giant rider. For Pierce Browning, the horse-demolisher and man- | smasher.’ “* Couldn't help it,”’ said Pierce, as he slid into the designated seat. villains, of every grade and color, have held him in than—” Ieould no more “Much you tried!” exclaimed a voice from the | “There is no use in advertis- | bottom of the table. ing yourself as worse than nature made you.”’ “Oh! T have an indifferent spite against rogues,” | replied Pierce, easily.—‘‘ Yes, a cut of the roast beef if you please.—And let it be rare.” * At all events I have to thank you, Mr. Browning,” spoke Clara Moreland, who was seated at the table, a short distance below him, “ I escaped by a miracle from being thrown.”’ “*T am only sorry for one thing,” returned Pierce, * that it was the horse instead of the man that got a settler.—Shall I trouble you to pass the pepper, sir? Thanks.—Yes, if Mark Preston’s neck had been broken—the cheese, did you say?—l doubtif there would have been many tears shed.” Will had found a seat beside Clara, to whose com- fort he devoted himself with the most earnest atten- tion. There were many other ladies at the table, and the whole scene was a most brilliant and bust- ling one. The rattle of plates and glasses, the eager buzz of conversation, the occasional bursts of laughter, the busy movements of the waiters, contributed to make the affair a success, while the viands disappeared with a celerity that showed there were some noble country appetites present. ‘*Mine host of the White Horse is a royal caterer,” Pr Will. ‘‘He has done himself infinite credit.’ “Can you reach the salad?’ asked his fair friend. “Certainly,” replied Will, stretching across the table for the dish. ‘‘Shali I not help you to a slice of the chicken?’ “A very small piece of the breast,’ she answered. “And you must try my favorite dish, Miss More- land,” cried Pierce. ‘There is nothing like lobster for the nerves. Let me help you.” “No; thank you. I have been very well served.” ‘*But you don’t mean to say that after such a neck-or-nothing dash you are going to satisfy your- self with a morsel of a pullet?”’ “T would rather not boast of m laughingly rejoined, ‘‘ But I think duty to the dinner.” ““Done your duty!’ exclaimed the plant, cutting another huge slice from the round of beef before him. ‘‘ Heaven help your appetite, if that is what you call doing your duty! expect to make a fam- ine in the land before I get through. Come, Will, up your plate. Here is a mighty sirloin that will never do to retreat from.” ‘* A small slice, then,’’ answered Will. ‘*‘ You have been so busily engaged that you don’t know what yeoman service we have performed down this way.” Pit does look as if a small cyclone had struck that art of the table,’’ replied Pierce, with a quizzical ook, “One would have pr feo there was enongh to serve a regiment, and now there is only a beggar- ly array of empty dishes. Yes, I'll give in. I ancied I had an appetite; but when we look upon this picture and on that it is easy to see where the famine has set in.” A loud laugh followed this remark, and a ee 4 of jests followed, rolling from end to end of the table. The devotion to trencher duty at the opening of the feast was, in fact, now giving way to amore dainty choosing of favorite morsels, while the repressed conversation broke ovt ina lively and rapid ng of jokes, and ia frequent bursts of merry a tite,”’ she nae done full r. “T have not heard a word said about the elephant,” remarked Pierce, pashing away his meg A plate. “Is there anybody present who is burning stake his money against that slow-going brute?’ “No, thank you kindly,” rejoined a young man below him. ‘I have already sunk a hundred in my doubt of elephantine speed. I hardly think I lay any more bets sgaipe’ our na aig ‘Lam open,” respon ierce, leaning back lazily ‘if any gentleman is anxious to make a stake off o & poor, over-confident boy, like me.” se Mn Lat otdhe es it will be gg Sem ve quit flying,” remar’ e young man, ’ ly. “Tam a victim of —_ oe tae tne tates 4 e guests were now ra’ v e e, an making room for others who had been crowded out from the first spread. ~~ friends, too, rose and walked out into the porch. oie Will you not have an ice, Miss Moreland?” asked erce. | “No; thankyou. What a beautiful view we have from here. What is that distant line of woods?” “That is far off in the Jerseys,” re; lied Will ‘No, you must exeuse me. I don’t care to smoke.” s last sentence was in response to a suggestion from Pierce. “Then you will permit me?” “Ce ly. Every man is a free agent out in this country air.”’ “What was done with Mark Preston?” asked Clara, “That beast of mine is down on | bak turning to Will, as Pierce lounged away to get his cigar. “Some of his friends took charge of him,”’ was the reply. “TI cannot say where they have taken him.” “And was he really badly hurt?’ “Not so badly as he deserved. his worst trouble.” “T do not wish him harm,” she rejoined. yet I certainly cannot pity him for his hurt,” “ Pity him!” said Will, with set lips. “Pierce is right. It would have served the scoundrel right if he had gotten a broken neck instead of a broken arm. The scene about them was very animated, From within the house the rattle of dishes showed thatthe feast was still going on with full vim. The porch was filled with those who had been fortunaté enough to get to the first table. A constant buzz of conver- sation and incessant movement gave the charm of activity, while in the broad open space in front a long array of carriages was already in motion, and active horsemen rode to and fro amid the throng, now halting to converse, now pushing forward as if in haste in their homeward journey. : Over all, the bright September sun poured _ its gleaming light, enkindling the broad sweep of the meadows, the distant woodlands and the flashing waters of the noble Delaware, into a beauty of the most charming type. “*T think I could stay here for hours,’’ murmured Shouse her eyes fixed on the busy and brilliant spec- cle. * And I with you,’ responded Will, in a low, earn- est tone. She gave a quick glance around. Their eyes met with an earnest look. For a minute they stood in silence. “Yet there is the necessity Philadelphia to drag us away from this charm,” she smnilingly said. ‘‘ Had we not better be going?” “If you wish,” he replied. In fifteen minutes more they were upon the road, Clara’s noble black stepping ont as briskly as if he had not already done such severe duty that day. “T have some more respect for that horse of yours,”’ she said, looking at Will's unpromising mount. ‘ He kept up very well with the frontrank.’ “He is not much to look at,” rejoined Will. “But there is good duty in him. I borrowed him for the day from an old fox-hunting neighbor.” “Oh! you have been sailing under false colors, then? But why did you not bring ont Black Bess?” “She is no leaper,”’ replied Will, “‘and I have bet ter duty laid out for her before many days.”’ Thus conversing, they rode on, passing many other occupants of the road, and exchanging greet- ings with numerous acquaintances. they neared the city the line of horses and became much thinner, and the voices of the young couple fell into a lower tone, as the pace of their horses. was allowed to slow almost into a walk. But this confidential conversation was rudely broken into. “Come!” cried a cheery voice behind them, “No whispe in company, if you please.” It was the voice of Pierce rowan. The next instant his great horse had pushed up beside them, effectually breaking up any private interview. A broken arm is ** And of getting back to CHAPTER VI. THE EFFECT OF TOO MUCH CURIOSITY. It was near sundown on the evening of the race when Will Wildfire passed the “ Bell’ on his home- ward journey, crossed the bridge leading over Cobb’s creek, and rode slowly along the level reach extending toward Darby. A half-mile in this diree- tion brought him to the foot of a long slope, up which he let his weary horse ascend at a waik. Near the summit of this acclivity stood a road- side house, which he had often passed without no- ticing it, but which was not destined to escape his attention on this occasion. It was, in fact, the resi- dence occupied, unknown to him, by his mortal enemy, Luke Lister. As Will rode slow ly past,engaged with his thoughts, and paying no heed to his surroundings, his atten- tion was suddenly arrested by a loud cry, in a voice well-known to him, that seemed to come from some locality near the sky. , “Hey! sp hallo! Marse Will!’ came the voice. “Yere Lis! "Way up yere! Topdechimbly! Law- see, Marse Will, I's proper tired of °t; but dar ain’t no way to ‘squatulate. I's jess a pris’ner.”” Will's vision, which had been wandering in all directions for the sound of the voice, now caught sight of an object at which he broke into an involun- tary Jaugh. For there, perched upon the chimney of the house opposite him, looking much like a miniature edition of Kriss Kringle done in charcoal, sat his boy Pete, bis coat nangis in rags about him, while his original color was by no means im- - proved 7 thick coating of soot. “ How in the world did you get there?’’ cried Will, as soon as he could repress his laughter. ‘How in de_world is I to get way from yere? Dat’s more like it,’ return Pete, indignantly. ‘Guess I'll git down fust ‘fore I ‘gin to tell stories. But we here to tell the story which Pete could well to be excused from under the circumstan, ces. He had, in fact, been for several hours an enforced inmate of the house.. About three o'clock that af- oon, after one of his usual confabs with old Pomp, Pete had reached that locality on his way ome. The remembrance of his last visit there, and of the discoveries then made to him, together with his disgust at his young master’s lack of curiosity. “Pears like as Marse Will ain't got no gumption,”
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| | ; 6 muttered the boy to himself, as he strolled lazily along the road. ‘Dar ain’t no use talkin’ ’bout it. I's raally shamed of him. Lucky dar’s somebody *bout yere ain’t no fool. It’s jess s’prising. Dat’s what ole Pomp says. It’s jess s’prising de way po folks does carry on. An’ white folks, too, as as been to college. kon dat’s what dey call ed- dieation. Heugh!” Tn this last exclamation Pete threw as much con- tempt and disgust as he could well express in any sin- le word. He relapsed into silence as he trudged on, ut his face still expressed a measure of silent dis- content. But the boy’s attention was soon turned to a more interesting subject. He had now reached the turn in the road, from which Luke Lister’s mansion was visible. As he did so, he was surprised to see a car- riage, with a pair of horses, standing before the door, while several men seemed engaged in carrying some object into the house, What this was the boy could not determine, though he heard, above the voices of the carriers, some sounds which seemed like loud groans. Pete’s curiosity, which it was never very difficult to excite, was immediately at boiling point. He nurried forward at the top of his speed, but too late to make out the character of the burden, which had now disappeared within the house. * What’s de row?” he asked of the coachman, who was oo to drive off. **None of your slack, if you please,’’ returned that important personage. ‘Get out now, if you don’t want to be hurt.” He drove off rapidly down the road. Pete - ayteny the house, within which all the men had now disappeared. He cautiously peeped in at the door, but there was nobody to be seen. But his curiosity was by no means allayed by the loud groans which came from some locality in the upper regions of the mansion, To his excited imag- ination it seemed as if there must have been murder at least, if not some deeper crime. He crept on and on, drawn inward by some such irresistible attraction as draws the iron to the load- stone. Up-stairs, we after step, he moved with in- ward trepidation. é turned, ready to leap with . One bound down the stairs, as a door opened above, a ° step sounded vs the floor, But a man immediately appeared, a stranger to him, and he took heart. It was not the arented form of Luke Lister, and he felt no serious fear of ony one else, ete clung to the balusters as this person ap- proached, and asked, in a dubious tone: “What's de row? Who's kilt?” “None of your black business. Dry up now, and get out of this.” But as the man made no effort to put him out Pete heia zis ground, He began his upward course again, after thé man had disappeared down-stairs. In fact the boy’s curiosity was now overwhelming. Not even the thought of Luke Lister restrained him in his eagerness to solve the mystery. The groans, which had now become scarcely au- dible, appeared to emerge from a room on the second floor, to whose door led a short passage, Along this Pete crept, with the same cautious step, in- spired with irresistible eagerness to learn the nature of this mystery, the cause of the suppressed moan- ing which came from behind that closed door. Kothing was to be learned through the keyhole, though. Pete Le his eye to it with all the ofa chambermaid or a. waiter. : **Oh, lawsee! how’s I ever gwine to find out!” muttered the boy to himself. “Hallo! What’s burst here?’ came a loud voice behind him, as a sirong hand caught him by the col- lar, and lifted him rudely to his feet. ‘‘ Keyholi it, hey? you woolly-haired rat! Who the blazes this impudent little villain?” Pete had been so ah: gor that he had failed to hear a quick step behind him, and it was with ex- treme surprise and terror that he felt this grasp on his collar, and heard this voice in his ear. It was the dreaded accent of Luke Lister. “Tt ain’t nuffin!” whimpered Pete, shrewd enough, even in his terror, to keep his face turned away. **T’m on’y Marse Brown’s boy, down de road. One of his ro ame got away, an’ he sent me down yere to look arter it.” ‘*And you were looking for a turkey through a keyhole, eh?” # Didnt want to ’sturb de family,’’ whimpered ete. * Let’s see your face, boy. No use to a kink in our neck trying to screw it out of sight. Hallo! Bhoot me s I ig Nedh irae od So it is you, then, you ) of a total eclipse?’ a On panthe it’s me,” quavered Pete. ‘* Marse Brown's boy.” é “You can’t put that on, you confounded little nig,” and Luke gave the boy a savage shake. “I know you, like a book. And TI owe you a jolly set- tling before T'll let you slip me.” ss eugh !” cried Pete, with a t show of dis- dain, “Ain't any two little nigs jess ‘like? Nobody neber kin tell one fromt’other. Tell you I’s Marse Brown's boy, and I’s boun’ to have dat turkey.” The moanings from the room ceased during the latter part of the conversation. Now a querulous voice cried out: “Who is there? Is that the doctor?” “No,” replied Luke. ‘ But I have something else for sore eyes. See here what a prize I have cap- tured.” He flung open the door, and carried Pete bodily into the room, lifting him by the collar as a New- foundland dog will lift a terrier. The boy cast his fearful eyes about the room. There had been something familiar to him in the voice, and all his curiosity was now swallowed, up in dread. Nor was he mistaken. There, stretched — a bed, lay the form of his old master, Mark Preston. His coat was off and his right arm and shoulder tightly bandaged. But the look of pain upon his face gave way to an expression of savage pleasure on seeing the capture which had been made by his associate. ‘** Aha!” he cried. ‘‘ So you've nabbed that snipe, have you? That’s clever. I owe the black villain something to remember me by. And I want a little amusement to make me forget this infernal arm, Scorch his back for him, Luke. Make him dance, Strap the little vagabond till he capers like a monkey.” ““Le’me go! Jess you le’me 2% Tell you I’s Marse Brown’s boy, and I wants dat ole turkey!” screamed Pete, writhing like an eel in the vigorous srasp of his burly captor. ‘You don’t know me then, Pete?’ asked Mark, with cruel malignity. ‘“* Neber see’d you fore. An’ my name aren’t Pete. It’s—it’s Jake. Jake Brown’s ay name; an’ jess acre dat ole turkey, dat’s all.” ““Oh, yes, we'll give you the turkey; and help your memory at the same time,” answered Luke, dragging the boy over to where a thick leather stra lay upon a chair, “ We'll have a little music, an see if you are good at a jig.” A shade of pallor showed through all the duski- ness of the boy’s countenance. e knew the un- scrupulous nature of the men into whose hands he had fallen, and that they would have no mercy on him. And he knew as well that there was little use to scream for — Only occasionally any traveler went past that solitary house. He might sound- ly beaten before he could attract any one’s atten- tion, At this moment the roll of approaching wheels came to their ears. ‘Dar he comes now!” ejaculated Pete. ‘You bess le’me go. Dat’s Marsa Brown'skerridge. He's arter dat ole turkey, you bet.”’ The carriage stopped at the door. “Tt is the doctor,” said Luke, listening intently. “Then get rid of the boy at once!” eried Mark. ‘**Lock him ii 3 somewhere out of sight. We can have it out of him afterward.” A yell came from Pete’s lips at this intimation of their malignant intention, But Luke prevented any further alarm by clapping his disengaged hand tightly on the boy’s mouth, while he lifted him as a cat would lift a mouse, and carried him up another flight of stairs, depositing him in a sort of garret. n a twinkling he had tied a thick bandage around the boy’s mouth, effectually choking the stream of his eloquence. With equal celerity he tied his limbs, leaving him on the floor ina helpless bundle. The next minute he retreated from the room, locking the door behind him, while Pete remained alone with his by no means pleasant reflections. The boy, in fact, had no objections to remaining for a while quiescent. He was exhausted with his struggles, and lay, breathing heavily, while from be- low sounds of steps and voices came to his keen ears Some fifteen or twenty minutes passed in this en- forced quiet. But atthe end of this time Pete began to move uneasily in his bonds. ; ‘Dar ain’t no use waitin’ yere,’’ he said to himself. **Tain’t plum-puddin’ I’s a-waitin’ for.” The bonds had been fe around the boy’s limbs too hastily to be effectual. It was not ten minutes before he had one hand free. Five minutes more completed the task, and he stood upright, in full fresdoeh. But he was far from being safe yet. The door would not yield to his utmost efforts, There was a fireplace in the room, leading into a wide chimney. Into this he endeavored to force himself, in hopes of making it an avenue of escape. But it oe far too narrow, and he only succeeded in tearing his coat into tatters, and covering himself from head to foot with soot, which seemed the accumulation of half a cen h But one other avenue remained. This was a sort of dormer window, opening onto a steep roof. The boy was agile as a monkey, and was soon out upon pe] roof, up which he quickly clambered to the e. But he was as far from escape as ever. There was no lower roof visible to which he could descend, no tree he could reach, no strong vine or other means of descent. He sat here for a full hour, surveying the sur- rounding country, and determined that if Luke Lis- ter wanted him he ht come after him. At the end of that time the carriage drove away . But Pete had just seen something of more interest to him. This was the familiar of a horseman, approaching from the direction of the city. The boy now climbed upon the chimney, for a more extended observation. e was not mistaken. ey his master, Will Wildfire, slowly ascending CHAPTER VII. LUK® LISTER MEETS HIS MATCH. Luxe Lister, the doctor having departed, began to think ‘in’ of his postponed rerenee on Pete. ey tient had become much easier in co’ ° uence arm being set and properly ban and himself suggested a return to the amusement which had been temporarily laid aside. A muffled sound from above hastened Luke’s movements. Pete must have got rid of his gag, and would raise the country by cries if he was not looked after. But it was with no small surprise that Luke, on | Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. unlocking the door, found but an — room be- fore him. His prisoner had disappeared! ‘* What in the sun has become of the young rat?” he asked himself. ‘‘ Ha! I see. The window is open. He has worked himself loose and taken to the roof.” A single look proved the truth of this idea. There sat Pete, astride the chimney, looking eagerly down into the road. A grim laugh came from the villain’s lips. “What a little devil it is,’ he muttered. ‘Hey! there, boy? S’pose you just wheel around, and tod. dle down this way. You’re wanted.” “Guess not,” soy returned Pete. “I jest climb up yere to take a look for Marse Brown’s tur pd Got to see dat bird ’fore ever I takes one step own.” ‘Come down, I say,’’ was the imperious order. “Yere Lis,” replied Pete, ‘Guess I won't leave jess yit.” * ul bet high you do,” was the savage response. “Tf you don’t toddle down quicker than lightning, look out for a lift.” Pete turned ae at these significant words, and found himself looking directly into the muzzle of a pistol. It was a very convincing form of argu- ment, He experienced a sudden change of opinion, “You needn’t be pokin’ out yer pistols,” he ex: claimed. ‘Don’t you see I’se a-comin’? Don’t b’lieve dat ole turkey’s yere, anyhow.” Pete slid along the ridge until above the window, and then let himself glide slowly down the steep slant. He was not particularly afraid of his an . nist, for he had seen movements outside, of which the latter was unaware. As he came opposite the window, Luke grasped him by the collar and drew him within. ‘So; you’ve been taking an airing, have you?” asked the burly villain. ‘ You need a dusting, now, after being so — on the roof. Come along. But it was not Pete he held, but only Pete's tatter- ed coat. The boy had slipped like an eel out of the torn garment, and stood grinning at his discomfited foe. He might easily have reached the door and es- caped, but he made no effort to do so. Guess you mought keep dat coat,” said Pete. © *Tain’t my Sunday best, anyhow.” Luke glared at the tattered and soot-covered coat for an instant, and then flung it fiercely at the boy, making a quick movement at the same time, so as to cut off his escape by the door. “ What sort of a game do you call this?’’ asked a strong, youthful voice near him. ‘I never saw it played before.” Luke turned bastily. There, leaning easily against the side of the doorway, stood his mortal foe, Will Wildfire, looking on as mpeg as if he really ima- ined that some new kind of game was being played efore him. For an instant the villain remained stupefied with amazement. Then he burst into a paroxysm of rage, advancing a step toward his foe, and raising his pistol-hand with a fierce threat. “So you've put your head into the lion’s mouth, you infernal hound! This is my house, and my ouse is my castle. You got in here easy. You won't find it so easy to get out.” He lifted the pistol, with deadly intent in his eyes, But, during this movement Will had not stirred al inch. He still remained, with his shoulder restin against the door-frame, gazing on his enemy with the cynical satire of his first speech. po T hardly think you will pull that trigger, Mr, Luke Lister,” he quietly remarked. ““Why won't I?’ “Because bluster is cheap; but when it comes to courage you are not there. You had better drop it, and not making a fool of yourself, as well as a rogue,”’ Ha! Iam a coward, am I?” His face flushed with intense rage as he leveled the weapon, with deadly aim, not six from Will’s breast. But the resolute youth did not move, or c a muscle of his face. His only action was a ht signal with his hand, t the same instant the villain’s aim was sadly dis- concerted. Pete had been creeping forward noise- eens and, at the sign from his master, sprung like a cat at Luke’s extended arm. The pistol exploded, but the ball went through the floor, Simultaneously the quiet _—- man leaped for- ward, caught the of his antagonist in a vise- like gripe, and with a quick twist forced him to drop the weapon. Will caught it as it fell, sent Luke gering back by a vigorous ainst his breast, and the same moment cov. him with the muzzle of the captured revolver. “Two can play at that game, Mr. Luke Lister,” he satirically said. ‘It happens that I hold the winnin seed now. What were you going to do with t of Dey was ae to scorch Pete wid a leather stra % = the boy. if you want to know,” savagely replied Luke, g himself heavily into a chair. ‘It is well for you it went no further,” rejoined Will. “Iam not much given to threats, but if you ever maltreat this boy I will see that he has the chance to pay you back in your own coin. And when I say a I mean it. Come, Pete.” He turned his back on his opponent, and walked through the door, with a carelessness that was almost insult- OE Secs iS dat yt he ipe an’ smoke it,” said Pete. with his tongue in eek, as he walked backward after his master. He was not going to trust a treacherous antagonist, however heedless his master = choose to be. uke half rose, with the deadly light of revenge in Pete’s keen glance was upon him, his eyes. But
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7 villain threw after him Will pursued his way steadily down-stairs and out of the house. There his horse stood, tied to the fence. Directing Pete to mount behind him, he was off, ina minute more, toward Wildflower Hall. Two days after the events just recorded another scene, which may have some little interest for the reader, was being enacted in along, levellane, about a half-mile back from the ** Bell.” The road was hard and dry, little frequented, and excellently adapted to the purpose for which it was now being used, that of training. “De old fellow ain’t forgot how to ride yet,” said black Pomp, with a husky laugh, as he climbed into a sulky behind a restive horse, which Charley Lloyd was holding by the bridle. It was an animal of a glossy black hue, highly groomed, yet to ordinary eyes, not very promising so far as speed was concerned. It certainly had not the build of a racer, its limbs being short and full, its body inclined to stoutness, while the whole con- formation of the animal was unusually short for a track horse. Black Bess, for it was she, impressed you with a sense of heaviness and lack of activity, which was only negatived by the fierce light in her eye, and a restless spirit which kept her in constant motion. “Won't some chaps git sold when dey lay dar bets *g’in’ dis critter!’ laughed old Pomp, as he took firm hold of the reins, and leaned forward in true jockey fashion. ‘Look yar, Pete. Jess yousee how de ole man grabs de reins. Double yerself up a_ bit, but don't you be too hard on Bess’s mouth, coz she won't stan’ no such foolin’. And mind you don’t tetch her. Ain ¢ no sort 0’ use tryin’ to put sperit in her. She’s got plenty. Jess chirrup when you want her to go, an’ Tet up on de reins.” The host of the Blue Bell now released the restive animal, who sprung at once into a quick trot, dart- ing along the straight lane at a speed which she had hardly promised. “Yaw! yaw!” came back old Pomp’s hoarse laugh, his heart warmed up to its ancient spirit, as he saw the noble creature, without an ounce of waste effort, darting along with a mighty stride, that my y consumed the ground beneath her. Charley Lloyd looked on with approving eye. He had taken out his watch, and had his eye fixed on the dial plate. “She is not down to her speed; but she ought to make a good mile at that pace,”’ he remarked. ‘No one can tell what go there is in that creature till she is put side by side with some other fast traveler.” “ Mougbt make it in 2:40 at that gait,’ answered Pete, with a critical air. It was not long before the horse was seen return- ing, at a noble pace, while the gray-haired jockey griped the reins firmly with both hands, an air of infinite satisfaction upon his face. “She’s jess a rattler!” cried Pomp, bringing her easily up. ‘“‘ Neber rid "hind a neater goer. What's her time?” ‘““Three minutes, to the notch,” answered the landlord. , “Took a ane half minute to stop and turn, up de lane,” explained Pomp. ‘“Didn’t push de hoss, neider. e’ll jess beat 2:20, sure as we're standin’ yere.” Mr. Lloyd smiled, but said nothing. * Jump up into de sulky, now, Pete,”’ cried Pomp. “You's got de ole man’s *zample to go by. Be mighty suah to ’bey orders. Gib de hoss her head, and if she don’t fetch you out first chop, dar ain’t no use talkin’,”’ There was a proud look on Pete’s face as he climb- ed like a cat into the sulky, and grasped the reins. ‘Sit well back,” cautioned the landlord. ‘ Have you got good foothold?” “Solid as a rock,” answered Pete. “Keep her to the middle of the track. Watch her head well; I am alittle afraid she may be tricky. Grip the reins with a —— Pete.” ‘Ay, ay! Let go!’ was the boy's impatient an- swer. The landlord loosed his hold, stepped Sgr back, and the impatient horse was off again like an arrow. with as much vim as if she had not already just made her mile. “Sound bottom = muttered the host, as he followed her critica rv, No prouder little negro than Pete could have been found that day within the limits of Philadelp hia, A whoop of delight burst from his lips as the swift crea- ture got down to her work, darting along with an arrowy speed that made the landscape glide past like a shadow. Black Bess stretched her neck well forward, her body sinking into a crouchi attitude, her limbs thrown forward at every ide with a a reach. She seemed to enjoy the work quite as as did the whooping little hopeful behind her. “Hidar! Cl’ar de track!’ Pete suddenly cried, as Some horsemen appeared in the road before him. “Can't stop B Bess, and dar’s boun’ to be a smash-up if you don’t git.” The horsemen evidently thought so too. They drew out to one side of the way, and keenly watched the rocket-like steed which was reahing like the wind upon them. With a wild whodp Pete passed them, ee by like a flash. i at do ro > ap now?” asked At} oe who was one of the estrians, ‘Isn't there in Black Bess?” + “More than I th it from her buil ” answered Pierce Browning. ‘ But sh against.” e has some fast trotters to work “She is going to be the winner of the Suffolk races,’ said Will, confidently. ‘‘ What do you say, Charley?” “Tthink she has it in her,” answered Charley ey whom they had now joined. e conversation was very soon interrupted by the return of Pete and his team. The boy had perfect command of the well-trained animal, owing er up with ease out of a fast trot. He sprung lightly from the sulky, crying out: “Dar ain’t nouse concoctin’. belle of de ball, and eberybody else best git off de floor. Squar’ away.”’ CHAPTER VIII AT THE POOL ROOMS A LARGE throng was gathered at Mace’s,‘an excited crowd, who seemed to be each trying to outtalk all of the others. But where and what is Mace’s? You must not ask any hago character that question, if you do not want to be laughed at for your ignor- ance. It isthe headquarters of the betting fraternity, and the center of that new mode of investing spare Sg on the result of games and races, called pool- selling. But a few days remained before the Suffolk Park races, an event of great importance to the sporting world, for some horses of great reputation were to be placed upon the track—no such rare goers as Goldsmith Maid, it is true, but some prime travel- rs. “There’s no use squirming,”’ cried one individual, who occupied a chair in the rear of the room, ‘* Lad Clare is booked as the winner. Why hang it have any of you ever seen her on her mettle?” “I've seen her record,’ replied another; “ 2:20 is her best time.” “That with a hook! Just you back her against 2:18 if you want to makea stake. She led Rover two good lengths in her last race.” “She ought to be Spry ap, lt said athird, “A walk-over is no race at all. The Is will be ten to one in her favor before the day of the race.” “What other horses are entered for the mile heats?’ asked a curious bystander. “Three other animals, of no record,” was the con- temptuous > “They are named Stonewall, Hardy, and Black Bess. The last is the only one that is known about here. They say it isa chance if she can come inside the 2:25 limit.’ “What fool ever entered such a horse as that?” asked a tall person, of gigantic frame, who was lean- ing lazily against a window. “Will Wildfire is the owner. You may know him. : royal good oarsman. But he knows nothing about norses.”’ “Him? Not much!” cried a young, foppishly- dressed individual, who was pushing throu * the crowd, flourishing a handful of bank notes. ‘* Why, his horse has no more shape than a toad.” * Are you laying bets against her?’’ quietly asked the large speaker, * Five to one, if there is a man here dares take me, and the fop again flourished his handful of notes. “Tl take that bet,’ was the reply. “ You aoe “Yes. One hundred to five. Or maybe you'd like to make it thousands?” “ Hundreds let it be. And we'll put the stakes in Mace’s hands. Iam going to rake in that hundred, my friend.” ‘Allright. But I never go back on odds like that. A chap always hasa chance you know.” There was a covert smile on Pierce Browning’s face, for it was he. He evidently thought it highly probable that the enthusiastic young man would be taught a lesson before he got through with him, Pierce loun, easily through the excited and loud- talking crowd, after putting up the money for this bet. e rattle of voices was almost deafening, a dozen broken sentences reac the ear at once, so that no consecutive sense could be made of it. * Lost his wheel turning—Lady Clare’s trotting under the high bridge, when—deuce of a fine pacer—offered two to one and no takers—good ockey, but his hand —hasn’t bottom for a five-mile eat And so on. Such was the hodge-podge conversa tion that assailed Pierce’s ears as he made his slow way through the eager multitude. “Hey, Ben!” he cried, as a familiar face met his view. “Have you seen Will? There’sa prime opening to-day, if he wants to invest. I have laid over a thou- sand already, at good odds. I hope Iam not going to be made a victim of misplaced confidence.” “There is no back-down in Will,’ replied Ben Huntly. “He is over yonder investing in Is. Hang him, he has so much confidence in that brute of his that I didn’t escape the fever reer: I have laid some of my hard-earned cash on Black Bess.” They stood in a doorway, a little out of the ng. “‘I saw her paces the other day,” said Pierce, qui- etly. ‘‘She is a blazing good . And that mite of a blackbird who is booked to drive her handles the ribbons like an oldstager. He is a regular little dare-devil. There will bea smash-up somewhere if any tricky hound tries to countermarch on him.” “ But hadn’t we best get Will out of this? He is growing too excited.” “Yes... Take him out for.a row, Ben. Cool his blood on the Schuylkill.”’ ““Me? I can’t him. Try your hand; you can do what you please with him.” Pierce smiled, and followed Ben through the crowd. They soon came to where Will Wil was the center of a small knot of interested talkers, all gesti in warm excitement. Black Bess is de | Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. “Coax him out,” said Ben. ‘But don’t be too sudden abeut it. He’s blamed touchy.”’ Another smile marked Pierce’s handsome face, as he shouldered his way easily through the mass. His outstretched hand touched Will’s arm. “Come,” he said, pouting outward with his thumb, and quietly withdrawing his extended arm. Will looked quickly around, flushed a little at this curt summons, and then broke into a laugh, “Excuse me, gentlemen,’’ he remarked. ‘ We have our affair settled, and 1 seem to be wanted. Don’t fail to be on hand.” Meanwhile Pierce had rejoined his friend, whose face was the image of astonishment. “So that’s what you call coaxing? A policeman could not be more delicate about it. And hang me if the boy ain’t coming! But it must be to knock you down for your impudence.” Pierce looked quietly down at his massive figure, as if he thought it would take nothing less thana pile-driver to perform that interesting operation. “What am I arrested for?” asked Will, walking up, with a quizzical look upon his face. ‘*For losing your head,”’ replied Pierce. “I have no objection to your losing your money, so you do it 5 geen But I won’t have you losing your eC Will stared at his odd friend, and then broke out into a loud laugh. ‘* Well, you are not lacking in coolness, anyhow. How goes it, Ben? What's on the programme?” ** Pierce emer a row up the Schuylkill—and say oe and co ee at he ‘4 . perese “Tam agreeable. elieve I was getting a bit too hot. Will you go along, Pierce?” ‘* Yes—for the catfish and coffee.” In half an hour our trio of friends had reached the river road in Fairmount Park, with its long row of elegantly-built boat-houses, in brown and green stone, facing the river. There is probably nowhere a more beautiful situa- tion, or more tasteful 6A for boating pur- ses, than possessed by the Schuylkill Navy, with he rounded and thickly wooded slope of Lemon Hill to the left, the wide stream to the right, bordered by a broad green parterre on which the neat establish- ments of the boat clubs have been erected, while ad- joining the foot of the hill runs the river road, al- ways covered by its stream of handsome equipages. In ten minutes more they were upon the river, Will and Ben at the oars and Pierce acting as cox- swain. “I think the stern of a boat just fits my figure,” he said. ‘‘ And it is so much more comfortable puil- ing the rudder than pulling a pair of oars.” “And comfort is Pierce Browning's first prin- ciple,” laughed Will, as he adjusted his oars. ‘ You've got it there,” cried Pierce. ‘If you want to risk your money on a bet you'll find that a safer wager than the trotting capacity of the best horse that was ever foaled.” “Don’t believe him,” retorted Ben. “Look how he deceived all his friends by his astonishing per- formance at the steeple-chase.”’ * **No deceit about it,”’ stoutly affirmed Pierce. ‘I have two esos: comfort and cash, The deuce of it is, it is hard to get the comfort without the cash, I risked my bones on that dreadful occasion to rake in a few bets, that was all.”’ “ Risked your bones?”’ cried Ben. “It strikes me that it was somebody else’s bones; judging from the slight accident to Mark Preston,” Pierce laughed ng & “T hardly believe he will swerve his horse in a lady’s track soon again—at least, when I and my ele- phant are by.” They had now got down to their oars, and were sending their long, slender boat swiftly up-stream, with the easy but effective pull of practical oars- men, It was a m: cent September afternoon, with the sunlight ly in great swaths in the stream, and gilding the ro. banks of the beautiful river. There is no stream in the immediate neighborhood of a great city which nature has done more to adorn than the winding om yg And art has richly supplemented nature. or this river runs for seve miles through the center of Fairmount Park, and the landscape gardener has been busy upon its ba where he is slowly adding to the ess of na adornments of . It is yet but in process of transformation but already many “beau vistas have been opened, and the rudeness of the native landscape softehed and har- monized. A ial influence descended upon the souls of our nds, as they swiftly made their way up the beautiful river. Its surface was dotted with ts, some crawling lazily along the banks, some—mere e shells—shooting along like arrows, others— t and ten-oared barges—leaping under the clock- a stroke of their trained crews, Among these ed many awkward squads, who dled were the oar with the most pertinacious crab-catching lack of skill. Add to these other boats with lady —. the bright colors of their attire’-con- trasting brilliantly with the somber garb of their escorts, while songs, softened and sweetened by dis- tance, came from their lips; and we have some idea of oe yi scene, th umbia’s bridge, reaching the racing course above the boats thinned out, only a few of the trained oarsmen being here visible. “Tt is a mighty odd business about those bur- Saries,? remarked Ben, between the easy sweep of oars. “What is that? I have heard nothing of it,” an- PINE Es leas wat a “T.mean the m ous ve been going on fora month mow, leaving the police
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Ee aaa" > Be == ———— entirely in the dark. The thieves, whoever they |. =e, a mighty skillful. Not a trace of them can be ound.” “T have read something about it,’ said Pierce, carelessly. ‘‘But as I belong to the blessed ones who have nothing to steal burglary don’t interest me,” *““We householders are not quite so comfortable,” Sener Ben. “They went through a house of ifteenth street last week, and made a happy haul. For them, I mean, not for the poor victims.’ “T hope they will keep clear of Wildflower Hall,” remarked Will. ‘1s that the Falls village ahead?” “Yes,” said Pierce. ‘Bend to your oars, my jolly boys. I have fatigued myself enough in your serviee, pulling this heavy rudder right and left, while you have been enjoying yourselves at the I claim my reward now in catfish and coffee.” It was not long afterward when they found them- selves by the river wall of a hotel whose grounds extended to the stream. And, ere many minutes more a smoking dish of the appetizing viand for which the “ Falls” are celebrated was on a garden table before them, flanked by steaming cups of nt coffee. tfish and coffee, under the shade of giant wil- lows, and in the mild twilight of early autumn, with the low rippling of flowing waters and the soft breath of south-west winds as accompaniments, form a combination not to be despised. nd our friends thoroughly pajored themselves. “If we only had a few of the fair sex, to give tone to our feast, it would be divine,’’ remarked Pierce, as he sipped the fragrant beverage. ‘There is nothing like ladies’ eyes to give effect to twilight.” “ And catfish,” supplied Will, w th a laugh. “ But is it not time we were ~ back? I have a jour- ney before me, before I reach home.” Oh! come with me,” said Pierce, ‘I will find you shelter for the night, and an eye-opener in the morning.” The moon rode high in the heavens as they rowed back, down the shadowy reaches of the river. CHAPTER IX. A CONSULTATION AND A BURGLARY. “May the fiends fly away with the brute that broke my arm!’’ cried Mark Preston, with a sudden outburst of anger. ‘ There is blamed little sport in our game if a man has to waste his hours here, while the best bets are making.” He leaned back in au easy-chair, his broken arm in splints, a look of peevish discontent upon: his “Oh! you are doing very well,” answered Luke, who stood looking out the window. “The doctor says you may go out to-morrow, if the weather is fine. You will be prime before race day.” “Wouldn’t I like to scorch the chap that run me down?” exclaimed Mark, an evil look upon his face. **Oh! that be dashed! It’s all fair in war,” rejoin- ed Luke. ‘And you are just as well where you are, for the present.” “ How is that?” ** Black Bess stock is down, that’sall. You couldn’t buck inst it wortha cent. Lam working the field through. The horse is a thunderer, there’s no going back on that. And she is being trained into tip-top condition. I saw her yesterday, all muscle and ac- tion, not an ounce of fat; and she climbed over the track like a bird. They néedn’t talk about her eer it’s just as old Jake says; she’s got win in r. ” “Then maybe we'd best buck against Lady Clare, and hedge on Black Bess.” “No. The betting field is turning in her favor. I have been sowing seed at Mace’s; and some sharp rts have been out looking at the beast’s action, ust take me for it, but Black Bess stock will run like a race-stream before the week's out. You can back all the bets you want against her.”’ Mark sat in silence for a minute. Evidently his thoughts had taken another turn, for when he again spoke it was with a wide cha of subject. “Are you satisfled you can do it, Luke? I will be for a thousand, the day you put it in my nds. * Do what?”’ asked Luke, surprised. “ Strike those papers. She keeps them in the desk I told you of. Hang her!” and his voice took a sav- tone: “I owe this arm to my effort to get even th her. And that’s not all that I owe Clara More- | I have sworn to match her play with a better ca ” *‘Oh! that’s where the wind’s blowing? I am go- ing to win that thousand. And more, too, if things don't go wrong. I’ve done worse jobs inside a mouth, and it will be odd if [ drop in this.” ou fail— “But I won't fail. I ain't that kind. The pa- pers—’’ the door.” There — peculiar fumbling, followed by an un- certain kn: “ Come in!” cried Luke, “Come in’s easy ter say. But how’s a chap to do't, 'd like ter know? ‘Ain’t I used out a-tryin’’ Like ter know where's yer latch?” “Old Jake, for a thousand! And drunk as blazes,” ted Luke, as he flung open the’ door, reveal- ing the form of the old sot, who surged with a stég- “There's somebody at agar tection inbeeeeacor s correck!” hiccoughed Jake, as he fing himself heavily into ‘a chair, and sprawled ont his well-ventila boots éver the floor. “ Jist had a snoozer down ter Charley Lloyd’s. He's a prime fel- Jer. | He's jist guns, Charley is.” ie **He didn’t kick you out of doors to-day, then?” ** Like ter see ‘im do’t!” cried Jake, with an awk- ward squaring of hisarms. ‘‘ Like ter see the man in Darby, or in Kingsess, or in—” “Why, hang it, Jake, he kicked you out yester- day,” broke in Mark. “Yisterdy be fizzled! Let yisterdy take care ’f yisterdy; an’ that’s Scriptoor. One day’s‘nough to think on ‘tonct.”’ “* How about Black Bess?’ asked Luke. “Don’t say nary. word,’’ whispered Jake, with a cunning look, and a ludicrous attempt to wink both eyes at once. ‘“*Mebbe Jake don't sleep in the hay- mow, an’ mebbe he ain’t. got the run ‘f the stable? Hush! nary word. It’s all primed.” “Look out for old Pomp.” “What! That sassy nigger? Like ter see ‘im say beans t’.me. LIslap his old jaw efshe said beans, dyer hear that? Old Pomp! Pooli! Much I keer for him!” Jake snapped his fingers in supreme contempt of this antagonist, of whom he stood secretly in intense awe. “Where is Black Bess stalled?’ Jake held up his left hand with the fingers spread, and slowly counted over them with the right, the ed swaying beneath him like a ship at. sea as he id so. *One—two—four. No, bla’ me, three. Le’ me see. Sure that’s three?” * That's three.” ‘Well, s‘long’s you say so. Could ‘a’ sworn ‘twas four. Three? Yes,reckon’tis. Well, the hoss—”’ The sentence was not finished, for the rocking legs of the chair suddenly lost their balance, tipping its drunken occupant onto the floor. Jake scrambled pd in intense disgust, and stood looking down angrily upon the chair. “If I thought twere did a-purpose!”’ he ejaculated. ‘*Nice way to treat a gemman. A blazin’ old cheer like that, that’s got hinges in ’ts legs! Shoot yer double-j'inted furn’ture, or any sich new-fangled ‘ventions! Won't squat down on’t ’g’in if yer gim me a cow.” “Thardly believe you would appreciate a cow,” laughed Mark. ‘“ Cow’s milk isn’t your favorite bev- erage. But I'll tell you this, Jake. You've got to keep sober till after the race, or I'll serve you worse than Charley Lloyd does.” The old chap raised his bleared eyes with a look of offended dignity. **S*pose a chap kin take a snoozer when he runs ‘g’in’ an angel?’ he muttered, swaying unsteadily on his feet. ‘Don’t know as anybody’s ’toxicated here. Sure I ain’t, anyhow.” “Hold your tongue, you maudlin old villain! Why the drink is oozing out of your finger-ends!”’ said Mark, was. “See here now, once for all, our bargain’s off if you let another drop pass your lips till after the race.” ** Ain’t drunk nothin’ but buttermilk th’ s’mornin’, Sw’ar I ain’t—ye-yes; had one snoozer; "knowledge one snoozer. S’pose I kin take a topper-off? I'll sw’ar off for one week if ye'll jist gimme the taste 'f old rye in my mouth.” “Give him a drink, Luke,’ answered Mark, with a rim smile. ‘ And lock him up somewhere to sleep imself sober. I want to have a talk with him when he gets his senses back.” “'Th’ old man’s kinder pay out. Was up all night,’ muttered Jake, rubbing his sleeve across his mouth with a habitual motion. *s long’s you say so.”” He followed Luke from the room, his eyes lighting up in blissful anticipation of the promised whisky. But leaving old Jake to his drink and his snooze. and the villains to their plots, we must step forwar somewhat in time, and to another locality, to follow the actions of two others of our friends. Tt was almost midnight. From the open doors of the Academy of Music a fashionable throng was rap- idly emerging, the sheen of rich dresses and the flash of jewels glittering brilliantly under the cluster- ing ights, e opera of Faust had just ended, and a crowded audience was rapidly making its way to carri and ears, eager to get home to dreams of the divine music to which they had just listened, One couple separated themselves from the throng and walked rapidly up Fifteenth street to a noted confectionery establishment in that locality. “ We are ahead of the crowd. That is some com- fort,” said Will Wildfire, for it was he, “ We will have a chance for our ice without a freeze in waiting for it. The night air is nipping. Had you not bet- ter draw your shaw! closer cold,” replied Clara “Ob, no! I am not at Moreland, his companion, “ 9 could be, after the music of Faust? Why, I feel warmed through and through by it.” “Tt certainly don’t have that effect on me,”’ laugh- ed Will. “ Lthink you need an ice. Let's trip along, for they are crowding on our track.” Clara’s face was warm with joy and enthusiasm as they sat together.in the restaurant, which speed- ily’ filled with people. Tt was not alone the music which thus animated her, The happy light in her eyes had a deeper source than this. dit was not without its reflection in Will’s eyes, which he could not help but fix upon the charming face of his beautiful companion. now than a half-hour had passed ere they left the able. re “Ldeclare I did not know it was so late!” oF pe ob- “Yes; don’t keer, ed Clara, looking at her watch after be ha tained a seat ina late car. ‘Why, it will be past one before we reach home,” ; “You can sleep the later in the morning,” answer- *‘Heigh-ho! T hope those burglars who have been so busy lately won’t take the opportunity to rob Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. i my house. My aunt is hard of hearing, you know; and they might carry off the rooms bodily without her knowing it.” “But your servant?” ** You could as easily waken up an oak log. There never was such a sleeper.” “Oh! well, it’s lucky you didn’t advertise all thi - If the thieves only knew it they might pay you visit.” Clara laughed, and began to hum an air from 1). opera. Evidently she was in no great dread. It was, as she had said, past one o'clock when thi y reached the street in which she resided. Will accompanied her to the door, which he open- ed for her with her latch-key. “Will you not come in for a little while?” she ask- ed. ‘* You must be cold. You were not warmed 1; like me by the music, you rememberT.”’ “Cold? Ona night like this? And with you fcr companion?” cried Will, gallantly, ‘I should be ashamed to acknowledge it.” Clara laughed, and slightly blushed. “T did not imagine—” she began. She sudden'y paused, holding up her hand attentively. ‘‘ What is that?’ she whispered. Will listened a moment, ‘*Stand here,” he quickly said. ‘I will see.” He dashed into the hail and tack to the rear of the house, whence came the strange noises which hed alarmed them. There was a light burning in the kitchen. The back door stood open. A, quick, shuffling sound reached his ears. Heedless of danger Will pushed forward, throu, h the house and into the yard which lay in the recr. He was just in time to catch a glimpse of a form Gis- appearing through the gate. Ere he could reach the latter he heard the qui: * sound of wheels. A wagon was being driven cut of the narrow alley which ran back of the row cf houses, “Stop thief!’ yelled Will, dashing forward at t! e top of his speed. he whip was plied on the horse, but he could ret get to full spc St in that narrow avenue, and W !! caught up just as the team was turning into the wider street beyond. A loud cry of alarm again came from the yours man’s lips. Catching the back part of the ligi:' wagon, an agile leap, in which his gymnastic trai::- ne od him in good stead, Janded him in the ye- ticle. At the same instant the driver sprung out in froy ', and ran quickly down the street, throwing the rei: s out of Will’s reach. Heedless of danger the your ;: man followed him, But the fugitive bad too mu: ‘i start, and eluded him by darting through sox shadowy courts. Losing sight of him Will soon gave up the cha and returned to the street where he Pad left 1 wagon. A policeman, warned by his cry had ju stopped the horse. It was a light-built, cover: + wagon, ouly suitable for CORVONIDE moderate load: . In afew hurried words Will explained to the gu: r- dian of the peace what had occurred, And it nec - ed but a moment’s inspection to discover that tLe burglars had been busily at work, for the vehicle wos half filled with articles of household utility. Leading it back to the house they found the fam’ y all up, and in intense alarm. Clara presented 2 very white face as she cried to Will: ‘They have broken into my desk, and stolen ny ae A uable papers! I would not lose them for t? > world!” “They may be in the wagon,” replied Will, enter- ing upon an inspection of its contents. nere was silver ware, clothing, bed-linen, chine, a mixed variety of articles—but no Re rs. “They are not here,’’ announced hi “Something must ‘be done! They must be re- covered!” she excitedly exclaimed. ““We have the horse and wagon,” suggested the officer. They may help us to trace the burglars.” CHAPTER X, BLACK BESS AND HER KEEPERS. Op Pomp was busily engaged rubbing down Bla: !: Bess. She had been out for her morning's exerci», and was warm, and ; excited, The ancient jock: \ with his white hair, and the bend. in, his shoulde; that arose from long leaning forward over the das: - er, was proud of his charge, a very evident sat: cares showing itself in his wrin and sable fs \- ures, ‘*Hosses, is hosses, I's’pose,” he said. “But c. ain’t a genes ebery hoss is a trotter. _Mought : s well tell me dat ebery pig kin play eucher. A ho + like Black Bess ain't none of yer common folks: « hoss-critters.. Jess look at. her eye now! An’ whe: was dere eber such satin as dat skin?’’ He rubbed his wrinkled hands as gently over hes ‘thes ps. glossy hide as if he was fondlin 's chee!., while a broken laugh came from bis * Folks say de bets is layin’ heavy ‘gin Black Bess. Lawsee won't dar be fun when she gits on de track ? Bet dar’s gwine to be some eyes opened, Don't tell me "bout yer Lady Clares an tig Rovers! I's seen de best step at eber toed de track, an’ I oughter know somefin "bout hoss-flesh.”’ “You seen ole, Jake ‘round jeteisr’ asked Pete, mysteriously, as he looked cautiously about him. in ‘Dat wae loat! S’poseI bodder myself ‘bout him? mu . ” ' Retained) soni eee ete e antly; .** ou’s ferge’ it a’ready. "ison Black Bess, or put. her mast
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Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. **Couldn’t sw’ar to it,” answered Pete. ‘Hearn ’em talkin’, but didn’t cotch de whole confab. But jess you b’lieve me. Don’t trust ole Jake roun’ whar dat hoss is." * Tell me if you see him fooling about the stable. Pomp,” said the landlord. of him, but it is better to be sure thansorry. By the way, Pete, they are making objections to your driving in the race,” ; ; “Dey are?’ cried Pete indignantly. “Like ter know why, Bet none of °em kin beat me handlin’ de ribbons. Ain’t druv hosses two years, an’ them all racers fer nothin’.”’ : ‘ “Tt’s not that. The trouble is about your weight. It’s no handicap race, and you are thirty pounds lighter than the other jockeys.” “ Gan’t dey weight me?” asked Pete. ‘“‘Let ’em yut ten poun’ in each boot, an’ ten poun’ more in my at, if dey can’t manage it no oder way.”’ “We will try and get it fixed,’’ replied Mr. Lloyd. “The lass trots well under you, and it is too late to get her used to another driver. They must take you.” “ Jess say de word, an’ I’ll make my breakfass on cast iron an’ my dinner on cobble-stones,” asserted Pete. ‘I’s boun’ to ride dat race or bu’st.” While this conversation was taking place in the stable of the Blue Bell, a conference, bearing on the same subject, was going on in the smoking-room at Wildflower Hall. Several of Will’s most intimate friends were pres- ent, Pierce Browning, Ben Huntly, Ha Waters, and one or two others. They were seated around a table on which stood glasses and an open bottle of wine, flanked by a tray of cigars. — Pierce had taken his usual attitude, his chair tilted back at a dangerous angle, while light clouds of cigar smoke wreathed airily around his bushy head. The others had assumed various attitudes of ease, and the air of the room was hazy with the pungent vapor of the Indian weed. % “It is just as I said,’ remarked Ben, 5 oe “Tt isa catching fever. Pierce has taken it bad.” ** All right,” replied Pierce, easily. ‘Iam not in- sured against it.”’ . “Do you know,” continued Ben, winking to. the others, *‘ he is wasting his substance on Black Bess? I don’t know how many thousand he has laid on her now.”’ “T don’t know myself,” responded Pierce, follow- ing with his eye a wreath of smoke. _‘‘ There it goes, up, up, up. Don’t be trying to blow it down, ta a fellow be happy while he may.” ’ “The lady is 4 poing to win that race,” said Will, positively. ** y, bless you, boys, I’ve got her sad- dled with a large slice of my fortune. Do you fancy I will let her fail now?” : “T hear some talk about the little darky you have at the ribbons,” remarked Harry Waters. ‘“‘Is it nite safe, Will, to trust a boy like that with a racer? What can he know about horses?” * He is a natural jockey,” replied Will. “He takes to horses like a kitten to milk. And he has been in steady training at driving for two years now. You see, old Pomp has taken the boy in hand. He can drive the ugliest brute in Charley Lloyd’s stables. “ And what.Pomp don’t know_ about horses isn’t worth knowing,” broke in Ben Huntly. ; * But will they let him drive?’ asked Harry. “‘ He is under weight.” : ‘“‘ That can be fixed,” answered Will, easily. “‘ But come, boys, you are not doing duty to the sherry. There stands the bottle as nsolate as a lamb that has lost her mother.” ““¥ don’t hear it bleating,” remarked Ben. “ You shall, then,” said Will, tipping the bottle till the wine gurgled over into a glass. “at istoo old a brand to make much noise over it, yoh see. Come, Ben, wash that joke down or you will never appre- ciate it,” and he forced the brimming glass into Ben's hand. : “Here, fellows,” he continued, Bivins the glasses, “let us drink success to Black Bess. [know you will all respond to that toast. Here’s to. the lass that’s booked to win the race!’ “Suecess to her heels, and. to my bets,” cried Pierce, as he swallowed the light wine at a mouth- ful. . “Hang it, I could waste a river of sherry in the same cause.” “There’s so much more of you than of common folks,’ remarked Harry, w Will quietly refilled Pierce’s glass. “ Yes: that’s a joke which it seems to me that I have heard somewhere before,” retorted Pierce, as he balanced the light glass between finger and thumb. ‘It’s. light, like sherry, I can take them down together, and no danger of etrangting “And you are heavy, like port,” replied Harry, laughing, ; ; “Go on,” rejoined the giant, leaning back in his chair. “It amuses you, and it don’t hart me, as the man said, when he let his wife broomstick him. “T say, Will,” cried Ben, “how about that. bur- glary? as there been any clew found to the vil- ins?” ‘No. They have given us the ate “You, captured their wagon, eh? And all the goods in it? neopets see eat rs is Heo aes then; and you are a horse and wagon the winner. be the pa have not the whole story,” said Will, quietly... ‘ Moreland’s private documents are missing. Some of them of great importance. The thief seems to have been some one who knew their value, and where to look for them.” - “** But that should give a clew to the burglars. May- be her old friend, Mark Preston, is at the bottom of it.. What are the police doing about it?” “That is something of a secret,” replied Will. ‘‘ If it got abroad it would put the rogues on their guard.” “Tt will hardly get out from any one here,” re- plied Harry. ‘ We are all true grit, I fancy,” . “Tam not much afraid | 9 “Speak for yourself, Harry,’’ retorted Pierce. Joe Bundy to see her action. You know Joe? What “Hang me, if I ever like to trust myself too far! I don’t know that I put myself out of the way to tell anybody’s secrets; but they have a confounded | sly way of creeping from me. Before I know I have said a word, the whole thing is adrift.” “T am not much afraid of you,” laughed Will. * As for the police, they are trusting to the memory of the horse. They are driving him on all the roads that lead out of the city, with the notion that he will let them know when he gets near home,”’ “That’s not bad,” cried Ben. ‘ Any sign yet?” “No. They have tried him out at the Ridge, the Frankfort Pike, and some other roads, but they seem all strange to the animal.” ‘Tt will end like the sure clews of the police al- ways end,” rejoined Pierce, rising with a ale ““Won’t amount to a pinch of snuff, you will find that. Come, gentlemen, let’s stretch our limbs a little. It is too fine to keep within doors.” They followed him out into the porch, where a soft south-west air was gentl vines, and beyond which, on lofty arbors, a wealth of grapes hung purpling in the sun, te let us return againto the stables of the “ e Pade with his labors, and was reenay the porch of the hotel, retailing to Pete some of his old experience on the turf. In the stables Black Bess stood tranquilly in her stall, munching at her feed, while nearly a dozen horses, right and left of her, were engaged in the same pleasant occupation. é And everything was lovely about that locality, even to rat eon that sat cooing on the roof of the shed, the chic trough, fondly fancying it a fence-rail, and the lazy old veteran who leaned so supinely against fhe side of the stable. A veteran he was, but not of human wars. His | service had been performed against whisky, and he had been conquered much oftener than he over- come his flery antagonist. But for once old Jake was sober. Sober for him, that is—as sober as a whisky-barrel can be when emptied of its contents, but with all its timbers thor- | oughly soaked in strong liquor. Too nice a da ed Jake to himself. for my constitution. Guess I'll go inside.” But his movemert toward the stable door was not his usual bold advance. glide, broken by intervals of rest and of winking at he blinking hen. Evidently he wanted to give any chance observer the idea that he was utterly with- out an object in the world; and, as usual, took the very wrong means to do so. The stable door was not locked. He opened it with lazy caution, and slipped in, pulling it to after him, Yet despite his care a slight noise was made in this evolution, causing Pete to lift his head. His vigilant ear had caught the sound from the direction of the stable. Meanwhile Jake moved through the stable with much less show of lazy lack of purpose. He listen- ed for a moment to the champing of the horses, to hear if any human sound mingled with it. Then he walked straight to the stall of Black Bess, touching her gently with his harid. The intelligent animal moved uneasily, instinctively feeling that this was no accustomed touch. “W’'oa, Bess! W’"oa, 1,” said the intruder, strok- her sleek side. *‘ Easy, easy, sweetheart. It’s only old Jake. Don’t stir, sweet. Got something nice for you.” He worked his way toward the horse’s head, she still trampling uneasily. She looked around at him, with a gleam of savage light in her eyes. Evidently the creature suspected the presence of an enemy in this oy oa figure beside her. “Steady, steady,” muttered Jake, soothingly. “Easy, gal. Don’t know old Jake? You oughter know old Jake.”’ “T know old Jake,’ came a stern voice behind a. anne black-hearted old bloat, come out of ere!’ A vigorous hand caught him at the same instant by the collar, and with one jerk landed him in the middle of the stable floor. In an instant the old fellow was drunk again to all aarp his limbs growing limp, his voice maudlin. “Reckon yain’t done no harm. old hogs. Jist coaxin’ him up a bit ’cause he looked wad sere , kinder.” before I am done with Bi b bod with a vim him Beene out of the stable, landing him, with one last kick, head-foremost in an odorous heap of manure, “Lie there, you old bloat. AndifI catch you in my stable again I will have you locked. up for your A loud yaw! yaw! from old Pomp, and a shrill ya! ya! from Pete, accompanied this maneuver. “Dat’s ole Jake’s rations,” cried Pomp. ‘Ef he totes hisself back yere ag’in, see’f I don’t smash his head wid de pitchfork, sure’s you live.” i AR nl Nap Regn ng an Pp away, follow: e laughs and gibes of oti aiid his opt, CHAPTER XI. SPORT AND EARNEST. “You may talk as you please, but Will Wildfire’s horse is bound tocarry off that race Iwas out with lifting the tendrils of the | Pomp had been for some time through | to stand out in the sun,” mutter- | “And sunlight never was good | It was more of a slow | | j | | en that stood gn one leg on the horse- | other folks know about horses is what Joe has for- otten. Well, Joe says she’s got win in her, and I'll ack Joe’s opinion with my money, any day.”’ “T wouldn’t uk for the chance, if I were you,” was the reply. ‘The horse ain’t worth shucks. I’ve seen her going. Why, her figure is enough to con- demn her.” The speaker was Mark Preston. His face was very pale. His broken arm, in splints, was hung ina tight sling, which left it no freedom of motion. “Take my advice; don’t bet on it,” answered the first speaker. “Tl go a thousand on it, with any man that dare bet me. And rake it in, too,’’ cried Mark positively. “Tl take that bet,’ replied the other. “But I warn you in advance that I have a sure thing of it. I don’t want to rob you, Mark.” ‘““Much you'll rob me,” exclaimed Mark, excitedly. “Shall I book the bet?” “Yes, If you are bound to get rid of your money, I might as well fall heir to it as any one else.” There was a hollow sound in the laugh with which Mark received this remark. ‘“When I find a tub winning in a race with a clip- per, then I will take Black Bess stock; but not sooner,”’ he asserted. The bet booked, Mark moved on through the sie shrinking from any contact with his injured arm, but eagerly listening to all comments on the coming race. Since the date of our last visit to Mace’s there had been a considerable change in public opinion. Black Bess’s performances in training had become the talk of the town, and she was becoming the favorite. In the pools she had gradually reached par with Rover and Lady Clare, and now stood at a premium above all other competitors. In private bets odds were laying in her favor. It was now the afternoon be- fore the day of the race, and the betting had grown uite heavy. A good deal of spy was likely to change hands on the performances of the best time trotters. The matches between second-rate horses were neglected as the tide of feeling ran higher on the three brag racers. Ben Huntly touched Will Wildfire on the arm, and motioned him to follow to a room out of the crowd. ** As sure as you live, Will, you were right. There is some deviltry afloat,” exclaimed Ben, as soon as they were out of ear-shot. “Deviltry? Where, how, and when?” asked Will, in surprise. “ About the race, I mean. I thought you were scared without cause, at first. But I will bet high, now, that there is bottom to it.” ‘What has happened, Ben?” “Don't you see? Yonder is Mark Preston, looking like a ghost, and his arm hardly begun to heal. Itis no trifle that has brought him out on the betting floor to lay odds against Black Bess. He is taking - every bet that offers.” “ Against Black Bess?” “Yes. I heard him lay a thousand, even up, not ten minutes ago. There is something in the wind, Will. He knows what is in the horse, as well as you do. Take my word for it, he is not going to let her win if he can help it.” “T thought so,” replied Will thoughtfully. ‘“ Had I better face him with it?” **Face him, the devil, no! This isn’t the place for a knock-down argument. But take my advice. Send word to Charley Lloyd to put a strict guard on the horse to-night. She will be poisoned, or sickened in some fashion, if they can get at her. By thunder, I'd shoot the villain that lifted a hand to hurt her.” “T don’t know but you are right,” said Will, still in deep thought. “It does no harm to look out for ualls, aan Write to Lloyd at once. Or send him word. Lend me your team and I will run out there myself. It will not do to risk a blunder now.,”’ “Thank you, Ben. I would go myself, but I am otherwise eer et _ With Will Wildfire’s usual habit of striking the iron while it was hot, this project was vegan od put into execution. Ben drove off toward the Bell, while Will took a street car and proceeded up-town to the residence of Clara Moreland. He found this yo leay in the parlor, at the iano, ing, in a rich contralto voice, the charm- Ing, yet touching song of Heimweh. er voice lingered on the pathetic pe es until her unseen listener felt his heart softened, and a suspicious moisture — in his eyes. “Bravo!” he exclaimed, a little med of this involuntary agen “Well done, sweet singer.” She turned hastily at this exclamation, and the loud hand-clapping with which Will accompanied it. “Oh, itis you, at last!” she ejacula’ hastily rising. ‘Where have you been, you sinner, since—” ** Since .Tuesday,’’ supplied Will. “Why that not quite a century ago. And you are mak m sorry enough for it, bringing tears to my speak with this lugub music.”” **Don’t slander it now, or I will send you away again, she cried, making as she would close his li with her hand. “It is just charming, and I cou sing it until—until—I cried like a child.” “And everybody else like babies,” said Will. “ But that is not to the sn Fe Is there anything further from the police? ve they discovered the lost trace?”’ “No,” was her reply, in a tone of disappointment. “And I put so much confidence in them, too. I felt so sure they would track the burglars.” ughed Will, ‘‘ to ice. Why that is worse ‘You unsophisticated Sa ut confidence in the han crying over a-song.—But what have they done?” “They say they are sure—from circumstancey | | | | | | :
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connected with the other burglaries—that these thieves have their lurking place somewhere just outside the city. But the horse has been driven on all the roads leading north and west, without show- | They will | next try the roads to the south. If they fail I hard- | ing any acquaintance with the country. ly know what we will do. I fear my pores will not be recovered. And what in the world we are to do without them I cannot conceive. This loss leaves me in the power of Mark Preston again.” “Just take my word for it, he has those papers,” asserted Will, positively. ‘‘I don’t see just yet how to get at him, but we will find some way to prove him the thief,” ** Could he be such a villain?” “IT fancy he could,” asserted Will. “And worse, if it were necessary. I shrewdly suspect he is trying to vets Black Bess, to prevent her racing.”’ ‘Good heavens! you can’t think so! What, a oor dumb beast, and such a noble creature, too? Vhy, I could not imagine any one evil enough to — Selim. Only a brute could think of such a thing.” - ‘He is equal to any brutality,” rejoined Will. ‘* But forewarned is forearmed. ou will be ready for the race to-morrow?” ‘*T would not miss it for the world,” she enthusi- astically replied. . “‘ Black Bess is sure to win.” “Tt will a close contest,” he answered. “The horses are evenly matched. I am anything but sure of it, though I have bet heavily on my horse.” “Oh! you are not half a man! To desert your horse at the last hour! Let them distance her before you cry peccavi!” Her eyes flashed anda flush of color came into her cheek. Will laughed at her excitement. “T have one sound partisan, that is sure,” he cried gayly. “But now for the question of the opera. Are you ready for Lohengrin to-night?” “Oh! I know I should enjoy it!” she enthusiastic- ally replied. ‘‘But—but I am afraid to leave the house, You remember the last time.” Will. is the very last place inthe world they would think of returning to now.” “Te I couldonly make my aunt think so, I fear | up to the winning-post like a whirlwind, while a **T will cure her, if I | qhe has a chronic fright.” “Let me at her,” said Will. have to talk her to the opera with us.” “ Tfear the cure will be worse than the disease,” she merrily rejoined. ‘“ Do try some milder medicine first. sein f she would only hear one note in ten, and I would have to hum her the rest.” You could give her a libretto to read. That takes the place of the music with half the audience,” said Will, as he set out in search of the aunt. Whatever line of persuasion he used, at all events he and Clara went to the opera, and alone. It was past one o'clock that night that Will, with the music of Lohengrin still singing in his ears, took to his saddle for his five or six mile ride home. His late companion was already at her dreams, with the music of Lohengrin floating through her visions, when Will crossed the Schuylkill at and rode briskly out into the night. It was thickly overcast, and became very & oomy when he had passed the close line of street lamps, The road to Paschalville was cane. and uninviting at that hour of the night.. Will put his horse to its paces as he rode out. the lonely turnpike, with its sparsely-spread lamps, and its occasional long hills. It was not far from two o'clock when he reached the neighborhood of the Bell, his horse’s hoofs sounding loudly in the streets of the sleeping hamlet of Paschalville. The thought of the threatened peril to Black Bess returned to him as he came within sight of the stables containing her. “By Jove!” he said to himself. ‘I wonder if there is any init? It is too rascally still around here for an ng. I don’t like such confounded quiet. No doubt Ben put them on their guard, but it looks to me as if oe sie og 4 was sleeping on his ~ He had chee is horse, and sat a moment in deep thought. “There is no use in rousing up the house,” he con- tinued. ‘But I will try the stable door, I can, at any rate, see if it has been tampered with.” ith Will the thought was the deed. In a mo- ment he had sprung from his horse, thrown the bridle on the neck of the trusty animal, and was ap- mye the quiet-seeming stable. hing the oor he gave it a slight og It resisted. “That seems.all right, anyhow,’ he muttered, pulling more EN anere. | wit yielded, and i with a loud noise. At the same instant the door flew wide open in Will's hand, Simultaneously peculiar rushing sounds arose in the stable, followed immediately by the sharp re- port of a pistol. Will released his greep of the door, staggered a step or two. back, and f yen es In a second afterward the rushing sound came to the stable-door, and a form leaped headlong out, fol- lowed by anovher pistol-shot. The tive pitched forward at this shot, falling heavily to the earth. At the same moment Will's horse, frightened by reports, broke into a rapid gallop. his iron hoofs eovtpeagns tag vog n the form o the prostrate fugitive, who lay before him. A loud aie broke Ae 4 me the air of the night, y echoed 0: bye the d ng sound of the flying horse’s Waka’ es he rushed at full speed along the dese: road, CHAPTER XII. BLACK BESS IN DANGER, We must go back a few hours to trace the events leading to sudden catastrophe at the Bell sta AY ae oe house is as safe as a castle!” cried | t farket street, | Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. bles. Ben Huntly had not failed to carry out his “Tf it ain’t that old nigger I'll be swizzled!” he part of the programme, and had warned the pro- prietor of the Bell that extra vigilance was necessa- ry. “Heugh! don’t you be a bit feared "bout dat!” cried old Pomp, on learning that such fears were en- tertained. ‘Jess leab de ole dark’ to settle ’em. You bet dey won’t kick up no consquabulations *bout yere. I’sgot my eye on Black Bess zackly like a pos- sum gits his eye on a persimmon. You jess leab me ‘lone. I’s goin’ to bunk in dat hoss’s stall dis blessid night, and de chap dat comes fer Bessis got to climb ober Pomp. But I want to borry dat ole circumvol- ver of yourn.” “To borrow what?” asked the host, in surprise. “Dat circumvolver. Dat shootin’-iron wid de six barrels. A reg’lar ole pepper-box it am; but I’m wine to pepper some ob dem rascals if dey come oolin’ roun’ yere.”’ “Oh! you mean the revolver?” , ie iy 08e dat’s what you call it. i , & But what do you know about handling a re- volver? You may shoot yourself instead of the rot h,” replied P indignant! Tain’ ‘Not much,” replied Pomp, indignantly. ‘‘’Tain’t dat kind of gunner I am.” 3 J “Very well, then, if you think you can trust your- self. Pink them well, Pomp, if anybody comes nos- ing around here.” “If I don’t hepper ‘em dar’s no use talking,” re- joined sie 4 positively. And so midnight found the old negro with his cot spread along the foot of Black Bess’s stall in such a position that no one could enter the stall without bw over him. Tt had been his fixed intention to lie awake all night, this being his idea of the duty of a sentinel. So laying the pistol carefully beside his cot, within easy reach of his hand, and stretching himself out at full length, he settled down to pleasant thoughts of the races he had ridden in the far past. Race after race came up before his mental vision. He seemed, indeed, to be riding them over again, He Dat ain’t de name |-was starting at full tilt from the judge's stand, dashing helter-skelter over the course, and coming burst of applause rent the air. Yet, in reality, the only sound there was the old chap’s snoring, for he was sleeping away like a top, and the race which he seemed to be riding was butadream. Itis so easy to make u Co mind to remain wide awake, and so hard to do it. But he was not as careful as he might have been, knowing that he or very lightly, and that the least unusual noise would disturb him. “Like to see a fly git ober me, an’ in dat hoss’s stall,” he had remarked to himself, ‘‘ Dunno asTI wants to hurt anybody, but. when dat_cireumvolver ‘gins to shoot, jess luff *em keep out de way, I ain't gwine to be ‘sponsible fur its doin’s.” Midnight came and passed, and _ silence reigned in the neighborhood of the Blue Bell. It was more than an hour after midnight when a shadowy form came, with a slow patter of steps, over the bridge that spanned the adjoining creek. The night was moonless and starless. Under its dark cope'this indistinct figure silently drew near to the house, which appeared to be bathed in a sleep so hoa that nothing could erouse it, It seemed ike murder approaching its victim, so stealthy and deliberate was the creeping movement of the threat- ening shadow. It stopped in the gloom of the hotel porch, and ap- ared to be intently listening. For several minutes his watehful vigil continued. Then, with a slight chuckle of satisfaction, the intruder turned and re- sumed his stealthy movement, toward the stable. Step by step he dragged himself forward, keeping ap mang in the shadow, creeping under the gloom of sheds, and in the somber shade of walls. The stable reached, he tried the door with infinite caution. It was locked. 7 “ Jist_as Is’ ,” he muttered. “If it weren't locked I'd feel skeery. It’d look too much like a rat- trap. But ’tain’t mach I keer for their locks. Kin go through it like a mouse through a pound of eese. This was not purée braggin . He cautious- ly gored ah key in the’ lock, and, r a moment’s manipulation, was gratified by a slight click. The key turned freely. The lock was open. he sound passed through Pomp'’s dream like the crack of a whip, and set off on a new train of dreaming. He was now dri a Conestoga wagon over the Alleghanies, and making his long whip-lash “inate like a pistol over the huge and lumbering orses, Inch by inch the door opened, until a crevice ap- wide enough to admit a human form, Then Lenny th quit Breuhing of the eePng oun e e ng of the slee horses was the only sound that came to his om After a minute thus ney bo he slipped through #he opening, and drew the door cautiously to after, m. ‘Have to fix it some way,” he mentally remarked, **s0’s it, won't swing open.. That moughtn’t be h The stable was intensely dark. It seemed im sible that any one could make his way through it without some disturbance. But the intruder proved equal to the emergency. After confining the door insome way to hinder its readily opening, he pro- duced from under his coat an instrument from which a narrow ray of light shot across the stable. It was that requisite to a burglar’s outfit—a dark lantern. The revealing ef was sent here and there through the darkness,. Suddenly he closed the slide, with a feeling of apprehension. mentally exclaimed. ‘‘ And stretched right across the hoss’s stall. lll swear if the imperdent black- bird oughtn’t to be kicked right out. A feller kin never do a job of work for hisself without somebody mixing in.’ A reassuring sound came from Pomp at this junc- ture—a long-drawn snore that was refreshing, if not musical, to the listener's ear. ‘‘Oh! he’s all right. Kin step over him as safe as if it was a hickory log layin’ there.”’ Guiding himself by the light of a faint gleam from the lantern, he moved forward with a noiseless step. A few cautious minutes brought him be ety the a sentinel, snoring on his post. The light, which he kept carefully away from Pomp’s face, failed to reveal the weapon lying beside him. _ With a long, slow step the intruder crossed the living barrier and stood safely on the edge of Black Bess’s stall. Ah! danger now indeed threatened the noble ani- mal, which lay there in the stillness of sleep, all un- conscious of an enemy, The shadow of the assassin was upon her. The gloom of midnight crime had invaded her sheltering home, to which her innocence and trust in man gave no power of protection, Avoiding any disturbance of the sleeping animal, the intruder made his way forward in the wide stall, reaching its head without giving the slightest alarm to man or beast, A moment’s more listening, and he drew from some inner = ae a small vial, containing a minute quantity of liquid, which he poured into a water- bucket which lay under the horse trough, Then, drawing from the same pocket a somewhat ex bottle, containing a das og vow der, he emptied thi over the oats which y in the trough, mixing it up carefully with his hand. It was with a slight chuckle of satisfaction that the villainous intruder clutched the empty bottles, and turned, with the same caution, to depart. “ Bet high that Black Bess won’t win that race to- morrow,” was his mental comment. But circumstances over which he had no control were preparing, which would render his retreat a Vay, different affair from his advance. e had failed, in his preoccupation, to hear the steps of a horse in the street without. His first alarm came from a slight noise at the stable door, at which old Pomp’s snore suddenly ceased, The next instant aloud sound came from that direction, the door flying violently open, and the obstruction which he had placed in it falling with a crash to the floor. Tn an instant the sleeping sentinel was wide awake. Without an effort to rise he grasped the pistol which lay almost under his hand, and fired a wild shot in the direction of the sound.—It was at this shot, as described in our last chapter, that Will Wildfire fell prostrate. It had other effects than this. Every horsé in the stable was awakened, and struggling to its feet. Black Bess, startled by the alarming sound, rose hastily from her recumbent attitude, striking the in- truder with her iron heel in this quick move- ment, The latter, who was seeking to escape, fell pros- trate across the recumbent guard, knocking the pis- tol from his hand, while the dark lantern flew into an smposite stall. mbling to his feet before a could gather his wits sufficiently to seize him, he made a des- perate dash for the stable door, with a halting step that showed he had received some injury from the animal’s hoof. ““Whar’s dat circumvolver?’’ queried Pomp, feel- ing ome 4 avound him. n another instant it came under his groping hand, ickly lifting it he fired another wild shot Roward the stable door. The succeeding circumstances we know—the fall of the fugitive, and his deep groan as the feet of the flying horse fell upon him. The two pistol-shots coming thus suddenly upon the silent night did more than to arouse the Sleent horses. An instant stir was evident in the hote while heads were protruded from windows in the neighboring houses of the village. ‘ t’s the matter?” cried the landlord, in a loud v oice, “Dat’s easy axed, but ‘tain’t e answered,” re- plied Pomp, who had now made his. way po get the stable. ‘Didn't shoot de ole cireumvolver for nothin’, jess you stake yer cash on dat. Yere’s two on a fotched down, But de Lord only knows who In a very fewminutes more the inn was all alive. The doors were thrown open, and several figures emerged bearing lights. From the fe cig d houses, Seo fotros appeared. The indication ofa e : y suddenly aroused the sleeping popu- on. “T were layin’ dar as wide awake as you eber see’d an y,”’ remarked Pomp, to employer, “when I heered somebody at de stable-door, Den snatched de old shootin’-iron an’ let drive. Fotched um, too, de fust shot. Jist_arterwards anoder of em come runnin’ froo de stable like mad. But Pomp was dar, you bet. de circumvolver on him wid a squar’ aim, and down he went. vender. Can't fool dere time “bout ole Pomp.” a has Re his last rations.” “Got a bullet froo him?” cried Pomp.
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_ — — _ Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. : 11 “Not he. His skull seems broken in. I heard a runaway horse. It must have trod on his head.” But the landlord was too busily occupied with the insensible form of Will Wildfire to attend to this con- versation. He brought the light of his lamp to bear on the pallid face and closed eyes. At the same moment a slight tremor shook Will's frame. His eyes opened and looked upward with an unmeaning glare. His lost senses were slowly returning. CHAPTER XiIil. OLD JAKE’S POST MORTEM REVENGE. ‘*Waere shall I put this horse, Mr. Lloyd?’ que- ried one of the hostilers of the Bell. He held the bridle of Will Wildfire’s runaway horse, which had made its way back to the place in which it had left its master. “TIT hardly think Mr. Wildfire will need it this morning,” answered the landlord. ‘Put it in the stable, in any empty stall, and see that the poor brute has something to eat and drink. The animal can- not be justly punished for the murder which it chanced to commit last night.” ‘** How is that?” asked a gentleman, who had just ridden up, and was on the point of dismounting. “There are all sorts of rumors afloat in the city. What has happened? They even go so far as to say that Will Wildfire was shot.” The speaker was Pierce Browning, who was in a state of excitement very unusual with him. “He was shot at,”’ replied the landlord. *‘ At least old Pomp sent some pistol-balls flying wildly in the air, which, by good luck, did not kill any horses, and certainly did not hit any men. Itis likely they may be found in the roof of the stable.”’ “But what is meant, then, by all this talk about men being killed?’ ‘** There was one man killed—a drunken old rogue, who was trying to deers Will Wildfire’s racer. But it was the horses themselves that took revenge on him. Black Bess seems to have kicked him while he was getting into her stall, and seriously injured his leg. He managed to run out of the door of the stable, and then fell inthe road. Atthe same mo- ment. the horse you see here was frightened by the pistol-shots, and started on a full run, His hoof came on old Jake’s head, and cracked his skull as if it had been an egg-shell. The brute creatures them- selves have taken revenge on their foe.” “But Will Wildfire! how about him?” asked Pierce anxiously. ‘ His life is worth a dozen of such mid- night horse-doctors as this,” “ He is enjoying a good breakfast, just now,’’ re- plied Mr. Lloyd. ‘‘He was only stunned. All his trouble was that the stable door came open in his hands rather too suddenly. Will stumbled, and fell backward, striking his head on a stone. It was a cloudy night, but I think it likely that he saw stars about that time. He came to, though, after a few minutes, and is none the worse for his tumble.” ‘He is a raseally, ungrateful wretch, then,” cried Pierce, sourly—though really much relieved, “to give all his friends such hopes of a sensation, and then to disappoint them in this ridiculous fashion, Ni ishe? I feel like telling him what I think of im.” * You will find him in the dining-room,”’ replied the host, laughingly, ‘celebrating his recovery over an egg and a cup of coffee.” ‘Let him beware!’? exclaimed Pierce, tragically. as he ascended the steps of the porch, and passed into the house, Mr. Lloyd turned away, giving his attention to some Other affair connected with his house, while an attendant led Pierce’s horse to the stable. The host of the Blue Bell had not been thus occu- pied many minutes when he was again interrupted. This time it was Pete, Will Wildfire’s ebony valet, who had been out exercising Black Bess. ‘‘ How dis, Marse Lloydt”’ cried the boy, sputter- ing with indignation. ‘* Dar some fool chap’s gwine an put anoder hoss in Black Bess’s stall. Now dat hoss ’s got to git, ‘cause I ain’t gwine to stan’ no sich nonsense.’ ‘But it is Mr, Wildfire’s own horse,” exclaimed the host. “It is Frank, his roadster. You had bet- ter put Bess somewhere else for a little while, so long as that stupid hostler has taken up her stall. She will have to be driven over to the Park in an hour or two so it does not. matter.”’ ‘Didn't notice ‘twas Marse Will’s own _hoss, or I wouldn't keered so much,” answered Pete, greatly mollified. ‘Ole Pomp’s foolin’ ‘round Black Bess anyhow, nussing her up fur de race; so I s'pose I mought let de hoss.alone.”’ And Pete walked away to inspect the nursing operations. It was, Lares two hours afterward when Pierre and Will moun their horses to ride over to Suf- folk Park, where the races of the day were to begin in about an hour more. It was a fine bright morning, with just enough snap in the air to make a brisk ride enjoyable. There had been a heavy dew during the night, and the dust was well laid. The two young men were in prime spirits as they rattled at a lively pace to- wal © race-course, Are you sure the old villain didn’t physic her feed, in spite of you all?” asked Pierce. } . Pomp swears that he was wide awake. He does acknowledge to a little muddiness of brain —just a floating cloud of sleep, you know. But he was wakened up by the wind of old Jake’s stepping over him. For that, however, I think it was very lucky that I happened into the game at that minute; for I've a notion that the darkey’s brain was muddier than he lets on.” They had now reached the entrance of Suffolk Park, The place was already alive with people, and which was evidently suffering. held that way before.” of us,” he cried. been found in the dust, atthe spot where he fell. He may have clutched them in his hand. One of them has a very suspicious smell, and I have sent them over to Doctor he hasn’t managed to poison Black Bess’s feed, in spite of Pomp. But what ails your horse, Mr. Wild- fire? He is whith with sweat, and he is trembling like a leaf. ities of the Here, Joe, take Mr. Wildfire’s horse. the matter, and try and doctor him up, doesn’t know about physickin knowing,” he continued ae > ped the suffering animal, which could hardly stand. his knee sharply with his hand. got the poison intended for Black Bess! ease of retribution; old Jake has revenged himself on the animal that killed him.” this morning. to put him in any empty stall in the stable. happened that Bess was out exercising, and the fel- low, by Jucky stupidity, put him in her stall. came to me, mad as fire against the fool who had ousted Bess from her ters. Luckil, somewhere else for the present.” the constant stream was flowing along the road leading to that locality sacred to horsemanship. “What ails your horse?” asked Pierce. ‘* Why, the brute is all in a white lather, and is foaming at the mouth?” ‘** That is queer,” replied Will, looking at the horse, “T never saw him They were interrupted at this moment by Charley wr d, the host of the Bell, who rode briskly up, a 00 of anxiety upon his face. ‘‘I’'m half afraid the villain may have got the start “Two empty bottles have just I doubt if organ to analyze. Look out! He is going to fall!” At this warning Will leaped lightly from the sad- dle and caught the wavering horse by the head. The oor brute seemed in deep distress, foaming, and eaving with the violence of its respirations. ‘Lead him to the stable!’’ cried one of the author- round. “The horse is deadly sick. See what is What he horses isn’t worth , as the person addressed “T don’t see what this means,”’ said Will, looking doubtfully after the horse. ‘* By thunder, I have it!” cried Mr, Lloyd, striking “This horse has It is a clear ‘*But how is that? I do not understand.” * Your meray: horse wandered back to the Bell e was caught, and I told the —s ow it Pete and growled dire vengeance uar- I told him not to mind, but to put her “*So ho!” cried the Suffolk Park proprietor. ‘*That way the cat jumps, eh? They have been try- ing to poison Black Bess, and have hit the wrong horse. I'll be shot, if that ain’t the luckiest blunder that I have heard of for a month of Sundays!” “But may not the lass have nibbled at her feed early this morning?’’ asked Will, anxiously. “No. Pomp threw some more feed into her trough after the disturbance last night. She could hardly have eaten down to the poisoned food.” “But look out that Pete don’t lead her to her own stall when he finds it empty,” suggested Pierce. “There may be enough of the physic left to put her out of the race.” Fae. feve thought!’ exclaimed the host of the Bell. “Tt will not do to take any such risks. vent any such fatal blunder.” Without another word he turned, and put his seh to a rapid gallop over the road leading to the ell, After some further conversation the two friends entered the inclosure, both Cag peace them- selves that this lucky accident had possibly saved them the large sums they had each invested in wagers. e grounds were already well filled, the broad in- closure that bounded the track containing an excited multitude, whose eager members were actively en- gaged in canvassing the merits of the various horses entered for the day’s races. The long files of seats ere the judges’ stand were fully occupied, as it lacked but ten minutes of the hour fixed for the first race of the day. Suffolk Park is a mile track, of an oval or egg shape, perfectly level, and with a firm, clean bot- tom which admirably adapts it to the display of fine Me pT The attention of the throng of lookers-on was kept aroused by horses as around the t by the offers of enthusiastic betters, and by the various sources of amusement which such an occasion pre- sents. There was 'y no lack of enjoyment or of excitement in the audience. The first heat was a two-mile trot of horses with a 2:40 record. A half-dozen trotters were entered, and there was a sels; time as the mettled animals broke away from the starting stand, nose to nose, and with a lively ‘‘ Go!" from the judge. Shouts and yells rent the airas the animals came round again to the starting point at a rattling pace, but far removed from the evenness of start. Two of them, indeed, were fairly out of the race, and of the other four, the foremost and hindmost were separated by three good lengths. The drivers leaned forward in a doubled-up atti- tude. inciting their horses to speed by every le m their light vehicles bounding like feathers behind the flying animals. As the end of the second mile approached the excitement redoubled. The horse which had been fourth in the first round was now seen to be p' out an unexpected reserve force, groun step by step on his antagonists. As the quarter was reached his head was seen to lap the wheels of the foremost sulky. This position he stubbornly retained until within a hundred yards of the close, when a loosening of the reins, a light touch with the whip, and a cheerful chirrup from his driver, seemed to put new speed t 1 will ride | back as quick as my horse can carry me and pre- | into the animal. A quick, powerful burst, and he came up like a flash on the leading horse, who had no reserve force to spare. A shout that made the very floating clouds waver rent the air as he lapped this horse, and came in by a head and neck the winner. Excitement, congratulations, not unmixed with groans over lost bets, followed this lively termina- tion of the first match of the day. But the interest in the victory was soon succeeded by a new and more entrancing subject of conversa- tion. The events of the previous rata the death of old Jake, which had been well talked over, were followed by the news of the narrow escape of Black Bess from poisoning, and the lucky accident through which a much less valuable horse had taken her place. This tidings flew like wildfire through the multi- tude, and was received with various expressions of concern and indignation. Had the instigators of the dastardly attempt been detected in the angry crowd at that instant, they would have run serious danger of lynching. Yet they were there, unknown to those who were uttering anathemas against them. Two men stood see’ in the center of the field, one with his arm in a sling, and a pallid face, while a look of baffled rage marked his features. ‘““We are sold!’ he exclaimed, in a low, bitter tone, ‘“‘and the old hound don’t need paying. He has got his settler from the horses.” ~4 mighty good job, too,” coolly remarked Luke Lister. ‘ He is past pesching “ But what is to be done? have laid a bi a meg this infernal horse, and I am devilishly raid the creature is going to win.” “There is nothing left, as I see,’’ returned Luke, “but to go for the nigger. I think we can salt the Po re hound in some way so that he won't be fit to rive.” “Tt is the last chance,” said Mark. ‘‘ Put your hounds. on his track, Luke. Sicken him in some way, for heaven’s sake.” CHAPTER XTV. THE HORSE DETECTIVE. ‘‘ NEVER see’d a hoss wid better style,” declared Pomp, as he carefully manipulate the blooded racer. ‘‘She’sjess in de primest condition; ebery inch bone and muscle; an’ bottom ‘nuff fur a three mile burst, Don't you forgit de ‘structions I's gi’n “But ain’t it time pusson would.” “T do b’lieve she’s been pinin’ over it, dese two hours,”’ asserted Pete. The two ebony-hued jockeys, the old and the young, had led Bess into her stall, and Pete had el seized the bucket for the oe of bringing 1er some water, when the host of the Bell rode up at a thundering pace, leaping from his horse and rushing headlong into the stable. ‘For the Lord's sake don’t put that horse there!” he yelled. “Has she eaten or drank anything in that stall?” “Nary a mouthful,” replied Pomp, turning around reat astonishment. - t her somewhere else, then. The feed there is poisoned. Drop that bucket, Pete. Likely that is poisoned, too.” If Pete had been stung by a wasp in the handle of the bucket he could not have supnes it more has- tily. His eyes opened in astonishment till they seemed like two white goggles in an ebony frame, “Great Jeremiah!” were the only words for which he could find utterance. “Out with her at once, Pomp. Don’t let her even smell at the trough.” Slightly recovering from the effect of this be- wildering announcement Hare hastily backed the horse from the stall as quickly as if he feared its very pict prove perilous. : *“Oh de Laud!” he ejacula “Dat old debil Jake. Felt kinder solemn "bout him at fust, I ‘clare; but de hosses knows what dey’s "bout. Dey’s migh- 7 is hosses. Some men ain’t no- in While this scene was occurring in the Bell stables, a couple of travelers were approaching that locality by the road ee from delphia. They drove aslow-jogging chestnut horse, their vehicle being a sort of goods wagon, light-built, yet capacious enough to stow away a considerable quan- = | of merchandise. t was empty now, men who occupied the seat, quietly on. “T’ve heard of such a thing as a blind trail,” said one of these, a sharp-looking, thin-faced person. “ And I’ve a notion that’s the sort of a track we are following. It’s a cute game we've been ying, but it won’t work. I say: suppose we combine - however, except for the two letting the horse jog ness and pleasure? There’s to be some fast racing on the olk Park course to-day. Let’s drive over and take it in,” “Hold !’’ replied the other, a large-built, black whis- kered-individual,. ‘“‘ Look at the creature, now! Her pats aon up. By Jupiter! she smelis familiar ground, a oft ' The looking animal was looking eagerly around "Wie a snort of satisfaction she broke into a quicker pace. The dull droop with which she had been along, was replaced by an unlooked- for liveliness. “Sure as you're alive, we’ve hit the mark!” ex-
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1] hi 12 2 Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. claimed the first speaker. ‘*Give her all the rein she wants, Jack. Give a rogue rope enough and he will hang himself, you know. But I’ve a notion this horse is more likely self.” As they entered Paschalville the horse broke into a brisk trot, The driver loosened the reins to see what course she would now take. This was soon evident. She showed her training with the instinct of a doctor’s or a milkman’s horse, swerving from | the road as she came opposite the Bell, and halting in front of the porch of this ancient hostelry. : ‘‘Her master has been in the habit of sampling * Better late than never is a ood old saying, he eried, on reaching this lady, ‘ m ough I had ost | given youup.” | “But the race is not run oe af she anxiously in- | H to hang her master than her- | k | quired. Charley Lloyd’s ale or whisky, that’s sure enough,” | asserted the sharp-faced man, ‘‘ Hello! within there! Hey! the man of the house!” ‘“ What's broke loose?” asked the landlord, emerg- ing from the stable. “Do you want to see me?” “Yes. We're some old customers of yours, Charley. Don't you recognize our team?” “Tl bet Ido. And you along with it, now. Jack Brae, the thief-taker, eh? What lay are you on now, Jack?” “Got a little business with the proprietor of this team, that’s all,” replied the black-whiskered travel- er. ‘ Who does it belong to?” “A chap that hangs out somewhere on the road | to Darby. I can’t fix him exactly, for he’s a new- comer about here. I've heard him called Phil Han- dy, but wouldn't like to swear that’s his name. Won't you get out and take something, gentlemen? You won’t be doing justice to your team if you don’t, for Phil Handy, or whoever he is, always has’ a dry spot that can only be reached by a beaker of ale.”’ ‘* Well, we dont’t want to disgrace the horse that hauls us,” returned Jack, ony, the ground. “He will go better if we honor his judgment by imbibing, What sort of a got-up chap is this Phil Handy?” “ Born in England, I'll go high on that. see it in his face, and hear it on his tongue. tall, raw-boned customer, with side whiskers, sort of sandy color. A long nose, blue eyes, and something of the look of a decayed sport. What is yours, sir?” “Oh! Tl follow our friend Jack’s example. His taste in drink is proverbial,” and the sharp-eyed traveler took up the bottle from which Jack had just poured a generous potation. “ Across the bridge, did you say?” asked Jack, as they again entered the wagon, after wetting their whistles at the Bell bar. “ Yes, and straight out the Pike. Give the horse her head. She'll be a queer one if she don’t know bes one home. What’sup, gentlemen? Some thiev- ng, eh?” “Why, it looks that way. If we are. on the right wy, you will soon hear of some fun. Whois going to win on the track to-day?”’ “The fellow that beats,” replied the landlord. “That’s about as good an answer as you gave to my question.” Jack laughed, as he started his horse. ** On secret service, you know,” he cried out. ** Will see you at the Suffolk if we get through in time. Good-day.” “o ae good luck,” called the landlord after them cheerily. About a half-mile beyond the Bell they struck the foot of the slope at whose summit stood Luke Lister's habitation. e horse showed no signs of slacking speed at this acclivity, but dashed up the hill with a briskness that was very promising. “Tt is getting warm, as they say in the game of ‘hunt the slipper,’” cried Jack. ‘Our Rosinante is not far from home, or I’m much mistaken.”’ His suggestion proved correct. Arrived at the hill top, the horse ran past the modest mansion which crowned the slope, but stopped in front of the gate leading to an equally modest stable in its rear. “Struck ile, by thunder!” asserted Jack. ‘‘ Jump down and open the gate. We will soon see if a horse remembers his own oat-bin.” His companion did as requested, the horse turning into the gate as soon as it was opened, and making aro gg with a loud neigh of recognition, to the stable. Jack jumped briskly from the vehicle, throwing the reins on her back. “ Loosen her gears and take her out of the shafts,” he said. “‘She deserves a nibble of grass for her honesty. So this isthe burglars’ den, eh? By Jove, it looks as innocent as a lamb’s cote ora dove’s nest. And hasn’t as much signs of life as a dead mackerel. But looks go for nothing in our trade. We've got to make our approaches ie The horse was by this ti You can me released, and was busily cropping the long grass of the garden. The two men cautiously approached the house, whose open shutters. gave signs of habitation, but about which no life ap ; over , and eanvassin Pierce e face and ess in the t passed a regardless of his presence. But Will has anoth bject pet w, of more im- ooks 0 He is a | | a knot o | was almost oracular. | hang on, “T would not miss t is it not the hour yet?” “No. You have an hour’s grace; and another trot to amuse you in the meantime. Come this way. I have reserved a seat for you.” The bright face of Clara Moreland looked beauti- ful among all the beautiful women there assembled, as she followed Willin his eager movement. Many eyes surveyed them admiringly, for youth and beauty are always admirable, and Will and Clara possessed both in their richest prime. Among the eyes fixed on them were those set in the ebony face of old Pomp, who was surrounded by jockeys, to whom the old fellows opinion at for anything. But “Hil” he exclaimed, shaking his woolly head in delight. ‘* Dar’s Marse Will an’ his lady. She’s got aface jess like an apple blossom; an’ eyes—golly! I ain't got anoder word to say, on’y if he’s gwine to make a catch dat’s de kind he’s got up fur. Neber had these ole eyes on sich a lubly pair before.”’ Not far distant from Pomp’s post of honor was another friend of ours, no less important a person- age then Pete, the eyes driver of Black Bess. He was talking with a smooth-tongued, ministerial- looking person. ‘““Wrong to drive a hoss! Wonder whar you’s been brung up?"’ exclaimed Pete, with astonishment. “Spec you’s neber been eddicated in hoss bizness much. Why, see yere, ain’t it nat’ral fora hoss to run?” “Certainly, that is natural.” ‘“An ungainly brute, I call the horse,” said another adverse critic, turning away in disgust. ** Don’t take too much stock in any such notions,” replied another, who had been. attentively examin- ing the object of the conversation. ‘Look at the creature’s eye. She says there ‘TI won’t be beat’ as plain as if she could talk. And she steps as proudly as a queen. I never saw a tread I liked better. Take my word for it, the horse is not. going to be discounted easily.” ‘*Who drives her? Jim Mace?” “No. The little blacky you see there. That sharp- | looking young rascal.” ‘*He? Why he is not over fifteen years old; and | full or pounds under weight.” a “But t ey say he can handle the ribbons as neat- ly as any man on the ground. He has been under | old Pomp’s training; Charley Lloyd’s right hand “Well, den, it’s jess as nat’ral fur a little nigger to | If de huss drags him roun’ de track dat aren’t his fault, nohow.”’ And Pete laughed heartily, as if he thought he had the best of the argument. ** Can you read?” asked the other, solemnly. “Wouldn't brag much "bout eddication ef I could- | n’t,’’ asserted Pete. “Then I have a small tract here which I hope you | It is entitled ‘The Sin of will carefully peruse. You will learn some wholesome truths Gambling.’ from it.’ He drew the tract in Pe from his pocket, in | company with a handful of peanuts. “Golly! dat’s de kind of track dis nig lub best!” | exclaimed Pete, looking longingly at the nuts. “These? Well, I will present you with these if you will only promise to read the tract.” “ Pass it ober,’ said Pete. ‘Guess I'll masticate it; arter I’s done with de peanuts. ice cream an’ sich truck! Dey ain’t a patch ‘long- side of peanuts.” : A few minutes afterward Pete strolled away from his new acquaintance, eagerly munching at his pro- vender “Sold!” cried the tract-distributor, surveying the boy with an evil look. **Dunno “bout dese yere nuts,” remarked Pete. “Dey ain’t fust crop, nohow. Ouch! dat chap’s bitter as gall. Wonder if the track he gub me is as hard to swaller.”’ CHAPTER XV. THE RACE. A preez of excitement ran through the assem” bled multitude. The great race of the day was about to come off, the mile trot between horses with a 2:25 record, for which there were five entries, Lady Clare, Rover, Black Bess, Stonewall and Hardy. Little was known about the two last-named horses and the betting had been heaviest on the others, Lady Clare had made magnificent time in former races, and her stock went up rapidly as the curious crowd gathered around the stables, where the racers were being led out and harnessed for the trot. “Isn't she a beauty?” “Straight and trim as an arrow.” “Look at her counter, she’s just magnifi- eent.”’ “Rather light, [fancy.” “* Don’t you believe that. She'll carry her weight.” Such were a few of the many admiring comments with which the beautifully-built and splendidly- ere Which horse is the large bay?” ich horse is the : ‘That is Rover.” 4 * “Well, that is what I call a horse. There’s bot- tom in that creature. He is no pretty plaything like 7 “Pretty plaything, eh? Just wait till you see her on the track.’ “T don't like that fellow with the ~ fetlocks. There’s too much weight without muscle to carry it. What horse is it?” “ Hardy.” ‘But where is the mare that they tried to poison? A raseally business that was. /1 hope she'll Ad The feeling he expressed was shared by many otbers. There is nothing like a story and a mystery to arouse human interest, and Black Bess was the hero of the day to all who had heard of her lucky escape from poiso , en she was led from the stable a movement of the crowd and a rapid buzz of conversation attested the general interest. They crowded in upon the Space set apart for the horses, many busy comments being made on her appearance. These opinions were not all favorable. “She has no. build,’ declared one critic. ‘The creature is too dumpy. And I'll swear she don’t know how to carry her head.”’ “She hasn't the — of a born racer, that’s flat. I doubt if she’s a thoroughbred.” “But look at her limbs. There’s carry in them, if she only has a good reach.” Talk *bout yer | man, you know. There’s no better trainer in the States. That’s him at the horse’s head now.” “ But about the weight?” “That's looked after. The sulky is weighted, I believe.” During this conversation the horses were being carefully harnessed, the noble animals being as ten- derly handled as though they were made of fine French china, and would break with very rough handling. Black Bess was the most nervous and uneasy of the lot, stamping and restlessly stirring, while her eye erg with an almost savage fire. “That boy will never hold her. She wants a stronger hand.” ‘** Plenty of fire there, that’s certain. But Pete’s a wa SF Nar hound, himself.” ‘What luck?” asked Luke Lister of the minis- terial-looking individual who had been conversing with Pete, “He bit,” was the reply. “I tried the parson dodge on him. Gave him a tract on ‘The Sin of Gambling,’ and a handful of loaded peanuts. The young devil didn’t take to the tract worth a cent, yut he went for the peanuts as if he’d been through a six weeks’ fast. If his stomach ain't made of cast iron he'll tumble out of the sulky before he’s half round the track.” “Good. We've bucked against Black Bess too strong to afford to have her win the race. I’ve got a cool thousand on her; and I wouldn’t like to say bow much Mark has up.” “She won't win it, if there's any virtue in drugs.”’ “Hush! We may be overheard.” The two confederates walked away to another part of the field. “Clear the track !’’ came the order from the judges. The horses which were exercising on the track were hurried off, leaving a clear field for the racers, which soon appeared, moving gallantly up, and tak- ing their places at the start. “Which horse has won the pole?” asked Clara Moreland eagerly, as Will returned to her, after a short absence. : ‘Rover: with Black Bess second, and Lady Clare | third. Here they come now. A splendid show.” “What horse is the chestnut, that tall, hard- mouthed brute?” “Stonewall.” ‘He is a well-built horse.—Ah! the little beauty! Is re Lady Clare?” “ fes,”’ “She might pass for an Arabian. Iam half in love with her.—Black Bess is ungainly beside her.” **Yes,”’ replied Will, slightly nettled, ‘‘ But beauty is one thing, and duty is another.” ‘*Now you are vexed.—I knew you would beifI dared praise any horse but yours. We'll wait till they come upto the winning post before we finish our fight.—Look at little Pete! If he ain’t too comi- eal for anything.” Others thought so too, for a laugh arose at the pre- ternaturally solemn aspect of the darkey, unrelieved by a glimmer of his usual jollity. He looked important, —e , as he grasped the reins with a death-grip, forcing the restive animal down to a slow trot. Pomp bustled up; with a pretense of adjusting some part of the harness, ‘Don’t you forgit my ‘structions,’ he whispered to Pete. “ Nary forgit,’’*was Pete's sententious answer, as he guided his horse into the line. A moment more and the five animals, side by side, came up at a full dash to the judge's stand. All oe were’ alert, every heart stopped beating for an instant, every form was bent forward in eager interest—but the sharp clang of the bell announced that a fair start had not n made. Stonewall, taking the bitin his teeth, was a half-length in ad- vance of the other animals. The racers had dashed full twenty-five yards ahead before mo could be stopped and returned to the starting point. Twice more a false start was made. The first time it was Hardy, the next Rover, that broke the uni- formity of the line, ‘Are they never going to start?’ asked Clara, im- atiently. ‘‘Here they come ye oe Look at Pete! do believe the little rogue is holding in his horse!’ “Tt looks that way,” said Will, frowning. ‘She will never go with a tight rein like that.” Yet there were no of intention in Pete's face; he was solemn as & young rat rey & as he brought his Peat the-oebeees “Tho Omindud bell ngaiet rank oor eo 3 e€ ominous rung out, It was another false start. “gerstiriges “What does the villain mean?” queried Will. ‘‘Is that some of Pomp’s instructions? I have a shrewd notion he did that purposely.” “Tt looks like it,” returned Clara, shaking her head. “Itis beginning to tell, to. Lady Clare is be-
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Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. coming heated and nervous. But Bess seems to grow more ree with every start." “That’s the advantage of bottom,’ w red Will. ‘She has the stuff in her to wear them all out at that ée. But I don’t like it. I want the thing done fairly, and I'd kick Pete if I had hold of him.” “What alls him?” cried Clara, quickly. ‘ Look at his face! There is something wrong with him. I would say he was growing pale if charcoal could grow pale.”’ Will anxiously looked at the boy, who was driving past on his return to the starting point. Plainly enough all was not well with him. mething was amiss in his interior. “T hope he is not going to become sick at this criti- cal point,’’ said Will, in a tone of great anxiety. hatever was the matter with the boy he evident- ly felt that there was no time to waste in getting the race through as soon as possible. There was no re- turn to his former tactics. The five horses came up, this time, neck to neck. A blanket would have cov- ered them all, so closely were they laid side by side. Their action was simply splendid. The experienced eye of the judge cast one keen glance across the exact line of the horses. “Gol” came in loud command from his li And go they did, darting like a whirlwind down the smooth track. Fora hundred yards they kept side by side, scarcely an inch’s breadth separating the line = their noses. Then training and blood began to tell. Hardy made a bad break and went to the rear. Rover a ahead, gaining a half length the advan- tage. Lady Clare and Black Bess yet kept side by side, while Stonewall gradually fell behind. But soon the Lady Clare blood began to show itself. She ae out with a quick burst, lapping on Rover, and leaving Black Bess a half length in the rear. The excitement of the lookers-on was now growing intense. A thousand exclamations rent the air. Shouts of *‘Go! Go!” greeted each horse that gained a temporary advantage. A hundred hats were flung into the air as Lady Clare made this decided burst. Bess had not yet deviated from the regular pace with which she set out. Pete grasped the reins ens de while a preternatural solemnity marked his ace. They were now nearing the half-mile turn, when the driver of Lady Clare, who had forged more than a length ahead of Bess, showed signs of an intention to turn short and take the inside track. “Hi! thar! don't try dat!” yelled Pete. “Dar'll be somefin bu’st, sure’s you lib. Back water dar!” As the Ke epee jockey still tried to crowd in, Pete gave Bess the rein, with a quick chirrup at which she darted ahead like a bird. ‘*Look out there, or your wheel's gone!” came a warning cry. Lady Clare’s driver took the hint, and swerved out again, but not in time to keep Pete from sweep- ing his wheels. A 5s » crack followed. Three felloes were torn from the wheel of the fouling sulky. nen of disdain came from Pete, as Bess came grandly up side by side with her antagonist, and but a neck behind Rover, who was hugging the inside turn closely. The other two horses were a length or two behind, and showed little hope of making up their losses. A moment more and = were all dashing briskly down the home stretch, the three natne horses keeping their relative position until the third quarter had been made. Then, whatever it was that ailed Pete, he suddenly became doubled up like a knife, still cli to the reins, yet apparently holding his seat wi culty. ‘““What is the matter?’ was the universal cry. “Ts the boy sick?” “Tt is wor ,’’ said Mark Preston, with a sinister smile, ‘‘ He will be on the ground before he makes a hundred paces more. The game’s lost for Black Bess.” But he didn’t know Pete. In a moment more he had straightened himself up again, though micas A in severe pain. Lady Clare and Rover were bo new eine, the former by a half length, the latter ya , Pete shook the reins and gave his cheerful chirrup. The intelligent animal, with a strength that seemed as fresh as at the start, darted onward, her long, settee. ne sesing immensely, while she sun down into that crouching attitude habitual to her when at top s' 2 Ina second she was neck and neck with Rover. In five seconds more she had broken down the ad- vantage of Lady Clare. The two horses trotted side by side, at a tremendous pace, which was plain- ly telling on the slighter-built animal. Scarce a hun- red yards separated them from the close. The shouts and cries of ‘Go! Go!” which rent the air, were broken at this instant by a general ex- clamation of alarm and ee ete was n deubled up like a jack-knife, the reins had fallen from his hands, and he was swaying in his narrow seat like a leaf in the blast. “Great Heaven! what is wrong with the lad?’ came from more than one voice. “And he had the race in his hands.”’ But they did not know Black Bess if they thought she was not able to take care of herself in such a crisis. If Pete could only retain his seat for five seconds more! The brave boy was evidently trying hard to do so, oe the noble horse shot forward in one supreme effort. : A shout that rent the sky broke forth as she dart- ed past the judge's stand a full half length abead of Lady Clare, winning the race, But the shout was changed to a cry of fear and Ser heath fea nia sca? eating Ge roan was ea m seat, e un witha sickening thud. wr It was with difficulty that Rover was swerved ante and prevented from running over the fallen ctor. CHAPTER XVI. JACK BRACE MAKES A DISCOVERY. “Sprax louder. I’m a bit hard of hearing,"’ said the ill-favored woman, who came to the door in re- sponse to Jack Brace’s loud rap. ‘Is Phil Handy at home?” screamed Jack, at the top of his voice. * You needn't holler. I ain’t so bad as that,’’ the woman sharply answered. ‘“There’s nobody at home ’cept me.”’ * How soon will he be home?” “T dunno. He's gone to the races. Not much afore night, I s’ ¥ she would shut the door in their She made as faces. “We are in nohurry. We will wait till he comes,” screamed Jack, setting his foot against the door. “*Tain’t no use, I tell you,” cried the woman, pee hard on the door. “I’m a lone woman ere, and I won’t have no men waiting about till Lu— Phil, I mean, comes home.” Jack made no reply, but, setting his burly shoul- ders to the door, flung it wide open, pushing the struggling woman back to the wall. This high-handed proceeding roused the good lady into a burst of fury, and she opered on the intruders with a fierce vituperation that would have done credit to a fishwife. But Jack marched in, followed by his companion, with as much indifference as though it had been but a fly buzzing at his ears, "You owdacious villains!” she screamed. “If my man was only here wouldn’t he pay you out for this? Taking advantage of a weak, lone woman! Oh! if I only had my broom-stick I'd trounce the ugly pair of you! Pretty ings-on indeed, for a pair of burglars to break in on a defenseless female! * We are not burglars, my good woman.” “Your good woman! Your good woman, indeed! I'd have you know, you monkey-faced villain, that I'm nobody's good woman! And I'll have the law of you, too, e'll see if you're not burglars. What are you, I'd like to know?” *“ Policemen, madam,” said Jack, a on. A scream came from the woman's lips. She flung herself on the door of the room which Jack was about to enter. It opened under her weight, and she tripped and staggered in‘o the room, falling into a chair on its opposite side. “ That's all right,” Jack coolly remarked. “Take care of the virago, Frank. Use the darbies if she is obstropulous. I will take a survey of this interest- ing. mansion.” rank slip into the room before she could re- cover from her involuntary movement, turned the key in the lock, and stood with his back to the door, “ Now ws please keep cool, my dear woman,” he quietly remarked. “My partner and I mean business, and the easier you take it the better you'll feel after it’s all over.” “You mean business, do you? Locking yourself up alone with me, you ugly, broken-n , blear- eyed, foul-mouthed, owdacious burglar! I'd have you know I mean business, too.” Before Frank could hinder her, she had flung open the bowed shutters of a window, and leaped through it with a strength and agility for which no one would have given her credit. Meanwhile Jack had hastily sought the upper sto- ries of the house, and was rapidly cpetiog room af- ter room, taking in their features with one compre- hensive oo of his experienced eyes. “Ha! this looks promising!”’ he exclaimed, as he tried the door of a room on the third floor, op- that in which Pete had been imprisoned. Tt was locked. But this was little hindrance to the rienced detective. He was well provided with keys and aa, versed in the mysteries of locks, and not two utes elapsed before the door stood open, re- vealing the secrets of the closed room. . Looks like a pawnbroker’s office on auction- day,” he muttered, surveying a miscellaneous accu- mulation of materials of every sort, with which the apartment was well filled. ‘A neat assortment in- deed! If we haven't struck oil, then I'll sell out. med erst a better supplied burgiar’s store-house in my life.’ Any more minute examination of the treasure he had vered was een by a sudden and vio- lent uproar below. ild cries in a woman's voice, the sound of ray tramping of feet, and a mixture of yells and oaths in a man’s tones, were enough to startle the steadiest nerves. Hastily closing the door, Jack ran rapidly down- stairs, to witness a spectacle, which he was, for a time, pt an from taking part in by an involun- tS) a fi 1 ter. ‘or the lady of the house, graspin a heavy broom as a weapon of offense, was actively belabor- ing his comrade, who was corraled ina corner, and crouching down in a vain effort to escape the inces- sant shower of blows. “You mean business, do you, you house-breaking villain? You mean business, eh? Maybe I don’t mean business, too!" And every word was emphasized with a blow which made it very evident to the victim that she certainly did mean business. Jack stood for a minute tightly grasping the balus- ters to keep himself from falling, for he was quite overcome with laughter. As soon as he could re- cover he ran down to the rescue of his comrade. 13 But the latter, at the same instant, darted in a crouching attitude from his corner, taking his as- sailant in the knees, and upsetti her, broom and all, on the floor, while he crawled hastily out and hurried away from that dangerous vicinity. When the lady of the house had made her agile escape through the window, it was with an inten- tion of flight, as her guard supposed. He did not follow her through the window, but unlocked the room door, and ran out into the pomers, making his way toward the rear exit from the house. But he cal somewhat wrongly, for, as he opened the kitchen door, he found himself half- blinded by the descent of a broom in the strong hands of the vi . Retreat was of little avail. She had the whip d and was bound to ep it, using her weapon with such rapidity and vigor that ina minute she had her antagonist fairly cornered and at her mercy. Such was the situation of affairs when Jack came upon the scene, just in time to witness the comical denouement to the affray. _ Taking re of the fact that the lady was, for the moment, hors-de-combat, Jack ran forward, and quickly slipped a pair of handcuffs over her disarmed ds. ‘Business, ma’am,” he said, apologetically. “You'll be wanted, ons know; you and your pals. So ga excuse the little liberty which I am taking with you. You can come back, Frank,” he cried, to his cowed comrade, “‘ the dragon is muzzied.” ** The devil take her, for ashe-tiger!’’ cried Frank, wiping off the blood which flowed from more than one deep scratch on his face. “Shoot me if I wouldn't sooner have a baker’s dozen of Kilkenny cats Clawing at me. Ill give in, Jack, I've met my match for once in a woman.” “Let me at him again, the baby-faced cata- mount!” screamed the woman, striving to struggle A her feet, while Frank started back in involuntary arm. But we must return to the race-course, where | Pete had just tumbled to the ground, after bringing his horse safely in as winner of the race. The uproar was indescribable. Fifty men in an instant broke into the track, some with a wild in- tention of stopping the unchecked horse, some to lift up the fallen driver, With the hoarse shouts of men were mingled the screams of women, it being feared by all that the boy must have been killed by his fall. “Great Heaven, Will!” cried Clara, with a scared face, “is he—” But Will was gone. With little heed to who sat before him, he tumbled headiong down the line of benches, crushing more than one hat, and injuring more than one bonnet in his rapid descent, and bouncing at last into the arena among the first of those who had succeeded in entering. Clasping the insensible boy in his arms he ran hastily with him toward the judge’s stand, where some cushions were quickly arranged to lay him upon. “Is he hurt? [she bleeding?’ came from more than one anxious spectator. “Only stunned, I think,” said Will. ‘* There is no blood. He seemed to strike on his head. I hope it has not produced concussion of the brain.” “Concussion, the deuce! Is that all you know about the thickness of a darky’s skull?’ asked Pierce Browning, who had hurried up. “He could not have hit onasafer point.—Let me athim. I know something about contusions.” They fell a little, while Pierce bent over to ex e the boy. Meanwhile Black Bess had stopped of her own ac- cord, when she found she was no longer pushed by pris age horses. The intelligent creature stood striving to look backward, as if anxious to know what had become of her driver. “Come, lass; come, honey!” cried Pomp, seizing her bridle, and stroking her rf with his large hand. ‘“ Neber was sich a kno hoss. Got more sense nor half de humans I's eber see’d. Come, sweetheart; you's got de race, an’ dat Lady Clare ain’t nowhar. He led the horse gently toward the sheds, followed by an admiring crowd. “Has anybody got a flask of whisky?” asked Pierce, after examining the boy. If he had asked for a pistol at a western barbecue he could not have been better served. ‘* Pocket pistols,” loaded with whisky ‘‘ warranted to kill at S50 many paces,” appeared on all sides, and at least a dozen were thrust toward his hand. “This will do,’ remarked Pierce, witha laugh. “I don’t want to bathe the boy in whisky.” He poured afew drops from an open flask down Pete’s throat. It had amagical effect. A long-drawn sigh came from the boy, whose eyes opened the next instant, gazing wildly upward. * How do — eel, Pete?” cried Will, anxiously bending over him. “Kinder scrumptious,” returned the boy, whose senses were rapidly coming back. ‘“‘ What's de row?" * You got thrown in the race, that’s all.” Pete looked up in his master’s face with a glance of sudden intelligence, *“Lawsee! I know it allnow. Black Bess didn’t git beat? Don’t no y say she did!” ** No,” replied the ju “ she won the *Knowed she would,’ broke in Pete. her time?” “She made it in 2:19." ‘“Hoopee!” cried the boy, in a feeble tone of triumph. “Got a_bet on dat. A jack-knife gina pair of ole boots. Dat jack-knife’s mine.” “Do you feel sick still?” **Nary sick. I's all right,” returned Pete, scramb- “What's
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14 Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. ting to his feet. ‘‘ Can't kill dis little nig so easy as a ” “But what was the matter, Pete? What sickened you in the race?”’ anxiously inquired Will. “Tdunno. Felt like ’sif a streak of greased light- nin’ was boring holes all froo me, Hung out ’s long’s I could. It was dem all-fired peanuts dat de parson gub me, sure’s you lib.” This remark elicited some further questions, in which the whole story of the tract distributor came out. Pete still had some of the nuts in his pocket. One or two of these, on close examination, proved to have been split open, and neatly gummed together again, while the kernels had been treated with some substance that gave them a yellowish hue. “The infernal rascals!’ cried Pierce indignantly. “They have been trying to sicken the boy and throw him out of the race. Wouldn't I like to have hold of that parson !—Do you feel sick still, my boy?” “Not much. If nobody’s got no ‘jections I’s gwine to take a scoot roun’ arter dat parson. Jess want to gib him back his track, you see;—an’ de rest ob his peanuts.” But the parson was already out of the grounds making his way, with a pair of sadly disappointed confederates, toward the home of Luke Lister. All their schemes had failed, and Black Bess had proved too much for her foes. CHAPTER XVII. A CAPTURE AND A RESCUE. “THAT was a rascally close clip,’’ remarked Pierce Browning, as he, in company with Will Wildfire and Ben Huntly, made his way toward Wildflower Hall. “Tt is a mercy that Black Bess was not thrown. Your friends, whoever they were, worked hard in the effort.” *T told you she would win, if she only had a fair chance,” replied Will. ‘* I knew it was in her.” “IT fancy the pair of you were of that notion, by | the way you have been backing her,’ remarked Ben. ‘* You must have realized a pretty penny from your bets.” ‘A trifle of ten thousand or so,’’ rejoined Will, with affected indifference. Pierce smiled quietly, and said nothing. ** And the conspirators must have lost according- ly; for I know that Mark Preston laid some heavy wagers against your horse. There is no doubt that he is at the bottom of this business.” “ And of another business, if I am not mistaken,” remarked Will. “ What business is that?”’ “T refer to those burglaries. Nobody but he ar- ranged that attempt on Miss Moreland’s house; for the stolen papers would be of use to nobody else. That is the next task to be accomplished, the recov- ery of those stolen documents.” ill’s lips were set with a firm energy that showed it would go hard with Mark Preston, should they once come to a personal encounter. ““T would not trust him half as far as a man could fling an elephant,” rejoined Pierce. ‘* But what is wrong yonder? Isn't that Pete beckoning to us as if his arms were the,sails of a windmill?” “Pete? Soitis: There is something wrong there. That is Luke Lister's house.” They had nearly reached the summit of the Dar- by-road ascent, when they thus perceived the little ebon i jockey frantically beckoning to them. He stood in front of Luke Lister’s habitation, and made the most earnest efforts to induce them to hasten their movements. “Hil” he exclaimed, in prudently subdued ac- cents. Wena up dar, Stir up yer hosses. Yere’s de berry debil broke loose, suah!” The three friends rode rapidly up at this energetic summons. Before reaching the house they heard sounds of a struggle and of excited voices, which ceased as they approached. ‘What is the matter, Pete?” “Murder, I spect. Or sumfin wuss,” Pete seriously replied. “y jess got yere, a minute ago, comin’ cross lots, and dar’s been de ridiculousest time in dat house hae eber heerd. Spect de furniture’s all mashed into toothpicks.” Springing hastily from their horses, and throwing Pete the reins, the three friends rushed quickly to the | house, from which some sounds very much like | oaths were yet issuing. But we must go back a little, to seek the source of this wild uproar. When Mark Preston, Luke Lister, and the parson, left the grounds of the race-course, it was with eurses at their ill-success, while each accused the other of negligence in his part of the scheme. “Hang it all, the boy ate the nuts!” exclaimed the parson, ‘It isn't my fault if yy! were so slow in worki I didn’t doctor them, or I'd have made | them double him up sooner.” “The little hound must have a_nickel-plated stomach,” replied Luke. ‘‘ He took in enough medi- cine to bring down any reasonable Christian before the first quarter was made. It wouldn't have an- | sivered to overdo it, and salt him before the race | started.” / ‘*T don’t. eare what the blazes. was the trouble,” cried Mark, indignantly; ‘‘ all know is, you’ve_salt- ed me by your tricks. I've bucked against Black Bess with nearly every cent I had in the world—and | it’s all gone to the dogs.” “Hang it all! I’m no better off,’ retorted Luke. “ They've just wiped me out, I'll have to realize on some of the stock left me by my uncle, to make | things even.” g 2 He gave a knowing wink, which the others seemed to appreciate. “Por your part, you haye the papers presented | you by your aunt,” he continued, turning to Mark. | “That’s so,” said Mark, half drawing a package | of papers from a side pocket. ‘‘There’s money in them. And if I don’t make that ) hata jade wince before I am done with her, it’s odd.” A sinister smile marked. his face as he turned his horse toward the city, and gave him the rein. “Be on your guard,” he called back to Luke. ‘ Re- member what I told you. It won’t be two days be- fore they track you out. You had best vamose the ranch, instanter.”’ “T have my plans laid for to-morrow,” replied Luke. ‘The stars can hardly come down on me be- fore that time. After to-morrow morning they will find an empty house waiting for them.” Mark e off at an easy pace, his wounded arm Preventing him from attempting any rapid move- ment, His twoconfederates stood still conversing. After some time thus spent they were joined by a third, an ill-looking, raw-boned fellow, who seemed in their full confidence. Finally, after the conclusion of the race, the three men started across the fields toward Luke’s resi- dence, which was not very far distant. Luke was on the point of throwing open the back door of the house, and boldly entering, when some peculiar noises from within made him pause. He recognized the voice of his wife, who was expressin her opinion of some one in what seemed no compli- mentary terms. Maki a warning signal to his companions, he moved slyly around the corner of the building to a side window, which he found standing wide open. Climbing noiselessly through this, he advanced on | tiptoe to the door of the room which he had entered, is wife was still scolding in a lond, rasping voice, though no answer came from the person to whom she addressed her complimentary harangue. Event- ually, however, his patience appeared to give way, and he growled out: ‘*By the Lord, woman! I'll put a gag on your tongue as well as on your hands, if you don't laya curb on your eloquence.” * You will, will you? Blast your eyes!’’ cried a loud voice near him. Before he could defend himself he received a fierce blow between the eyes from Luke. Lister’s heavy fist, which knocked him prostrate to the floor. This sudden entrance of the man to the house was followed by that of his two comrades. Luke flung himself on the slighter-built detective, whom he had taken so by surprise, while his comrades quickly removed the bonds by which his wife was confined to a chair. ‘Here, give us the end of that rope, and we'll truss up this turkey!’’ cried Luke, whose prisoner was struggling vigononsly to escape. A yell of alarm broke from the lips of the latter followed by a fierce blow from Luke’s heavy hand upon his mouth, “Do you want your head split open?’ savagely nowhed the villain, as he kneeled on the breast of is captive. ‘‘Maybe you don’t know who you're fooling with?” ‘There's another of them up-stairs!’’ cried the woman. ‘ Look out for him, Luke!” Luke started up with a curse, pearing, his captive to the hands of his two comrades. There was a quick, fierce struggle, but they succeeded in binding him hand and foot, while the master of the house ran quickly up-stairs. The noise of the struggle had not. failed to alarm Jack Brace, who was again engaged in investigat- ing. ibe burglars’ store-room. eran quickly down-stairs, appearing at the head of the lower flight a moment after Luke had passed that point. It needed not Frank's warning cry. A glance was enough to show what had occurred, ‘Release him! or hang me if T don't drop the pair of you!” yelled Jack, covering the parson and his rawboned associate with the muzzle of a revolver. ‘* You didn’t calculate to get the whip hand of Jack Brace so easy as that? If you did, 1 fancy you've made a ht mistake.”’ “Devil the mistake!’ came a voice behind him, and the heavy fist of Luke Lister fell like a sledge- hammer on the back of his head. The assault was so unexpected and so violent that Jack lost his balazice and was hurled like a catapult headlong down the stairs, the pistol flying from his hand, and striking with a heavy thud against the front door. Before he could rise again the two men had flu themselves upon him, and a sharp struggle ensued, Jack being noted for his vigor and activity, But he had been hurt and confused by his fall, and even before Luke could descend to the aid of his companions, they had secured their prisoner, twist- ing tightly around his arms the remainder of the rope with which Frank had been bound. ack lay, breathing heavily, and glaring with angry eyes at his conquerors. * A pair of housebreakers, eh! Lucky we came to hand in time,’ remarked Luke, with a sneering scowl. “Itis not often that fishermen get caught so nicely on their own lines.”’ “Pile in,” growled Jack. “It’s your turn now, Make the most of it. But I’ve a notion you'll find | you've caught a Tartar, before you're throkgh with this little game.” “Then we'd best skin our Tartar, while we’ve got him,” retorted Luke. ‘‘Where are your friends? Why don’t you whistle them up?” “They don't need whistling,” replied Jack, with a meaning smile. He had caught some sounds outside which the | others had not heard. As he spoke the front door of the house opened, giving entrance to Will Wild- fire and his two friends, who stood looking with momentary doubt uy on the scene, ‘* Will Wildfire! Heil’s blazes!"’ cried Luke, glaring at the intruder. “In the name of the law, gentlemen,’’ exclaimed Jack. “Weare officers, who have been overcome in our duty by these rogues. We call on you for rescue.”’ ‘Rescue's the word!”’ ejaculated Will, Roving forward. ‘*And here’s one good blow for B E Bess, on the hound who tried to poison her.’’ Luke attempted to defend himself from the blow, but Will’s fist fell, straight as a plummet, on his temple, oe him to the floor as heavily as if he n a log. Simultaneously Pierce stepped forward and enn- ed the parson by the collar with his two hands, lifting him from the floor as if he weighed no more than a leaf, and holding him for a moment suspended, while a mocking smile curled his handsome lips. i sort of cat and mouse business, isn’t it?’ he said. Meanwhile Ben Huntly had eeporee of the third, clasping him in a close wrestle, which ended, after a minute, in the villain being heavily erga “Dat’s him! Dat’s him!’ screamed Pete, appear ing at this minute at the door. ‘That's who?” “De little one. Dat’s de parson who gub me de peanuts and de track.” “The deuce you say!” returned Pierce, loosing his peeonen while at the same moment he gave him 4 exterous trip, causing him to measure his length on the floor. ‘Sure’s you lib it’s him. An’ what’s more I’s got dat track yet—and some of dem peanuts. I eat my share ob’em. He’s got to masticate de balance.” **No, no!”’ cried the parson, with a shudder, “The boy is right,” laughed Pierce, setting his foot on his prisoner. ‘Tit for tat is a fair game. He shall digest the peanuts and the tract if I have to drive them down his throat with a force-pump.” CHAPTER XVIII. DOCTORING THE PARSON. A Frew few minutes only have elapsed since the date of our last chapter, but there have occurred sey- eral important changes in the situation. The two officers have been released from their bonds, and in their place the three villains now lie, securely bound, and watched with a look of cynical satisfaction b a heagey who so lately seemed completely in their toils. ‘By Jupiter, gentlemen!”’ exclaimed Jack Brace, “T don't know where you have had your education in fist logic, but when you hit something gives way. I never saw a neater knock-down aneument than that which floored our friend here, Mr. Phil Handy.” “Phil Handy?” asked Will, in surprise. “Yes. The chap that felt the wind of your knuck- les. Thatis the name he sails under.” “ He travels under false colors, then,” replied Will. * His real name is Luke Lister.”’ “Tuke Lister! Whew!’ whistled the detective, looking keenly into the scowling face of his victim. “So! That smells of business. Why, I’ve been wanting a man of his inches these six months, and didn’t know where to nail him.” “Tt’s an infernal lie!” growled Luke. ‘‘There’s not a warrant paola me,’ “TL hope it will do your heart good to keap think- ing so,” rejoined Jack, coolly. ‘“‘At any rate this burglary business will settle your hash, without rak- ing up any old scores.” “ What is that?’ asked Will, eagerly. “IT only mean that we've nailed here the night- hawks who have been ing things lively these six months. And have struck, in this retired man- sion a well-selected assortment of contraband goods. ‘*T knew it!” cried Will, energetically. ‘It was they that robbed Miss Moreland’s house.” ‘“T should rather fancy so, since we traced them by the horse which they left behind on that interest- ing occasion,” deep curse came from the lips of more than one of the baffled villains, on learning how they had been tra ne a hen rv § have got the stolen papers!" exclaim- ed Will. ‘‘ The documents which are such a serious loss to Miss Moreland.”’ ““No doubt of it,” said Jack. A mocking smile curled Luke's lips. “T hope you will find them,” he sarcastically said. a¢ We, have got the whip hand of you in that, at any ‘Not much,” broke in Pierce. ‘‘We know where they are, which is as good as having them.” * Where?” ‘*In Mark Preston’s possession.”’ A quick change of expression came upon Luke’s face, which Pierce did not fail to observe. It was followed, however, by a dogged look. f ‘Mark Preston is not in the business,”’ he replied. ‘You've got us nailed, Isuppose, But Pll bet you high you don't get us to sell out our friends.” ‘Maybe the pious-looking gentleman may be kinder,” remarked Pierce, referring to the parson, “I think he will tell us whether or not Mark Preston has those papers.” “Much I will,” was the obstinate answer. “Tam not taking any such taffy.” “Gin him de peanuts,” cried Pete, ‘“Dat’s de sort of med’cine he wants.” : “That is just what I am going to do,’ Pierce coolly announced. °‘‘I've a notion, after he has swallowed a reasonable dose of them his memory will come back.” “No, no!” exclaimed the alarmed villain. ‘I will not take them.” “Perhaps not; but Ihave a notion you will,” re- plied Pierce, with inflexible determination. ‘ Hand out the provender, Pete. If he don’t tell where those papers are, hang me if I don’t load him with y
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Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer. every kernel of those nuts, and ram down the tract for wadding. I think he needs to digest his own ob- servations on the sin of gambling.” A look of nervous apprehension came u parson's face. He set his teeth firmly, as i mined not to swallow the obnoxious dose. “Thegentleman is going to resist,’’ said Pierce. kneeling overhim. ‘* Lend me mes knife, Ben, tilt force open his teeth. Have you the nuts ready, Pete?” The boy, his face radiant with impish delight, had been eagerly picking out the doctored nuts from the sound ones. e opened the former and extracted the yellowish stained kernels. Le “I's got de provender,”’ announced Pete, grinning. ‘““Lawsee! won’t he squirm when he gits a dose of thunder an’ lightnin’ inside him? good fur de jockey is good fur de on.”” The face of the latter showed intense distaste and dread. He strove vigorously to keep his teeth clenched, but the strong blade which Pierce forcibly thrust between them soon wrenched them open. “Don’t give in,” warned Luke. “It will all be over in five minutes, and then we can laugh at them.”’ “Will it?’ asked Pierce, sarcastically. ‘‘ Maybe not, It is not so far away to a drug store, my dear sir. If this dose don’t work we will try some others. There are such agreeable mixtures as ipecac, and croton oil, and cow-itch and some other charming applications. If nothing else serves I will do up the parson, from head to foot, in mustard plasters, and lay him by till he comes to his senses.” All this was spoken with such cold-blooded firm- ness and deliberation, that a shudder ran through the frame of the B acter and cold sweats broke out all over him. e held up his hand pleadingly. “Don’t let him slide!’ screamed Pete. ‘‘ He done dosed me, and he’s got to swaller dem peanuts, or dar’ll be sumfin bu’st.”’ * Are you ready to confess?’ asked Pierce. pao a do, I will murder you!’ yelled Luke. “All right. Let’me have the nuts, Pete,—If they don’t bring him around, I will send you over to the drug store,” The parson’s hand was again lifted, while a con- vulsive dread marked his face, “*T will confess,’’ he cried. “Tf you do—” Luke again threateningly began. But his speech was abruptly ended by Jack Brace’s heavy hand, which descended upon his lips. aha withdrew his knife blade from the parson’s teeth. ‘* Mark Preston has got the papers,” he cried. “ Where?” oo Will, carer, et. nm the deter- Guess what’s “Tn his He showed them to us not an hour ago.’ ““Good!"’ exclaimed Will, jumping hastily to his feet. “‘And we saw him jogging back to Philadel- phia. We can overtake him, if we ride hard. Where are the horses, Pete?” ‘“*T luff’em outside, hitched up to de fence palin’s.”’ “Come, boys, then. We must be short, sharp, and decisive.” “ And if this ang a lie, I will not forget you,” said Pierce, with a threatening gesture toward his prisoner. “‘T’ll swear he had them an hour ago,” asseverated the latter, earnestly. There was a look of intense disapproval on Pete’s face as he followed his master out to the fence, where the horses were patiently waiting. * Dat’s all mighty nice fur you gemmen,” he growled, discontentedly. ‘‘You’s got what you want, I s*pose. But I dunno as I's paid up fur de thunder an’ lightnin’ in my internals, I ain’t let up on dat eae yit, nohow.” Jack Brace and bis comrade followed their res- cuers out, requesting them to send a certain tele- gram to the city from Paschalville. Here was an opportunity for Pete. Quick as a flash he stole back to the house. The three prisoners had taken advan- tage of the momentary absence of their captors, and were engaged in a conversation, in which threats and curses formed the chief ke “You can blow till you’re blind,” said the angrily. ‘‘That chap meant business, and I don’t believe you would have stood making ad store of your stomach, any better than I did. you suppose I wanted to be griped like that infernal nig- ger was, when he fell from the sulky?” The on made a slight error in opening his mouth for this speech, for, before he could close it ain, several hard substances were dropped into it, most eis eee as they lodged in his throat. “Ya! ya!” laughed Pete, in intense glee. “De *‘fernal nigger’s got de game now. We'll see how de parson lubs doctored peanuts.” Coughing, choking, and screaming with fear and rage, the bound prisoner managed to roll over on his side, and to eject the distasteful morsels, but not until every portion of the powerful drug with which they were anointed had passed down his throat. is struggles and the panic of dread which affect- ed him only hastened the operation of the medicine, and when the detectives returned, after their short absence, it was to find the parson squirming over the floor, yelling with severe pain, and occasionally double-up to a greater degree than Pete had been in the sulko, , As for the latter individual, he was simply wild with glee, rolling over the floor in sae boa of laughter, while yells of impish delight echoed the sereams of agony from his victim. ‘Hallo!’ cried Jack Brace, on beholding the un- expected scene. ‘‘ What is going on here?” “ Nothin’,’’ returned Pete, “ only I’ve gub de doctor a dose ob his own med’cine, Didn't he physic me fur de hoss-race? Jess you bet it’s Pete’s turn now.” And the boy burst out again into his wild fits of laughter, rolling and clapping his hands with delight. Meanwhile the three horsemen were pushing at a lively pace over the road toward the city. Few words passed between them, but their lips were set and their eyes flashing at the hope of at last bring- ing the leading villain to his well-deserved punish- ment. On Will’s face particularly this stern ex- pression rested, and he spurred his horse with cruel energy as he thought of the object before him. They halted for a few minutes at Paschalville. When they set out again they were accompanied by a mounted officer, bearing a warrant for the arrest of Mark Preston. The sun was getting low in the western sky when they reached the borders of the -built-up portion of the city. They had gained the long wall of Wood- land Cemetery when they first perceived, at a con- siderable distance in advance, a horseman, who, as they could plainly make out, carried his right arm in a sling. “Our game, fora thousand!’’ cried Pierce. ‘He is jogging along, to save his arm. We will come on him like a thunderbolt.” They were very close at hand before the horseman in advance seemed to hear their rapid approach. He then looked around, showing the expected visage of Mark Preston, A strange exp on shot over his face. His first impulse appeared to be to put his horse to its speed. But a second thought showed him that this was useless. “Halt!” cried Will, sternly, “‘We have a slight matter of business with you, Mr. Mark Preston.” “T have none with you,” Mark haughtily replied, paying no attention to this peremptory order. n the next instant Pierce had vigorously grasped his bridle, near the bit, and was facing witha stern expression. **Do your duty,”’ he said, to the officer. “What does this outrage mean?’ asked Mark, in fierce accents. ‘‘ Who dares stop me on the public highway?” ‘I do,” replied the officer, “ by virtue of this war- rant of arrest.”’ “Tt is all up, my good sir,” remarked Ben Huntly. “Your pals have blown on you, and we will rake you in as the ringleader of a gang of burglars.” “Tt is a lie!’ screamed Mark. “I defy you to prove it!” ** We shall see about that!’’ cried Will, seizing him by the arm. ‘Search him, officer.” Mark made a fierce effort to escape, but he was held as if in avise. In an instant more the alert fingers of the officer had extracted a thick packet of papers from the inside pocket of the prisoner's coat, and held them up to Will’s inspection. ““Good! They are the papers!’ cried the latter. conduct your prisoner to the nearest magistrate’s office, where we will pate our charges against him.” Mark Preston’s pale face grew lividly pallid as the small cavalcade turned and made its way toward the office of a justice, the hand of the officer firmly clasping the bridle of the prisoner's horse. CHAPTER XTX. AN HOUR BEFORE THE FIRE. A CHEERFUL fire burned in the open grate in the | agence ay of Miss Moreland’s residence. he surroundings were delightful. The mantle of rose-streaked marble, with its delicate bronze fig- ures, and the magnificent Sevres vase in its center. the soft tints of the walls and carpet, the flow of fleecy curtains, the attractive pictures, the display of richly-bound books on the center-table, gave the room an aspect of charmingness and comfort com- bined, which was not detracted from by the figure of the beautiful mistress of the house, clad in tender grays, and nestling in her soft arm-chair before the glowing fire. A warm color was upon her cheeks which doubled her beauty. A soft luster filled her eyes; her lips were half parted. Evidently some pleasant thoughts were tole, unchecked through her brain. “Tf it could be!’ she murmured; and then turned seadeneyy the warm blood flowing up to cheek and row. For there stood the form of him who had evident- ly been in her thoughts, the erect figure and frank ace of Will Wildfire. He had just entered, and re- mained with his hat in his hand, gazing admiringly on the charming tableau before . “Tf you knew what a picture you were meling you would never have stirred,’ he said. ‘I woul give more than a penny for the thoughts which filled your mind just now.” They are not for sale,” was her laughing and blushing response. ‘But I am so glad to see you. Let me have your hat.—Here, take this seat. You look cold. Core up close to the fire.” Tam not so cold but that your warm welcome will serve to drive away the chill,”’ he gallantly replied. And I have got something for you more cheering than even a coal fire,” he continued, as he took the chair she had set in front of the grate. . Something for me!” cried Clara eagerly, draw- ing her chair near his, and nestling again in its soft depths. ‘What is it? Do tell me at once. You know I can never bear to wait.” “ But you must wait,” laughed Will. ‘I shall not encourage any such childish impatience.” “Of course I am childish,” she quickly responded. “ But I want it at once.” “No doubt you do. But suppose 1am not ready to give it at once?” “Oh! Idon’t care! I don’t want it at all,” she petulantly replied, drawing herself back in chair, and looking the picture of disdain. But she could not keep up this mood for a minute. her | The amused smile on Will’s face was followed by a | | quick burst of laughter from her. “You are too bad!’ she exclaimed. me, at once!”’ 15 “Not till you give me something in return,” he said, in a quieter tone, though the smile still played about his lips. ? ad She looked at him an instant, with inquiring eyes, and then fell back in her chair, her gaze fixed upon the fire, while a tinge of color came into her cheeks like a reflection from the flame, For aminute not a _ word d between them. The smile faded from Will’s lips, and was replaced by an earnest look. “You know what I mean,” he began, taking her hand, which was not withdrawn, ‘It is not the first time, Clara, that I have dared—”’ He hesitated. “ What is it you have brought me?” she asked, in a changed tone. “T have brought you my love!’’ he exclaimed, “The honest devotion of a young heart, but a true one, Clara.”’ He had drawn his chair nearer hers, and was look- ing eagerly into her flushed face and sparkling eyes, * And I know you return it,”’ he declared, capturing her other hand. “Iknow my love is not given in vain, for you have told me—”’ “T have told you that we were only boy and girl, and too young to think of such things,” she replied, But she left her hands in his, and partly turned her face from his earnest gaze. “We are not too young to love!’ he cried, ‘‘ And I know you love me, Clara! Say that you love me!”’ “What have you brought me, Will?’ “*T will not tell you till you say that you love me!” Her eyes, bright but suffused, turned again slow] to his; the pink in her cheek deepened and spread; her lips slightly parted. For a minute they sat look- ing at each other thus, his face intense with eager- ness, hers soft with emotion. Then she spoke. *T love you.” They needed but to bend further toward each | other, and their lips met, in the long, clinging, first kiss of love, while their sparkling eyes looked into each other as into two lakes of infinite trust and love. Will’s arm had slipped around her slender waist, and they sat thus for many minutes, lost in each other, and oblivious to all the world without. Nearly an hour had passed ere Clara returned again to her first question: ** What is it you have brought me, Will?’ “Myself,” he replied, with a smiling look. ' “No, no; there is something else,” she quickly replied. “Tt is not fair in you after all—after—”’ ‘ After your giving yourself to me in return,” he rejoined, with another kiss. ‘ Yes, I have brought you something, Clara, Iwill not keep you in sus- . : | pense any longer.” Do you keep them in charge for the present, and | Her eyes burned with eagerness as he slowly drew from his pocket a closed package. Removing the enveloping cover he held it up before her Sa **My lost papers!’ she ejaculated, quickly seizin it. ‘* That is too fortunate! Where in the world di 7 get them? Have the burglars been caught? o were they? Do tell me all immediately!” “They have been captured,” he replied. ‘ And it was as we supposed.” ** Mark Preston?” “Yes, and his confederate, Luke Lister, the English sport.” “T knew it!” she exclaimed, excitedly. ‘This is too good! You do not know what these are worth tome. They are the proofs on which my possession of my whole fortune rests. Mark Preston might have ared me.—How shall I ever repay you?” ‘“ You have repaid me,” he replied, looking at her with a warm meaning in his eyes. She returned his for a moment, and then threw her arms impulsively around his neck, kissing him with loving fervor on the lips. “Tlove you, dear Will!” she cried. ‘I shall love you, for ever and ever and ever,” And we will leave them so, before that flashing glow, their hearts warmer than the fire on the earth, their young love adding the last charm needed to make the room a nae nest of delight. And here our story ends. We have but some loose threads to take up, some frayed ends of plot, to ve a finish to the tale through which our readers ave so kindly accompanied us. Of course the burglars got their deserts. The whole party of them were sent to the penitentiary for terms of imprisonment ranging from five to ten years. Add to this the failure of all the schemes of the ringleaders, the loss of the heavy wagers they had laid against Black Bess, the recovery of Clara Moreland’s papers, and it may be seen that with them the path of crime did not run smooth, but that retribution followed wrong-doing with swift and steady course. Our other friends are all active and well-doing. Pete remains in charge of Black Bess, who has won em 32 races since her memorable victory at Suffolk ‘ark. Old Pomp still hangs out at the Bell, the establish- ed ne of the race-course for all the country round. As for Pierce Browning he is enjoying life in the same listless, easy-going way as ever. He is con- tinually telling his friends that he expects soon to marry and settle down; but no one has yet seen any evidence of his intention to do so. Ben Huntly is occupied now in. training for the Fall races of the Schuylkill navy, being as eager a oe as ever, and as fond of sport in every shape. As for Will Wildfire he is not yet married. Clara has declared that they are both too young yet, et it is whispered that the happy day is not far off, And meanwhile he keeps open house to his friends | at Wildflower Hall. whose old rafters ring with the * Give it to | songs and merry laughter of many a jovial party.
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—— 1 Deadw Roap. By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack; or, Tor TRAPPER OF THE ENCHANTED Grounp. J. EE. Badger, Jr. Kansas King; or, THe Rep Ricat Tianp. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). 4. The Wiid-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker. ™ Vagabond Joe; Tx YounG WANDER- } 9 Inc Jew. By Oll Coomes. ‘8 Bill Biddon, Trapper} or, Lire IN , THE Nortuwests By Edward §, Ellis. =: The Flying Yankee ; or, Tuk OCEAN Ovtcast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Seth Jones; or, THE CAPTIVES OF THE Frontier. By Edward §. Ellis. yD The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen. 10 Nat Todd; or, THe FATE OF THE Sroux Captive. By Edward 8. Ellis. 1 1 The Two Detectives; or, THE Fortunes of A Bowery Girt. A.W, Aiken, 1 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. 1 The Dumb Spy. By Ol) Coomes, author of “ Vagabond Joe,” etc. 1 4 Aladdin; or, THE WONDERFUL LAMP. 1 5 The Sea-Cat; or, THe Wircn oF Darten. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.) 17 Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca- neer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 1 & Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages. From the Arabian Nights. 49 The Phantom Spy; or, Tue Prior or THE Prarre. By Buffalo Bill. 2&0 The Double Daggers; or, Drap- woop Dick’s Dertance. By EK. L. Wheeler, ye | Frontier Angel. A Romance of Kentucky Rangers’ Life. By E. 8. Ellis. The Sea Serpent; or, THz Boy Ropsrnson Crusoe. By Col, Juan Lewis. Nick o’ the Night; or, THe Boy Spy or °76. By T. C. Harbaugh. Diamond Dirk; or, THe Mystery OF THe YeLLowsrone. By Col. Ingraham. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. Edward L. Wheeler. . 27 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By Oll Coomes. 28 * tn Discuss. By Edward L. Wheeler. Davenuter. B apt. F. Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, Txr Keen-Knife, THe PRINCE OF THE PRAIRIES. Oll Coomes, or, Toe Girt Deap-Suor. E. L. Wheeler. 3 Rep Pirates or Tae Cantepers, 8. W. Pierce. 34 Oregon Sol; or, Nick WHIFFLES’ Wild Ivan, Tue Boy CLaupE DuvAL; 36 The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN OF THE ARENA. Frank 8. Finn. Hidden Lodge: or, THE LitTLe 38 Ned Wylde, Tue Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A story of a Young 4 Lasso Jack, THE Youne MusTanc- ER. te Coomes. woop DIcK’s Bonanza. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 43 Dick Darling, the Pony Express 1 HAWKS OF Kentucky. By Harry St. George. AS Old Avalanche, the Great An- Glass Eye, the Great Shot of the West. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 4 Black John, the Road-Agent. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 5O Burt B Tale of the Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy Rifles; or, THE UNDER- Grounp Camp. By Archie C. Iron. 25 The Boy Captain; or, THe Prrate’s DavautTer. By Roger Starbuck. By Buffalo Ben; or. DEApwoop Dick 29 The Dumb Page; or, THE DoGr’s RecKLESS Raneer. By Harry St. George. 3 . Bob Woolf the Border Ruffian; The Ocean Bloodhound; or, Tut Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F, C. Adams. 33 By Edward L. Wheeler. 37 The Howrer or rHeE Aprronpacks, Harbaugh. 39 Death-Face, the Detective. American. By John J. Marshall. 4 The Phantom Miner; or, Drap- Rider. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Rattling Rube; or, THe NIGHT- nihilator. By Edward L. Wheeler. Nightingale Nat; ox, Tue Forest Caprains, By T. C. be 49 Omaha Oll; or, Deapwoon Dick IN Dancer. By Edward L. Wheeler. er, THE TRAPPER. A 52 The White Buffalo. A_ Tale of Strange Adventure, Charles E. Lasalle, 54 Ned Hazel, THe Boy TRAPPER; or, THE PHANTOM Princess. By J. F. C. Adams. 5 5 Deadly-Eye, ‘uz Unknown Scout; By Buffalo Bill. Vaiiey or DeatH. Capt. J. F.C. Adams, 58 The Border King; or, Tue Szcret Scatp. By Harry St. George. 61 Buckhorn Bill; or, THe Rep RirLte Lyevrenants. ity Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 64 Dandy Jack; or, THe OvTLAW or THE AND nis ‘‘ Parp.’’ By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. By W. J. Hamilton. The Border Robin Hood; or, THE 7 HORN IN THE Woops, By J. F.C. Adams. Deadwood Dick on Deck. By 75 or THE Sea Wor. By Col. P. Ingraham. 56 Nick Whiffies’ Pet; or, IN THE 57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, Tae Parps of FLoop Bar. FE. L. Wheeler, For. By Oll Coomes. 59 Old Hickory, or, Panpy ELUIs’s 6 The White Indian; or, Taz Scout oF THE YELLOWSTONE, By J. F.C. Adams, Team. By Edward L. Wheeler. 6 The Shadow Ship; or, Tue Riva é3 The Red Brotherhood; or, THz Twe._vE Avencrers. By W. J. Hamilton. REGON Tray, By T. C. Harbaugh. 6 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustane Sam 66 Single Hand; or, A Lire ror 4 Lire. 67 Patent-Leather Joe; or, OLD Rat- TLESNAKE, THE CHARMER. By P.S8.Warne. G Pram Rover. By Buffalo Bill. Gold Rifle; or, THe Boy Drtrectrve oF THE BuAcK Rancw. By E. L. Wheeler. Old Zip’s Cabin; or, THe GREEN- V1 Delaware Dick; THE YounG Ran- Ger Spy. By Oll Coomes. y Mad Tom Western, Tar TEXAN Rancer. By W. J. Hamilton. € Edward L. Wheeler. ys Hawk-eye Harry, Tar Youna TRAPPER RANGER. By Oll Coomes. The Boy Duelist; or, Tar CRUISE 76 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. By Albert W. Aiken. Act or Drapwoop Dick. By &. L. Wheeler. rg & Blue Dick; or, THE YELLOW CHIEF’s Vena@eaAnce. By Captain Mayne Reid. Sol Ginger, THE Giant TRAPPER. By 419 Albert W. Aiken. SO Rosebud Rob; or, NucGet Neb, THE KyiGut of THE GuLcH. By E. L. Wheeler. Ri digit’ Jo, THe TERROR OF THE tr. By Captain J. F. ©, Adams. by Kit Harefoot, Tuk Woop-Hawk; or, Op Powper-Face. By T. C. Harbaugh. 83 Rollo, the Boy Ranger; or, THE Hetress oF THE GOLDEN Horn. Oll Coomes. bg 4 lays, the Girl Miner; or, Rosrsup Bs ON Hanp. By Edward L. Wheeler. fs Buck Buckram; or, Bess, THE FE- MALE TRAPPER. By cone J. F. C. Adams. 86 Dandy Rock, T'n-MAN-rrRomM-TEx- as, By G. Waldo Browne. 87 The Land Pirates; or, THR LEAGUE or Drvii’s Isuanp. By Capt. ne Reid. bog Photograph Phil; or, Rosesup Rop’s REAPPEARANCE, By Ed. L. Wheeler. Island Jim; on, Tak Pet or THE Famity. By author of “Jack Harkaway.” 9g The Dread Nider ; on, THe Texan Dueuist. By George W. Browne, 91 The Captain of the Club. By Bracebridge Hemyng, (Jack Harkaway.) 9g Canada Chet; or, OLD ANACONDA rw Srrrine Buiw’s Camp. By EB. L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners; or, THz ENCHANTED IsLanp. By Edward 8. Ellis. 94. Midnight Jack, Tite Roap-Acent. By T. C. Harbaugh. ; 9 5 The Rival Rovers. By Lieutenant Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch - Eye, Toe Derecrive. By 97 Captive or THe Harpes. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, Tue OvTLAWED Ear. By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos. By George Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville. By Edward L. Wheeler, 1 0 1 Jack Harkaway in New York. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye Tne Boy Smuvuc- ater. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device. Edward L. Wheeler, Edward L. Wheeler. The Outlaw Brothers; or, THE 103 The Lion of the Sea. Delle Sara. By Col. 15 5 Gold Trig (12 V7 Corduroy Charlie; or, THz Last RY. 10 5 Om ay sagt me or, THE 106 O14 Frosty, RS H. ag! T. C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim; or, Tue ABAN- DONED Forest Home. J. L. Bowen. St. George. 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 10 The Black Steed of the Prai The Sea-Devil; or, THz Mrmsnip- MAN’S Lecacy. By Col. P. Ingraham. 1 1 or Deatu. By Burton Saxe. 1 13 Jack Hoyle, Tur Youne Sprcu- The Black Schooner. By RoGer STARBUCK, 11 By GEORGE WALDO Browne. 116 The Hussar Captain. By Cor. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, TECTIVE. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 1 & Will Somezs, THE Boy Derec- ative. By Charles Morris. 1 1 9 THE Pains. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 120 The Branded Hand;or,Tue MAN or Mystery. By Frank Dumont. By Edward L. Wheeler. 122 Phil Hardy, Tke Boss Boy. By Charles Morris. 12 TANGER. By T. C. Harbaugh. HAMPION. By Geo. Gleason, 12 Bonanza Bill, Miner; or, Tue FemaLe Forcer. By Ed. L. Wheeler, 126 Picayune Pete; on, NicopEMus, 12 THE Doe DETECTIVE. 3y Chas. Morris, Daring Da THE YounG BEAR 108 KILLER. B a 1 1 ries. By James L. Bowen. The Mad Hunter; or, Tyr Cave 1 14 LATOR. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Mad Miner. 1 1 a Gilt-Edged Dick, Tur Sprort-Dr- Mustazg@ Sam; or, THE KING or 12 i Cinnamon Chip, Tre Giru Sport. Kiowa Charley, Tar White Mus- 1 24 Tip py, the Texan; or, THE YounG Wild-Fire, Tr Boss OF THE Roap. By Frank Dumont. The Young Privateer ; or, THE PrrRatTEs’ STRONGHOLD. H. Cavendish. 129 Deadwood Dick’s Double. A Story of Wild-Cat City. E. L. Wheeler. 13 Detective Dick; or, Tnz Hrro tn Rags. By Charles Morris, 131 The Golden Hand; or, Danpy Rock 'ro THE Rescur. G. W. Browne. 1 3 The Hunted Hunter; or, THE Srnance Horseman. By Ed. 8. Ellis. 133 Boss Bob, tHe KING OF THE Boorsiacks, By Edward L. Wheeler, 1 34 Sure Shot Seth, Tur Boy Rir.e- MAN. By Oll Coomes. 135 Captain Paul, THe MoonsHINER or Kentucky. By C.D. Clark. 1 36 Night-Hawk Kit ; or, tur Davan- TER OF THE RancueE. J. E. Badger, Jr. 137 The Helpless Hand; or, Back- woops Retrisution. Capt. Mayne Reid. 13 & Blonde Bill; or, DeEapwoop Dick’s Home Base. By Edward L. Wheeler. 139 Judge Lynch, Jdr.; or, THE Boy Vierante. By T. C. Harbaugh. 14 Blue Blazes; or, THe BREAK 0’ Day Boys. By Frank Dumont. 141 Solid Sam; or, THE Boy Roap Agent. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 42 Handsome Harry, THE Boor-. BLACK DeTectiIveE. By Chas. Morris, 1 43 Scar-Face Saul, THE SILENT Hunter. By Oll Coomes. 1 44 Dainty Lance, Tuer Boy Sport. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 1 45 Captain Ferret; or, Boss Bor’s Boss Jon. By Edward L. Wheeler. 14 Silver Star, Tur Boy Knicut. A Prairie Romance. By Oll Coomes. 147 Will Wildfire, Tux THorovcn- BRED. By Charles Morris. 1 48 Sharp Sam. By J. Alexander Patten. 149 A Game of Gold. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 50 Lance and Lasso. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 1 51 Panther Paul, THe Prairm Prrate. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 1 52 Black Bess, Witn Wivprrre’s K} Charles Morris. 1 53 Eagle t, THe Boy Dermoy, By Oll Coomes. Ready June 29th. The Sword Hunters. By Capt, Fred. Whittaker. Ready July 6th r, Tae Last Sport By T. C. Harbaugh. Ready July 13th. Eeadle and Adams, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York e