Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 161) (1880 08 24)
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af nN EEA tn Geoa Wy és NCKORMMAN . , r ba SW. OBA=Co ¥ oS {mit (mt ll lt i Ltt it aj ; Entered at the Post OMece at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. X Nc awk Copyrighted In 1880 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, . Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. NEW YORK NELL,THE BOY-GIRL DETECTIVE: or. Old Blakesly's Money BY EDWARD LL. WHEPLER, AUTHOR OF “‘ DEADWOOD DICK,” NOVELS, “‘ ROSEBUD ROB,” NOVELS, ‘‘ GILT-EDGED DICK,” ‘‘ BONANZA BILL,” ETC., ETO. Price, “west on! ’'M NEW YORK NELL, THE NEWS GIRL. NIBLO IS MY RIGHT NAME, WHEN I'M TO HOME, THO’ I DON’T BEAR ANY RELA- TIONSHIP TO NIBLO’S GARDEN, USED TO LIVE OVER IN YORE.”
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New York Nell, THE BOY-GIRL DETECTIVE; oR, OLD BLAKESLY’S MONEY. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF ‘‘DEADWOOD DICK’’ NOVELS, “ROSEBUD ROB” NOVELS, “BONANZA BILL,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER. I. UNCLE BLAKESLY COMES TO TOWN. : ““Papers! papers! Herald, Times, Chronicle an Sun! Buy one, mister?” And the newsboy paused in his . ee through one of the Market street cars, to hold a freshly printed daily under the nose of Mr. Redmond Blakesly, re- merchant, who chanced to be one of the pas- sengers. “Well! well! my boy, Isuppose I might as well humor you,” he replied, taltbough T already have a ctots ul... What’s your name, my lad? You look e a girl. “Phew! you’re mighty sharp at guessin’, Gover- nor. But, tra! la! I'llsee you again.” And hastily out of the carthe nimble newsdealer skipped, in time to jump upon the tender of a west- ward bound * dummy,” which was passing. Uncle Redmond Blakesly put on his spectacles, went to the door, and took a long look at the re- treating car. “ Well! well! well!” he muttered, ‘Blast my old ? ““What’s the matter, Cap? Didn’t git took in b the little cuss, did you?” the conductor asked, wit °) grin; whereat Uncle Redmond shifted his gaze to ™. “No, youngster, I did not. By the way, I look a little verdant, don’t I, compared wi’ the city folk?” ““Yes—that is, you look as if you had just come from up country,” the man of the bell-punch re- P with a smile. a Pose do,”’ the retired merchant assented ; ** but for all that, my boy, just chalk it down that the old ey ain’t picked up for a fool, every day, an’ ain’t alf so green as some of you city snobs who laughs rthim. Who was the youngster with the papers, ay friend?” *She? Oh! that was anew one they've got on tie force—a gal, by the way, just over from N. Y, Nell Niblo, she calls herself, and they do say she’s i og lar smart.” “Oh! they do, eh?” and Unele Redmond scratched tie bald portion of his head, reflectively. . ‘‘ Well! . ell! well! who ever heard of a girl dressin’ up in .oy’s clothes, an’ sellin’ newspapers? Ilumph! it’s :sameful what poverty will fetch folks to,” “Why, old man, you talk as if you never had t:nown want?” ** No, I don’t talk nothin’ o’ the sort, yourigster, fer *d be tellin’ lies, an’ them’s ag’in’ my honest, ortho- > pe pe bd — is one of the features of South et. The train had already arrived, and the waiting- reems were filled with passengers—old, middle-aged pay tg: of both sexes, and many nationalities. Among hem was ayoung man of ¢jfeminate cp- qpearance, fuultlessly attired in pavy-Llue, +, ith spot- ee | git up New York Nell less white shirt, collar, vest, silk tie, white silk hat, kid gloves, patent-leather walking shoes, and gold- headed ¢ane—a very dandified person of some twenty-one summers, with a fair face of attractive east, light blue eyes, brown hair, and a faint mus- tache of a towy color. He carried a sachel and duster with his right hand, while on his left arm leaned a lady, a@ gray duster, pretty hat and vail, the latter being drawn down over her face, screening it from view. oth evidently were strangers in the city, for they paused, in seeming hesitation, until the young man's ay rested upon Uncle Redmond Blakesly, when lis face lit yp with an expression of recognition, and he led the way forward to where the countryman | was standing. “Excuse me, sir,” the young man accosted him; ‘but can it be possible that I am addressing my jol- ly old dad, Redmond Blakesly?” Uncle Redmond started a little, and gavethe young man a critical survey through his glasses. “Well! well! well! I don't know about that, sir,” he replied, taking off his hat, and scratching his bald spot. “I’m Red Black, that’s sure—red when I’m angry—black when I'm mad, as the boys used to say. Yes, youngster, I’m Redmond Blakesly, from Hudsondale, on the Hudson. And, next to that, who in the world are you?” “Your own son, Jack Blakesly, alive and well, after an absence of eight years!’ was the laughing te a and the new-comer put forth his hand, warmly. But tincle Red shoved his down into the pockets of his pantaloons, with a quiet little laugh. * Just bold on, ‘boy. The old man is jest as_smart as he used to be, ef he is a leetle older, an’ he ain't goin’ to be took in on sharps. You tell me you're my boy, Jack Blakesly ?—you?” mikes certainly ye dad—of course I am! Didn't 1 write you td returned, after many years? Of course I’m Jack, oo the same as I was, years ago, when I was kindly ooted out, and tola to gO make my Own fortune,”’ “Well, have you made it?” the proprietor of Hud- sondale demanded. ~ “Nota red! Every cent I have been able to get hold of I have spent on education!” Blakesly, Sr., closed one eye, obliquely. “ Are you certain about that?” he demanded. “ Positive,” the young man protested. “I can converse in seven languages, and am competent to | handle the professorship of a college.” “That settles it!” Uncle Redmond cried, slapping his thigh, eoreey: “TI recognize you, fer m Jack he was allus fer study! study! study! an’ ed- dication, an’ allus would ruther loaf around town, at school, or in. ther free readin’ rooms, than ter stay up-country an’ hill pertaters. I uster git so ‘tarnal out o’ patience, an’ when he told me he wasn't goin’ to farm it, but was a-goin’ to shirk fer hisself, I give him-fifty dollars, an’ told him not to | cum’ nee ences. “No I am not married. «Bigg This F hg me to introduce to you as Miss Viola Vern is a homeless orphan, whose poems killed by a railroad accident, out uainted with her, and knowing ‘her. ces, took 5 liberty to bring -f: as ne as . est of Aunt dence, un e can re) STacther, who lives somewhere in the East. 5) oes him your face, Viola.” The young iady ecoording ly raised her vail, and turned her face full upon Uncle Redmond, who gave vent to a prolonged w of surprise. “Well! well! well!” you’re a beauty, and no mis- take!”’ he ejaculated. “‘‘ Durn my eyes, ef you don't take the glimp off ’n any of our eastern gals!” Miss Vernon was indeed remarkably rhage with a fair face, dusky eyes, and brown hair, her power of attraction lying chiefly in a fascinating smnile, which she knew well how to use. “I fancy she would resemble my poor little sister, é; attired in | here, to-day—the prodigal | y a long shot, | who was stolen away, years ago, if we could find | her,”” young Blakesly said. ‘*But, come! tell us what hotel‘you stop at, and we will seek it, after I | attend to a little business, in town. Do not put yourself to any trouble to show As, as we Can easily find it, if you give us the proper directions.” | “TT put up atthe Gi , on Chestnut street, boy. You will find me there later.” | “Ah! yes. Thanks. We will soon join you | there,” then bowing, Jack led his fair companion away toward the carriage stand. | After they were gone, Uncle Redmond shut one | eye, and spat a volume of tobacco juice at an unob | trusive fly which was craw along on the floor. | It was a fashion the honest but illiterate old gent | had, when in a study. “| wonder if I don’t smell a rat?” he murmured, taking off his hat, and scratching his bald spot. “ Guess maybe the boy was a leetle ashamed 0’ his old dad's togs, an’ was afeard to be seen in my com- pany, for fear he’d get laughed at. Well! well! that’s the way the world wags. But, let it wag. ud Red Black’s honest, an’ straight, an’ that suits m.,”? Still the master of Hudsondale seemed consider- ably ‘“‘ cut’? by what he had yg Beg ow as a con- clusion, and paced to and fro about the waiting- room, some time in deep meditation. He was thus engaged, when he was startled by a familiar voice c Dg: “Papers! Herald, Times, Chronicle, Sun, Star |” and turned quickly to see the same newspaper girl, whom he had seen a short tinie before on the Mar- ket street cars, just in the act of passing. A girl she was, too, he discerned at a second glance, her face betraying femininity. In form she was scarcely of woman’s medium hight, but well rounded and graceful, and Spi htly of movement. In face she was decidedly gir and pretty, her features being round and charmingly chiseled, the mouth in particular wearing a roguish, spirited expression, and the eyes a brilliant, inde- pendent flash, that betrayed a nature at once gay and ha Ppy, yet bold, fearless, and scorning wrong and evi oing. Her hair was of a golden hue, and curled in a close mass about her head, which added to her pretty ap- pearance. In the way of attire, she wore a slouch hat upon her head, and rough pants, vest and jacket of coarse brown woolen, a checkered shirt without any collar | anda pair of rather coarse shoes upon her smal! | feet, which were much too large for them. Taken as a whole, and not forgetting that her face was somewhat dirty, and that she was smo the stump of a cigar, she was about as good a specimen of a street Arab as one could have found ‘in all the re City, the yoo with which she strutted about giving her the appearance of one of the urchins she personated. : | What her age was no ordinary observer could | guess, probably, for while her form and manners be- | Jonged to a girl of seventeen or eighteen, her face | and its expression were those of one less than six- teen, | As he saw her passing him, Uncle Redmond put | out his hand, involuntarily, and detained her. ‘Hold on, my dear,” he said. ‘‘ Ain’t you the one , 1 bought a paper of this morning?’ “You bet I am! There ain’t another gal what peddles papers, in this town 0’ Philadelph, as I know of,’ was the roguish reply. ‘“ Why? what’s the rip? Wasn't the paper all right?” “T s’pose so; but, that ain't what I want. I want ter hev a lectle chat with you.” | “Oh! that’sit,eh? Well, I'd justeas lieve chirrup ‘with you as any other good-looking feller, What's | your*npame?” |” “My name? Well, 'm Redmond Blakesly, of | Hudsondale, up the Hudson. And who’are youY” | __“*Me? Oh! im New York Nell, the news gir]: | Niblo is my name, when I’m to home, tho’I don’t ' bear any relationship to Niblo’s Garden. Used to live over in York, but had to skip out, because I p’iz- ened a butcher's big ugly dog, an’ the cops was going } po eee to the a Oh! I tell you I'm a toug | you er, for m ye ell! well! + ould say so. But, somehow, 1 kinder take to you. Can't you get more profitable ee than dressin’ up in boy’s clothes, and > ? Phys od, is what a pli ag I like po togs first a ause a m can around pe, muc better. If you want to play ball wi’ tee boys, run a foot race, or do most enny g, these togs is enough sight handier than skirts. And as for sellin’ news- pers, I make a dollar or two a day, an’ learn heaps s lp me in my biz, too.”* “Yes, my biz.” “What's that?’ “That's a secret of my own, but F'll confide it to you, as you seem to be a sort of heeas pat, an’ I guess you won't give itaway. I'm a di e.”” “A detective’ “Precisely! Identically a detective. Oh! you bet I make a Sharp one, too. _What I can’t nose out, there ain’t many as can. I’m @ rogues’ terror, an they all know me by heart, over;in York, and are ning to find me out here in Philadelph. Got any detective business you want executed with neat- ness and dispatch? If so, I’m your ferret.” No, I guess I haven't any thing to be detected," | Uncle replied, “But I'd like you to dress im proper ae and come up to Hudsondale and pay | us a visit.” “ Your biz?” | “Get out. D’ye s’pose I'd throw away my t for one visit? No sir-ee! If I ain’ ond qoustt o core a. in breeches, I ain’t gddd.enough to core at all.”
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“But any grepios| Prudence she’d faint clean wway if she’d see a woman dressed up in men’s “But I ain't a woman; Tm only a eal. They call me a little cuss over in York, *cause I allus a4 out my own row, an’ keer fer No.1, Who's Prudence?” “She’s my sister.” ‘* An old maid, ain’t she, sourer than pickles in the month of June?” “Well! well! Blast my eyes ef you hain’t hit Ie purty straight. But did you see my boy, a bit “What! the sickly lookin’ feller with the gal a ¢ in ing to him?’’ es. That’s my boy, Jack, whom I started out ¥ght years ago, to make his way in the world.” ‘Humph! Guess he hain’t never paralyzed any one, judging by his looks. Kinder like me to come up to Hudsondale, an’ fall in love with, and marry him, wouldn’t you?” “ Just my tho Mb my but illiterate old c Yt admitted, slecatee. 1, sure’s I’m an honest e master of Hudsondale cam | “How old are you, child?” “Dunno. Guess I never knew. Old mother Niblo never would tell me, and one day she es er wind, and her spirit took a waltz. ‘Spect I’m old enough to not marry sech a sick looking squash that feller you say’s your son.’ “Then you don’t like the looks of him?”’ “Not.much! I allus form my likes and dislikes purty Ses uick, an’ I set that chap down as a snide, the minnit Capped ray eyes onto him.”’ ‘Well! well! that’s strange. Dunno much about him, myself. You see, the boy’s been away eight yart an’ I don’t know jest what he’s like. e was one thirteen when he cleared out, an’ his poor old never heard a word until a few days ago, when he writ fer me to meet him here. But he sez he’s spent every cent he’s made on eddication, an’ is awful smart!” “Tll bet he is,’’ witha astic grimace. ‘He looks as if he know’d m@re than some hull book binderies. I say, unkle, ’t you a little bit green, an’ liable to be took in?” The old man looked grave, and at the same time scratched the bald spot on top of his head. **Well! well! well! I don’t know,’ he muttered, slowly. ‘‘Mebbe I ain’t so smart as I used ter be, chipper I’ve allus counted old Red Black about as ras the average. Why, galt” cause it strikes me—but never mind. Ill you my opinion some other time, ‘ll make observations, an’ report, by an’ og PM goin’ back to N. Y., to- -morrer. If you ever happen in town when I’m there, _ tell any o’ the b. b.’s or n. b.’s you want to see New York Nell, and they'll put you on track. Tra! la! la! Take care of your- self, now, and don’t let that son of yours bleed your pocket-book. ws And then with a laugh, she walked away. as CHAPTER I. ** CHAMPAGNE QUITE THE THING.”’ Oup Uncle Redmond Blakesly had not guessed wrongly, when he concluded that Jack was ashamed of his sire’s rough-and-ready appearance, and had filled in the excuse of having some business else- where to attend to, in order that the old gent should not acco mpany him, for the young man had gone direct to t irard Hotel. “Ts there an old chap stopping here, by the name pf Redmond Blakesly?’’ he asked, as he registered tis name. “Yes, certainly,” the clerk 5 litely. “You will find his name registered ay’s ar- rivals. Believe he is out, just oe “Oh! that does not matter. I have al seen him. Just arrived from the West, and met him at the depot, and he directed me to "stop here, at his ex Pant yes. He left orders to that effeet;”’ and the clerk touched a call bell. ‘‘This boy will * show you to mK our apartments.” hey were given an elegant suit of rooms upon the third fy Tenn ug = aN of bedchambers and _ pri- vate Re nkasly ogy richly furnish threw himself upon a sofa in the parlor, witha + yawn, while Miss Vernon was re- luoving her wrappings. “Well, my dear, how do you fancy the master of Hudsondalé?” he asked, quizzically. “Think he re- sembles his dutiful offspring, any?” “T did not see an ed resemblance,” Viola replied, quietly. should judge, however, that Blakesly would be a nice man to get along with Ae an one good-natured man, of liberal and indulgent “You refer to the younger Blakesly ?”’ “No; to the elder. You ¢ are not ean of the same i ature, as the man you introduced to me as your ather. “ Thank heaven for that! He looks like a regular old codger, more than the master to Hudsondale. Did you mind how nicely I got rid of him up at the depot? Iwas ashamed to have folks s any connection between us, and so shook him. course he was too thick-headed to know the difference.” “Maybe, and again ay Ue not. Ihope we can keep on n the wight ete of h Have you seen Col. Baxter?” In the meanw his we fl! 3 York Nell. “Then, tell me, Fags eR ST TES and for the last time, do you believe you are the son of this old country-. man?’ Miss Vernon asked, with a strange eagerness, the peeaning of which it would have been hard to in* te Pees, I do,” Jack replied. “Up to the age of fourteen years, or rather, previous ‘7 that date in my existence, I have no recollection whatever. My first remembrance is of being in Baxter's care, at about the age e I named, and from that time up to the Sine resent, he has ever taught me that Iam the son of dmond Blakesly, who booted me out upon the world when young, to shift fur myself.” Miss Vernon was silent, as she gazed out of a front window upon the street below. Her pretty bb De gia knitted in an expression that was inex- plicable “T have no choice but. to believe you,” she said, finally. ‘‘ But I have sometimes been assailed with a fear that both a rot and Baxter were arrant knaves. How are you responsible? You might fail to fill bP ai and there would be a pretty state of “Bah! you need have no apprehensions on that score. ou have seen the old man, and taken a Jik- ing to—his coffers! Ha! ha! Ihave yet to meet the woman that gold = lage tempt. Once we get safe- to Hudsondale, your conquest will be easy with e old man, and, st we know, you'll be my step- sel instead of m betrothed, as you are now. By and by the old gent will waltz off, and leave you and I the masters of the situation—and a very soft snap it is, too—much better than doing a nung - hg et—yes, Spd we will see about that, ef we om tsa 0 sorter off our track, likea played out plow.’ About an hour later Jack Blakesly sauntered down “No. He got off the cars at the first station outof | into the lounging-room of the hotel, airily attired in ago intendl to hire a cab, and drive in, I Fie asuit of spotless duck, with mpd leather slippers he had no deaie to meet the old gent at the ae | on his feet, and a silk hat on his h for fear a Pages might ensue. e purchased a choice cigar at the stand, and > e secret about this matter? Does | | ae rew himself into a great low chair be- Baxter tear Blakesly ?” fore one of the open windows that loo out upon “It would seem 80, There is some old grudge be- tween them, which I do not know.” Chestnut street. He was not long thus positioned ere he was tapped | : S familiarly upon the shoulder, and a man drew a chair mary and became seated. He was and of commanding figure, with a face in which was expressed cunning, self-conceit, and an evil nature; and this face was ornamented with a heavy black mustache which connected with a bushy crop of side whiskers; his hair was black, his com- plexion dark; even his attire was black throughout. Jack Blakesly uttered a grunt of surprise, at sight of him. “So sage ve back, eh?” he said. ‘‘So isthe old man Blakes “6 “So I heard,”’ the dark man replied. “ Just heard about his raising the deuce over your cheepaate bill. You may as well dry up your foun- tain-l now. No more champy at his expense.” ‘Ba! is he angry, then?” “Yes. How does the coast lie, now?”’ “Tll be hanged if I know. Guessit will all work out right. If it doesn’t, you are the loser, not I. Fancy your chagrin at a total defeat, Colonel Baxter!” The dark man gritted his teeth, and scowled a trifle. “T do not intend to court defeat, * he said, with an evil grin. Flem Baxter has play ‘ed in dramas, be- fore, and played heavy parts, too, in which he has always come out the victor. Consequently, he is not to be cast for any parts inferior, nor where there is not a moral certainty of his winning.’ “But the old counjry elk isn’t so green as he looks, You’d bem lay low jack and sure,’ oung hag rd sugges nocking the ashes from his cigar. ‘ve spray noticed that the more a tapeny Ot a fool around a country bumble-bee, the more likely you are to get stung. “Never fear on that score, I and Redmond Blakes- have met before. And, betwixt you and me, the old man dare not say his ‘soul is his own, when I re- mind him. But I do not desire to approach this way, unless he gets unruly. Always tempt a horse first, and reserve the whip for the emergency, How about Viola? Is she gettin uneasy |” ‘** A little, I guess. She thinks there is some v illainy Rave matter, and that we are trying to swindle old “Ah! Yihis is bad. She must be disarmed of that suspicion, or our beg et over her is at an end. One point is for you to arrange: Keep her at ease; onctner:,| Get packed off for Hudsondale as soon as “‘For what? The city is much preferable to the odor of rural barnyards.”’ , “You mistake. Hudsondale is no such place as you imagine. They tell me it is one_of the most charming resorts along the Hudson, It will be bet- ter for you there, where no one can interrupt you in soft-soaping the old man.’ ‘““ Well, you are the master—I the servant. I must obey. I‘am none too sanguine of success, how- “Bah! you are weak-minded. I have given you your lines, see that you act them well, or I'llno onger be responsible for your welfare, and keep the wolves from your door.” “T will perform according to your directions. If the ar! ets paapseretia. it will not be my fault.” attend to her, myself. We must get an- cine deposit, and then, if she gets dissatisfied, either let her go, or shut her up.’ “Tt would not do to let her loose. She’d hunt up that hot-tempered Southern brother of hers, and the mischief would be to pay for a certainty “True, And were it not that he is already on the chase, I would shove her in as Blakesly’s long-lost dau hter!”” he wouldn't hear to it. She is too scrupulously honest.” “Bah! Money and position are what she craves, or she would never have backed our little enterprise with her fortune, in hopes of marrying the heir of Hudsondale, But I have not much time to talk on this subject, now, for there is danger in another di- rection which demands my attention.” “In New York.” “From what source?” “From the Colorado mines.” ms Pott 1 ae real and 7 ) rag. os and original “How How dia you learn Sern “From Sharky, i i sent to ferret him eS ere I came East. It seems that he’s got his fill, u in the mines, and is coming on to see is father. s" “ And isin New York?” any ‘Rather, is liable to arrive there, at most minute. Shar! rig tre ig, ged me that he was close at. his heels, in vhere are the 1 ee Barker and Johnny “ Laying low in N. Y., watching for him. Also for Monk, of ville. Jack Blakesly grew pale. “What! is he Coming on “Yes. But he'll he’ u ‘tackled game out of his nee ers, instead of common prairie wolves, a a ” OP ae are mt ps going to do with the other? He'll ~ Shenkely He'll find New York too large for him, when he gets there. He must suspend breathing as quickly and quietly as he arrives.’ shook his head, rather dubious! “Tt looks to me like a desperate unde ing,” he demurred, * and, ten to one we lose.”’ to one we do not,’ Baxter responded, con- Stent, “ All that remains is to keep on the right side of the old man, and not let him get suspicious. If, a gration a does get suspicious, we must put cur er and work. D’moff to New York, now, to ook oat out for the game. Get packed off for Hud sondale as soon as you can.”
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oo 4. *T will sec to it. “ Of course.” Then Baxter arose and sauntered away. But he was destined not to leave the hotel undis- turbed. In the bar-room of the hotel he came face to face with Uncle Redmond Blakesly, the two halting at a respectable distance as if by a mutual impulse. The colonel gazed at the ruralist in his coolly cyni- eal way. Uncle Red flushed angrily, a determined belligerent light shining from his eyes as he grasped his heavy cane, firmly. “Ab! really! is this you, Uncle Blakesly? It is an unexpected honor to meet you,” Baxter said, put- ting out his hand and adopting a pleasant smile for the occasion. “Oh! it is, is it!’ and Uncle Blakesly gave a grim stare. *‘Mebbe, by the time I tan yer infernal jacket fer ye, Fleming Baxter, et won’t be quite so much of a pleasure. Do ye want I should try it, an’ see?” Report soon.” “Oh! no, I won’t put you to that trouble,” the other replied, sneeringly. “-"Twon’t be no trouble at all, an’ blame me ef I wouldn’t do it,ef I had ye out somewhere, wh: r I could unloosen myself. But, never mind, Flem-- ths old man’s hale at sixty, an’ he’s goin’ ter live Ieng enuff ter peel yer hide yet, and you recollect it. The: day ain’t fur off, nuther.” “ This is a strange greeting to come from an old- tine friend and schoolmate,” and Baxter wel! feigned surprise. “ Friend ?”’ uncle Red gasped, wiping the perspira- tion from his bald spot. ‘‘ When were you ever my friend, Flem Baxter? Didn’t we allus uster be fight- in’, an’ quarrelin’? Didn’t you steal away my poor misguided sister, an’ abusé her until she was glad ter lay down an’ die to git rid of you? Oh! Flem, ye’ll find ther old man hes got just as good memory as he had five-an’-forty years ago!” Baxter gazed round him with a quick, nervous glance, but gave a sigh of relief, when he saw that their conversation had attracted no notice, “See here, you accursed fool, do you know what you are saying?” he hissed, fiercely, taking a step toward the master of Hudsondale. ‘ You may have forgotten that you are afraid of me.” “*T afraid of, you?’ Uncle Biakesly retorted. ** Well, that is the first I ever heard of it.” **You lie! Did I not make you confess, five years ago, when I caught youin a very unpleasant situa- tion, that you held me in absolute awe?” “No! Flem Baxter—no/ I never told te I was afraid of you, nor will I ever tell you so, Listen! ye ain’tso keen as ye dene be, or ye’d hev learned, long ago, that the murderer o’ the gal ye found me kneelin’ over, has since died, over in Sing Sing, and confessed his crime o’ killin’ her, along wi’ severil cra deeds. So you see your little game is baffled bar.” Baxter scowled, and uttered a fierce oath. “You are lying to me,” he growled, savagely. “Nol ain’t—not fer a cent,” Uncle Blakesly de- clared. ‘‘ When ye go up ter Sing Sing fer a stay, ye can fiud out all about it from the keeper.” “When I go to Sing Sing it will be after you're dead,” Baxter gritted. ‘‘ Don’t think I’m layed, old friend, because lam not. You know I always was famous in getting the best of a bargain, and since we are to be enemies, I shall try to make you as un- comfortable asI can, seeing that we are or were once slightly related. Ta! ta' now. Till drop up to Hudsondale, as soon as I have time.”’ **You’d better not, Flem, fer you'll find et ain't a werry hospital place fer you, when I am to home. Ef ye show your mug thar, I'll pons it fer ye as true as I’m one o’ ther old stock they uster breed up in Schoharie.” “Presumedly I shall not come, until I shall have gained some hold upon you whereby I can make you my loving friend. Ha! ha! always capture your bear first, and break him in afterward.”’ And then the dark man laughed triumphantly, and walked away, ot Uncle Blakesly in rather a warm-tempered mood. “Drat that man!’ he muttered. ‘‘He has ever been an evil shadder in my path, and seems deter- mined to crush me. But, just let him show his head at Hudsondale, an’ 7’/1 smash it!” CHAPTER IT. NEW YORK NELL SHOWS HER HAND, “Fire!’’ “ Fire!” ‘ Fire!” Shouts and lusty yells announced the cause of the mass of mE y that surged through the streets— of the rumble of heavy trucks—of the clang of peal- ing bells, and shrieks of whistles. the darkest hour before the dawn had the Babel of excited sound burst upon the night, and although the streets had been temporarily deserted, but a momeut before, it seemed scarcely an instant later that they were filled to Mya bt with excited beings who rushed pell-inell toward the North river, in which direction the sky was flushing ruddy with the reflection of a great fire. ‘ It proved a useless task for the police to check the excived multitude, as there seemed a hundred fire- seekers to every officer—consequently the rush was as of a aap Pty SY, bent on storming some offend- ing citade: ihe fire proved to be npon the river. A large full-rigged vessel of Southern ‘‘ hail,” was riding at anchor, but a short distance out in the river, wrapped in a brilliant sheet of flame, about the hull and deck, while the masts towered like gaunt specters, into the night, as yet unscathed by the flames. Other vessels in the vicinity were being towed away, and everywhere was a scene of bustle and excitement, New York Nell. The fire patrol guarded the river front and kept back the crowd with their clubs, butit was only by hard work that they succeeded. And they did not even do that, for one figure | eluded them and ran toward the water. with the agility of a fawn. t was no use, however, for the patrol sprung in | ursuit, an ender. **See here, you young devil, what do you renee by breaking past the law?’ one of the officers cri shaking eg ed # roughly. ‘See here, boys—shall we bundle him off to the ‘ Jag?" a _ “ Better try it if you know when your pants don’t fit you,” the offender replied, saucily. “‘Just you drop your grip, cully, or ’'ll report you to head- quarters.”’ “What d’ye mean? Who the devil aire you, you sassy—”’ soon succeeded in capturing the of- “Shut up. Don’t go to callin’ me names or I'll | thump you. I’m Nell Niblo, of the N. Y. D. F., ef you want to know it, and the sooner you let go of me, the better it will be for ee The officer released his hold, instantly, his manner changing from surly to courteous, ‘Excuse me,” he said, “I did not recognize you, Where are you going?” “To release the victim of a trap,” the girl replied, Then she darted on, and leaped from the pier into an empty row-boat that was rocking at the water's edge. The next instant she was seen pulling toward the burning vessel. The people who could see her, watched with eager- ness. What she was going to do was more than they could determine, On, on, she went as fast as she could row, toward the burning boat, herself and the frail craft she so pti managed, the center of many wondering glances. Nearer—nearer to the boat she pulled, strongly and steadily. Once or twice she was hailed and warned that the masts were hable to pitch into the water at any reek ai but her only answer was a wild, reckless augh. She pulled directly beneath the prow of the vessel, and shipped her oars, then, without a word, leaped into the river, and disappeared from sight. — In two seconds she reappeared, and catching hold of the prow rigging, went up, hand over hand, with the ty of a monkey. A moment later she clambered aboard where the flames had not yet reached, and swung her hat triumphantly, to a thunder of applauding shouts that seemed to come from sea and shore. The next instant she turned and plunged from view directly into the flame. A horrified cry went up from the watchers in the boats, upon the river, and the many excited gazers upon the docks, Was the ben insane? Certain death lurked everywhere within the aerate sea of flame that enveloped the greater portion of the vessel, and was now licking the rigging spitefully, making brighter the lurid night. The boats upon the river, of which there now were scores of all kinds, pulled nearer to the doomed ship, as if awaiting to receive the venturesome caparyre who had gone into the jaws of death for— what? This was the question uppermost in the minds and the mouths cf the eager, excited watchers. = vessel was a whaler, just ready for the sea again. ‘ What could attract the venturesome dare-devil aboard sucha craft, in the face of the merciless flames, remained a mystery. But not long. Soon she burst in from the flame, upon the unscathed portion of the boat, and bore in her arms a foryp draped in female attire. A moment she paused, and ed at the boats upon the water nearest the vessel, then leaped over- board into the firelit water of the river, ; Instantly two boats nearest the vessel pulled swiftly toward the spot where she had gone down. One boat contained Colonel Fleming Baxter and two low-browed ruffianly looking fellows; the other contained two young men of some four and twenty years of age, respectively, one of whom was de- cidedly western in appearance, with his slouch hat, long hair, and tanned buckskin hunting shirt. It became at once apparent that each boat was determined to reach the spot of rescue before the other, and a single moment proved that the boat containing the long-haired chap and his companion was destined to be victorious, for the little craft seemed to fairly skim over the top of the water, so fast it went. Colonel Baxter urged his men fiercely, a torrent of oaths escaping his lips as he saw that he was not to be the rescuer of the brave girl detective and her i aa “Stop! stop!” he yelled, fiercely. “Those are mine to rescue—mine to protect! ands off, I com- mand you,” “You go to—Mexico!"’ the man with the long hair shouted, just as Nell Niblo came to the suréace bearing her fainting or unconscious companion, and both were hauled quickly into the boat. “You see I have got them, my savage friend,” the long-haired man continued, turning and mock- ingly addressing Baxter, ‘“‘and, what’s more, I in- tend to keep them for a bit. So just whistle a solo, for your pains, and go home.” The next minute the boat shot toward the piers, rapidly gliding through the choppy waters. ith smothered curses of rage Baxter ordered his s companions to full ashore, which they did, landing ata ae further up the river. ‘““My young lad, you are a hero!’ the long-haired Asean man of the rescuing boat said, turning to New ork Nell, who was seated in the stern, with her charge lying across her lap. ‘‘How did you know the lady was in the ship, boy?” “In the first place, you’re sucked in about my being a boy; and in the next place, it’s my Own pri- vate biz how I found out about the lady’s bein’ in the boat,’’. Nell replied, independently. “If you | want to exchenge cogs, my name. is Nell Niblo, alias ’ New York Nell, news girl, spotter, detective and hard crowd, generally. Now, what’s your appel- lative?” ‘My name is Jack Carson, and I’m from up Lead- ville country,” the long-haired man responded, tip- ping his hat. ‘‘My companion, here, calls himse al Vernon, I believe. e met below here, just as the fire broke out, and became acquainted to the cones of jumping into a boat, and pulling for the aze.”’ “Correct! He’s Val Vernon, all right, no doubt; but I twig you allee samee, as the Chinamen Say. You ain’t Carson, no more’n I’m John Jackob Astor or Tony Pastor. But, it’s all right. It will keep with me.” ‘Well! if you ain’t the queerest gal in boys’ cloth- ing, I ever met, I'll be shot!” the Westerner ex- claimed, in surprise, ‘Of course my name is Car- son. Do you suppose I am some criminal, sculling around under an alias?” “You are liable to be made most anything to suit the fancy of a pair of scheming villains, if you don’t look out for yourself mighty sharp,’’ Nell re- plied. ‘‘ Hold on! don’t pull ashore where all the crowd is, or the perlice will be nosing into what is none of their business. Pull down-stream till I tell you to ps ao The order was promptly obeyed and the boat headed down the stream. After ten minutes’ ride, Nell gave the order to go pip ha and they pulled into an empty dock and tied up. The long-haired man took the girlish form of the rescued woman in his arms and Sprung, ashore, and Vernon assisted Nell to disembark, following her example himself. “Where do you want this lady taken, young lady?” Carson asked, pausing and gazing into Nell’s face, with a long, searching scrutiny, as if he were trying to read her purpose. “Well, if you want the job of carryin’ ner, come along, an’ Ill show you,” she replied, flushing, and turning away. “I’m Nae to take her where she will be care for, and don’t you forget it. So come along.”’ She led the wey up the dark, narrow thoroughfare which Jed from the river into the dense city. Car- son followed his strange conductress, bearing the insensible lady, whose face was heavily vailed, and Val Vernon brought up the rear. In the course of fifteen minutes, they arrived be- fore the door, or rather opening, of a staircase which ascended into a tumble-down, grimy-looking tene- ment building, which evidently had been one erected a half-century before. Up the rickety staircase the news girl led the way to a hallway in the third story. Here she paused, and gave a leud rap upon the door, and a few minutes later it was opened by a toothless, ugly-looking old hag, whose tattered dress and disheveled hair served to make her appear- ance akin to frightful. ‘Well, what d’ye want, gal?” she demanded, sur- veying the news-girl sharply. ‘* Who's them tellers, an’ what’s wantin’?” “Tf you’lLhold your tongue a minnit, and let us in, you'll be apt to find out the quickest,” Nell re- plied, fearlessly. “Scat! now!” The old woman growled something unintelligible about being disturbed, and threw the door open, ad- mitting her visitors into—not a dirty, filthy hovel, as Carson and Vernon had expected, but a richly-fur- nished parlor of considerable size. with frescoed walls and ceilings, rich plush carpeting, stuffed fur- niture of elegant pattern and finish, luxurious sofas, a Steinway grand piano—in fact, many and many attractive and costly adornments that would not have disgraced a palace on Fifth avenue, Carson was not sorry, either, when he received di- rections to de t his burden upon one of the sofas, for her weight was beginning to tell upon him. **Well! well!” the old hag grunted, setting her hands upon her bi Sake her arms akimbo. ‘‘ Now what’s up, you Nell Niblo? Who aire these two fine- lookin’ fellows, and who is the woman yonder with the vailed face?” “The lady is my charge,” New York Nell an- nounced. ‘‘Irescued her from the burning ship, and I’m goin’ to assume charge of her for a spell. You must keep her here, and treat her like a lady, and see that no one gets a glimpse of her. Do you hear?—nobody, except yourself and I.” “Thear,”’ the old woman asse |, with an odd smile. “No one ever come a-visitin’ to Mag Mink yet when she sed they couldn't, and them as tried allus went away with sore heads.” “Yes, you’re a good Senso Mag, and have done mé many a good turn,” the news girl said. “These yous eae emen are Mr. Carson, and Mr. Vernon, who ki aly volunteers to help me ashore with my charge. 6 long-haired feller is Kitopher Carson—’tother *un is Vernon. Come, boys, let’s take leave, now. Mag she'll take keer of the lady, and you ean get back to your hotels, carryin’ with you the thanks of New York Nell, for your services.” Thus dismissed, Carson and Verncn bowed them- selves out, and Nell followed them. to the street. “Tl show you the way out of this place,” she
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said taking the Jead. ‘Heaven only knows, there are traps enough to catch the unfnitiated.” In ten mioutes she had guided them out of the narrow place into one of the well-lit, principal tho- roughfares. “There! you are now where you can go it alone. Better get to your roosts, too, for late ’uns are allus s’picioned by the perlice. Whar'll I find you ter- morrer, Kitopher Carson?” “ At the Union Place Hotel, miss.” “Allright. Just you lay low there, until I drop in to see you. S’pect I know somethin’ more about ou than you do yourself. And, above all, avoid amiliarizin’ with strangers.” Then, turning abruptly, she hurried away in an epposite direction. : She at once sought her lodgings, in a tenement building in Baxter street—a single apartment in the fourth story, furnished neatly with a rag carpet, a stand containing a lamp and a few papers, a white counterpaned little bed, and a single chair. It was not much, but was all she could afford, after pur- chasing her meals, and still was a home to her, which she often sought as a welcome refuge, after the toils and turmoil of busy metropolitan days. Early the following morning, even before the day was light, she was abroad, with a large budget of morning papers, which she disposed of upon her delivery route, after which she was again equipped with another armful, to sell upon the street, Newsboys has New York without limit, but none of them stood a ghost of a chance in the business with pretty Nell Niblo, who invariably sold hers as fast as she could hand them out, and make change. The Bowery was her bonanza ground. Every one knew her, and admired her, and it was no trick for her to sell a hundred papers from sunrise til seven, fn summer time. The same success greeted her on lower Broadway, and everywhere she went, many of the “ mashable’ young men purchasing in phe hopes of being reward- ed by a smile, which t always got, if gentleman- ly and respectful. The oN cemen knew her along the whole force, and alt hough it Tay in their power to arrest her for masquerading in attire not natural with her sex, they seldom offered’ her molestation, for she was ever modest, well behaved, and just independent enough t “hoe her own row,” and defend herself from insult, and no one of an honest and honorable turn of mind ever let drop a word or hint that New York Nell the news girl was not in every way re- spectable. To-day, of which we narrate, her trade was good and by noon she had disposed of over two hundred and fifty Fain on which she realized about one dollar and fifty cents profit, so small is the margin on the dailies, It was now that: her thoughts reverted to her promised call wpon Carson, and she accordingly wenttoa deserted corner, to sit upon a step, and count the contents of her pockets. The result was twenty-two dollars—all her own, which it had cost her two whole weeks to accumu- late. Out of this had to come six dollars for rent, leaving her sixteen dollars. “Jest enough to rig up in style, fer one’t,” she murmured, eying the money, ‘An’ I’m goin’ fer new togs, if I'don’t never make another cent, Et’s food enough to go ragged a-sellin’ Fie Sk but when one’s goin’ to call on sech fellers as thet ar” Carson, frood togs stand preeminent. Mébbee, too, he’s © the romantic lay, an’ I can “‘mash “him? Ha! ha faney me a heroine ofa love scrape! BetI’d get laughed ‘at,, S8’pose I orter put on gal togs, but I cin’t goin’ to, no-sir-ee! It’s just eight years ago tince Mam Niblo put boy’s togs on me an’ lent me the front end of her gaiter, with the motherly in- junction to go to sellin’ news for a livin’, an’ so I’ve ung to ef costume faithfully, an’ it’s too late, now, to try and play on’sumthin’ I wasn’t brought up to. Bet I'd trip, iv skirts, first shot.” *It had been a long time since she had been extrava- gant enough to invest innew wearing oes and she now ‘resolved to break the monotony of her ay mg for once, at least. o th ink, with her, was to act, and a visit to dif- ; ferent furnishing stores soon put herin possession ieee she renal ed, bh ¢ then red to her Baxter street lodgings and arrayed herself, the best she knew how. Pa When she again appeared upon the street, she was a age compared with her former original self, he was attired in a suit of nobby light-brown cloth, with neatly polished shoes upon her feet, and a jaunty straw hat upon her sunny, curly head. Her shirt front, ornamented with collar and ti begets a ‘ meer paste emboses pin, while rings o er a natty little walking stick, leas we As a boy ‘she was a *‘masher,’”’ while, in her fe- mininity of graceful figure and ish face, she “caught ’em all,”’ judging by the aeaftiner lances she attracted, as she sauntered overinto the Bowery, on thence wendéd her way toward the Union Place otei. “Oh my! wnata figger I cut!” she laughed, to herself, as sho saw hershadow in the show windows, **S’pect half of my old acquaints won’t know me. If Lonly could get along without sellin’ papers, I’d just like to play sport all the time, so I would! But, ade I pete call on a Jack Soin =< see ~ he hows anything about danger in under them long hairs of his'n, iy CHAPTER IV. JACK BLAKESLY HEARS OF a RIVAL. Mr. Jack Carson had just gone out for a stroll, when she inquired for him at the Union Place Hotel, New York Nell Would be in a-time for two o’clock luncheon, said the polite clerk, who failed to mecognine lr the nobby inquirer the rollicking news girl who came regularly to tease him to invest in a paper, which he never found time to do because she “ chaffed ” him, poked fun at the few sallow hairs upon his upper lip, and advised him to go out West and buy a complexion. So Nell lounged about the waiting room, smoked a cigarette to be fashionable, and waited for the long- haired son of Colorado to put in an appearance. — While she was waiting, she heard a familiar voice, and saw the dressy Colonel Baxter enter, accom- panied by two companions, also well attired, but evil-looking as any pair of knaves one could find photographed in the es’ Gallery. The colonel spied our heroine about the same mo- ment she spied him, and, dismissing his companions, he approached her, with a dark scowl. ‘ ; “ Aha! so it’s you, is it?” he saluted, taking a chair near by. ‘‘‘I’ve been searching all over the city for ou. ere is the woman you rescued from the urning boat last night?” ““Where she’ll keep,” was the cool reply. “Take care, my pert miss—for I’ve found out that you area girl instead of a boy, and if you know when you're well off you’ll use more courteousness in addressing.” “Willl, though? S’pose I do as I please—how are you going to help yourself?” “Tl show you mighty quick, my gal. I want you to 4: me what you did with the woman you res- cued.”’ “Then I'll plainly tell you it’s none of your busi- ness. I’ve put her where she will be in g care, and out of your villainous clutches,”’ ; “ But, you fool, that woman was my wife. What business have you to shut her up, where I cannot find her?” “Your wife, eh?’ “Of course she is!” 7 os u. ha twas she doing aboard the burning boat, en?’ ‘Easily answered. The ship was to sail to-day, and I took her aboard to. be vie / and was on my way to join her when I discover her!” ““Phew!’’ and Nell Niblo took off her hat to give her curly head a dig. ‘‘That’s too shaky a yarn to swaller, old man—too transparent. What was the aay doin’ chucked away in the hold, bound hand and foot, if what you say is true?” ° *She wasn’t!” ‘** She was!”’ “You lie, curse you!” ** You lie back again, curse you!” “You impudent hussy, I'll strike you, if you con- tradict me.” ‘“No, you won't, Baxter. Just close your valve and listen. Your little Se is all known to me, or most of it, at least, and the whole will eventually come into my possession. And while the opportu- is offered me, I want to tell you thatif you ya or | nit; to Leas ourself out of Sing Sing, the best thing you to do is to get right up and —go West. Lain’t fooling you, neither. Thesooner u are fifteen hundred miles from New_York, the ess liability there isof your being hanged. Do you know what I am?’’ ‘* An accursed idiot!’’ the colonel growled, not yet determined whether the eccentric creature was to be feared or not. ** No, not an accursed idiot,’ Nell replied, proudly. “God gave me the usual gifts of humanity, aod I have sharpened the same up by experience, until I am just’ ordinarily smart. Professionally, hereto- fore, Lhave been a detective and a news girl, the latter turn reer J me in the former capacity. Pro- fessionally henceforth, Iam a detective. I tell you this because I would rather battle with an armed villain than one unarmed. The vic is greater, the satisfaction keener. Look at me. Iam a mere chit of a girl—seventeen years of age, only—and never had even the advantages of a common school education, Still, there is a heap of sense and under- stan in my curly head, and I have eyes like a hawk, The detective business suits me, as I always happen around just out of sight but in neering in time to hear important disclOsures. I was in Phila- delphia a week naan heard a few things which I put on file, and use them when the proper time arrives.’ Baxter scowled fiercely. “You evidently know pone. against me,” he said. “But in case you do, I'lltake good care you don’t do any one any particular harm,” “Ha! ha! Iam glad you take it so lightly. se som enmity is ten times easier to conquer than hang of, sneakism. And about this rescue business; I stroll- ed into a down-town saloon, last night, where a lot of sailors were carousing, on the strength of a ten- dollar note which one of them had received. Any idea whom he got it from?” ; “* Not the oars rege © replied without flinching. * But [ have. e sailor said as how he had got it from a black-lookin’ chap, who had brought a lady. aboard, and wanted her stowed away in the hold an taken out to sea, on the Lady Julia, which sailed o the morrow. He didn’t want her harmed—only ° kept aboard paring the out trip, and if she should be accidentally leff wpon some desolate island, it would not have been a matter of much consequence, and it would be a matter of five hundred dollars deposited in bank at the sailor’s disposal, on his re- turn. I heard this much, and waltzed down to the rescue. Isaw your anxiety and concern, and rightly knew where to place you, after seeing you in the Quaker city, That’s what about thelady, Lrescued her, and have stowed her away until t time to hear her case, ‘Then I shaJl find what's the secret between you. I’ve a suspicion about the matter, tucked away, and maybe it ain’t fur out of the way. climb out of the city | 5 ay for your Blakesly scheme, you take care! That’s In his rapidly rising rage, Baxter’s face assumed agmered pallor. ére were all his plots in the knowledge of a mere child—but a remarkably shréwd, keen child, as he was forced to admit to himself. “Ourse you. I'll fix you,” he said, with a mali- cious gleam in his eyes. “I’ve tamed canary birds for a living, and not lost my art yet.” “Yes, but you never tamed a little New York ban- tam rooster—a regular little game cock!’’ Nell re- torted, as he arose and stalked out of the room, mut- tering baleful oaths. “Bet a clam he feels as if he’d like to shut off my wind,” the girl muttered; ‘‘ Mebbe I hadn’t orter let him know’d I knew so much, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. But, nevertheless, I’m goin’ ter get the fat of the game. Wonder just how I’m going to commence, anyhow? The first thing is evidently to see our long-haired Western coon.” It was the middle of the afternoon ere Carson put in an appearance, and came forward to be seated, and e hands. “Sorry [kept you waiting,” he said, twisting his handsome mustache, “ but I got interested in a little game of faro, upon Broadway, and could not tear myself away, untill clean out the bank, But now | am at your service.” ‘What's become of your companion?” “Vernon? Oh! he’s up at police head-quarters, in- stituting inquiries for a lost sister, who eloped with a precious rascal who was, at the time, her music- teacher. Vernon has been searching for them, far and wide, with a vengeful vow to plant the afore said music-teacher, when he finds him.” ‘* Has his sister money ?”’ : “Yes. She and her brother each came into pos- session of a large cash fortune, recently I believe.” “Then, I’ve twigged the game, already. The mu- sic-teacher has coaxed her off with him simply to get hold of her filthy lucre.” ‘* Ah! have you seen her, then?” “*Mebbe—mebbe not. *Spect I might lay a paw on bey POST if I was hit with a big inclination.” “Well, this is good news, and Vernon will pay you well to tell him.’ ‘*Perfeshionall detectives ain’t a-goin’ ter shuck off ss even fer money, sometimes, I trow. Bu laying aside that matter, I want to inquire w business brought you to New York?” “Oh! I eame Hast on a visit to some of my re- lates,”’ the Westerner confessed. ‘‘ You see, I’ve been gone some eight years, and got kind 0’ huugry to gaze upon old friends.” “And your name is Jack Blakesly ?” “Well, yes, though up in the west I was called Jack Carson, because it was easier on the tongue, But, how did you know?” “Oh! I’ve a peculiar faculty of gainin ints. Was in Philadelphia, when old Uncle ond pete arrived there to receive and Welcome you »!* What! are you crazy, fart I have not yet had a aheipee of the old man, deed, Ihave been rather oubtful about seeing him, since he lent me the toe of his boot to start me on my own hook, over eight years ago,”’ ine ha! that’s the same story the other fellow ‘What other fellow?” “Why, the returned prodigal, Jack Blakesly, to be sure.”’ “Pshaw! you speak in riddles. What do you mean?” “ Well, I'll tell you, just for greens. Jack Blakes- ly, of Leadville, Col., arrived in Philadelphia, last week, and was met by his father. Since that they have gone up to Hudsondale, the old farmer's coun- try seat, to spend the heated term—the old man, the young man, and the pretty orphan,” The real Jack Blakesly gave vent to a whistle of surprise. **So, another Jack Blakesly has got in ahead of me,.eh?’’ he said, refiectively. ‘‘ Well, this is ro- raantic—and not so very strange, either, for I’m told the old gent is worth a cool half a million. What for looking fellow is the other Jack?” ‘Rather white-livere¢—iike a hot-house plant w’ot ain't been watered lately.” , Rete And he calls himself Jack Blakesly, e 7 “* On course he does,” ‘But, does the old gent take him in all right?” * Reckon so. Leastways, he took ’em down to Hudsondale.”’ ~ “You intimate that there is a third party?” “Yes, an orphant whom Jack bas under his charge, until she cas learn the whereabouts of a rich brother who lives in the East.” “Ah! then judging by what you say, there is not much of a show for me. If the other feller’s Jack Blakesly, who the deuce am I?” “You're N. G., in that_respect. You're left out. If you are the tona fide Jack Blakesly, you maybe have something, in the way of proof, that will establish your identity.” “Tam sorry to say that J haven’t, to my know- ledge. Ididn’t expect I should have a rival, or I should hardly have taken the pains to come East, for quarreling is not one of my accomplishments. Still opine shall have to interview this rival of mine. “Bully for you! Don’t give up such a little game, when there’s & show for winning, If you want help, and want to pay for it, I’m ready for biz—New York Nell, at your service, perfeshional deteciive, an’ ef I oa a f.case I take hold of, I don’t charge @ cent.’ “As you say, I shall not give up the little game.
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6 I care nothing for what little property may be at risk, as I am pretty well heeled, but, I don’t propose to let any usurper occury, a position that is right- fully mine. And I shall be only too glad to enlist you in my service, for you appear to have all the qualities of a thorough detective. You can do the planning and light work, and leave the fighting, if any, to me. As for the pay, you may command your own terms, as I’ve got a gold mine and a bank at my order. Perhaps you will want some money, down? Ifso, here is a hundred dollars.” “Which I will accept only to purchase such things as will aid me in my labors for you,” Nell said. ‘‘ Now, I will leave you, to allow you to think the thing over, and form an idea how it is best to go to work. But, look out for one Colonel Baxter, and a couple of villainous companions he has, He is the backer, I take it, of the usurper, and if he finds out who you are, will probably attempt to do you harm, There- fore, it is well enough to keep on your Ana “1 know this Baxter, by repute,” Jack Blakesly replied, coolly. ‘He comes from up in the mines, also, and this is not his maiden attempt at villainy. I'll take care of myself, as far as he is concerned, [ once had the pleasure of knocking him down, for insulting a girl; perhaps I shall have occasion to repeat the operation.” New York Nell after leaving the original Jack Blakesly, resorted at once to a well known costu- mer and invested a part of her money in wigs, cos- tumes and effects to match. All of these she ordered sent to her lodgings, after which she strolled into the Bowery in quest of some one. This one she found in the person of a dirty young boot-black of some fifteen years—a stout ellow, with a face like a prize-fighter, and a pair of fists to match, while in his eyes there was a bold, yet drowsy expression, the meaning of which one was liable to mistake. He was seated upon a barrel in front of a pros: gery, engaged in puffing away at a pipe, while he swore alternately with his puffs, at a gang of smaller boys, who were throwing peas at him, which ow Ep purloined from a neighboring grocer's t. He eyed New York Nell, in surprise, as she ap- proached. . ‘Hello! been a fire, Nibs? You’re fixed up like a dandy !” “So I am, to be sure " the young detective replied, gay] y. ‘* Who’s got a better right?” ‘ Danno *bout that. “Spect you've been capterin’ a bonanza, ain’t ye? Gracious, but you're fly!” ‘*Yes, and you might be, if you had any am- bition. Why don’t you brace up and have some style about you?” . ‘ How in thunder’s a feller goin’ to brace up on a pusiness of ten cents a day?” the poy demanded, sourly.”” ‘“Hain’t got but two cash shines to-day, an’ both o’ they was counterfeit nickels. All the rest on tick,”’ ‘““When you ketch old Niblo doin’ biz on tick, or gettin’ apes in on bogus, you sing the Dead March of Sal, wi you? Know what I’m going to do with you, Sam Snicker?’’ “No!” the boy replied, not manifesting much terest. ‘Well, I'll tell you: I’m goin’ to take you to work fer me, on a salary of twenty-five centsaday. Will you accept?” “What's to do?” “ Shadow—dodge—sneak—eavesdrop—in fact, doa general detective business.” “Phew! d’ye s’pose I'll do, Nibs?”’ “Of ceurse you'lldo! Til give you instructions, an’ when you comb your head once with a sharp toothed comb, I’m sure you’ll find wits enough to keep you afloat. If you don’t, I'll stir you up with the toe of my shoe,” “Allright, Dll do it!” “Then come along to my brown stone front, and I'll give you your cue to work on.” e bootblack accordingly left his perch on the barre], and followed the girl detective to her lodg- in Baxter street, where she took him into her confidence, and posted him as to bis duties. ’ She was in no wise afraid to trust him, for she had known him for years, and igh found him. trust- worthy and honest, and a fellow with a bulldog determination, CHAPTER V. AT HUDSONDALE. Upon the reat hand shore of the majestic Hudson in going op e river, was situated the magnificent estate o udsondale, of which Uncle Blakesly was the owner. Ithad a frontage along the water's edge of about one hundred rods, and from the water rolled back and upward in a beautiful slope, to a sort of bench or tableland, whereon was erected a fine modern mansion, surrounded by spacious ve- randas, vine-draped arbors, and in the rear a r . nificent garden, and carriage drives, and outbuild- ings. The great lawp in front, was civades. by a broad flagstone walk which led to the water's e, down over the numerous terraces, the left division, look- ing toward the water, being a dense park of gigan- tic maples, beneath whose outstretching branches lurked spraying fountains, croquet plateaus, swings, and arbors, to say nothing of a pretty little observa- tory that_ towered above the highest tree-tops, and commanded a view of the Hudson for miles, in either direction, and of other beautiful homes across the water. The land containing the park sloped ually from the mansion,half-way toward the water’s edge —then, by a sudden freak of nature rolled upward toward the water, terminating in a great wooded New York Nell. cliff, which broke off perpendicularly, at the water's edge. This wooded tract contained in all several acres, making a most Jovely and picturesque feature of the grounds. On the fo wpe of the avenue, there rose from the river, to the mansion, terrace kfter terrace of beds of flowers, and plan and flowering bushes. Not a small’assortment, but every known Ameri- can variety, and many foreign shrubs, plants and bushes remarkable for their beautiful blossoms, perfume, and foliage. It was now the time of the year when all of nature’s adornments were wreathed in smiles, and the view of the grounds was most enchantingly beautiful. At the foot of the lawn, a steam-and-sail yacht, of diminutive size and graceful build, rocked upon the water, at anchor, ready for use. And it was to such a home that Uncle Redmond Blakesly had brought the pseudo Jack, and Miss Vernon, and installed them. “Thar!” he said, after he had gone through the preliminaries of introducing them to Miss Prudence, a prim old maid of five and fifty, with a keen gray eye, and a sour temper—*‘ thar they ar’, Prudence— my boy, Jack, and his friend, Miss Vernon, who has come East arter her brother. An’, d’ye mind, Prudence, they’re to take their ease, an’ hev what pleasure the sittywation offers °em; an’ I'll bet a chaw of Navy, that Hudsondale beats any home they ever had, before. Take care of ‘em, Prudence. Tharll be an extra servant gal u on the evenin’ boat, ter help Sally. An’ now I’m off fer a good nap, arter which ther old man will be as lively as a flea.” And so Jack and Viola were left to entertain them- selves, in the great mansion, with its complement of many magnificently decorated rooms, furnished with every thing that the taste of a connoisseur could conceive. For in Miss Prudence there was not much enter- tainment, as she seldom spoke, except it was to sputter, find fault and scold. After making toilets in their respective rooms, the young people joined in the parlor, and took a stroll down into the park, where there was relief from the heat of the day in the cool shade. ** Well, how do you like it now?” Jack damanded triumphantly. “Is this not all and more than if boasted of—a grand home, such as any person might be proud of?”” “Tt is all very beautiful—too beautiful to seem true. But, Jack, is it yours—wil/ it be yours? I have strange fears, sometimes, after all your assurance.” ‘Bosh! You are silly. What further, assurance can you ask, after I have been openly assured a wel- come by my father?”’ ‘*)] don’t know, but—but maybe it is all_ right. It is a strange romance, anyhow, Jack. First, you were my music-teacher, and asked me to marry you. I hesitated, not because I did not like you, but be- cause I deemed you a penniless wanderer. But. one day you told me a strange story of having a grand home here, from which you had n alienated for many years, and could not return -ause~you had not money to establish a recognition., You besought me to loan you a part of my fortune to help you regain your position, promising to wed and make me your wife, ““Dazzled by your description, I was Somat oes and finally consented, and eloped with you from my home and 4 poor loving brother, who even now may be blindly searching for me. You have brought me here, Jack, and I kave found all a ntly as you held forth, But there is still one t puzzles me: What became of the sum of three thousand dollars I have from time to time loaned you out of *~ fortune?’ ack was silent for a few moments, his features working nervously, and his eyes gleaming strange- ly. : “Well, I will tell you. Years ago I stole a dia- mond-set gold locket, which for ages had been an heirloom in my father’s family, and pawned it for drink. I was wild in are days, and ungovernable. ‘or that theft my fathef kicked me from his house and told me I never thereafter could be his son and heir until I returned the locket to him. The tavern- keeper had cleared out for parts unknown, and noth- ing was left for me but to go out into the world and search for it. For eight yearsI spent my earnings in putting detectives on the trail. But to no - pose. No trace of it could I find, until one day, while yet your music-teacher, Iread a description of a curious locket possessed by an Indian in Colora- do. I got on of some of your means, as you know, and set a detective on the track once more. The Indian was found, and had just sold the locket to a French trader, en route for Europe. “Resolved not to give up hope, I dispatched the detective to Europe, in pursuit, and just before we started for the East, I received a tel m that the locket had been found. I wrote my father, and ex- plained, and asked if I could come home, on the strength of it. He a on in the affirmative and wecame on. Ileft my matters in charge of my old friend, Colonel Baxter, and he met me in Philadelphia and told me that he had received a telegram from Morgan, my detective, to the effect that the Frenchman was in possession of the locket aed would not part with it, short of five thousand ollars.”” _Miss Vernon put up her hands, wlth a horrified little gasp. “The outrageous monster. He ought to be gib- beted. So you cannot obtain your rightful position? Oh! Jack! you were very cruel ever to entrap me pens means, this way. I shall never forgive oul” And she dropped into one of the rustic settees a were about passing, and burst into a passion of ars. Jack bent over her with apparent tenderness. “Tut! tut! don’t cry, Viola,” hesaid. ‘‘ I have not et despaired, and while Ihave hope you ought to ave. Perhaps whenI explain matters, father will relent, and oe me the money to redeem the ac- cursed heirloom.” “Oh! then let me goto him. Iam sureI could prevail on him, if any one could. Iwill go at once!” srsshite peak bia tove widilenin prdeiie iedinty bale e sea ace sudde: ro eat. e, “Not for the world sats f have you Pioneers with so much as a word, in this matter. You do not know my father. His opinion of women, viewed at a respectful distance, is grand. . But he will not lis- ten to advice or entreaties from one. If you were to let fall a word, to give him an idea that you were interested in my welfare, he would pronounce me a fool with a woman tied to my apron-strings, and my ie“ of a place in his esteem would be lost for- ore... this respect he is unreasonable—unmov- able. * How terrible. I took him for such a good, genial old soul,” “Because you knew him only as he is when everything goes smoothly. Even I dread to ap- ch him with the plea, for fear he will show me he door as he did eight years ago. Vio 78 have the amount, have you not?—only think o t; just five thousand to place us the eventual heirs to rig: grand estate, and a half-million bank ac- count.” ** Jack! can you ask this? Itis all I have leftin the world, out of the little fortune I had a week 0. **No! Iwill not ask it. I will suffer myself to ex- plain to father, and stand the consequences.. If I win, I am lucky. IfI fail, I must go out into the world a penniless man, and try and earn the sum.”’ “You shall not! I will yield, and you shall send for the locket. But, stop, Jack. Listen? If it should ever come out that you have been swindling,me, God have mercy upon you, for ven ce shall be mine, and merey for you I shall not know. Come. We will go to the mansion and you shall have the money.’ That evening Jack Blakesly, the impostor, took the boat for New York, with five thousand dollars in his pocket, promising to return from New York by the morning boat. ‘*Going to meet a couple of Ceingaiahed college professors, you see, who are about sail for Eu- rope, you see,’’ he explained, to satisfy Uncle Blakes- ly’s panostty « And the old man _— him on the shoulder good- naturedly, bidding podepeed. “Take keer 0’ yerself, boy, an’ look ye don’t git peeled. It’s a great place fer greenhorns to git roped in, I tell ye. Cum back when you git thr’u’ wi’ your perfessors; an’ in the meantime yer old dad will spark around ther gal, just fer to see if sparkin’ seems as nice as it did fifty years ago. Ha! ha!” And after the old servant had rowed Jack out a-stream, to meet the down boat for New York, the old farmer turned back toward the long veranda in front of the mansion, where Viola was standing watching the departure with an eager, wistful, hail- seared expression in her eyes. ‘Sech a boy fer_book-l’arnin’, eddication, and re- ment is that Jack,” he said, his jolly old face beaming with pleasure. “At first he didn’t seem like as ef he was my son, but by golly, I like him, the more I see him.’ “Oh! Tam so glad,” Viola said. ‘I am sure we both love zou dearly.” **Oho! then you an’ Jack ar’ a leetle thick, eh?” the old man queried, quizzingly. ‘’Spect you'll be hitchin’ up in double harness, one o’ these days, eh?’” ‘Oh! no, air. We have never thought of such a thing even. Your son has always seemed to me more of a brother than a—a lover.” “Then, by thunder, I reckon I'll court ye up a lit- tle myself, when I get the time,” Uncle Blakesly laughed, as he limped away. Jack Blakes! , the 8, went to New York, ar- riving there in the early wilight, and found Baxter in his room at the Union Place, engaged in getting outside of several varieties of wine and cigars. ‘¢ bee quest — in poe ne te a mood, but owed graciously, an orw an arm-chair with his foot. “ “Sit down,” he said, lighti — and some good wine. b ere here ?”’ Poe me Sgn g up ae sgais story, aeoned: your plans, and succe etti Sr skal , . Giveittome. I know just where to it to good advantage,” : oom “So do I,” the younger man said, throwing a roll of bills upon the table. ‘There is half of the amount. e other half I’ll take the liberty of using as a lining for my own pockets,” “What! how do you mean? Iam to have all the profits of the business, the first year, for my ser. vices.” “Oh! no, You've got a wrong idea. I've played my part about long enough for nothing, and either I have a big share of the spoils, or you can find an- other Jack Blakesly.”’ ical tats in wii tie bias thing fa cee eee cesly estate it wi a fat thi or our 3 a ws pg —— m6 Srent ite” — “T thin e trusts implicitly in me, in ho t will get the property and marry her.” oi - . ‘*Humph! she'll rave, if there should be a col- lapse. How goes it with the old man?” ‘Outwardly all is serene. But, I trow, he ig a cigar. ‘‘ Here are elp yourself. What
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ath watching with the eyes of a hawk, for something to confirm his suspicion that I am not genuine. If nothing arises to further arouse this suspicion, all promises to work well. But, there is one thing im- perative.” * What is that?”’ ‘The other Jack Blakesly must be put, out of the way, before he has a chance to do any harm, Were the old man to hear a word that there was another erson Genethe position, my chances would be snocked in the head.”’ “T. am as well aware of that as you are, and have been finishing my third bottle of wine in endeavor- ing to arrange a satisfactory plan for his disposal. I think I have hit upon one.’ *“Good! Let’s hear it.’’ “Tt is this. Blakesly, Jr., has been taking the girl detective into his confidence, and she, by some means unknown to me, has gained a pretty correct idea of our business., Of course, she has told him about our little games, and he will shortly go up to Hudsondale to investigate, Ihave a to antici- ate him, To-morrow he will be waited on by Sharky, in disguise, who will represent himself as an attache of Hudsondale, bearing a letter to Blakes- ly. Sit.closer to the table, and take ink and pen and indite what I shall direct you on the shee’ of _—— lying there, for your nerve and dd are a lamed sight calmer than mine.” ; Jack took the required stand, “Date the letter, and head it at Hudsondale,”’ Baxter said, ‘‘slinging a broad style of chirography. Then write as follows: **My Dear Son: Through accident I learned of your presence in New York, and hasten to send you my trusty hand, to fetch you home in my little steamer. Do not fail to come, for there’s a grave matter, here at Hudsondale, to be settled. Another young man has come to me claiming to be my son. ) I wish to decide on one, an boot the other out. Dgn’t fail to come, as I am con- fident you are my s: and the other an impostor. ‘vYour father, ‘** REDMOND BLAKESLY, “*Of Hudsondale.’ “That will do,” Baxter concluded. ‘Young Blakesly will be the recipient of the letter, to-mor- row. He can have no doubts as to its originality and will accompany Sharky. A little steamer, i ,ave chartered, will convey them up the river, after lark, and my two tools—you know who—will sur- prise the heir in his cabin, and after binding and weighting him, will throw him into the river, so that beh yon moe pere an mare rouble | ie seh of ** A capital plan,” Jack agreed, a of re- lief—* that is, if it works.” “It will and must work. After that I have an- other plan, a hundred times more diabolical. Bui, { will not unfold it now, It is best to work only one trap at.a time.” Jack returned to Hudsondale—that = the coun- perfeit Jack did. The genuine Jack remained at the Dnion Place, and waited for New York Nell to put ih another appearance, whereat they could hold a zonsultation. During the course of the day, he was approached by a seedy-looking individual, with red hair and atubbly beard, who doffed his hat, and bowed, hum- ‘Sur, tha be afther tellin’ me e+ tha office, there, fot you be tha lad by the name of Carson, sur,” he said, in an unmistakable Irish brogue. “Tt am Jack Carson, yes,” was the long-haired Westerner’s reply. “Who are you?” “Sure, me name it is Andy, sur, an’ I’m tha hired mon, up at Hudsondale, fot does the work. An’ tha old boss he was afther sendin’ me down here to New Yorick, to tha Union Pallus Howtel to give a letther to a gintlemon by the name of Jack on, an’ wait for an answer.’ ‘* Well, give me the letter, for I am undoubtedly che man you seek.” A ngly the Hibernian produced the letter, which was addressed to ‘‘ Jack Carson Blakesly.” “T wonder what now?” were Jack’s thoughts, as he tore open the envel But, when he perused the inclosure, his countenance was the scene of ay Senne emotions, a here, ‘ou Limerick,” he said, turniag to the Irishman. id you get this from old Redmond Blakesly himseif? shure an’ I did. Who would be afther givin’ it to me but tha boss?” “T don’t know. Maybe it is all. right. How far is it to Hudsondale by water?” “A bit of a ways, sur—twinty or tin miles, I Say it is,” Jack replied, dryly. ‘Have you @ conv ce?” “A bit of a stame’ as I or mee nage 2 a daisy. “Very wi ell me w ou return, and I will be on hand.” v7) Beopone. to “The stamer lies at Pier, No,—, Hudson river, yer honor, and will lave at eight, this avenin’,” 3 Why do you pull out, so late?” ** Because I have business to attend for tha mas- ther.” : ery well. Go attend to it, and look for me at the time and place.” The Priehtoan bowed, and took his leave, while Jack lit a fresh cigar, and pondered. “‘How I will bounce out the usurper, there! It will do me , and secure me favor with my dad. He muscle, as well as brains. I wonder why the girl-boy don’t come arou must be I’ve taken a fancy to her, for my thoughts when I get wander to her, most of the time.” New York Nell. But Nell did not put in an appearance, and nighs ad «Oe Be-grsy his bag; : left at the hotel, an ave age at the ho Jack took a cab, and in due ie was landed at the pier where awaited the Hudsondale boat. _Andy was just getting steam up, and yet found time to doff his hat, respectfully. “Ah! the top. of tha avenin to yez,” he said. “If you'll be afther goin’ into tha cabin, below deck, you'll find a snug place, sure—an’ I'll have stame up an’ tha vissel movin’ direct, sur.” “Thank you. I Es to remain on deck and catch the breeze,’’ Jack replied, and he accordingly seated himself by the lee rail, and lit a cigar for a quiet smoke. yan aesen of danger or unfair play had quite vanished from his mind, as there were only two per- sons besides himself, about the boat, being the Irish- man, who was firing up, and a rough, black-whisker- ed looking fellow in the pilot box. In due time the steam was up, amd on, and the propellers began to vibrate, while the Sarah Jane, as the boat was named, glided out into the harbor, looking up-stream. Jack enjoyed the departing view of the city, as <i f steamed away at a rapid rate, and settled him self comfortably into his seat for a snooze. How long he snoozed hee was not aware, for when he awoke, startled by some strange dream Bae, Ser Cara were enveloped in the mantle o e boat was still moving swiftly through the water, up-stream, and the picturesque shores were only dig y visible, as they drifted by. ** Well, young man, I see you have had your nap,” a vdice said, near by, and Jack saw a man attired as a police officer, standing only a few paces away. mpressed with a sense of impending danger, he now became thoroughly awakened, and discovered, for the first that his hands were locked in handcuffs. “Yes, Iam awake, and fail to understand why it is that my hands are in limbo,” Jack replied, with flashing eyes. ‘““That is an easy question. [havea warrant from Albany, for the arrest of a fellow of your a3 A tion, for horse theft,” the policeman replied. ‘At least that is the sony TI should have told you, to have secured your arrest, had I not found you asleep. Now, all I have to say is that you have been. trapped by tools paid by your enemies, and in the eourse of a few minutes, will journey off into a new world where there is a law permitting immigration, but forbidding emigration.’ ‘What! have I been tricked—duped?”’ ‘Roped in, as sure as you are a sinner, My name is Fisk, and my companion’s name is Skerky. We are, professionally, border ruffians, but are a little out of our sphere just now, because it pays. A party wanted your lease of life to expire, an’ we tik the job of furnishin’ the desired effect, sine die.” “Villain! Release my wrists. You are fooli with the wrong man, this time. Free me, or I wi call for assistance, and have a quick revenge on you.” “Bah! call if you like, for only the waters will catch your vain appeal. The river is deserted—the paciinr | at ie t are gy Be apart — too 8 se or you ever se any one hear. Titan, harky |” The Irishman advanced, a triumphant grin distort- ing his features, Sure it was tha divil’s own trick I played on you so nicely,” he said.“ Troth, I am a little ashamed of naa f to take an advantage of sich a purthy poung feller, but, sorry is the conscience fot.won’t appé by its weight in grane-backs. Eh? Bertin,” the other replied. ‘‘ Money is the root of all evil, an’ the one who captures the most of the root, is decidedly the best feller.” = do you intend doing?” Jack demanded, fag mY ," You surely do not contemplate murder- me ‘ Oh! no; not exactly what one would call mur- der. You see, the world has long been in need of more sub-marine explorers, who could bring about a revelation in regard to the bottoms of oceans, lakes, and rivers, and I being. rather a scientist, proposed to fill the want. That’s all. Believing you might unreasonably object, I caused your hands and feet to be pees and your body weighted so as to keep ou down long enough to do some good. When you ave succeeded in preking Say discoveries worthy of mention, all you'll have to do will be to get some mermaid to release you.” “You devil! {f I could gt free, I'd break your skull with the first thing I could lay my hands upon,’ “But Pt see you can’t get free, so you may as well make the best of a bad situation. You have ust five minutes to devote to piety, before you pass your checks, and so you may as well get down to business!” ; Jack did not reply. He saw that cogent he could say had no effect upon the ruffians in whose hands he had so easily fallen, and he resolved to give them no satisfaction over his weakness. Sharky’s companion took out his watch and. stood ype, the light from the pilot house reflected upon al. “The five minutes is up!” he said, presently, clos- ing the watch and restoring it to his pocket. Then, come along, an’ let’s get through with the job. Got any li’ker? harky assented, and produced a bottle, from which they both drank, deeply. Then they a proached Jack Blakesly and raised him in the’ arms, he powerless to help himself, and too brave to evince any horror he may have felt at his situation “Take him to the stern of the boat,’’ Sharky said, and they did so. Then bracing themselves, they swung the body to and fro between them, once, twice, three timcs — ; ‘‘Srop!"?_a sharp, stern voice cried, “‘or you are dead men :”’ They did stop, and droppes Jack to the deck; then faced quickly around, with frightful oaths, About a half-score of feet away, stood New Yer: Nell, with a pair of cocked Smith and Wesson’s ‘2 her gripe, the muzzles of which were turned men’ - ingly upon the would-be criminals, a smile of trium_ 1 upon the girl’s face. ‘You are euchered!” she said, quietly. CHAPTER VI. THE GAME BALKED, Tse light from the reflector in the pilot-houce —_ down upon the tableau, giving it power ané ect. “The devil! who are you?’’ Sharky , turn- ing pe? and red at the same time. expe d’ye mean?” ‘IT mean that you just cheese it, where you are, or I'll bore a tunnel through your system quicker ti an eyster ever slip own a huckster’s gullet My handle is Nell Niblo—New York Nell, the g’hak detective, fer short.” ‘Furies! how did you come here?” “On the boat. Take care! don’t try to pull no weapons, if you don’t want to have your throttle forever closed. 1l’m just the gal to do the biz, if you don’t obey orders. Yes, I cum up on the boat. Overheard a little conversation that led me to believe my perfeshional services might not come amiss, so I slyly stowed myself away in the hold. You, Sharky, just be kind enough to free Mr. Jack. Blakesly of those little incumbrances he wears.” The ruffian hesitated. * Go on!’ Nell ordered, sharply; ‘‘ just so sure as you refuse, I'l) let daylight through you.” Sharky saw that his best and only hope was obe- dience, and he accaneey knelt beside Jack, and released his feet and hands so that he could rise. **That’s the kind,” Nell said, Seer. ey like to see rough cusses like you knuckle under, I do. Jack, while you give them each a good kick, apiece. Tl keep ’em covered.” ‘*Thave a better idea than that,” Jack assure. ‘‘Meke ‘em jump into the river. If they’ve got rit and strength enough to swim ashore, all right f not, let °em sink.” ‘*But hadn’t we better take °em down to Ne. York, and give them a trial for attempted murder?” Nell suggested. “No, Let them go on the terms I have said. The next time they cross my track I'll shoot them on the spot, sure!’’ i “Then that settles it. Take a bounce, young men,” the little detective said. ‘“‘ Start off at a regu- lar go as you please gait, six laps to the mile, and walk overboard.” “But, stop! stop! I cannot swim a stroke! f abe. drown—I cannot swim a stroke,’’ Sharky pro-~ tested. *‘ But I can,’ his companion answered, ‘‘ and since we've lost the game, I’m goin’ to take the chance that’s offered, you bet. So come along and I'll try and help you ashore.” The next minute the two men had jumped over- board, and then struck for the eastern shore, Shar- ky’s companion,'Fisk, floating upon his back, and causing gharky to do so, also. “‘ Now then, we'll pull for New York,” Nell said, accepting Jack’s proffered hand. “It was lucky L happe to overhear the plot between Baxter and. your double, or your pie would have been fish-chow- der. You’d’a’ n takin’ submarine observations, as Sharky said.” hi Toe can hope to find enoug = for your unselfish undred years. But little bank — to pi way of reward. tS : “Bah! get out! Money is something I rarely load my hands with. I guess I wasn’t never intended for a benien-at least, I have never been much of 2% eashier. I'll take your gratitude, but not yow money. Shall we go back to town?’ “Yes. I'll postpone my visit to Hudsondale a fey hours at least. I think I'll go up and take a look aw the situation later.” Nell went forward, and examined the engine or the boat, and found every thing in wo order She then stationed Jack there, with proper instruc- tions how to keep the fires a-going, while she went to the pilot-box, and once more headed the boat for New York, which was made early in the morning. Jack went at once to the Union Place Hotel for breakfast, inviting New York Nell to accompany him, but she declined, and sought her own home in- stead, It chanced that Jack was_assigned a seat at table f opposite Colonel Fleming Baxter, whose scowling face manifested the surprise he f heir of rag ale alive and apparently in the best of health. “You are quickly returned from your visit I see, Mr. Carson,’’ the landlord hailed from another table. “ Didn’t you find the folks at home?” **Oh, yes, and well as usual. Such a welcome, too, would have brought tears to the eyes of an an- chorite. But a telegram in the shape of a persons! ne lured me again back to town for a fe:; avs.” Ip no woré ar way did Jack betray that any thing so, om hae Miss Nellie, and I never 2 enn with which to pay eroism, were I to live a titude fa’ , L have a at your d i in the elt at seeing the ¢™
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“a pass at Blakesly’s head, that must 8 had happened to him through the agency of Bax- ter’s tovls, which quite nonplused that party, and he masticated his food in savage silence. As soon as the meal was over, he followed Blakes- ly into the lounging-room, where the long-haired Westerner had gone to smoke a cigar. “Excuse me, sir,” Baxter said, drawing a chair near, and seating himself, “It appears to me that T have somewhere encountered such a face as yours in my travels?” he said, in uiringly. “And yet I cannot recall thé time and place.’ “How very singular,” Jack retorted, Coe ““Why, Flem Baxter, that game won't work at all. It wasn’t more than six months ago that I had the pleasure of knocking you down, up in Leadville country, for insulting a lady on the street. Should- n’t be surprised if I indulged in an experiment of a similar nature again soon, I feel some that way.” “What, sir? Do you mean to intimate that you ever xapoked me down—I, Colonel Baxter, gentle- man?” “Wal, yes,” Jack replied, coolly. ‘Oh! you needn’t play off, colonel, for it won't wash! I'm your enemy and you're mine. It’é as broad as it is long, and I'll tell you right here that the first time I cate 73 out where policemen are not thicker than fliés, shall give you such a drubbing as you never had before. I've also got a job on boot your pal out of my rightful position as heir at Hudsondale, too, I’m on the war-path now; so look out for music.” Baxter grated his teeth fiercely. “We'll see about that,” he growled. ‘“ You'll find I am more powerful than you think, at present. You had better go back West, while you have opportunity, or you will never get there. Listen! you seem to understand ~~ game, and there is no use of denying anything. I'll tell you frankly that I have set about to win the little game, and I’m going to do it, if it takes a century of time and persever- ance, and a bank of money. Once I set about ac- complishing a project, I never say die, until suf- ficient blood has been spilled to float my boat to a safe haven of refuge.” “T presume so. If I were you, I'd build a vault to store the hogsheads of gore in,” Jack replied, sar- castically. ‘‘Of course you must know I am not nfraid of you, Flem Baxter. From early youth I have grown up in a country where men of your type ore regarded as harmless, I have dealt with more dangerous devils than two of you, and always come out victorious. It is no matter of doubt to me that you will fail in your project of beating me out of my ‘ht and title—I am certain of it, if suecess crowns el your efforts in the same way it did, last night.” “What do you mean’ I am at a loss to under- stand you?” “What a pity! I simply referred to a little plot that lured me on a trip up the Hudson, Perhaps you are entirely ignorant concerning the matter?’ “Tn truthI am. But, to talk business: Will you quit the field, or not?” ‘ * Decidedly not,” Jack replied, with great calm- ness. “ That isn’t the kind of a clothes-pin I am. la fact I rather enjoy a scrimmage and propose to see this thing through until you get a four by seven roost in Sing-Sing. That’s my game, Flem, and you needn’t go back on me.”’ “Then you shall die. Do you hear? You shall Cie, or be put at least, where you cannot interfere. ‘If you will return West, keep mum, and leave the coast clear for us, I will keep harm from coming ‘to you, and give you ten thousand dollars. Refuse, cn — get the knife.” “Very well. I'lltake the knife. [ip sure and select a se one, however. A bad knife is more d cable a low cur of a ruffian, like yourself,” Jack said, rising to leave. , Baxter sprung to his feet, with an oath, raising his cane, threateningly. : “ w your words, you aceursed whelp, or I'll break your head, for your insolence!” he cried. “Ha! ha! no! I never chaw anything but my victuals, colonel. Take care; hit if you think best.” The colonel did think best evidently, for he made ve felled him, Shad he nct warded off the blow. The next instant the miner’s hard, knotty fist took the colonel in the region of the mouth, with «tunning effect, and the recipient went back to the floor with a crash that made the floor tremble, With a snarl of rage Baxter regained his feet, and gain rushed at his opponent, this time receive a 1fow that not only knocked him down, ®t caused lim to remain there in an insensible condition. While Jack sauntered coolly away into the bar- room, adjoining, whistling. “Tsay, Cap, you'll find one of your guests lying on »s Sayan in the next room,” he said, indifferently, “He Sed eevee too fresh—attempted to’ ’sault me, you know—and so I pickled him. Please impress upon his mind, when you take him to his room, that T shall be in New York until to-morrow, and that if cesirable to him, dueling pistols are on sale, a fow blocks below.”’ Then the man from the West, sauntered away, as if nothing had happened, leaving the clerk staring in -mouthed amazement. ter was carried to his room, and restored to consciousness, and was given the ossage that had been left for him. He swore fearfully, and sent for Barker, one of ae or, rather, one of his tools. e was a dark, fierce-looking ruffian, with a brigandish black mustache, and a look about his eyes that was not pleasant to study, it was so sug- and, to go up and gestive of ferocity. Baxter at once explained how he had been hendled by Blakesly, and was su lin making the par- ration crmmhatic by the nse of mary caths. eee aE aan eee ae New York Nell. * And now the young cuss has even had the cheek to challenge me!” he said, furiously. ‘Waal, ye hadn’t orter growl at that,” Barker ~ ot gives ye a chance ter meet him, and git even, ‘*Fool! idiot! do you suppose I want to throw my life away? The fellow is a dead shot. Up in the Leadville country he has such a repute in that line that men fear him. No, sir, I'll not meet him. You must go ih my place,” It was now Barker’s turn to swear. “You're cheeky,” he growled. “As if I am a puppet to shield ‘your carcass. I rather presume not, Mr. Baxter,” “Bah! you are as good a shot as he, and could win. Even if you didn’t it wouldn’t matter much. There's few would mourn your loss, I can tell you.” “As many for my side as yours, Besides I’ve no desire to pass in my checks yet.” “Well, then, let the whelp go, and I’ll hire him silenced. I guess he eluded Sharky and the other ‘un, See if there’s any one listening outside.” Barker obeyed, but the hallway was deserted. , “The coast is clear,” he reported. “Go ahead.” “All right. I'll tell you how I’m going to get the nippers on old Blakesly, so that he can’t say his soul’s his own. There's an old hag living in a tene- ment on Baxter street, by the name of Snicker, She used to be an old flame of mine, when she was young, but married a worthless coot, and is now an avaricious thmg, none too scrupulous as to how she ets her cash, it having been hinted that men had Beet known to have died suddenly through her agency. NowlI think a few dollars will hire her to do just what I want.” 2 * And what is that?” *T will tell you. Years ago, Redmond Blakesly drove his wife from his house because he suspected that she was unfaithful to him. Brom all I can learn, he has never heard a word from her since. Now I propose to send Suse Snicker to stir him up. She shall arrange for a meeting on the bluff by the river in the evening. She shall provoke and exas- perate him, and I can easily foresee the result. He will attempt to strike her, and she will back off the cliff into the Hudson, and disappear from view—un- til she can get ashore unobserved. About the same instant you and I will appear u the scene, you being made up as a policeman, and we'll the old man for murder! Ha! ha! what think you of the plot?” “Tt is most diabolical, and yet, promises to be successful, if you can arrange to your satisfaction with the old gal,” replied Barker. “Which Iam certainI can do, by flattering the old fool. You see, after we catch Blakesly in the act, it will be all in ate to do asI will with e himn. The price of his will be his obedience to my demands. Ifancy that rather than go her mb. ga lows, he will be as meek and tame as a owever, he is pene gs direct to the scaffold he goes, and dances on nothing. After that I and Jack can carry things our own way.” Barker looked grim. ** Waal, I hope ye’ll do_suthin’, purty lively, any- how,” he declared, “ fer I’m_gittin’ hungry fer ther little scrip ye owe me, an’ Fisk and Sharky ar’ in about the same fix. Bizness is bizness, and after ye git yer paws on Blakesly’s money, either you've got to w ack up our salary, or down goes your ten- pins. “Of course. You shall have your money in full. Now, I must pay this Sue Snicker a visit, and see what I can do, with her. You hang around here eta chance to hit Jack Blakesly ha’ and if you : and su hout any one’s seeing you, be sure and do it, so it will set‘ le ie Baxter soon after left the hotel, and made his way to Baxter street, in which thoroughfare Mrs. Susan Snicker was known to reside, in a single room in the top story of a dilapidated tenement. The house was a poor-looki air, to say the least, but a fit representative of the general of tenants who made it an abiding place. Up the rickety stairs to the fourth story, he went — — found the door of Mrs. Snicker’s room, and nocked. “Come in, ef ye’ve got bizness—if ye hain't, sta: out,” a shrill voice cried: A r Baxter entered, and found himself in an apartment smelling strongly of tobacco and whisky, and notable for the scarcity of its furniture, asingle chair, table, bed on the floor, and cook-stove, all of the poorest description, comprising its outfit. A woman was crouching in the chair, before the stove, as if cold. She was meanly clad, her head and the greater portion of her face being enveloped in a white broad-edged cap, which made her. pretty effectually unrecognizable, taking into consideration that her eyes were also hidden behind green gog- gies. She looked up with a nod, as Baxter entered, and stamped upon the floor with her cane, as she said: ‘Be seated, Flem Baxter, fer I see itis you!” was her invitation. “What will I sit on,’ the colonel demanded, look- ing in horror at the dusty floor. ‘I see no hat am I to sit on.” “The floor, to be sure. If it ain't too good for my boy, Sam, et aint too good for you.” ‘I prefer to stand. I came to see if you are get- ting along nicely, Suse?” “No!” she said, spitefully, without looking up. “I do not get along nicely. The world tricks and cheats me. Money is scarce. Oh! these 're sorry times for the poor.” * But, Suse, they tell me you have money in the bank and out at interest—fifty thousand or over,” “They lie! they lie! I have not gotacent. Iam poor—penniless,” she said, fir reely. “Ah! too bad; I pity you. If you had married me, Suse, you would now be occupying a position of affluence. But, there is a chance for you yet. If you are willing to do a little work, and not be scru- uous as to its nature, I have the place for you at a. re of one hundred dollars.” ** One hundred dollars, Flem Baxter?” r “One hundred dollars, Suse—all in good clesn stop—perhaps you mean murder! I wouldn't do that, Flem Baxter—at least, not for a hundred dollars.” “This is not murder I would have you do,” the colonel said. ‘“ Listen, and I'll tell you.” The woman nodded her readiness to hear, ana the colonel goagng A told her what she would have todo. It was, in detail what he had told to Barker, a short time before. Sue was silent as Baxter ex- plained, and when he had finished, she said: “And you'll give me a hundred dollars to do this?” *“Yes—more. A hundred now—fifty more when the job is done. But, do you mind, you must not ap- pear where you can berecognized again.” ‘Oh! I understand, Leave that to me. I'll do the job up brown for you, Flem, for sake of old days, and no one will ever be the wiser for it,’ Mrs. Snicker said with a chuckle, as she gathered up the bfls which he laid in her lap. Baxter then took his departure. ““So far, so good,” he muttered, as he gained the street. ‘‘ That is settled, and another surety of ulti- mate success. The next thing is to arrange somo plan to still the original Jack and his champion, the girl detective. He must be collapsed, but fio harm must come to her until I find where she has stored Eva.” To pet rid of Blakesly Jr., however, was no small job; he realized this, and knew he must devise some certain plan. CHAPTER VII. VIOLA PURSUES INQUIRIES—JACK, THE BOGUS, EXIT, A Few hours later, at night, after his visit to Mrs. Snicker, Baxter entered Chatham street, with its rows of edifices used for every known business purpose, perhaps, under the sun. Finally arriving at one of the dingiest struc- tures of a dingy block, he made his way up- stairs to the second flight, and rapped upon the first @or to the right, from the landing. Above the door a lantern swung upon a bracket, upon the panes of which was ribed: “Bos Siues; JacK oF ALL TRADES,” which very significantly indicated that the aforesaid ‘* Slugs” was not particular as to the nature of his business so long as the labor was rewarded by an equivalent in cash. The door was soon-opened by a low-browed, villainous-looking little old man, with white hair, musvache, and sbaggy eyebrows that et A covered the expression.of a smalt d-like pair of eyes. He was’ shabbily dressed, the only redeeming feature of his attire consisting of a magnificent cable chain 6f gold set. with diamond ornaments, which he wore aah good Slugs—do you kn $ -evening, Slu ou know a chap of my persuasions?” Baxter aked, as he entered an office even dingier than thé’ externa! appearance of the house... 1) soromones ‘It depends how remunerative the nature of our visit. may be,” Slu replied, dryly. ‘If there is money ahead, [, recognize you as Baxter—if not, I never saw you before.” ** You miserable old shyster!” the colone} ei, Mee wanna een grow more miserly, with age. D ave no money, and yet want a job po ae BS I serve out an’ appren- ticeship under you, and can’t you ‘afford to tip me a helper?” “No,” Slugs answered, flatly, as be dropped into°a chair, and lit an old ‘clay pipe, the stem of which had been worn or broken off until none of it, to speak of, remained. ‘‘I do business. on a cash basis, now. If you want any thing in my line, pay for it. I turned .you loiien. well enough educated in the ways that are dark, so that you might make your mark in the world, and _ you can beg no more of me.” tg “Nor do I wish to, Slugs. I’ve got money gpeube $0 back my.craft through rough water. What I want, is to hire a trusty band to put a girl out of the way.” _ Ah! that’s geod I have reduced ~s price- list r suit the sane: wee nine Lg. ‘ - ‘oung sni a ,wW ngs up in pants, and se Danaea, Cons herselt : York Neil.® ‘**Oh! but you don’t. mean her T do, though.” tow ‘*You’re a fool. There isn’t a sport in N, Y. who does not know ‘her b sigh ‘or hearsay, and respect her. And_ there’s mighty few you'll find, who’d take a turn against her.” ‘Then you refuse?” ** Posi a! “Then Tl bid you good-evening, and look elsewhere. The girl must stop breathing. surely.”
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New York Neil. 9 “Take my advice, Baxter, and let her alone, or shell turn a trump on you,” was the older villain’s advice. In the meantime, things at Hudsondale were progressing after their usual tencr. The new heir and Miss Vernon had become fully established in the grand mansion, et their ease, and Uncle Redmond moved about the remises with a jolly, satisfied expression upon 1is genial old phiz: . “And. to think,” he would say to Miss Pru- dence, with a visible shaking of his portly sides, with hearty laughter, ‘‘ that I she’d hev ever ’a’ doubted Jack’s bein’ my own son! Why, I tell ye, Prue, there’s the makin’ o’ a president in the “oy.” “Phe president of. a -penetentiary,” Miss Blakesly snapped. “Mark my word, Redmond, you're deeeived. And worse than all, you’re ictting, mixed up with that unknown adven- turess, Miss Vernon.” ‘“Pshaw! fiddlesticks!. you’re crazy, Prue. But s’posin’ I should take a notion ter pop ter ther little woman, Prux—how would it suit? She is good and kind, and would make Hudson- dale a good mistress.” “When a new mistress comes let her go into the kitchen and do the housework, then—Vll move!” Prudence retorted, sailing away in high dudgeon. While ncle Redmond quietly laughed and hunted up Miss Vernon in a rustic arbor over- looking the sunlit river. Jack was not with her. Indeed, since his rethrn from New York, he searcely found time more than passing! speak with her, ing a food share of his hours in solitary rambles about the pf mises, or rides upon the river. ~ If Viola cared, she did not betray the fact. Indeed, she found it pleasant to entertain good- natured, honest Uncle Redmond, not uncon- scious of a growing admiration of his sterling qualities. And as for the old master of Hudsondale, he felt youthful and fascinated in the presence of the pretty Southern girl, seeing in her much to admire and something to love—herself—with all his hearty nature. The upshot of the matter was a blunt but fervid explanation, and an earnest pro on Uncle Redmond’s part, all of whic iss Ver- non received with a sober countenance, but kindling expression of pleasure in her eyes, “To be sure,” Uncle Redmond continued, ‘ mebbe it ain’t hardly fair to. afore the boy, but he’s young, an’ orter smart enuff wi’ all his college eddication ter get ahead o’ his old dad.” ‘Your son cares nothing for me, I believe, and really, I am not sorry,” Viola replied. “The more I see of and understand him, the less I admire him,” ' “You don’t say! Waal, mebbe that’s so. But he’s my son, an’ somehow growin’ mighty proud 0’ his book larnin’ an’ knowledge of the bsz arts.” ~ “Then, Mr. Blakesly, do you candidly believe that he is your own son?” “Wh es—don’t you?” “No ao nat The declaration wrought a change. Uncle Redmond sprung to his feet, and pacep about the little arbor in great su rise. “Tell me the reason,” he finally, said, resum- ing his seat beside her, ‘‘ Tell me why you do not believe that the boy, Jack, is my own Iam A saeer to know.” ill first ask you, why it was that your son left you, years ago?’ Miss Vernon said, with unusual caleness, for a woman of her nervous temperament. “ That is easily explained. My boy was ofa wild, rollicksome disposition, and could only be kept in the school.room xt his studies, and not at work on the farm, He longed for the rov- ing life of hunting and jockeying, too, and see- ing no p tof ever taming him, I started him for the West, some eight years ago, with a hundred dollars in his pocket, and a friendly lift with the toe of my boot. Of course we parted friends, and my rg Bey not to come back until either he had a vast store of educati or an equivalent in precious gold. That’s the last I heard of him, until he tele- graphed me he was coming home.” “Phen there is no truth in his story to me of his stealing'a charm of you—a golden locket— which he hes to return to you, intact, ere you will admit him asa member of your family?’ Viola demanded with flashing eyes. “Waal, no—not thet I know of. Tell me | what you mean” the old man said. “S She accordingly did unfold t> Lim the whole story the false heir bad told her, as a magnet to draw away the last of her mency. Uncle Redmond listened, with genuine’ in- predaliny and amazement, to the strange re- cital. “Well! well! well!” he ejaculated when she had finished. ‘‘If tuis cou’t beat my time all holler, may I be sent down tew Sing Sing, fer life. Either you’re a plaguey big liar, gal, or else that boy is an infernal rascal—that’s all.” “You don’t believe me then?’ ‘“* Yes; gal.. It *pears to me as how you’ve been roped in by the chap, a lettle wuss’n L Lutnever mind that. I'll wake that all square, when you consent to be Mrs. Redmond Blakes- L459 A Oh! you are too kind. But—” “No demurs, at all. Ther old man’s tuk a shine ter ye, fer earnest, an’ yer little misfor- tune draws you all the closer to my sympathies, Mebbe ye can stand the old man’s society a few years, and help him fight out of this strange battle—then there'll be a grave down in the park on the bluff, leavin’ a fair widder at Hud- sondale for my boy, should he ever,return,” “Oh! Mr. Blakesly, do not. talk so. I have as yet given you no hopes that Ican ever be aught to you, and were I inclined, I should de- cline to give you encouragement, while you are in such a mood. Iam _ no fortune-hunter, _If I ever marry, it will be only when I have dis- covered the man I canlove I once thought I cared for your bogus son, but have awakened to find out my. mistake.” “But, you d® care for me enough to be mine, do you not?” “I decline to give you an answer, yet, There isa skeleton in your family closet. Miss Pru- dence told; me so. When Ihave a full‘under standing of your past, I may be able to. give you a decision. iss Prudence said you have others nearer to ges of whom you never speak —it is of those I wish to learn, ere I—I—but never mind what!” ‘*She referred to my first wife,” Uncle Red- mond said, gloomily. ‘‘I rarely ever speak of her, because.she was unworthy. I never saw her after the first month of our marriage, she having absconded, ’tis said, with aman who bas been my life-long enemy, The same accursed ruffian afterward wedded my younger, sister, under an assumed name, and abused her until she was.glad for the privilege to lay.down and die, and thus escape his power. The second wo- man I wedded was an angel, and we lived hap- ply until she died of a fever, leaying two es, a boy and a girl, aged one and. three years, for me te care for, © girl was soon after stolen, and I have never to this day found a trace of her. I laid her kidnapping at. the door of, my first. and. unfaithful .wife, but not nowing even her whereabouts, my detectives were never able to gain a clew. She. may live still, but IT try to hope not, as fears dark and loomy assail me, und totally. unnerve. me, iat is why I never allude to my long-lost child, As to. the viper, she is said to be living, but where I cannot learn—how, I care not to learn.” , “My poor friend, how much I pity you I can- not a Suffice to say, you are in no way blamable for what. wrong has been done you, and if I ever conclude to consider your kind pro- pore, I.shall do_so0 fully and. freely, believing my faithful affection I.can lift a cloud from the past to let in light and peace of present and future.” ‘“* Bless you, my child. May God ever the peace and happiness you can. grant me. f you come to me you need have no fear of trouble, for, although | failed to, get a divorce from the vi of my first choice, I have no fear that she will ever seek to make me desperate by ant coming aeross my path after all these years. Nos, will leave you, to look after the impos- r e false Jack was found in the parlor, loung- ing in an easy-chair, while he smoked a hand- some Turkish pipe and perused the morning pa- ** Ah! is it you, daddy?” he said, looking up leasantly, as Uncle Redmond came sturdily to the room, thumping his cane on the t with more than usual yim. ‘‘ A terrible fall in stocks.on Wall street to-day—bulls and bears in a fight, you see. Got any money out?” “Not a red. I don’t bull nor bear the mar- ket, sir. But if I ever do take a hand in bounc- ing out bears, it is about this time o’ day. So pick up your duds, young man, and bid yer adicux ter Hudsondalo for Rood an’ all.” * What!” the bogus Jac ped, leaping to his feet. * Father” ar, i } Ste PE. the eld gent roared, sternly. ‘‘ Don’t ou call me father, you puppy! Get out.of my ouse—off of my premises at once, or Ill lam you over your skull with my stick. You've payed your game well, as far as it went, Lut it didn’t gofur. Your secretisknowv. The cat’s out of the bag, and unless your heels are seer departing from this vicinity in short order, Vl telegraph to New York for 4 pair of hand- cuffs.” ‘But I don’t understand,” Jack faltered. “You lie!” Uncle Redmond declared, with in- creasing emphasis, ‘‘ You are en impostor and a villain, If you don’t believe it, remain here until I get prepared, and I'll prove it to you. If my reo] boy Jack was here, ’'d lave him boot you way up to Kinderhook an’ back again!” ‘*Then ring the bell for the race tocommence, fo~ the original Jack Blakesly is here to take the dramatic part assigned him,” a merry, laugh- ing voice agclainsed And into the room came two persons, through an open window; which looked out upon the gardei—two persons, one of whom was of fault- less form and costume, while the other was none other than the long-haired Westerner whom Uncle Redmond had just been wishing to see—Jack Blakesly, the original. The first person it was who had spoken, and that was New York Nell, Uncle Redmond immediately recognized her, and put forth his hand. “So it’s you, is it?’ he said, heartily. ‘Glad e cum, fer I’ve got a por on my bands of boot- ing out this ay who has been playing it strong on me in the shape of.a son,..But I’ve made up my mind he is possum, and he’s a-goin’ to walk out.” ***Course he’s asnide! Didn’t I tell you that, over in Philadelph? Why, tha here is your own son, alive and well—this feller with the long hair.” 6 old man turned and surveyed Jack quite calmly, “So, you say that animal is my boy Jack, eh?” he observed. ‘‘ Waal, I don’t know. S’pect mebbe he mought be, and again, mebbe he moughtn’t. The.old man ain’t a-goin’ ter ba tuk in so easy this time, not by a long shot. Howsomever, young feller, if ye’ve any notion of hitchin’ so relationship, you can’t start in any better than to clear out. this ’ere feller, who’s been imposin’ on my ignorance and gen- erosity, by representin’ hisself as my boy Jack.” ‘** With the greatest of pleasure!” Jack No. 2ye- lied ; and, as good as his word, he stepped quick- y forward and-seized the bogus heir by the nap of bis neck and right leg, and bore him out of the mansion. - Down the lawn he strode as unconcernedly-as though he were bearing no burden, and, on ar- riving at the water’s edge, he gave Jack No. 1a boost that landed him out in the river, where the water was up to his neck, Uncle Redmond and New York Nell, joined by Viola, watched the proceeding, greatly amused, inasmuch as the victim was greatl frightened and bawled like a whipped school- boy. Not daring to come ashore again, where the long-haired Westerner stood, the defeated can- didate swam down the stream below the bluff, and from there made bis retreat to the shore, Jack No. 2 then joined those who had. been admiring his act, and the whole party then re- turned to the parlor of the mansion, where gen- eral introductions and explanations were made. “Yes, mebbe you’re my Jack, and mebbe again you ain’t,” Redmond said, surveying the new candidate critically, .‘‘l’m goin’ ter be sure, this time. Whar’d you pick fim up, Nel- ‘‘He sed his name lie? “In N. Y.,” Nell replied. was Carson, but)I cornered him, and found out he ws your son, instead of the t’other ’un whom T reckon you'll find is the son of Colonel Baxter, who bas been settin’ him ‘on.” *“Oho! so that devil has been connected with this case, eh? I did not suspect that, despite the fact that Inmet him in Philadelphia. I see plainly where the impostor picked up bis p’ints, now. “Yes, The man Baxter is an old customer of a_ bad style,” Nell said, “and T expect he'll be hurting me, if I don’t quit minding his busi- ness for him—the venerable tough!” “Tf he comes around here, I’ll horse-whip him,” the old man averred, with a stiff nod of his head. ‘TI tanned his jacket some years. ago, and I opine it’s.in my bones to do it again. As for you, young man, what have you to say for yourself? reat deal, either way,” Jack replied, “Nota indifferently, “I am your progeny if it suits your notion; if it don’t, it’s ail the same to me.
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ee p \ i) | ply 10 T am not particular aa a for relation’s sake, as I have a snug fortune to back my career through this weary vale of tears.” “Well, well! you don’t seem very anxious, that’s a fact.” “Nor am I. If you've got any one in mind, whom you think you'd lke better, take your choice, If you see anything of the Blakesly kind about me, all correct; I’m your son,” ‘Well, young man, I'll deliberate on it,” Uncle Redmond said, with a dig at the bald spot on his head. ‘‘ Thar’s brad one thing about ye, as puts me forcibly in mind o’ my boy Jack, of years ago, an’ that’s yer hair. Jack allus was thunderin’ lazy about gettin’ his wool clip- eee and I’ve give him many a whaling because e’d spend the money I gave him, for cigars, in- stead of hair-cutting.” “The peculiarity still clings to me—not be- cause of the reayon you mention, now, but be- cause barbers and women were among the things we seldom saw up at the mining camp where I held out. Bviled shirts were the next scarcest,” The conversation ran along smoothly, and without Jack’s making any attempt to ingrati- ate himself. Toward evening New York Nell signified her intention of returning to the city, but upon being urged, Jack finally consented to remain at Hudsondale, as a guest, until the morrow. During the fore part of the evening Viola pre- sided at the piano, and both surprised and de- lighted her hearers by her skill and proficiency in music. Jack retired early on the re of weariness, and Viola was not long behind him, in going to her room. Uncle Redmond always was the last up, in the mansion, at night, as he gave the closing of doors and windows his personal supervision. To-night he was interrupted in the midst of his work by a ring at the front door bell. In some surprise, he grasped his stout cane, and went to answer the summons, just in time to see a female figure retreating through the moonlight toward the park upon the bluff. He at once called to her, but received no re- Again he shouted after her, with the same re- sult, Then, firing up with indignation, he grasped his cane, firmly, and hobbled off in pursuit as fast as lay in his power. , CHAPTER VIII. SCORE ONE FOR BAXTER, UncLE REepMonD, although obliged, in a meas- ure, to use a cane for a ae could get over the ground with considerable activity, when the case demanded, and more especially when in pursuit of vengeance. Therefore, he was not long in catching up with the ee evo pcm reece as = was not apparently in an at hurry. 8 overtook her in the park, just at the edge of the bluff or cliff which dropped so precipitously off into the stately Hudson. “Stop!” he said, authoritatively, laying his lefthand firmly upon her shoulder, and raising his cane. ‘‘ Are you deaf, that ye didn’t hear me speak before? “No!” the woman replied—‘‘ No, Redmond Blakesly. ‘‘I heard you, and should have heeded, only I wanted to draw you out here, where I could talk with you in private. Look! do you know me, Redmond Blakesly?”’ And upon Hudsondale’s rotund and genial master was turned a ghastly face—a wrinkled, eoeceke visage, the greater part of which was dden within a great cap. Only one glim Uncle Redmond got, then the head was jerked to one side and the view obstructed. ‘No! Ill be hanged if I know who ye are ner do I care, either!” he said gruffly. * What I want to know is, what business have you got prowling round these premises?’ ‘The business of a mistress, you old fool— the business of a wife and_ mistress. Ha! ha! don’t pees know me, now? I am your own dar- ling t love and long-lost bride—yes, I am Bygter Blakesly !” “Unele Redmond leaped back as though he had been dealt a blow—and in fact, he had. : —— lie! you she-devil, you lie!” he gasped, oarsely, “I do not lie!” the woman replied, with a tantalizing laugh. ‘‘I am who and what I elaim—your first and only wife—and I’ve got a little certificate, among my effects, which will prove it!” “You viper! you wretch!” Uncle Redmond Wew Ytrk vei. fairly shouted ina.rage. ‘‘1 know you lie—I know you are not the faithless one who deserted me, years ago. You have about you no trace of resemblance to her.” ‘*But I have her spirit and her tongue, If ou remember, she was gifted with a superflui- ty of both. What other personal beauties I Sane so many years ago, high living and issipation have consumed. Time works mira- cles, you know, Redmond.” e 2 ‘Yes, and I‘il work miracles, with you, if you do not leave my premises?” ‘Oh! no you won’t, my beloved husband. I am legally and lawfully your wife, and I’ve just as much right here as you, and confidently expect and intend to maintain it. You see Pve tired of jolly living and made up my mind I'd come back to you and share with you the peaceful hospitality of your happy home.” 7) 6 thunder, no! Blast my old eyes if ye do that,” the old man said, in a determined way. “You disgraced me, years ago, you old devil; vou shall not add further to the same blow. Hither you’ll go away from here willingly, pro- mising never $0 trouble me again, or Til give you such a drubbing as you never got before!” “*Drub as much as you please, mond, for Ican stand it. I’ve been beaten until I’m with- out a particle of feeling. And, as for leaving, I certainly shall not, I came here to take u my position as mistress of your ho: sehold an your affairs, and shall soon blossom forth into a full-blown leader in fashionable society, Then I'll make your bank account look weak, I sur- mise. Ha! ha! aren’t you glad,of my advent, dear husband? Of course you are. Any one can see that in the placidity of yer coun- tenance. No doubt you’re contemplating com- ing and kissing me. Ha! ha! ha!” ‘Curse you, woman! curse you! I was given to cursing you, years ago—I am not backward in doing it now, and you have earned it all.” “Oh! yes; I don’t deny anything. I always own up to the truth. I gave you cause to curse me, years ago, and I have come back to give ou another racket now. If possible, I intend to make your life more wretched than it ever was before. Come, I'll give you my arm, and let’s go to the house.” ‘Never! I’d sooner touch a_ rattlesnake. Go away, I tell ye—leave my premises, or IT swear you shall have cause to repent it. Go, at once! ‘ ‘Bah! talk to the wind. I am going to the mansion.” ** Devil, go at your peril!” The woman laughed scornfully, and took two or three steps toward the house. With a gasp of anger, Uncle Redmond flew at her ard aimed a blow at her head with his heavy cane. The blow missed the mark a half-foot, be- ‘| cause she darted back, with an agile spring. It was a fatal move, for, standing just at the edge of the cliff as she had been, while speaking, she now went backward into the yawning bear ge down, through mid-air, into the éep, dark river, in a spot where the shadow lay darkly. ; “My God! what have I done?’ Uncle Red- mond exclaimed, rushing to the edge of the cliff, with a horrified expression of countenance. “T have been the means of sending her to a watery grave!” It seemed even so, for, although he peered from the cliff down upon the surface of the water, he did not behold the old woman come to the top. She had sunk to the bottom, to rise no more! With a groan, Uncle Redmond at last arose to his feet, and turned toward the mansion. But he paused with a start! If he was horrified at the fate of the old wo- man, he was startled to see Colonel Baxter and another man standing but a few P fee away— the colonel with folded arms, and a triumphant smile about his sensual lips. His companion was attired in the uniform of the New York police, and armed with the usual rosewood club. ; A bar of bright moonlight penetrated down through the hy ney S| tree-tops and lit the bluff where the trio stood facing each other. ‘Well! well! well!” Baxter said, sarcastical- ly, using Uncle Redmond’s own favorite ex- pression of astonishment. ‘‘ This is a strange position. to find you in, old friend. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I should never have believed you guilty of such acrime. Too bad— too bad for you, Uncle Blakesly !”’ ‘“What—what do you mean?” the old man gasped, whitening. ‘Surely you do not accuse me of—of—” “Knocking that poor old woman over and pushing her into the river—exactly!” Baxter replied. ©‘ Surely Se do not deny it?” **I do deny it. struck at her, Ill admit, but did not hit her, She dodged me and backed off over the cliff.” ‘* Ah! yes—but that’s too thin. It won’t stand picking. We arrived just in time to see ou strike the woman, and hear the whack. idn’t we, officer?” “Yes, we did that,” the policeman replied, with a nod. ** And we heard him ask himself what he had done, didn’t we?—and he said he had been the means of sending her to a watery grave, too!” r cried, triumphantly. “You bet that’s what was said!” the officer agreed, promptly. “ Of course it was,” Baxter pursued. ‘ There- fore, Redmond Blakesly, you stand before us, and your God, a man upon whose soul is written the stain of murder, and it is our duty to arrest you for the crime!” “Your duty! What d’ye mean? You're not the law!” Uncle Redmond cried, ‘** But, we are both servants thereof,” Baxter said. “I am a detective, and ee & companion here is an officer of the New York Police Force. We came here on a different mission from this. The old woman you just murdered was under our eye, suspected of burglary, and we took the peins to follow her up here into the country oping to get a clew on which to arrest and incarcerate her. Instead, we have been so un- lucky as to be in at the death.” ‘*God help me!” Uncle Redmond epetet, zh am not guilty—no, J am not guilty. struck at the woman, but failed to hit her. Believe me, géntlgmen, this is true. You saw the act, ye say—praps ye overheard the conversation, an’ know to what a test I was put. Spare me then, from arrest and disgrace, in my old age. Et ain’t long the old man will live, so let me go unmol I beg.” “Ha! ha! this is my revenge, Redmond Blakes- ly!” the colonel retorted, ‘It is triumph to hear you beg of me! Awhile ago you held the trump—now I have it in my grasp. But, I fear it is utterly useless for you to ask quarter of me, as murder isa crime that should never escape gallows justice. Still, I will consider. Perhaps we can make some terms, If you will invite us to your mansion, and offer us its hospitalities, for a few days, I will think the matter over, and see what I can do for you,” Uncle Redmond bowed his head upon his arm, as it leaned against the tree near which he stood, and was silent for several moments. He saw what was the destined result, as he reflected. On the one hand was arrest, a prison cell, and eventually, the gallows—on the other, Baxter held his own sway, and would insist upon what- soever tyranny he might deem best; the first act of which would be the -restoration of the false heir to the position he had been so summarily dismissed from. Not all, would. this be, but every indignity would follow that Baxter's in- vention could suggest. There was then but two choices—the one gall, the other wormwood. Uncle Redmond, fully aware that he was in one sense no longer his own master, resolved to acquiesce and await his chance, trusting in God to clear him of the coil that was winding about him. **Come!” he said, finally, ‘‘ you shall be my guest. How about the officer? For him to be seen here will excite suspicion.” “True. Montford you may return to town. When I need you I will send for you,” Baxter ordered. The policeman bowed and strode away through the park; then Uncle Redmond led the way tothe mansion, and showed Baxter to a comfortable apartment, “Don’t worry about your fate,” the polished villain said, with a smirk, as the victim of his machinations was about to leave. “I am not naturally so bad a fellow to get along with as some would like to make me out. you ac- cept my terms, all will be well, and no one will pane 4 the wiser for the little occurrence of to- night. i nele Redmond bowed h f out, with a troubled face, and when once cked within his room, he pillowed his) head in his hands and wept. Goa help me,” he muttered. ‘Iam in the power of the devil now, and have no chance to rebel. Iam a slave to my life-long enemy, and he will show me no merey—no mercy !” Baxter and his tool had not been the only ones upon the scene at the bluff that night. The frowning old park contained many fantastically
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shaped shadows, and among them another wo- man § She never stirred from the position she occu- pied, from the time she entered the park, a few minutes in advance of Uncle ond and the the ill-fated Hester, until she left the park again, a short time after the villain, Baxter, and his prey had departed for the mansion. She had seen everything—overheard every- thing that had transpired, all without visible affection, and soon after Uncle Redmond left for the mansion, she made her way from the grounds and along the river road to the first railway station, a distance of some three miles. She was attired in a long linen duster and fashionable bonnet, but her face was closely sereened from view by a heavy vail. On arriving at the station she got aboard a train bound for New York; and later was steamed away toward the metropolis, A few hours afterward she was installed in a pretty room at the St. George Hotel, and with pen, ink and paper before her on the table, usied herself in writing. For hours she plied a rapid pen, and then fin- ished with a sigh, just as the first beams of day- light streaked into her room. A short nap she then took in an easy-chair, r which she or- dered and partook of her breakfast in her room. With her hat and vail removed, she proved to be an elderly wo . Upon her face, which had once been hand- some, were gravetines and furrows that trouble had wrought, afid in her eyes a sorrowful, tear- ful expression that seemed to define untold an- guish. Her hair was as white, too, as driven snow. After breakfasting, she donned her hat, vail and wrappings, and betook herself to the street. There signaling a cab, she entered, and gave the directions. Later she was deposited in Baxter street, and found herself knocking at the door of Nell Niblo’s room, in the old tenement. Our heroine answered the summons in person, and invited the stranger to enter, while ein Bra eyes, for she had evidently just awakened from a late slumber. : “You are Nelly Niblo, the news girl, are you ‘not?’ the vailed woman said, as she took a seat, “*S’pect that used to be me—but since then I’ve shifted around so that I now stand in as New York Nell, the detective.” - “Oh,” the woman said, with a little laugh. ‘Well, it isall the same. Do you know Red- mond Blakesly, of Hudsondale?” “Reckon I do. He’s a nice old fellow, too, only he sometimes forgets his grammar. What of him?’ - ‘*T have a letter here I would like you to take to him.. Also, I want you to take along with ou the yo woman you rescued from the urning boat, When you arrive at the mansion, contrive to have your interview take place in the presence of all that are about the premises. You are then to open this letter, and read it aloud. It will fully explain itself, and every- me? necessary.” c ‘. ,s you want me to do all this?” 0. “But I can’t.” “ Why not?’ “Because I can’t allow myself to fall into none of your traps—oh! no. You'd like me to —— the young lady from her hiding-place, “— dn’t you, so that Baxter could gobble her up ‘You mistake. I have no such desire or in- tention. I already know where Eva—the ied you rescued, is concealed, and could have had er spirited away, a dozen different times, had it been my wish. what is good.” “How can you? What I assure you I mean for only f have I that there is not some game afoot?” *‘ When I swear to you that I am the girl’s own mother, not that ough’ tisfy x the woman Ps assis iat rh ““T sup so, But, you see, Eva told me that she did not have a mother! How’s that?” ‘‘Easy enough to explain. She has never known me as a mother, but asanaunt. The secret of this both she and you shall know, when the letter is perused, at Hudsondale,” “Then give me Rage ees and I will doas you say. What’s the salary‘ a [ will give you twenty dollars. That will pay your two fares to Hudsondale, and leave you considerable for your trouble.” “ Allright, When’s the starting time, fer the biz?’ ; “To-morrow morning will do. No!—better say Friday, when I come to think of it. To- day is Wednesday. Friday will be best. New York Nell. note in Nell’s hands, and took her departure. She went from Baxter street to the nearest district telegraph station, and paid for and caused to be sent the following telegram to Redmond Blakesly: “Do not be frightened by threats. Hold your own. Help will come when needed. ALLSEER.” This telegram was handed to Uncle Redmond that day, about noon, as he sat beside one of the fountains in the park, watchi the spray drop into the basin with a moody, troubled ex- pression of countenance. . He read it in great surprise, then dismissed the messenger. ‘*Who could have sent that?” he wonderingly murmured, ‘‘Some one else must have been present, who foresees hope for me. God be praised then, if hope there is, for I have pur- pay avoided meeting that devil, Baxter. ing the consequences. This message is at least comforting.” And it was, He cheered up wonderfully from its influence —so much that he was so calm that he was sur- prised at himself. He returned to the mansion and found Bax- ter lounging in the parlor, reading and smok- ing. Tack and Miss Vernon were seated at the rustic table on the veranda, overlooking the Hudson, engaged in a social game of chess, in which both appeared to be deeply engrossed. So Uncle Redmond did not interrupt them, but passed into the parlor, where Baxter was seated. ‘* Ah! it’s you, is it?” the colonel said, looking up from his paper. ,‘‘ Where have you been hiding all the morning?” “T have not been hiding, sir,” was Uncle Bed nones reply, ‘I have nothing to hide or. “Bah! you hide because you fear me—be- cause you dread the vengeance you have a right to expect from me.” “No; I do not even fear you,” was the reply, again, in a collected way. “What! do not fear me, whose power it is to send you to the scaffold, or to liberate ys ” **No; I do not fear you. Nor do I believe ou have power to send me to the scaffold. In act, Baxter, I surmise that ye’d better not be too fast. Mebbe you’ve got the whip row just now, in your own opinion, but tbhar’s no tellin’ but what the old man may get in a few, yet. Read that.” He handed the colonel the strange telegram he had received, and the polished villain read it over, a faint scowl wrinkling his forehead. ‘* Well, what does that signify?’ he careless- 1 asked, as he returned it. “I see nothing in it. “T see hope—liberty—escape from your vil- lainous @lutches,” Uncle Redmond said, forcing an appearance of considerable confidence. ‘** Look out, I’m going to struggle, man.” “Bah! again. You are going to do as I say. Come around in about an hour and we will on business.” “T am in no hurry, yet; any time within a week will do.” “Hardly!” Baxter hissed, leaping to his feet after his victim had gone. ‘‘ Things look squally —there is need for more work!” CHAPTER IX. JACK THE BOGUS WEAKENS—A GERMAN RE- CRUIT. He foresaw that there was trouble brewing. The telegram itself suggested strongly that there was some one @se who knew somethi about the dark business at the bluff. Who coul it be? Some one must have seen or overheard what had transpired. ; “T'll wager my head it’s the snip of a girl detective, New York Nell,” the colonel wled, darkly. ‘‘She’s sticking her nose into every one’s business, lately, curse her, and it is vitally necessary that she keeps more quiet. Perhaps she may have seen old Suse Snicker creep from the water, or May possess some other equally important proof that would disarm me of my power over Blakesly. This must not be. It must be nip in the bud. Already the old The woman then placed a twenty dollar | | : 11 must hunt up my Jack, and set him at this long- haired pilgrim, while I look after the girl. will first see Blakesly, and we will come to terms—easy terms, for the present. The screw- press can be instituted when it becomes neces- ” He found Uncle Redmond in the garden, a half-hour later, superintending the work there. At a beckon, the old man followed his persecutor to a neighboring arbor, and the two men took seats, facing each other. : ‘**T came to talk on business,” the colonel an- nounced, briefly. “I am going down to New York to-day, and shall probably return late, to-night. I want to know if Iam tobring the officer back with me or not; shall I understand that B hg defy my power, or submit to it?” *“Yecan understand just as ye please. I'd advise ye to go slow, an’ not attempt to exercise your go of as ye Call it.” ‘Then, listen. I shall send my claimant bac here, and you must install him as your heir, in place of the long-haired puppy, and both he and ] shall have the privileges of your possessions. If this is agreeable, for the present I will not bring the liceman with me,on my return. Otherwise, I shall, and to-morrow’s sunset skal! find you luxuriating in the N. Y. Tombs, for murdering your own wife. I will step over to the stable and order your carriage to take me to the depot; pine can ruminate until my re- turn, when I shall expect an answer.” “Hold on. You ean have it now. Send on your man, and you shall have your wishes—u- til I oe some ground for the defensive. Then, I shall turn thé tables.” **Oh! Tl run all risk of that. Be kind enough to advise the long-haired pilgrim that his pres- ence is no longer desirable here.” ‘Pll do nothing of thekind. He is my son— of that I am fully satisfied—and he sball have all the hospitalities my house affords, no matter if it pleases you or not.” . “Ob! very well; Tam not particular, only I thought it would be to your advantage, and his health to get him out of the way.” The colonel strode away toward the stables then, with a mocking laugh.’ A few minutes later he was driven away in Uncle Redmond’s grand barouche toward the railway station. On i ide | there, he made inqntiries and learned that his coadjutor was at the village tavern, and on search found him there, haif drunk on the poison they sold over the bar. Arousing him, the colonel led the way to a room, and gave him a chair. “Sit down, you fool!” he said, sharply. “I am ashamed of you!” “What do I care?” Jack retorted, with a — **Can’t ye let a feller have a little n ‘“*T'll give you fun, you drunken idiot. What did you leave Hudsondale for when that long- haired devil came?” “Couldn’t help it, daddy. The long-haired fellow throwed me out!” Jack replied, the pic- ture of innocence. “Throwed you out?” ** Yes—picked me up, and throwed me out in- to cy yee ““Oh! you baby! you ninny! you sickly fool!” the colonel raved. if Pe, “Yes, I know I am, daddy; but really I couldn’t helpit. I got it all from you.” ! ‘Take care, boy “No, I won’t. It’s true. An’ that Western feller is awful wry ** Bosh! could handle him easy enough. I’ve slain better warriors than he with my little in your mind. It won’t wash, dad. Didn't I see you laid out stiff by this same coon? Can’t come it over me. We are both cowards, and there’s no use denying it.” The elder villain fairly overflowed with rage. Tl kill you if you don’t hold your infernal tongue!” he swore. ‘‘ You’ve got to go back to Hudsondale.” ‘““What! where the Westerner is?” 3 mg sir.” ** No, I'll be banged if I will,” ‘*Don’t dare to contradict me, sir. 1 insist.” ‘** And I insist, too. I want to live a while yet, and be happy. If I was Mev back there, dd that feller would hurt me for **-You miserable coward!” “Of course I am—you needn’t tell me that. I man has half a notion to resist. Should he get | don’t want my head cracked.” further encouragement, open defiance to my wishes would follow. It therefore remains for me to see that this boy-girl is summarily dis- Sara of. he real Jack Blakesly, if he too were to dro out of existence, it would augur well for us. | “Nor would you get it.” “Get out?’ Aas. “T know better. Besides, I will pay you As for the fellow, who claims ‘to be enough so you can afford to takea flogging. ut J “ Thanks. Money is no temptation. will go on one consideration.”
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12 “Name it, then.” “Tt is simple. A basket of champagne.” You will go for that?” “7 will.” “Then I'll send it up direct from the city. There is something else I want you to do, how- ever. “What?” “T’]l tell you. The Westerner and a New York, named New York Nell, must out of the way ere we can hold a show at sondale.” “ec Why so?” ‘‘ Because the man is dangerous, and_ the girl because she is sharp and crafty. to her case, myself, while you look after your rival.” * But, how? I don’t like to tackle him open- ly. He might lay me out, you see.” “Don’t do it openly. irl in ut ud- asleep, for instance, or slip a knife into his ribs, or drug him,” Jack looked dubious. “Pll try,” he said. ‘but most likely I'll be the one who'll get switched off the track and take a term ticket in Sing Sing.” Col. Baxter left for New York by the next train, Titinediately upon setting foot in the metro- polis, he made his way to the Bowery, and into one of the dens or dives, for which the precinct is famous, The dive wasa saloon in the basement of a building that was used for mercantile purposes. The saloon was well filled with a delegation of sa roughs. f the crowd assembled, the greater share were drunk, and making the night hideous with loud talk and bacchanalian songs. Passing into the room bey ans the saloon, to which a narrow hallway led from the outside, Baxter found himself in the theater, or concert- room—quite a spacious, but low-ceiled apart- ment, furnished with several hundred seats, anda stage at the opposite side, for performan- ces, itis hardly necessary to add of the worst character. There was no performance, now, however, and the auditorium was deserted. Without noticing this fact, however, Baxter descended a side aisle, and entered through a,narrow door upon the stage, and made his way to the further side of the ylatfcrm where he encountered a man engaged in mixing a bucket. of paint for the purpose of daubing over a stretch of neigh- boring canvas, into a fairy scene, He was a villainous looking old German, with long strin black hair, little peering eyes, and a red hook- ed-nose, while in girth he was of great dimen- sions. He looked up with a nod of recognition, as the colonel approached, his eyes, emitting a peculiar es 6: “Wie ts!” he saluted, long since, 5s dene mae Baxter?” ‘“Good. How’s yourself, Fritz?” ‘“* Bad—very bad! Dot establishments dey vas make me vork yust so mooch like von dog, unt den dey don’d vas giff me some monish.” ** Oh! that’s it! ell, Fritz, ?ve come to the conclusion that, nothing. pays so well as anti- The man, of course, was the villainous Dutch- man, Fritz, lying in wait for the victim of his cunning but.murderous scheme, ‘“Tt vas time she comed,” he growled, a fiery litter in his eyes. ‘I no like Ler stay avay so ong, vor my courage ish alieady up, und my hands pimepy..get unsteddy mit der ichin’ for dot inane. adilars yot Baxter premised me, If she should fail to come, den I vas haff my foolishness for my pains,” He Spe the big stone that had some time served as « fire-place for a camping cut part and ensconced himself in the bushes of sight. “T wonder if I was afraid?’ he said, in a low tone, ‘‘Ter deyfie, no. I don’d vas ought to pe afraid, ven dis blace haff known me before,” A horrible giggle escaped him, as if there was something amusing in reflection over a dark eyond, cat An hour passed, and the murderous schemer still crouched silent and motionless in bis posi- tion among the bushes, ‘ A moon came up, shot long bars of moonlight down into the woodland, Sharp and penetrating, the German’s gaze red straight before him, marking every ob- ject closely as far as he could ste. Presently the sound of a footfall came to his keen hearing. In an instant he was doubly on the alert with his rifle cocked and ready for use. An not too soon for his villainous purpose. The moment following he caught sight of a female figure away among the trees, standing silent and. motionless, as if in an attituce of listening. ‘The face was tirne. from him, look- ing toward the river.
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Raising his rifle to his shoulder, he glanced along the barrel and fired. A ota a shriek answered the report, and the figure fell prone to the earth. . With a hoarse laugh he then seized his hat and retreated rapidly from the scene of his fou CHAPTER X. THE CONCLUDING ACT. ‘ COLONEL BAXTER sat up until past midnight. that night, and was rewarded by an expected visit from Fritz. aj “ Well?’ he said, inquiringly, as the German ntered. “Vel!” Fritz replied, ‘‘I fixed her.” * You are sure s PE ht neg | I yaied for her at an appointed place, und plugged her right through der prains mit a rifle bail Se) tigioe as my big toe e ** How do you know?” “Because I went up und examined after I had killed her.” ** And she was quite dead?” _. Yaw! deadter as a door nail. There was no life left in her.” 4 “Tf I thought you were lying to me Id kill you, man!” “But I ish not lying. I dells you der bull truthfulness about it ‘* Well, I'll believe/you, till I learn better. If I find you have cheating me, I'll have you arrested for the crime.” *‘ But where pe my moneys?” ‘\Here is the amount—a hundred-doller note. it and begone. And mind, you infernal beer soaker, if you ever open your mouth as to this transaction between us, ’M see that you fill an/early grave!” lad to get his blood-money, Fritz nodded acquiescence, and took his leave. fter he had gone, Baxter smote the table beside him with his fist, to emphasize bis satis- faction. ‘*One more obstacle removed!” he said, with a hiss. ‘‘The next is at Hudsondale, for which place I must make an early departure.” He took the first train in the morning, accom- nied by the policeman, who had been with im before, at the time of the cliff tragedy, and who now wore citizen’s attire over his official suit. They arrived at Hudsondale too late for breakfast, but Baxter coolly ordered one, with as much nonchalance as though he were in fact the master, instead of the guest. After breakfast, Baxter sought his son, and found him in his room, with his head bandaged up, while he sat bolstered up in an easy-chair with a stand beside him containing several bottles of liquor. ‘Well, what now?” the colonel growled, in disgust. ‘“Who’s been punching your heed?” “That awful Western feller,” Jack gusped, faintly. ‘“‘ He caught me slipping something into his coffee, and khocked me down.” “You dolt! you idiot! what did you do then?” ‘*He made me beg his pardon—then I crawled up here to doctor ~~ ; P es Sr., fairly howled with rage, as he med. **T’ve a notion to kill you!” he roared, draw- ing a pistol. ‘*I believe I will, you miserable coward.” “Do!” Jack said, beseechingly. “‘I’d rather die than live.” ‘“‘ Death would be too for you,” Baxter snarled, ‘Oh! you're a di ce to the human The colonel gritted his teeth to ‘*I wish I was handy with my fists, and soon I'd show you,” he growled. : He left the room and descended to the veran- da, where Jack was seated, smoking a cigar. “See here, you youn long-haired py are you the person who struck my friend, ack Blakesly?” pte **T dare say I am the pilgrim who put a head upon a young snob whom I caught putting ison into my coffee, if that’s the one you refer o,” Jack replied, rising to his feet. “ As tothe preferred title of ‘‘ puppy,” allow me to thank you for applying your own Christian title te one undeserving of the honor.” Baxter flushed red. © 4 “ your impudence!” he cried, hotly. “Tf [ had my cane here I’d chastise you.” “Bahl the cane is an instrument used by the New York Nell. nature’s weapons, out in our country.” “Thank you. I am not a pugilist,” Baxter replied. ‘I came to say that ou laid a hand on my friend Blakesly again, ll break your head—that’s all. Good-day.” “But hold on. If you wish, I can go up and clean out the poisoner at once, so as to give you the desired opportunity. The colonel stalked on into the house, how- ever, A amchrng terribly deaf, while Jack re- seated himself, with a laugh, to finish his cigar. “That devil has obtained some mysterious power over my father,” he mused, ‘ but I’ll be shot if he shall exhibit much of it around here while ’'m about. He’s got my record to heart from the old mining days, and I guess he won’t attempt to hurt me much, unless it is in a sly, stealthy way. He’s off for an interview with the old gent now. I wonder what’s to pay?’ Baxter was bent on sonal tect | Uncle Red- mond, as Jack had surmised, and found him in the library at his desk, busily engaged in writ- ing. : % Good!” the polished villain said; entering, and closing the door behind him, after which he drew a chair up to the desk. ‘“ While you have your pen ready you and I had best settle our affairs.” ““Oh! we hed, hed we?’ Uncle Redmond grunted, staring over his glasses. ‘‘ Waal, I any, so sure about that. I ain” ready just et. **On the contr ou are just ready—to go to jail, if you 86 ‘ae eons to terms. >The ~ liceman is lounging in the park yonder, and a single call from me to him will bring him here to arrest you.” ‘* Well, what do you want?” ‘Money first. You can make me out a check for what spare cash you have got in the bank. When you have done that you may write me out a clear deed to the rest of your properties, and I will call our business square!” ‘ San are sure?” E ! yes—quite positive. * And sf suppose thereafter, I and my family can skin out, and leave you in peeves ‘*Exactly.. These are my absolute and only terms, and you can either accept them, or start for jail within the next hour. ! Ihave my signal whistle. Write me out the uisites and sign them, at once, or I will blow for the officer.” ** Then, blow, at once,” Uncle Redmond said, quietly, ‘‘ for T have thought the matter over, and fully decided to accept arrest, and imprison- ment—ay, even death, rather than accede toa single cne of your villainous demands. There! thatis fully as final a conclusion as your own— my absolute and only terms.” ‘Then, by heaven, you shall feel my power and I'll trump in a deal on your wealth yet,” Baxter cried, as he blew the whistle fiercely. Uncle Redmond went on with his writing, but from the nervousness of his hand, it was evident that he was somewhat agitated. A servant immediately answered this strange summons, and Baxter said: “Be kind enough to send up Mr. Montfor Green—the gentleman that came with me, this morning.” “Yes, and you may also fetch along Miss Vernon, and Jack,” Uncle Redmond added. ‘“‘ I'd rather be taken before the full army than as alone soldier on the field. Yes, yes. “Bring along Jack and Miss Vernon.” “You awe foolish,” Baxter sneered, ‘‘to wish to make your disgrace public.” “That is my business. I don’t ask any ad- vice from you. I realize that you, by some devil- ish scheme I cannot yet account for, have got me intoa trap. That ought to satisfy you. If I die, however, I shall die e, and innocent of the charge you prefer. tter than all, I have made a will, and POF it in safe hands, that will baffle you of all hope of fingering my property.” ‘*Curse you! you are lying to me!” “No, Iam not. But, here they come. Pro- ceed with your devilish design,” As he spoke, the door opened, and Jack and Miss Vernon entered, accompanied by the man Green, now arrayed-in his official uniform. Both Uncle Redmond and Baxter then arose. My Ladies ne gentlemen,” the latter said, mockingly, ‘‘it becomes my painful duty to ar- rest this man Redmond Blakesly for re crime of murder, which he was seen to commit, night before last, I have endeavored to arrange with him so that he need not be taken, but he refused all the advances I made, and therefore must deal with the law. Officer, arrest him.” “Touch him, sir officer, at your peril!” aged, decrepit, lazy and cowardly. Men use Long Haired Jack replied, sternly. 13 “Just wait a bit, until 1 get a peep at this matter. Father, is there any truth in this accusation?” **No—iu the face of Truth, no! A woman exasperated me to that extent that I rushed at her to strike her, but before I could touch her. she backed into the river and disappeared. I am not guilty of murder.” ‘“*You lie—you struck her with the cane and both the officer and myself are ready to swear to it. The courts are the proper mediums to render a verdict in this case. Arrest bim, Green.” ‘‘Not yet, if you please, Mr. Baxter!” a cool voice cried, and Nell Niblo came sauntering in- to the room, in her jaunty way. ‘‘ If you please, Mr. Baxter, I want to say something. Come in, my friends.” And in answer to her call, there entered the room, Mr, Valentine Vernon, Sam _ Snicker, bootblack, and a pale-faced intellectual-looking girl of some twenty-four summers. r grew livid, and a gasp escaped from betweeu his shut teeth. “Ladies and gentlemen, Iam here on busi- ness,” Nell now announced, with asmile. ‘I have arranged a sort of surprise party, with a view to giving youall a little treat. 1 scarcely know where to commence, but think proper first to interduce Mr. Val Vernon, sheriff’s special, from Leadville country. Mr. Vernon, with your authority will you see that no one leaves the room?” Vernon bowed, and took his place at the door. Then, Nell continued: ‘“Mr. Blakesly, senior, has this man Baxter been molesting you?” “Ay! I have ordered his arrest for willful murder!” the villain cried, fiercely. ‘‘ Officer, do your duty.” **Hold on! That man is no officer at all, and has no power to arrest. He is one of your ruffian pals, rigged out in uniform. As for ar- resting Uncle Redmond Blakesly, Baxy, you’d better drop that game. It won’t wash. It’s too heavy tor you to carry!” ‘Curse you, girl—what do you mean?” ‘*T mean that your hand is beat. You are fogged. I’ve got your full pedigree and future —— down in my log-book. Listen, while I briefly make a summary of the case, which has come under my notice: “In the beginning you trump up a game to t your son in at Hudsondale, as the real heir. ou lie to an innocent girl, and get ber to back your case with her cash, until you eventually get it all from her. The real Jack Blakesly comes to light, and the bogus one has to bounce. You get wrathy. ‘You seek a woman who loves money, and arrange for her to come to Hudson- dale, declare herself a former Mrs. Blakesly, and exasperate Uncle Redmond to such an‘ ex- tent that he will attack her, when she is to back off a cliff into the river and be drowned—in our mind! ‘You will then step in, and threaten arrest Uncle Red unless he knuckles to your will. The thing has worked to your satisfaction until now, a ntly—but now looms up a lit- tle kink. You made a slight mistake in the tool you chose. A certain New York girl over- h your plan, went and sent the real Mrs. Snicker away, and in disguise, filled the position. Later, she further carried out your plans here at Hudsonda'e—dodged Uncle Redmond’s blow, tumbled gracefully into the river, and swam out, thus preventing any harm being done any ‘** And that was you,” Uncle Redmond cried, rushing forward with extended hands. ‘* Well, if not me, it was some one about my size,” Nell replied, with a smile. ‘* Ma ever bless you, my brave, noble child!” the old man said fervently, tears of joy strean:ing down his cheeks, while there was a cry of surprise and applause from all but Bax- Bae his pal, who stood at bay, with sullen ‘“ No, don’t call me your gal, fer I ain’t no one but Nell Niblo, who wears trowsers in spite o’ fashion, or famine,” was the reply. ‘‘ Besides I spect I’ve found ye a better daughter than f could make. = seer ; ve me bam ter fetch to ong wi youn on- der, sa yt should read it out Tana. of o if you'll all keep mum, I'll try to display my poor education in a fust class oration.” ‘God grant that I may not be mistaken, for I already suspect that this a woman is my long lost Eva,” Uncle mond said, crossing over, and taking her two hands warmly in hig while Jack edged near, ready to claim a bro- therly kiss, “Well, I spect you're right,” Nell said, test “Anyhow, here goes: ing open the envelope.
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al ost 14 New. York NeH; “New York, —— 187—. ““My Dear Huspanp: “After all these years of silence and bitter re- pentance God has instilled into my heart the courage to write to you—a last, long letter. ** Accompanying the bearer of this message I send you our child—understand, ours. The child stolen from you by Colonel Baxter died in my arms, after I rescued it from his power, and I had tt respecta- bly buried. The boy of yoursecond marriage still lives, I have learned, a noble specimen of manhood. God grant he may ever continue in the right path through life. Heis a legitimate son, for, on learn- ing of your proposed second marriage, I procured a divorce—to save your children. “Of myself, Redmond Blakesly, I must in justice say afew words.. As true as God witnesseth this, I ever was the bad woman you had reason to believe. True, I left your house ro home in company with Baxter. I accompanied him on. the cars to New York. He had told me you were unfaithful—shown me letters he claimed to have intercepted, address- ed to other women in your hand. I beeame mad with jealousy, and in a condition bordering on frenzy fled with him to New York. Long ere we reached there, he insulted me, and I awoke to his devilish scheme, I dénounced him, but it was too late. I Ikmew you would never receive me at Hudsondale, so I came not back. I left Baxter at the New York station, and sought labor for my support. I could get no position, so rented me an attic room and took in sewing. In this way, ever since, I have supported myself and child, who was born after my fatal mis- step. God helping me, I have ever led a virtuous, phew, beaten Christian life—a life of bitter penitence and sorrow that has whitened my hairs. Our, child T have reared as I would have her go—in the path of purity and righteousness, and in turning her over to Four fatherly care, with the hope of your welcome or her, my earthly mission iscomplete. If any: us- picion of my unfaithfulness yet lurksin your mind, ask Baxter. Villain and utter wretch as he is, I can but believe that he will at least do the woman jus- tice whose ruin he sought, but failed to secure. But one thing yet I beg—let my child—our child—come occasionally and place flowers on my grave when I die. From your divorced wife, ‘*HESTER BLAKESLY.” Uncle Redmond had Peaneres to a chair, and pine hie head bent forward, the old man wept cilently. Nor was there a dry eye in the room, exrept those of the colonel and his pal. The former had walked to a window and stood looking out upon the lawn, with a face as white ps death, ‘She speaks the truth!” he said, voluntarily, ina husky tone. ‘‘ As farasI have ever been rble to learn, she has led a pure, unstained life —would to God I could say the same of myself. { have plotted and am baffled. I have nothing more to say—no es no prayers. I know che consequences ; will take them as they come. But, girl, there is one thing I would ask—did Fritz, the German, lay for you, and if so how aid you escape?” ‘‘ Ob! as to that, Baxy, yousee I am a sus- picious litile craft, and Ismelt a big rat. Sol tuk Sam Snicker, here, along with me, and in- stead of protrudin’ our anatomy before the muz- zle of an expected hostile gun, we slung out a dummy, and had the satisfaction of seeing that cie an unnatural death. That’s all. No one was killed through your kindly machinations. Mr. Vernon, if you have any papers to serve on this chap, there’s no time like the present.” ‘*No! no! stop!” Uncle Redmond cried, rising. ‘Let him go. I believe the lesson he has been taught through the instrumentality of our little ietective will be the means of causing his re- form, for the only redeeming act I ever knew the man to do has been to exonerate an inno- cent woman of a life-long wrong and disgrace which he put upon her!” ‘It is not forme tosay whether he shall go or stay,” Val Vernon said, stepping forward. ‘True, I am a sheriff's agent, but I have no papers to serve on these villains—no advice to give them, except to go, as there is a detective searching for them, named Monk, whose busi- ness it is to bring them to the gallows. The for- (une they have inveigled from my too trusting “ister I care not for, as I think the cure the les- son has given her is amply worth the expendi- ture.’ “That settles it. Get out, while all are so lenient, or you may get your head into a noose yet,” the girl detective cried. ‘‘ And, above all if you ever come to New York again, don’t fool cround a certain little hornet called Ny ¥. Nell, or it is pretty likely you'll get stung. Ta! ta! you. vanquished heavy villain—skip out! The last act has told the story!” . A few words suffice to close. Accompanied by his son, and pal, Colonel Raxter took his departure, ani was never heard from thereafter, The following day Uncle Redmond, Eva, and Wew York Nell left for the metropolis, and later there was a joyous reunion between the stanch old master of Hudsondale and his long- lost wife, during which all wrongs of the past were freely forgiven, and peaceful happiness brought about. » Later still Hudsondale exchanged hands, and grand homes in a Western State knew those whom our pen has favorably known—three homes, close together, where cefully dwell Uncle Redmond and Aunt Hester—Jack and his bride, nee Miss Vernon, and Val Vernon and bride, nee Eva Blakesly. Materially rewarded, for the services she had performed, the authoress of much of the happi- ness radiating those Western homes went back to New York, and since then bas made a happy choice in a noble husband, who is justly proud of his wife whose experience in the detective business brought about such auspicious results! THE END. The Half-Dime Singer's Library. 1 Wuoa, Emma! and 59 other Songs. 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs. 8 Tue Garnsporo’ Hart and 62 other Songs. 4 Jounny Morcan and 60 other Songs; 5 (Lu STRIKE u WirH A FEATHER and 62 other So 6 Géonos ai CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 7 Tue Bette or Rockaway and 52 other Songs. 8 ao FEeLLAH, You’RE Too FrResH and 60 other ngs. 9 Say Younes Grr_ and 65 other Songs. 10 I'm THE GovERNOR’s ONLY Son and 58 other Songs. 11 My Fan and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ Toro’ THE Rye and 55 other Songs. 13. 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The series em- I.—George W | VI-—David Crockett. IIl.—John Paul Jones. VIII.—Israel Putnam, Itl.—Mad AnthonyWayne| IX.—Kit Carson. X.—Tecumseh, X7I.—Abraham Lincoln, XIT.—Pontiac. XTT.—Ulysses 8, Grant. TIV.—Ethan Allen, V.—Marquis de Lafay- ette. VI.—Daniel Boone. The above publications for sale by all newsdealers or will be sent. aery SaPREe Bee price, by Bt., Nu Y, BEADLE & ADAMS,
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82 Large Three-Column Pages. 1.A Hard Crowd; or, GENTLEMAN Sam’s Sister. By Philip S. Warne. 2. The Dare-Devil; or, THE WINGED WitcH oF THE SEA. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 3. Kit Carson, dr., THE CRAcK SHoT oF THE West. By Buckskin Sam. 4. The Kidnapper; or, THE GREAT SHANGHAI oF THE NorTHWEST. By Philip S. Warne. 5. The Fire-Fiends; or, HERCULES, THE Huncupack. By A. P. Morris. 6. Wildcat Bob, Tue Boss Bruiser ; or, Tar BorDER BLoopHounDs. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 7%. Death-Notch, THz Destroyer; OR, Tue Sprrit Lake AveNGERS. By Oll Coomes. 8. The Headless Horseman, A strange story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. 10. Vidocq, THz Frencn Po.ice Spy. Written by himself. 11. Midshipman a By Capt. Mar- ryat, 12. The Death-Shot; on, TRACKED TO DeaTH. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 13, Pathaway; or, Nick WHIFFLES, THE OLp TRAPPER OF THE NorTHWEST. By Robinson. 14, Thayendanegea, THE ScourGE ; on, THE WAR-EAGLE OF THE MoHAWES. Ned Buntline, 15. The Tiger-Slayer; or, EaGir- Heap To THE Rescug. By Gustave Aimard. 16. The White Wizard; or, Toe Great PROPHET OF THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline. 17. Nightshade, Tur Ropper PRINCE or Hounstow Heats. By Dr, J. H. Robinson. 18. The Sea Bandit; or, THe QuEEN OF THE IsLE. By Ned Buntline. 19. Red Cedar, Tur Prarrm Ovtiaw. By Gustave Aimard, 20. The Bandit at Bay; or, Tar Pr RATES OF THE Prarries. By Gustave Aimard, 21. The Trapper’s Daughter; 0 THE OUTLAW’s ace ine Sasiniee: tenant: =. 22. Whitelaw; or, NaTriz oF THE LAKE SHore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 23. The Red Warrior; or, STELLA DELORME’S CoMANCHE Lover. By Ned Buntline, 24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai- mard, author of ‘ Tiger-Slayer,” etc. 25. The Gold-Guide; or, Stzxn Arm, THE ReavLaTor. By Francis Johnson. 26. The Death-Track; or, Tue Ovt- LAWS OF THE MounraIn. By Francis Johnson, 27. The Rpotter Deteckver orn, THE Grrts oF New York. By Albert W. Aiken, 28. Three-Fingered Jack, Tur Roap- AGENT OF THE Rockies. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr, 29. Tiger Dick, Tue Faro Kine; or, THE CasHieR’s Crime. By Philip S. Warne. 30. Gospel George; or, Frery FRep, THE OvuTLaw. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 31. The New York ‘S 3’ oR, THE FLasH or Ligutnina. By Albert W. Aiken. 32. B’hoys of Yale; or, Taz ScRapEs oF 4 Harp Ser or Cotiecians. By John D. Vose. 33. Overland Kit, By A. W. Aiken. 34. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Aiken. 35. Kentuck, the Sport. By Aiken. 36. Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 37. Hirl, the Hunchback; or, THE SWORDMAKER OF THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 38. Velvet Hand; on, THe [Ron Grr or | Lysun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 39. The Russian Spy; or, Taz Brors- ERS OF THE STARRY Cross. By Frederick Whittaker. 40. The Long Haired ‘ Pards;’ or, Tae TarTARS or THE PLarns. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr, <1. Gold Dan; or, THE WHITE Savace OF THE Great Sart Lake. By Albert W. Aiken. 42. The California Detective; or, Tae Wrrones or New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 43. Dakota Dan, Tue RECKLESS RANGER; or, THE Bre-Hunters’ Excursion. By Oll Coomes. BEADLES| DIME 44, Old Dan Rackback, Tur Great EXTARMENATOR. By Oll Coomes. 45. Old Bull’s Eye, Tue Licurnine Ssor oF THE Piarms. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 46. Bowie-Knife Ben, Tue Lire Hunter oF THE Nor’-west. By Oll Coontes. 47. Pacific Pete, THE PRINCE OF THE ReEvoLveR. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 48. Idaho Tom, THE Youne OuTLaw oF SILVERLAND. By Oll Coomes. 49. The Wolf Demon; or, THE QUEEN OF THE KANAWHA. By Albert W. Aiken. 50. Jack Rabbit, Tue Prarmm Sporr; By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 51. Red Rob, Tue Boy Roap-AGEnt. By Oll Coomes. 52. Death Trailer, THE Curr or Scoors. By Hon, Wm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.) 538. Silver Sam; or, THz MyYsTERY OF Deaiwoop City. By Col. Delle Sara. 54. Always on Hand; or, THe Sportive Sport OF THE Foot Hus. By Philip 8. Warne. 55. The Scalp Hunters. A RoMANCE oF THE Piains. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 56. The Indian Mazeppa; or, THE Map Man or THE Puatns. By Albert W. Aiken, KIT CARSON, JR.—No, 3, 57. The Silent Hunter; or, Taz ScowL Hai Mystery. By Percy B. St. John. 58, Silver Knife; or, Wicktirrs, THE , Rocky Mountarn Ranger. By Dr..J. H. Robinson. 59. The Man From Texas; or, THE OUTLAW OF sas. By Albert W. Aiken. 60. Wide Awake; or, Tux Ipror or THE Buack Hitts. By Frank Dumont, 61. Captain Seawaif, THz PrivarTerr. By Ned Buntline. 62. Heart; or, THz TRAPPERS OF ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard. 63. The Winged Whale. By Aiken. 64. Double- Sight, the Death Shot. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 65. The Red Rajah; or, Taz Scocure oF THE InvreEs, By Captain Frederick Whittaker. | 66. The Specter Barque. A TALE or THe Paciric. By Captain Mayne Reid. 67. The Boy Jockey; or, Honesty versus CROOKEDNESS, By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. | 68. The Fighting Trapper; or, Kit | Carson To THE Rescue. By Capt. J..F. C. Adams. | 69. The Irish Captain; A Tare or | Fonrsnoy, By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 70. Hydrabad, THE SrRanGLeR; or, | ALETHE, THE CHILD OF THE Corp. By Robinson, 71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, Taz Man | 84Rz oF THE MississIPPI, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. ei eas IBRARY.| Each Number Complete, Price 10 ets. 72. The Phantom Hand, A Srory or New York HerartTus anp Homes, By A. W. Aiken. 73. The Knight of the Red Cross; or, THE Macicran oF GranapA. Dr. J. H. Robinson. 74. Captain of the Rifles. A RomANncr OF THE MEXICAN VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid. 75. Gentleman George, or, PaRr.or, Prison, StaGE AND StrEET. By Albert W. Aiken. 76. The Queen’s Musketeer, or, THISBE, THE Princess PaLmisT. By George Albony. 77. The Fresh of Frisco, or, Tur HEIRESS OF BUENAVENTURA. By Albert W. Aiken. 78. The Mysterious Spy; or, GoLpry FEATHER, THE BuCCANEER’S DAUGHTER. By Grainger. 79. Joe Phenix, THz Pouice Spy. By Albert W. Aiken, 80. A Man of Nerve; TRE Dwarr. By Philip S. Warne. 81. The Human Tiger; or, A HEart oF Fire, By Albert W. Aiken. 82. Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery. 83. Gold Bullet Sport; or, THz Knrcurs OF THE OVERLAND. By Buffalo Bill. 84. Hunted Down; or, THe Waite Wrren. By Albert W. Aiken. 85. The Cretan Rover; or, ZULEIKAH, THE BEAUTIFUL. By Col. Prentice Ingraham. 86. The Big Hummer; or, Toe Qvren OF THE Woops. By the aufhor of “Silent Hunter.”’ 87. The Scarlet Captain; or, Txr PRISONER OF THE TOWER, By Col. Delle Sara. 88. Big George, THE GIANT OF THE GuicH; or, THE Five OuTLAw Broruers. By Badger. 89. The Pirate Prince; or, Pretty NELLY, THE QUEEN oF THEISLE. By Col. Ingraham. 90. Wild Will, Toz Map Ranonery: or, THE TERRIBLE TEXAN, By Buckskin Sam, 91. The Winning Oar; or, Tur Inn KEEPER’s DavauTrer. By Albert W. Aiken. 92. Buffalo Bill, THz Buckskin Kine; By Major Dangerfield Burr. 93. Captain Dick Talbot, Kine or THE Roap. By Albert W, Aiken. 94, Freelance, THE BuCCANEER; or, The Warr oF THE Wave. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 95. Azhort, THE AxMan; or, Tak SEcRETS or THE Ducat PaLace. By Anthony P. Morris. 96. Double-Death, or, THz Spy Quen or Wyominc. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 97. Bronze Jack, THE CALIFORNIA THOROUGHBRED. By A. W. Aiken, 98. The Rock Rider; or, Tux Spirit oF THE SrerkA. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 99. The Giant Rifleman; or, Wp Lire iN THE LuMBER Reoions. By Oll Coomes, 100. The French Spy; or, THe Brize of ae. A Story of the Commune. By A. P. & : 101. The Man from New York; or, THe RoMANCE OF A Rich Youne Woman. By Albert, W. Aiken. 102. The Masked Band; or, Tur Man Wrrnovut a Name. By George L. Aiken. 103. Merle, the eee, 3; or, THER RAND Rep ANCHOR. iv 4 am. - nag = Ready September 224d. 104, Montezuma, the Merciless; or, Tue EAGLE AND THE SERPENT. . P.Ingraham. a 'y October (th. A new issue every two weeks. Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of twelve cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York, or, CALIBAN, ws
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——_—] BEADLE'S | HALF-DIME | LIBRARY. | 1 Deadwood Dick, THe Prince or THe Roap; or, THe Buack Rwer or THE Buack Huis. By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack; or, TRAPPERS OF .THE ENCHANTED GrounD. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 3 Kansas King; or, THe Rep Riaur Hann. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe, THe Youna WANDERING JEW; } | or, Prorrmae ror « Lecacy. By Oll Coomes: 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Lire IN THE Nortuwest. By Edward 8. Ellis. 7 The Flying Yankee}; or, Taz Ocean Ovt- cast. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 8 Seth Jones; or, Tae Caprives OF THE FRON- TieR. By Edward §, Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Wunchausen, AO Nat Toddj or, Tuy Fare or THE Stoux Cap- Trves. A Sequel to Bill Biddon, Trapper. By Edward §., Ellis. 11 The Two Detectives; or, Tae Fortunes or A Bowery Giri, By Albert W.. Aiken, 12 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to eS eo y Dean Swift. 13 The Dumb Spy. By Ol! Coomes, author of “Vagabond Joe,” ete, 14 Aladdin; or, THe WonperFrct Lamp. 15 The Sea-Cat; or, Toe. Wrrcen or Darren. by Captain Frederick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surpris- ing Adventures,.(27 Dlustrations.) By Defoe. 17 Ralph Roy, tHe Boy Buccanesr; or, THE Fue@itive YACHT. a Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom SPY 3 or, THe PILOT OF THE Prarriz. By Buffalo i. 20 The Double Daggers; or, DEADWwoop Dick’s DEFIANCE. By Edward L. Whee er. 21 The Frontier Augel, A Romance or KEn- TucKY RanGur’s Lire. By Edward §. Ellis. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, THe Boy RosInson Crrsor. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o° the Night}; or, Tae Boy Spy or '76. By T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk3; or, Toe Mystery oF THE YELLOwsToNY. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 25 The Boy Capt in; or, THe Prrate’s DaveutTeR. By Roger Starbuck.” 26 Cloven Hoof, rue Burrato Demon; or, THE BorperR Vouurures. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, THe Boy Guipe, Oll Coomes. 28 Buffalo Ben, THE PRinck oF_ THE PisTOL; or, DEApwoop Dick In Diseuise. FE. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb rages or, Tom Docr’s Davax- tun. | By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 80 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, Tue Reck- Less Rancer» By Harry St. George. B1 Meen- Mite, PRINCE OF THE Pasmuis, By mes. 32 Bob Woolf, THe BorpEer RvrFian; or, THE Girt Deap-SHor. By Edward L. Wheeler. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THe Rep Preatés or rae Carmeers. By 8. W. Pierce. 34 Oregon eu or, Nick Wuirrues’ Boy Spy. oa t. J. F. C. Adams, 35 Wild Ivan, tue Boy Ciavupr DovaL; or, Tae BROTHERHOOD OF DEATH. Wh. By Ed. L. eeler, 36 The Boy Clown; or, THz QUEEN OF THE ARENA. Frank S. 37 The Hi nn. den Lodge; or, THe Littie Hun- TER OF THE ADIRONDACKS. By T, C. Harbaugh. 838 Ned Wylde, rue Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 89 Death-Face, tHe Derecttys; or, Lire «np Love In New York. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A Srory or A Youna AMeErI- 41 Lasso Jack, tHe Youna Mustancer. By 42 The Phantom Miner; or, Dzapwoop 4 Capt. Frederick Whittaker. ENTUCKY. By rge. 46 Glass Eye, Tae Great SHor oF THE WEsT. baugh. 49 Omaha Se THE MASKED TERROR; Or, DEAD- Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle. 52 The ite Buffalo. C._E. Lasalle. THRovGH To DeatH. By Edward L. Wheeler. can WHO WANTED To SEE THE WorRLD. Marshall. Oll Coomes. Dick's Bonanza. By Edward L. Wheeler. 43 oe Darling, THe Pony Express RIDER. 44 KRattling Rube; or, Tae Nicur Hawss or K Harry St. Geo 45 Qld Avalanche, THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR; or, WILD EpNA, THE Gren Bricanp. E. L, Wheeler. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 47 5 sanain ale Nat; or, Taz Forest Captains. . ©. Har 48 Black John, rue Roap-Acent; or, Tax Ovut- tAws’ RETREAT. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. woop Dick IN DANGER. By Edward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, THE Trapper. A Tale of the 51 The Bo ifles; or, Taz UNpEeRGROUND Camp. By Archie C. Trons. A Tale of Stran Adventure in the Northwest. B a> Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THe Boy Pxenrx; or, 54 Ned Mazel, tur Boy TrappPer; or, THe PHAN- tom Princess. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 55 Deadly - Eye, tas Unknown Scour; or, Taz BRANDED BROTHERHOOD. By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whifiles’ Pet; or, In THE VALLEY or Deatu. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 57 Deadwood Dick’s 9 or, THE Parps Be L eeler. or FLoop Bar. ing} or, Tue Srorer For. 58 The Border rid OL. Coomes. 59 Old Hickory; or, PAypy Ex.is’s Scanp. By arry St. George. 6) The White Indian; or, THe Scovrs or THE s. YELLOowsTONE. By Capt. J. F.C. A 61 Buckhorn Bill; or, Taz Reo Rite Team. By Edward L. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship; or, Tae Rryvau Liev- TENANTS. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood} or, THz Twetve AVENGERS. By W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy Jack; or, Tze OurLaw or THE OREGON Tram. By T. C. Harbatigh. 65 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustane Sam anp His ** Parp,”’ x Jos: E. Badger, Jr: 66 Single and; or, A Lire For A Lire. By W. J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe 3 or, OLD RaTrLesnake, THE CHARMER, By Philip S. Warne. 68 The Border Robin Hood; or, Taz Prairre Rover. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Geld Rifle, THe SHARPSHOOTER; or, THE Boy Derecitive oF THE BLACK Rancn. By Edward L. Wheeler, 70 Old. Zip’s Cabin; or, THe Greennorn IN | THz Woops. By J. F. 0. Adams. 71 Delaware or, BroTHER AGAUNST Broruer. -By Ol Coomes. 72 Mad Vom Western, THE Texan RANGER; or, THE QUEEN OF THE PRAIRIE. ~By Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deeky or, Cauamiry JANE, THE HEROINE OF WuHOoP-Up. By Wheeler; 74 Hawk-eye Harry, THe Youna TRAPPER RANGER. By Oll Coomes. 75 The Boy Duelist; or, THe Crouse or THE Sza-Wor... By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 76 Abe Colt, THe Crow-Kriier; or, Toe Great FieHTInG MAN oF THE West. By A. W. Aiken. "7 Garéaxey. Charlie, Tas y Bravo; or, Deapwoop Dick’s Lasr Act. By E. L. Wheeler, 78 Blue Dick; or, Tae YELLOW Curzr’s. VEN- GEANCE. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, THE Giant TRappER; or, THE FLOWER OF THE BLackreeT, By A, W. Aiken. 80 Rosebud Bob; or, Nueger Nep, tae Kniaut or THE GuicH. By Edward L. Wheeler. 81 Lightning Jo, tHe TeRRoR or THE Pratt. | By Captain J. F.C. Adams, 82 Kit Haretoot, tHe Woop-Hawk; or, OLp PownER-Fack AND His,Demons. By Harbaugh. 83 Rollo, the Boy Ranger} or, THe Herress OF THE GOLDEN Horny, By O omes. 84 Idyl, the Giri Miner; "RosEgup Ros on Hanp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Buckramy or, Bess, THE FEMALE Trapper. By Captain J. F. C. Adams. 86 Dandy Wock, THe Man rrom Texas. By G. Waldo Browne. 87 The Land Pirates; or, Toe Leacve or DEvIL’s IsLaAND. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 Enotouss h_ Phil, rue ¥ SLEUTH; or, Rosesup Rop’s REAPPEARANCE. By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jims; or, THe Per or THe Faminy. By the author of *‘ Jack Harkaway.” 90 The Dread Rider; or, Tar DUELIST. By George Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club; or, THe Youne Rivau_ Arnuetres. By Bracebridge Hemyng, (Jack Harkaway.) > 92 Canada Chet, THE COUNTERFEITER CHIEF; or, OLD ANACONDA IN SITTING Buuu’s Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners; or, Tae ENcHANTED Istanp. By Edward §. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, tHE Roap-AGeEnT; GopHER Gin, THE Boy TRAPPER OF THE By T. C. Harbaugh, 95 e Rival Rovers } or Tae Freesoorers OF THE Mississipri. B eut, Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch-Eye, THE W; or, ARABS AND ANGELS oF A°-GrREAT City. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers; or, Toe Captive or THE Haapes. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, tue OvtTLawen EArt; or, THE Merry MEN or Greenwoop. By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve. : 99 The Tiger of Taos; or, Witp Katz, Danny Rock's Aneet. By Geor, aldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A STRANGE STROKE ror LiseRry. LM nh 101 Jack Harkaway in New ne May THe ADVENTURES OF THE TRAVELERS’ B, as Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, THe Boy SmvuGcGLeR; or, THE CRUISE OF THE VIXEN). By Col. Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea; or, THE Vamzp Lapy oF San Tropez. By Col. Delle Sara, 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device; _or, Tur SIGN oF THE DovsiEe Cross. By B. L. Wheeler 105 Old Kube, tHe Hunter; or, Toe Crow Cap- TIvE. By Capt..H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, THe Guipe; or, NIOKANA, THE WHITE QUEEN OF THE BLACKFEET. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim 3 or, THE ABANDONED For- gst Home. By J. L. Bowen. 108 Daring Davy, tae Youna Brar-Ki1er; or, Tram or THE BorDER Wor. By Harry St. George. 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies. A Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure. By James L. Bowen. : 111 The Sea-Devyil; or, THz MmsHiIpman’s LEGacy. 7 Col. P. Ingraham. 112 The Mad Hunter; or, Tae Cave or Death. By Burton Saxe. 113 Jack Hoyle, tum Youna SPEccLaTor; or, THe Road To Fortune By Ed. L. eeler. 114 The Black Schooner; or, Jip Junk, THE Otp Tar. By Roger Starbuck. 115 The Mad Miner; or, Danpy Rocr’s Doom. By George Waldo Browne. 116 The Hussar Captain; or, Taz Hermr oF He.i-Gate. By Col. Prentiss ye the 117 Gilt-Edged Dick, THE Sport E} or, THE AD-AGENT’s DauGuHTER. Wheeler. or, Dick, THe Younc Ranaer Spy; | | 118 Will Somers, tz Boy Derecrive. B Charles Morris. ” { 119 Mustang Sam; or, THe KING oF THE Piaws,.. By Jos. E.. Badger, Jr. 120 The Branded Hand; or, THz Man or Mystery. By Frank Dumont: 121 Cinnamon Chip, tHe Grr Sport; or, THE GOLDEN IpoL or Mr, Rosa, Ed. L. Wheeler. 122 Phil Hardy, Tu£ Boss Boy; or, THe Mys- TERY OF THE STRONGBOW. By Charles Morris. 123 Kiowa Charley, THE Warrr MustanGer; or, Rocky Mountain Kir’s Last Scautp Honr. od T. C. Harbaugh. ippy, THE TEXAN; or, THE YounG Campion. By George Gleason. Bonanza Bill, Miner; or, MapaAmMe Mys- TERY, THE FEMALE Forarr. By itd. L. Wheeler. Picayune Pete; or, Nicopemus, THE Doa Detective. By Charles Morris. Wild-Fire, raz Boss or roe Road; or, Tax WOLVES OF SaTAn's Gap. By Frank Dumont. The Young Privateer 3 or, THE Pmatzs’ STRONGHOLD. By H. Gaventitan. Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, Tas gnnax m7 ey es rpg L. Wheeler. etective c or, Hero w Rags. By Charles Morris.. : The Golden Hand} or, Danpy Rock To THE Rescuz. By George W. Browne. The Hunted Hunter; or, Taz Srrance HORSEMAN OF THE Prainip. By Ed. 8. Ellis. Boss Bob, THe Kine of THE BooTBLACKs; or, THE PAWNBROKER’S PLot.- Ed. L; Wheeler. Sure Shot Seth, Tae Boy Rrrieman; or, Tue 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 YounG Patriots OF THE NorTH. By Oll Coomes. Cagis Paul, THe Kentucky MOONSHINER; or, £ Boy Spy or THe Mountains. By C. D. Clark, Night-Hawk Kit}; or, Tae Daveurer or THE Rancu. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. The. Helpless Hands or, Backwoops Retrisution. By Capt. Mayne Reid. Blonde Bill; or, Deapwoop Dicx’s Home Base. By Edward L, Wheeler. hoot 4 Judge Lynch, Jr.; or, THe Boy Vier- LANTE.. By T.C, Harbaugh. Blue Blazes; or, Tae Break 0’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. Solid Sam, THE Boy Roap-AGENT; or, THE BRANDED Brows. By Edward L. Wheeler. Handsome Harry, THE Boorsiack Der- trectivE. By Charles Morris. Scar-Face Saul, THE Stent Hunter; or, THe.Mystery or Fort Rane. By Oll Coomes. Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport; or, THe BaNnkK-BREAKERS’ Decoy Duck. J. E. Badger. Captain. Ferret, THe New York Derec- TIvE; or, Boss Bon’s Boss Jos. By Wheeler. Silver Star, THE Boy Kwyicur. A Prairie Romance. By Oll Coomes. 3 Will Wildfire, THE THoroveHERED; or, Tue Wirynine Hand. By Charles Morris, Sharp Sam or, Tot ADVENTURES OF A FRIENDLESS Boy, By J. Alexander Patten. 149 A Game of Gold; of, Deapwoop Dicx's Bie Srrrke. By Edward L. Wheeler. 150 Lance and Lasso; or, THe CHILDREN oF THE CHaco. By Capt. erick Whittaker. 151 Panther Paul, Tur Prarie Parte; or, Dainty Lance To THE Rescug. J. E. Badger. 152 Black Bess, Wm. Wivprme’s Racer; or, Winntne Acainst Opps. By Charles Morris. 153 Eagle Kit, tHe Boy Demon; or, THe Ovr-. LAWS OF THE GoLtp Hitts. By Oll Coomes. 154 The Swerd Hunters; or, THE Lanp or THe ELEPHANT Ripers. By Fred. Whittaker. 155 Gold Trigger, Tne Sport; or, Tax Giri AVENGER. By. é. Harbaugh. 156 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, Tus Picken Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. 157 Mike Merry, THe Hareor Potice Boy; or, Tue. Nicut-HAwKS oF ELPHIA. By Charles Morris. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, Taz TrapprER’s Trust. By Buffalo Bill. 159 The Lost Captain; or, Sxrerer Janez Corrin’s CRUISE TO THE OPEN PoLaR Ska. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 160 The Black Giant; or, Damty Lance ~w JroparDy. By Joseph £. Badger, Jr. 161 New York Nell, THe Boy-Gmt Derecrive or, OLD BLAKESLY’s Monry. By E. L. Wheeler 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods; or, Came LIFE IN THE ALLEGHANIES. By Charles Morris. 163 Little Texas, THE Youna Mesranorr. A Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes. 164 Dandy Rock’s Pledge; or, Huntrep To Deatu. By G. Waldo Browne. 165 Billy Baggage, THe RarmRoap Boy; or, Run to EartH. By Charles Morris. Sept. 21. 166 Hickory Harry ; or, THE Trai or Free. By Harry St. George. Ready September 28th. 167 Asa Scott, Taz Sreampoat Boy; or, Toe Lanp Pirates OF THE MISSISSIPPI. By Ed- ward Willett. Ready October 5th, 168 Deadly Dash; or, Fidutine Fire wrirn Fre. By Jos. E. Badger. Ready October 12. A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on ipt of six cents each. EADLE & ADAMS, Pub rs, 98 William Street, New York. 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 . ; .