Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 162) (1880 08 31)
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2 Will Wildfire in the Woods; Camp Life in the Alleghanies. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF ‘“‘MIKE MERRY,” ‘BLACK BESS,” “‘ WILL WILDFIRE,” ‘‘ HANDSOME HARRY,” ‘‘ DETECTIVE DICK,”’ ETC., ETC. CHAPTER 1. AN ARCHERY MATCH. Tue sun shone warmly down upon the broad East Meadows, as the wide grassy mead was called, so brilliant now with the gay multitude gathered upon its verdant surface. On either side a stretch of woodland walled in the scene, declining on the south to a hawthorn hedge, and on the north to a shallow brawling creek, beyond which a thicket of oak and hazel closed the prospect. It was, indeed, a charming silvan retreat, shut in with green walls from ths outer world, and with the beams of an Octobersun pouring the genial warmth of the Indian summer weather upon its verdant confines. The sound of loud and merry voices filled the air, from the gayly-dressed throng of ladies and gentle- men who occupied this green recess of nature. The Fee mp of quivers, re we silken scarfs from their shoulders, and the sharp twang of bow-strings, revealed the fact that this was a meeting for the ex- ercise of the old and honorable art of archery. The same fact was evidenced by the broad target, which stood near the eastern forest, with an arrow still quivering just inside the outermost of its concentric circles. The archers were gathered on a smooth spot near the creek, and were warmly criticising the effect of this last shot. ‘Who is next?’ cried one, a bright-haired, blue- eyed maiden, with a face like « peach blossom. “That shot will never carry away the honors.” “Harry Waters,” was the reply, as a light-built, handsome young man stepped actively up to the Vine. He had thrown back his cap, and the ruffled hair tlustered over his forehead. He tried his bow,which elded the clear twang of a harp-string. Dropping e end of the curved wood to the ground, he com- menced to select an arrow with great care. “Ts he a good shot?” whispered the young lady who had before spoken. “That I could not say,” returned her friend. ‘I have never seen him draw a bow.” “Well, at any rate, he has not much to beat,” with a suggestive shrug. Adjusting the arrow to the string, the contestant slowly bent the strong bow, taking careful and de- liberate aim, his eye fixed with a keen glance on the distant target. A sharp twang. The arrow had sped. meen ny followed the winged missile, that shot through the air like a line of light, and buried its iron point in the surface of the target. ** A bull’s-eye!” cried one, hastily. “A bull’s-eye? Where do you _ keep your eyes?” sarcastically asked a second, a tall, Sar ype deg person, whose looks were keenly xed upon the nivering arrow. ‘“ Why, it’s outside the inner cir- ie, a good six inches from the center. Come, come, Harry, you will have to do better than that, if you want to carry off the honors.” ‘*Maybe you can beat it,” retorted Harry, a little nettled. “Me? Why I haven’t tried a bow and arrow since T used to have a boy’s fun, shooting at ground squir- rels in my native Buck’s county woods. Besides, it’s the ladies’ turn. I would not rob the fair Clara of her chance for a kingdom.” The young lady who had now taken Harry Waters’s place, turned with a smile toward the speaker, re- vealing a beautiful face, bright with youth and clear with hope. “Tam much obliged to Mr. Browning, I am sure,” came in musical tones from her lips. ‘ His polite- ness is really delightful, under the circumstances. But he can have his much-desired opportunity after I get hn, oy No, no!” returned the laughing giant hastily. “T won't steal your honors. There are others ahead of me. Goon. Iam satisfied to repose on my old laurels.”’ “T should fancy you would not sleep easily on them,” retorted the fair contestant. “They must be dreadfully faded. It would be best to add some fresh ones to the mass.” Her bow seemed rather firm and stout for her delicate hands. It was stained of a bluish tint, and stretched with a q@rd of crimson silk. Carefully selecting an me ap feathers of the same tint. of blue, she fitted it othe cord, standing erect with a sup le oe that was a picture to behold. Foe at Clara Moreland,” cried the blue-eyed nymph who had spoken before. “Isn’t she hand- some and graceful? AndIam told she is the best shot in the Robin Hood Club.” *“*T have never seen her shoot,” was the reply. “She is a wonderful rider, though. Why, I eve she would not be afraid to dash down a precipice on her black horse, Selim.’ “They say she is engaged to be married to Will Wildfire,” continued thenymph, “ But, where is he? ~ It is not often he lets any sport escape him.” “I should fancy this business to be out of his “No, indeed, itis not! They practiced archery at Yale, and I am told he was as good with the bow as with the oar.” ‘Hush! she is going to shoot!” The whole assembly was stilled in intense ex- pectation as the graceful archer stood, with her left side presented to the target, and the bow, lifted to the level of her eyes, drawn with a strength and skill that could hardly have been expected from her delicate hands. Her eye glanced quickly along the leveled arrow. An instant, and the released string twanged with a sharp, keen sound. The arrow flew across the level plain, and struck the target with a clear thud, near its center. A simultaneous outburst of applause came from the admiring throng. “Good!” “Fine!” ‘The best shot to-day!” ‘Is it a bull’s-eye?” “No.’’ “Not an inch from the center, anyway!” were some of the admiring com- ments on the shot, while a } peeve medley of excited remarks arose in the crowd surrounding the archers. Clara stood a little aside, her face flushed with pardonable pride, while these flattering comments on her skill met her ear. ** How is it?’ was the c shot returned with the victorious arrow. touched the bull’s-eye? Is it a center?” ‘* Just outside the bull’s-eye,”’ was the announce- ment, “about two and a half inches from the center. The best shot to-day by a good three inches.” Clara was instantly surrounded by her friends, who vied with each other in warm congratulations. Several other contestants followed, with varied success. Finally the pretty young lady, who had been so free in her comments on the previous com- deny) stepped forward, bearing a slender, delicate ow, that seemed but a toy as compared with those used by some of the others. Her blue eyes glittered with excitement as she took her stand, while she ushed back the wealth of golden hair, that seemed ent on getting into her eyes. “Come, come, Miss Darling!’ exclaimed the huge fellow who had before spoken, while a mischievous smile played around his lips. “Itis hardly fair to the rest for you to enter. There will not be a ghost of a chance with one who shoots two ways, with an arrow from your bow at the target, and a twin pair of arrows from your eyes at the hearts of the poor men.”’ “T would per like to try a center shot at your heart,’ she saucily replied. “I would not care to have my arrows blunted.” “Me? Why lam as soft-hearted asa baby. You have shot me through and through before now.” “You don’t dare to match me at the target, at any rate,” she retorted, in a tone of slight vexation. “T would advise you not to be too sure of that. I never refuse a fair challenge.” “Very well, then,”’ quickly replied the lady. “‘ You can shoot after me. e will see what right you have to come here and criticise us.” ‘*Beware, misguided female,” returned her op- ponent. “ Beware how you invite defeat.” *“T do not fear your skill,” was her laughing re- sponse, as she quickly drew her light bow, and shot the arrow seemingly without aim. “A pair of gloves against a kiss it does not touch the target,” challenged the laughing giant. “Done!” cried the blue-eyed archer, with a saucy look. ‘* Mind, sir, I shall hold you to your wager.” ** And mind, miss, I shall hold you.” The arrow, at this instant, reached the target, and buried its point in its outer edge, almost missing it. ‘The gloves are mine,” she cried gayly. **But, oh! how desperately near you were to be- ing kissed,” he maliciously rejoined. ‘No matter. It is your turn now.” “But I have no bow.” “Borrow one then. “Has it easily.” With a an of affected dismay, Mr. Brownin, turned, and borrowed a bow and arrow from one 0 his friends. “Prepare now, ladies and gentlemen,” he an- nounced, ‘“‘to see a display of skill that will put to the blush the celebrated Locksley of the pent. Pre- are to crown Pierce Browning, the modern Robi ‘tA silk purse to a necktie you don’t touch the target,”’ exclaimed Miss Darling. “Done!” cried the archer. ‘‘ You have robbed me bn pair of gloves. I am good for a purse in their e ” The carelessness of his shot even exceeded hers. The arrow flew without any apparent aim. * A center!’ he exclaimed. “Yes, the center of the woods,” she retorted, while a loud laugh of amusement arose as it became evident that the arrow had flown wide of the target. ‘Tt has gone clear through,” he sturdily declared. “ Look, and you will find the hole it has made.” “A pretty broad hole, through that clump of oak timber,” suggested a voice. ‘You can add the necktie to the gloves, friend Pierce.” Miss Darling turned quickly at the voice. ‘*Ah! here is the missing archer now. They have been waiting for you, Mr. Wildfire.” “ Better late than never,” replied the new-comer, as he stepped forward. He was a handsome, athletic, well-built youth, with a smooth face except for a budding mustache, and i” Sc and engaging expression of counte- nance, ere was something especially taking in his clear and genial eye, while his whole face seemed instinct with honor, courage and gayety. “ Will Wildfire!” exclaimed a dozen voices. “ What has kept you? Your name was called a half an hour ago. “Business,” he sententiously replied. “ You will , as the measurers of the | | : WAIL Wildfiredn the Woods... -2s fe | | | a | and bent the flexible bow, with the full | apy he Thestring touched his right ear; an in- have to excuse me. Iam not fn the best of humor for shooting to-day.” “No, sir,” reto Pierce Browning. ‘‘ You must take your chance. You didn’t find me back down when 1 was called upon.” **You couldn’t very well help yourself,” rejoined Will, with a glance at the weil face of Miss Dar- ling. ‘ Lend mea bow, then, I will go through the motions.”’ : While they were procuring him a bow he turned to Pierce Browning, and whispered in his ear: “There is some fun afloat, my boy. The devil is unchained.”’ “ What?—Mark—”’ “Hush! It’s a fact though. Pardoned out!" A grimace passed over Pierce’s expressive coun- tenance, while Will turned, with an unchanged look and took the bow which the master of the field had obtained for him, ‘**T presume I may as well be beaten as any one,” he laughingly remarked. ‘‘ Who stands best now?” ‘Miss Clara Moreland,’’ was the oe “Ah!” said Will, looking around, and catching an expressive glance from the young lady in questlon, while he answered with a warm smile. “Tt would be unfair to beat the lady,” he remark- ed, fitting the arrow to the string. A pause of expectation followed. None there head seen the new archer shoot, but his well known skill in other sports gave them hope of marked ability in this, and every eye was fixed upon his tall and - ful figure, as he drew himself up to his full hight, ower of a stant he glanced along the arrow; every breath was held in expectation. But at this instant a sharp report, as of a rifle- shot, came from the thicket, and the archer’s h struck by the bullet, was torn from his head, an dashed to the ground, twenty feet away. A closer setting of the lips wasthe only evidenoe of emotion in Will Wildfire’s face, as he quick wheeled around upon his heel, with the bow st bent to its utmost stretch. < A faint puff of smoke was rising above a spot in the center of the thicket. A sharp twang announced that the arrow had fled, aimed with instant but steady aim at the spot which sheltered this secret assassin. And ae as a flash Will had followed his arrow, - across the stony creek and into the thicket. ‘Follow me, Pierce!” he cried, “The devil is loose, in good earnest!”’ CHAPTER I. WILL WILDFIRE’S BAREBACK FEAT. FRONTING on Fairmount avenue, Philadelphia, at a int West of Twentieth street, stands a gloomy and mposing edifice, whose massive turreted tovy, and crenulated walls give it the appearance FS ae Norman castle, of those old times when might ruled right over the fair domains of England and France. ts object, however, is widely different from that of the castellated structures of the past. They wero built to keep people out; this to rg a n; for it is what is locally known as Cherry Hill prison, or to give it its formal title, the Eastern Penitentiary of Pennsylvania. Tn a cell iv the interior of this edifice, sits a small framed, rather handsome man, though with some- thing in his glance that is not of the most prepos- sess ng character. The cell he occupies is clean and neat, but very sparsely furnished. It opens in the rear agen a small garden plot, tee large enough to give a breath of fresh air, and a scant opportunity for exercise to the weary prisoner. He has, however, an opening for exercise of | another character, in the bench, tools and materials You shall not escape so | of a shoemaker, which sit at one side of his cell, and with which he is required to employ himself, for the performance of a certain task. Just now he is seated on the edge of his cot, ust his shoemaker’s knife in idly cutting thin strips of leather from a piece which he holds in his hand; while an expression of bitter malignity plays upon his features. ; “T will be even with him yet,’ he hoarsely re- marks. ‘‘They cannot med me here, with all the influence I have brought to bear upon the Pardon- ing Board. Once let me out of this infernal cell, and I will make him feel what revenge means in the heart of Mark Preston. He has had bis day. Mine will come yet.” ‘ He sat brooding in sullen silence for some min- utes, . the leather with a peculiar savase energy, as if he fancied it the heart of his foe. His expression grew more bitter and malignant, “ Robbed of my fortune first,’ he muttered. “Of my bride next, and then of my liberty. Besides all the minor favors which I owe to his generosity, Let him take heed. He has sown a deep harvest of revenge, which he shall yet reap. I swear it, as I am a living man!” Furiously flinging down the implements which he held in his hands, he sprung to his feet and walked briskly ped the narrow confines of the cell, his lips working with inaudible sentences. ‘*When will I get out of this cell?’ he furiously exclaimed. ‘When will I get at my mortal foe? Oh! that I could tear down these accursed walls, and break again into the light of day and of liberty!” He paused in his furieus walk. The sound had reached his ears of steps advancing along the prison aisles, and stopping opposite his door. Voices were next heard. ‘Ts this the cell?” “Yes, Number 79. Here is the name, you see. Mark Preston.” ; “Yes, yos. That seems right. Open the door,”
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Speen. ee The ner stood with something of the aspect of a wild-cat, the door of whose rp being un- fastened. The intense look of one thirsting f © lib- erty and revenge. / e open door displayed the forms of the jailer of that corridor, and of a burly, well-dressed individ- for six years, as an accomplice of a gang of burglars?” This question was addressed to the keeper. “ This is your man,” replied the latter, brusquely. “Then, by virtue of the document which I hold, signed by the Governor and the State Board of Par- dons, you are pardoned for this offense, and are hereby freed from detention.” A flash of joy, that had in it something of sav. exultation, shot across the prisoner’s face. But, y strong self-control, he repressed any further evi- dence of feeling, and said, with assumed sternness of tone: “T don't know that an innocent man owes many . thanks to the State officials for releasing him from false imprisonment. I thank you, though, for your ant Iam weary enough of this villainous dog’s hole,’ The official looked with an air of wonder at the prisoner, whose eyes were turned with a savage glare upon the walls of his cell. A significant shrug of the shoulders, and he commenced to read the document he held, the prisoner listening with ill- concealed impatience to its legal verbiage. “Let me congratulate you upon your release,” vontinued the official. ‘*‘ Mr. Walker, you will see to Mr. Preston’s further needs.” He turned upon his heel, as if offended at the lack of response to his polite remark in the prisoner's ex- n. e on. ‘+A rat don’t often thar’ the kind gentlemen who shut him up ina trap,”’ muttered Preston, as he fol- towed the keeper from his discarded cell. A half-hour afterward the wicket in the great iron gates of the prison opened, and Mark Preston step- ped out into the free air of the streets and under the open light of the heavens. A remarkable change hud taken place in his appearance. His prison garb was discarded, and he wore the well-cut, fashionable attire which had been taken from him when enter- ing the prison. Cleanly shaved, his long mustache curled in the French fashion, and a well-fitting hat concealing his closely-clipped head, no one would have dreamed that this dapper individual had been, — poe before, an inmate of a prison cell, a convict- elon. Mr. Walker, the keeper, bude him a kindly God- syeed at the gate, and the freed convict walked briskly away, his face working with the conflicting emotions that filled bis mind, “Tt was lucky that I received that other | Aes he muttered, ** or ¥! losses on the turf, and in other ways, might have forced me to take up my new trade of shoe.naking for a living. I must see how my affairs suand. I can take my time in paying my respects to my friend, Will Wildfire.” Leaving him to his devices, we must return to the scene of the archery meeting, whose sport had been 80 ane interrupted. An intense confusion fol- lowed the rifle-shot, which had seemed evidently aimed at Will Wildfire. The screams of women were mingled with the ezies and ejaculations of men. The group for an instant huddled together, like a fright- ened herd of deer that hears the huntsman’s shot. Some of the ladies clung nervously to their gentle- men friends for protection. ; This excitement was partly occasioned. by the hasty exclamation and quick action of Will Wildfire. The brawling creek ran td in its shallow bed, with frequent stones llfting above its swirling wa- ters. Leaping from stone to stone, in a minute he had reached the edge of the thickev, followed as quickly by Pierce Browning, Harry Waters and sev- eral others. But the thicket was not to be so readily traversed. The intertwining fibers of pe-vines, and the thorny and whip-like stems of blackberry and rasp- berry bushes, hindered any rapid progress; though Will hastily drew a knife and cut his way through these annoying obstructions. “Spread to the right and lefti’’ he shouted. ‘ The thicket is not wide. You may surround it and catch this weasel in his hole. Quick, lads! Don’t let the hound escape!”’ The tion was instantly followed. Some ran in each tion pene banks of the creek, with intent to overlap the thicket, while others darted in various lines through its dense midst, following Will's example of cutting a passage through the hin- dering vines and thorn bushes. The ladies were soon left almost alone, awaiting with intense anxiety the result of this rapid and im- pulsive search. ; “Shoot the hound down, if you gan’t ! him otherwise !’’ yelled Pierce Browning, as he plunged into the bushes, breaking through all obstructions with his great weight, and trampling them under his feet as an elephant might have done in a similar sit- uation. . Several minutes of intense expectancy followed. Those left on the archery ground could hear the shouts and tramplings of the pursuers, and their fre- quent cries of advice er of encouragement to each other. And now a more interesting cry came from the heart of the thicket, in the stentorian tenes of , By Heaven, Will!” he cried, “ but you are a fine le Ae ee ti 8 Will Wildfire in the Woods. = a fly. You've carried off the honors of the T How? Did I hit him?’ screamed back Will’s voice, from a little distance. “Yes. He took your hat with his bullet, and you have taken his with your arrow. Here it is; with a good goose-feathered shaft plumb through it; anda tinge of red on the barb as if it had creased the hound’s scalp.” “Keep it,” rettrned Will. ‘That is my et, with a shot in the bull’s-eye. The hat may ] to its owner. Drive on, boys! He may be in hiding somewhere.” The plunging sounds continued for several min- utes more. “Hey! Hey! Hoicks! Stole away! Stole away!’ came from an old fox-hunter, who had skirted the thicket. ‘* Yonder he goes, on horseback, and riding a a By the seven saints, he has given us the s ” veral others quickly gathered around him, their eyes fixed on the distant horseman, who was ridin rapidly down a neighboring lane, | fuse lea his horse over the low fence that skirte e fiel Almost at the same instant Will Wildfire broke from the thicket, folowed a moment afterward by the huge form of Pierce Browning, who held aloft tri- umphantly the arrow-pierced hat which he had dis- covered. *““Whereaway ?"” cried Will, eagerly. “Yonder.”’ A dozen hands pointed to the fugitive horseman, now a full quarter of.a mile away. “He has given us the slip, confound claimed Pierce, in accents of vexation. “* Not yet,’ was Will's hasty answer. He troke quickly from the throng and ran across the field, firs Se a bow from the hands of. one of the pursuers, who had. brought this implement with him. All eyes curiously followed the athletic youth, not comprehending his object. It was soon evident, how- 1” ex- 3 though he understood them, and stepped out ata somewhat brisker 5 Phineas Brown p a note book from the pocket of his snuff-colored coat, and began leisurely to ex- amine its entries, a look of great satisfaction coming upon his face. “Add six, that makes nine,” he muttered with ursed-up lips, and compressed brows. “ Nine times orty is—let me see. Nine times naught is nangy nine times four is thirty-six. Three hundred sixty. Then add to that seven twenty-nine, and we have—" he put. theend of the pencil in his mouth, and looked up, as he tried to mentally make the difficult calculation, But all thought of esand profits was sudden- ly driven from his head, as his eyes glanced down t before. him. For there came a furious rider on a furious steed, And the rider was bare- headed, and the steed barebacked; while the ex- rienced eyes of the old farmer had never seena ridle like that with which the horse was managed. His wonder increased as the equestrian came nearer; while a look that was not entirely astonish- ment came upon his dry visage. “Unless Iam strangely mistaken I have seen that steed before,” he muttered, with a queer expression, “Nor is the. visage of the rider quite unknown to me. But what is the untamed colt bridled with?” A minute afierward Will Wildfire, for it was he, thundered up beside the wagon of the old farmer. Wild as the horse. had. been at first, his breakneck drive seemed to have taken the spirit out of him. Will readily drew him up with bis improvised bit. The flash was still in his eyes as he turned to the old man, who sat with a peculiarly crm smile on his features while he adjusted his spectacles for a closer look at the horse. “Excuse me for stopping you, Mr. Brown,” be- gan Will, with rapid and eager voice. “ Have you met a bareheaded rider, d ving furiously down the road by which you have come? ever. A young, clean-limbed horse was quiet] “Yes,” replied the old farmer, as he continued to ee the grass on the other side of the field. inspect ‘Will's srenge mount. : Will slackened his pace as he approached this ani- “Where?” cried the young man with impatient mal, who was lifting his ears in incipient alarm, haste. ‘‘ He's a villain and an attempted murderer! But by that sort of freemasonry which exists be- | How far is he in advance?” tween some men and the members of the brute crea- ‘Pardon. me, friend Wildfire,” the old fellow de- tion, Will managed to quiet the alarm of the skittish | liberately answered. “I do not quite agree with animal. He was allowed to approach, to softly | thee in thy opinion, Thyself is the only furious stroke the glossy hide, to grasp its flowing mane. bareheaded rider Lhave met to-day.” __ It was the opportunity he wanted. In a moment Will put. his hand to his head with an involuntary more, with an agile spring, he had flung himself ture,. He had forgotten the loss of his hat. astride the trusting animal. “Do not trifle with me,’ he cried, half an
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4 “T can scarcely come,” he answered. ‘Unless zo will permit me to extend the invitation to a few ends, whom I left at the archery grounds.” nit old farmer hesitated a moment, his brows ng. “Yes, yes! certainly, certainly!’ he then ex- claimed. ‘“ Bring thy friends. I shall be happy to see them.—Gee up, Franky,” and he shook the reins over the subdued old roan. Will turned his horse at the same time, and start- ed swiftly back. * Look for me, by sunset ’’ he called back, as his new-broken steed ran at a rapid pace down the smooth road, “ Well, if this isn’t the most asto adventure of all!” he ejaculated. °‘ Old Brown is said never to have given an invitation to a meal in his life. For fear he may never give another I am half inclined to make the most of this.” A laugh broke from his lips, at the thought that was passing through his mind. Meanwhile farmer Brown jogged on, reaching home in due time. While his eldest son took charge of the horse and wagon, leading them to the barn, the old man made his way to the kitchen, where he found his good wife, as wrinkled as himself, busily engaged at her culinary preparations. The old man seated himself — in his accus- tomed chair, laid off his broad-brimmed hat, wiped his brow with an immense silk handkerchief, and then ey yay to nd to the dozen — tions which the good dame had already asked i “Wife,” he asked. ‘‘ What has thee for supper?” “What a question, Phineas,’’ was her surprised answer. ‘‘ Thee knows well there is only the sausage. the tea, and a loaf or two from yesterday’s baking.’ ‘““We might open some preserves,’’ he reflected. “ And—and—” He paused in doubt. \ Will Wildfire in the Woods. ed eyes of the farmer and his wife, until more than twenty-five were in the room. { “I have brought my friends from the archery meeting, in response to your kind invitation,” said Will, gravelv. “Thank Heaven I cooked the old goose !’’ the far- mer mentally remarked, as the room grew thronged. ‘* We will see who has the best of the joke.” CHAPTER IV. A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER. At the same moment that farmer Brown and his good wife retreated in horror from the avalanche of ay young men and pretty girls, who had invaded eir quiet domicile, a Pay very different aspect was preparing to move in the same direction, from a substantial farm-house several miles to the west. This party was composed of three substantial members of the Society of Friends, dressed in the most sober drab, of the most ee os cut, and with an expression of abhorrence of the good things of this life, that would have done credit to the most id of the early Quakers. o of these were the proprietors of the house, Samuel and Harriet Wilberforce. The third was a traveling preacher of the society, Abraham Jenkins, a noted exhorter in Friends’ meeting. Withal they were three of the most rigid members of the society in that locality, manifesting a holy horror of the innovations, and backslidings into the world’s ways, to which the younger members were becoming prone. “Ttis sad,” remarked Abraham, with a solemn uplifting of his eyebrows. ‘‘I marvel me much that a oa, does not fall on these degenerate young ~ e. But there are surely some of our friends, n region, who cling to the faith of their fore- fathers?” “Yes, verily,’ replied Samuel. “‘ There is Phineas Brown, whois a worthy member of the fold.” “And his good wife, Rebecca,” supplied Harriet, “a = earnest and solemn worker in the vine- yard.” ‘* Heaven be praised !’’ rejoined Abraham fervent- ly. ‘The old flock shall not die out while but a few remain, with faith to abhor the vanities of d and the deceitful pleasures of the table, and above all the twan abominations which the world’s people call instruments of music. If thee do not object, friend Samuel and Harrie& I should abundantly en- Joy a social visit to friend Vhineag and Rebecca.”’ ‘Truly, friend Abraham, we will go thither with- out delay. Our good neighber will be ey re- freshed in spirit by a visit from thee. We find him and his good wife _ ed in the charms of ra- tional conversation, for they have a pious abhorrence S at frivolity, and indulgence in the vain delights of life.” A half-hour afterward found the three solemn friends Jogging along solemnly behind the solemnest of horses, while the old wagon creaked beneath their substantial weight, as if its rheumatic joints were about to give way under their unwonted burden. It was long after dark when they approached Brook Farm, and van “oa a moonlight glimpse of the chimneys of farmer Brown's substantial residence. Step by step the old horse came nearer. But what was this? The solemn silence whieh they ex- pected to hear was broken by the most unwonted sounds. Surely those were the tones of that abom- ination which the world's ple call musical instru- ments, and moreover of that abomination of abom- inations named a fiddle! Could it be possible? And mingled with it were youthful voices raised in song and laughter, and—could it be?’—yes, it was—the sound of feet engaged in the frivolity of dancing! The shades of night prevented the three visitors from perceiving the horror which clothed each lengthened face. Their hands were raised in speech- less eg while a mutual groan broke from their astounded lips. ‘Has Satan escaped from his chains at last?” queried Abraham. ‘“ Verily, we have set our hands to the plow, and must not turn back. Some demon, —_* has entered into our unhappy friends’ domi- e , With growing horror they descended from the vehicle, and approached, with hesitating steps, the spot desecrated by the unholy squeak of the fiddle, It led them away from the house, and toward the t barn, whose hall was now brightly fllum- nated, while it resounded with the sounds of laugh- ter, music, and the quick tread of dancing feet. SSS SSS 0 ee SSS... Ss But with the reader’s permission, we will return to the supper-room of Brook Farm, into which the whole archery club, with their bows and arrows, had intruded at the close of our last chapter. Some anxious moments since then. But farmer Brown, who was a good fellow at heart, despite his rough exterior, and who knew how to appreciate a joke, soon recovered from his first as- | tonishment, and accepted the situation with the | best possible. And Mrs. Brown, who loved ren company much more than her austere husband, was secretly glad to | behold this lively irruption, though her soul was | troubled by the sparse t of her table. “Thee excuse me, friend Wildfire,” remarked the old man, with his grim smile, ** but is this what thee denominates a few friends?” “Why, they would come,” explained Will, in a | tone of apology. “I told them you would not pre- pare for an , but they were so anxious to call on neighbor Brewns that they were prepared to take luck?” “Qh! are weloome! Thee all welcome!" eried the old ‘fellow, grimly emiling, as bo shook ese eti hands with such as he recognized tm the while his motherly wife was fo oy welcoming her friends among the ladies. “But thee will have to take the will for the deed,” she remarked. ‘‘ We did not provide for so many.” “Pot luck, Mrs. Brown. Pot luck, you know, ts we expect,’’ explained Will. “And that is just what thee will get,” remartsed the farmer ironically. ‘Sit down, pray sit down, friends; I think thee will find we have enough for all. And perhaps there may be some fragments to re ” 8 ‘ Will caught a peculiar dry humor in the old man’s tone, and began to fear that there might be some hidden counterplot to his joke. But as for sitting down, that was Renply Sepoett- ble. Chairs enough were found to the ladies, but the gentlemen were obliged to stand, in a long solemn line, around the room. “We have no great variety ladies and gentle- men,”’ remarked the farmer; * but bread and butter, and stewed goose, are not to be despised,” And he removed the cover from the smoking dish, whose appetizing odors were giving pleasant antici. pations to the ring J throng of self-invited guests. “The gentlemen ** said Phineas, dryly, as he dished up the fragments of the triarch. “‘ As they are obliged to stand, they should be first served.” While Mrs. Brown poured out tea for the ladies, her husband, with his wrinkled face marked by a rous smile, passed plates of the steaming viand to ' e hungry line ranged expectantly around the wall. And then the rattle of knife and fork began, that exhilarating music of the table to which the song of the tea-kettle so cheerily responds. “Will thee have a wing?—A slice of the breast, did thee say?’ and the old man approached the bot- tom of the rapidly declining dish, while the ladies looked on in silent apprehension that the goose would be exhausted before it came to their turn. But an odd smile marked Mrs. Brown’s genial face, as she watched the efforts of her guests to carve their meat. It was impossible to do it standing, and the most of them, with spread handkerchiefs, and plates on knees, were vigorously and unsuccessfully striving to get a morsel of meat off the thinly-cov- ered bones of the old goose. ‘*Don’t wait for me, friends,” remarked the old man, as he still dipped into the dish. ‘ Proceed with thy supper. Tadien, I fear thee will have to make thy meal on bread and butter. Thy gentle- men friends have exhausted the goose.” But the ladies by this time had caught scent of the joke, and were watching with furtive smiles the des- perate but futile efforts of thegentlemen to get a morsel of meat from the bones of the venerable old bird. The dull knives they had might as well have attempted to carve sole-leather, and a look of de —_ followed - a ee ee smile, marked their faces, as t ey glan furtively around the busily engaged circle, Meanwhile the old farmer kept up his cheering re- marks. “T hope thee are enjoying thy supper, friends. Don’t wait for the young lodien. They prefer tea and bread and butter. I am sorry I can’t help thee to another piece, friend Wildfire. The wing is al- Lr) bs tough, thee knows.” It was impossible to hold in any longer. The first explosion came from the ladies, who burst intoa —. laughter, that made the rooms of the old ouse thrill with an unwonted sound. The merriment was echoed by the gentlemen, and a roll of —— passed round the walls of the room like the rattle of musketry. But the old farmer changed not a muscle of his face. With the same dry, grim smile, he continued to — them on the good supper he had rov : q “And plenty for all, friends. Plenty for all. Do not stint thyselves, I pray thee. Thee will find Lhave prepares amply.” e shouts of laughter redoubled, the ladies, par- ticularly, laughing until the tears ran from their eyes. “Sold, by Jupiter!” sonnet Will to Pierce Brown- ing. “7 don’t relish t is, m boy. Cannot we pro- vide him a Roland for the Oliver?” *T have it,” cried Pierce, suddenly. ‘I fancy we can to turn the tables. Wait till I return.” He slip en, from the room. Meanwhile the fun grew fast and furious. Brook Farm never, surely, had heard such sounds within its solemn precincts before. One by one the younger members of the Brown family inserted their as- tounded heads in at the door, and, seeing the aniet merriment on the faces of their austere parents were borne away on the gust of laughter, though without the most remote idea what it all meant. Such profane mirth was something quite beyond the experience of the younger Browns. Meanwhile the good lacy of the house was dil- ntly supplying her lady guests with slices of her ‘amous bread, and cuts of her golden butter, and generously covering saucers of her choice strawber- + preserves with the rich yellow cream of the Brook arm dairy. “Perhaps our gentleman friends would also like | some bread and butter?” remarked the dry maser sat. of ceremonies. “ Unless they are already isfied with —_—, ‘ “Why, I am d we have lost our relish for replied Will. ‘“ But we might poesi some Wane moor of sopeuts for b and wee “Certainly, certainly!’ cried the old ma enial tone. ‘“ And there is some sa e left also. hope thee will find thy appetites abamian fied, friends." He rectus set to work to his hungry guests with the only eatable part
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at ® haps, t the ke had Hemp Gee eile ter sacunh, nee A half-hour passed, and the table was as elear of viands as though a hurricane had blown across it. And now from the porch outside a most unexpect- ed and astounding sound flowed inward. The old er lifted his ears in deep surprise. It was sure- a ae. ere, the twanging strings of Satan's of sin But his guests received the sound with far differ- ent emotions. There were clapping of hands and tries of Ay. “A fiddle! a fiddle!’ cried some enthusiastic voices. ‘Good! ! We will have a dance! You ean’t object, Mr. Brown? There is your great barn floor. Itis just the place.”’ . “No, no!” falte the horror-stricken old Qua- er. “Yes, yes!’ laughed a dozen young voices, as bese rowning ot otegee oo the Rage followed y &@ young man who was gently extracting a lively hornpipe from the sounding acaigs of his in- strument. “Say we may, Mrs. Brown?” pleaded Miss Dar- ling, her blue eyes dancing. ‘ We will not dance in the house. But in your barn, there can be no harm in hae fon there.” is your doing,” groaned the old man aside to Will Wilditre. obits: “A violin for a goose!”’ laughed Will, in nse. “ One joke is worth another, neighbor Brown, though I am not responsible for this.” But there is some marvelous magic in the sound of music. The hearts of the old folks, which had been dry in their bosoms to the pleading of sweet sounds, were now dancing, despite themselves. And as the player changed from his lively hornpipe to a slower and mure plaintive air, they felt the flood- gates of their souls breaking up, while an unwonted moisture filled the corners of their eyes. As for their children, to whom such sounds were almost or quite unknown, they had already fallen into an involuntary dance, while their young faces were irradiated with joy “Well, well, well, thee has taken me by storm!” sried the oldman. ‘But what will the »seighbors say ?’’ * Let them say what they please,” returned Pierce. ‘We will warm up their dry hearts, too, if they show themselves here.” And now there was preparing in hot haste. And tre long the wide floor of the barn was swept clean, and lighted by candles and lamps pad mages Bag nn while the fiddler, mounted on a chair which was placed upon a barrel, was omg | off the liveliest music from his vibrating strings, till the floor sprung like a living thing beneath the feet of the dancers, and laughter and gay voices sought out every nook and cranny in the wide expanse. But farmer Brown and his wife kept sternly away from this frivolity, at first. Yet they could not avoid the thrilling charm of music. Ste they came nearer. Music, mirth, and joy, surely there could be no so great sin in these? In time they appeared at the open doors of the inclosure, looking in with an enforced effort at gravity. But they were seen, and in a moment were caught ap and drawn into the whirl of a lively country- dance. Will Wildfire caught the old y’s hands and drew her Rayly in, while Miss Darling, her eyes sparkling with mischief, did the same for the wrinkled old farmer. Ere they hardly knew it they were swinging and swirling across the floor, witha Aca vigor of which they would not have believed themselves capable. And the music pealed, and the well-timed elatter of feet resounded, and light laughter came from merry lips, and bright eyes flashed and spar- kled, and young faces grew radiant with delight, while the old man and his wife felt themselves young ain, as they were drawn away in the intoxication of the dance, quite forgetful of where they were gad what they were doing in that moment of wild orgetfulness. Suddenly the violin ceased, and the lively dancers game to an involuntary pause. And, from the open door sounded in — and solemn tones: “Truly Satan has broken his chains, and the demon of madness has entered into the brains of our broth- ers and our sisters. But oh! that our eyes should have been foreed to behold it, and our ears to hearken unto it!’ All eyes were directed thither. What was farmer Brown's horror to behold his two rigid Quaker neigh- ys pcre aad Harriet Mdaee Sore, with Pein re solemn stranger, gazing with a look of horri- tied astonishment, at the sinful indulgence of him- self and wife in the terrible frivolity of the dance! CHAPTER V. A CAMP DINNER. Tue well-wooded banks of Carbon Creek, that winds in leisurely curves down from the Penmsyl- rania coal-bearing mountains, presented an unusual spectacle on the day to which our story now leads us forward. A forest of vere oaks lined its banks, with here and there broad vistas leading back to the mountain flanks, while occasionally the view was brokem by dense clusters of thick growing underbrush. At the spot in questiem a sharp curve in the stream inclosed ts nominee of several acres in extent, whose ery Oe was aeeg .y trees, a the al eeption of one occupied its center, and threw its oie shete to the borders of the in- elosure. Beneath the mighty limbs of this great Sa the forest, a brace of tents lifted their hite cones. On the grams surrounding them was spread a variety of house-keeping implem nts, while, y close to the trunk of the poplar, a crackling fire burned under a steaming iron pot, which was swung on a cross-piece of wood, supported by two im- provised tripods. On the grass around the forms of a half~jozen A men were indolently stretched, idly awaiting he completion of the culinary process, to which one of their number occasionally gave his attention. They were dressed for the woods, in blue flannel shirts and stout belted pantaloons, while high boots — wide-rimmed, low-crowned hats completed their attire. ** Come, old horse, the morning is sliding by like a Dutchman upon a raft. Stir up that mysterious stew of yours, or we'll not get an ounce of sport in to-day,’’ exclaimed one of the idle loungers. ‘*No good cook hurries his broth; don’t you know that, my hungry friend?’ replied the cook, as he stirred up the contents of the pot with a huge wood- en ladle. ‘‘ What’s more,I sent that imp of Satan out, ten minutes ago, for some more wood. The young hound must have found a squirrel’s nest, or a sn tree; for there’s more wait than wood, with ma,” “Have you looked up your snares to-day yet, Ben?” asked another. “A dish of fried rabbit ee. be a bad flanker to Jack’s hodge-podge stew.” “T told Pete to take a squint,’ replied Ben, lazily rolling into an easier position. ‘“‘ Maybe that’s what's keeping him.” **'The fiends you did!” growled Jack, angrily flour- ishing his wooden ladle. ‘It’s no wonder that my stew is suffering for firewood, if the boy is smelling en > snares. Suppose you nose your Own rab- Ss ” ** Oh, wt up; here’s the boy now!” cried Ben Huntly, pointing to the edge of the woods. “ And with rabbits and fagots both,” added Will Wildfire, who formed another of the party. “And a comical-looking little sinner he is,”” com- mented Pierce Browning, with a laugh. It was, indeed, an amusing spectacle which, that moment, emerged from the woods and came slowly toward the camp. For there ap alittle negro about two-thirds grown, and so black that charcoa would certainly have made a white mark on him, while his eyes—that rolled like balls of pie de a basin of ink—formed the only relief to his midnight complexion. On each shoulder he firmly clasped a fagot of dry branches, which he had gathered from under the treesin the wood. But the comical feature of his aspect was the fact that he had clutched between his glea teeth the hind legs of two rabbits, which hung down in a limp manner over his breast. ‘“Well, may I be kicked by a mule!” ejaculated Ben, springing to bis feet, “if that isn’t an original way to carry rabbits! Why, you black jackanapes, what in the blue blazes do you mean, to stick my rabbits in your mouth, hey?” Pete attempted to say something, but only sput- tered out an uninte ble answer; while the others were rolling with laughter at the sudden wrath of Ben and the funny consternation of the boy. He at length opened his mouth and let the rabbits fall; but he was no more able to —_ than before for he was quite choked with rabbit fur, which half — ~-4 mouth ee a PROS u pluttering and co ng, the boy drop the fagots from his dhoulders and hopped pout as though he were dancing on hot plates, while he en- deavored to extract the choking fur from his mouth. “*Dar’s yer ole wood!’’ he managed to ejaculate, at intervals. ‘‘ An’ dar’s yer ole rabbits! Guess it didn’t hurt ’em much to cram dere hind paws in my mouf. Don’t cook dat part ob de rabbit, nohow.” And Pete continued to dance his war-dance, while he clawed away at the hidden recesses within his wide jaws. “Guess mebbe you'd laugh t’other side yer moufs, ef you'd got yer a full ob rabbit’s wool!” ex- cla awe Bar Lear nt “Wish to gracious Id luff de ole t’ings in de trap! Sure’s you lib, I do.” While the others continued to chaff Pete, the cook had replenished his fire, which now burned briskly, fe < was a mers) ote of the ra , and preparing it for the frying-pan. “ Roll up ee now !”’ he called out, after twenty minutes more had elapsed. “Spread your table- cloth, and get out your best silver, for I can tell by bt : — ag he stew a _— its critical ' ir up, there, you ramps!” Pethe table-cloth boneated of a sheet of oil-cloth, spread on an improvised board table; and the silver, of certain delf dishes, that looked as if they had — through three ge on in the grand army, ough they had really done less than a week's ser- vice in outdoor housekeeping. But to their eager appetites, broken delf was as good as polished plate, when smoking with the appetizing compound which Jack Hasard served up in generous portions, and flanked with a side dish, full of the redolent odor of fried rabbit. The woodland meal progressed rapidly. They had taken a morning’s brisk exercise, and were hungry enough to have eaten sole-leather, if nothing better ered. * Talk about camp life!’ muttered Harry Waters, who formed one of the party, ane compare this provender with farmer Brown's old goose, and bless your lucky stars.” A hearty laugh arose at the recolieetion. You should thank the old fellow for giving you the chance to n your teeth on that perambu- latory, whetstone,” remarked Pierce. ay! the wing for my share,” rejoined W “and I can test: oO one . If that old bird set out to fly to the moon, rahe pa egal ve be: if & depended on her toughness of wing. She w j j Will Wildfire in the Woods. Cia! never have given way in that point of her domestic economy. “A rich trick the old chap played upon you,” re- marked Ben, as he inserted his fork into a juicy slice of the rabbit. ‘‘Thank my stars I kept clear of that sell.”” i “Good heavens! didn’t we pay him back in richer coin than his own?” ejaculated Pierce. “As long as I live I never expect to see such another picture of consternation, as there was when his Quaker friends caught the old chap and his wife footing it over the barn floor, as if they had got an infusion of quicksilver in their old bones. Their faces were enough. Anybody that could draw their picture at that moment, would have a sure fortune in it.” * And what was the end of it all?’’ asked Ben. ‘Oh! we tried to cook the new-comers in the same orridge, but, that didn’t work. Then we decamped, tome arrows, fiddle and all, and left the old rogue to match the goose against the fiddle, and see who had the best of it.”’ ‘** But afterward, I mean? What was the upshot of the business? Has friend Brown been read out of meeting? Or have they set him to do some heavy nance, for the crime of shaking his old foot a dance?”’ “No. You would hardly believe it, but the old man has put his foot square down in favor of music,” supplied Will. “He vows now that no- body but a dried up fossil could see any harm in lis- tening to sweet sounds: and, as for moving his feet before a fiddle, it is no more sin than to move them ~ behind a plow. In short he is in full rebellion. They may him out of meeting or not, but his old heart has been warmed by the sweet sound of a tune, and he is bent on not letting it dry up again.” “Good for him!” cried Ben. “There is nothing like sticking to sensible opinions.” They were now through with their repast, and one by one rose from the table, leaving Pete to attend to the dish-washing and cleaning up, while they caught up their lines, and started on a fishing exc down the creek. “ And, mind, Pete, that you don’t burst_yourseif with Irish stew and rabbit,” warned Will, as he caught the little chap’s eye fixed with greedy eagerness on the remnants of the feast. Can’t say aslI’s berry hungry,” returned Pete. “Not so mighty berry hungry, dat is. Only it’s a shame to see good vittals gosp’ilin’. Guess I'll put some ob itaway. Want to git dat rabbit’s wool out my t’roat, ye know.” , A laugh followed Pete’s reasons for his appetite, and the sportsmen turned down the creek, as the boy attacked the viands with all the ferocity of Napoleon's old guard assailing a hostile redout. A brace of boats swung from the shore at the left of the encampment. These were already well pro- vided with fishing tackle, shot-guns, and the other implements of woodland sport. ividing up the party between them, they loosen- ed the chains that held them to the shore, and pushed out into the swift current of the creek, Will again shouting back to Pete: **Mind you don’t set foot out of the camp till we come back. Don’t set the tents on fire. And don’t let any of the stew go to waste.” “You kin jess bet I won’t do dat, anyway,” splut- tered Pete, with a mouth full of the juicy food. ““ Not as I’s so drefful sharp set, but I’s not gwine to let good vittals go to waste. I’s gwine todo my duty, ef I has to bu’st over it.” With a laugh from the sportsmen, the oars fell in the water, and the boats shot down-stream. CHAPTER VI. GUNNERS AND ANGLERS. “Tas way, Ben. We will have to work around the marsh. You take it to the left, and feel your way carefully. The birds will be confounded skit- tish on an afternoon like this.” “ Allright,” returned Ben, trailing his gun. “And keep an eye on that dog, Will. He's too eager. The villain is young, and hasn’t been half broken.” “*Come here, Sport,’’ cried Will, in a tone of stern command, as the youthful dog showed an inclina- tion to bound ahead. “Keep quiet, you rogue. Don’t stir a hair till you get the word.” The intelligent animal understood enough of this harangue to take his post obediently at Will’s heels where he moved on rpm with only an occasional outbreak to the ee or left. The point at which they now found themselves was an open reach of the forest, broken just here by a piece of marshy ground, of some width; while, further on, the trees lowered and grew thicker, a thin undergrowth covering the soil. Around this marsh the sportsmen briskly walked. The call of quail had been reported from the undergrowth that morning, and their pace decreased as they approach- ed this part of the wood. Will now permitted the young pointer to go in ad- vance, though cautioning and restraining him in low tones of command. “Gently, gently, § ou are too eager! v ding us an untrained dog? Back, I say, or you will flush the a pl The disaster which Will feared came to pass. The r dog burst into a clump of bushes, and then uddenly, with the instinct of his race, dropped into a statuesque attitude, with outstretched, tremblin tail, and extended neck, as firm and fixed as thoug: he had been carved in bronze. Unfortunately it was a flying flock that he pointed. That sudden w of wings, which is so trying to the nerves of an unpracticed sportsman, sounded from the bushes, and a dozen quail rose, out of good gun- shot, sweeping with their wavy flight through the rt! Back here, you ingrate; ang it all, what did they mean a on .
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Wi} quickly raised his gun; but immediately low- —_ _ again. There was no use to waste powder an t. “Tt would serve the hound right if Igave hima reminder,’ he angrily exclaimed, ‘‘ yet the creature has g' e stands those bushes like a statue. A little experience may break him in to his work. Come here, Sport! You will have to be more wide-awake, if you want to keep company with The dog hung his ears, and slunk back. The in- stinct of generations of breeding told him that he had done wrong. — It is utterly surprising how muck a blooded animal owes to birth end how littie, in comparison, to training. The habits of ancestors display themselves, as it were, in the egg. ve minutes elapsed, when a gun ot sounded from the left. Ben was atit. A minute more and the partridges swept back, directly toward Will. Half hid behind a tree, he waited with eager impa- tience, his gun at the shoulder and his eye fixed keenly on the coming birds. *Down! Down, Sport!’’ he cautioned, as the dog manifested signs of uneasiness. But it was too late. The birds had seen the mov- ing animal. A quick whirl, and they were away at a wide angle, followed by a snap shot from Will, at a most unpromising distance. % Hang the uneasy dog, and my impatience!’ he evied. “That's a sheer waste of powder and shot. It was impossible to touch a feather at that distance; and I should not blame the dog, when I cannot con- trol myself.” He trudged on, in an ill-humor with himself and his dog, making slowly toward the point to which the birds had directed their flight. Meanwhile, in the creek, which lay a half-mile to the right, the boats swung at anchor just out of the channel, ina most attractive reach of the beautiful stream. Here the wood, which, just above, clasped the current in its shady embrace, stood somewhat back, leaving a narrow green opening, covered with thick clusters of blooming golden-rod, while luxuri- ant ferns fringed the edge of the liquid current, Through this opening a flood of warm sunlight pour- ed upon the stream, glinting from its ruffled surface, ana producing a condition most likely to be attrac- tive to fish. In this sunny reach the two boats were moored, their inmates engaged in that laziest of all sports, rod and cork es “By Jove, I thought we would haul up fish here in a steady stream!’ exclaimed Pierce Browning, extending is heavy weight in the bow of one of the — And here’s a good half-hour without a e ” large sunfish, “Throw it overboard again, my boy. We don’t want to rob the river of such game as that. What luck are you having down there?" “Not worth shucks,’’ came from the other boat. “There are no fish here. I move we hoist anchor “We | and float lower down-stream.”’ . “What's the use?’’ returned Pierce, lazily. wouldn’t be away from here five minutes before it would swarm with fish, and all the rest of the creek be deserted. They are too confounded cunning. ayaa ee go the boys, they have got the start ef us Will Wildfire in t inmates of the other boat were now on the alert, and had already caught a couple of smaller perch. For the next. half-hour the sport coutinued active There was no longer any idle lounging; but all the anglers were wide-awake, playing lines, and = fish from the water with encouraging ra- pi , “Tf we don’t have a gloricus feast on fried perch to-night, there’s no “se ” remarked ‘4 ““Why, they bite as if they’ en on hadf rations for a meth.” ‘‘Sive? Where?” asked Jack Hasard. ‘I haven’t had a nibble for five minutes. Have they slid aga?” **T’ve a notion they have,” answered Pierce. *‘ My cork is as steady as a bumboat in a ealm Ha! There drops another partridge!”’ as a shes broke the silence of the forest to their right. In a minute more an extraordinary thrashing and ewe came from a clump of underbrush, which lined the banks of the creek about a hundred yards below them. It sounded as if some large creature was forcibly tearing his way through it. It was followed by the sudden appearance, on the edge of the creek, of a most unexpected object. There was a’clear vista in this direction, which was, at that instant, filled by the gracefulform of a large buck, with broad-branching antlers. The animal stood sharply outlined against the western sky, drawn up in a heap, as it were, at sight of this unlooked-for obstacle, and presenting a magnificent profile. But the next instant it plunged into the flowing waters, with a nimble spring, that | took it half across the creek. | returned Pierce, with lazy contemptuousness. This exclamation was called forth "7 two success- | ive gun-shots, which sounded from a the forest. “They have both got a shot in,” remarked Harry. “You can notice the difference in the bark of their ns, Wake up there, Pierce! You've got a famous ite! Your cork’s gone, and he’s running away with the line!” f Pierce, at this admonition, quickly straightened himself, and Sieened his rod, which had come near following the line overboard. “Play him, lad! Play him!’ cried Harry, eagerly. “Tenderly, tenderly. That’s no fool of a fish, and won't stand rough treatment.”’ “Is that all you know about perch-fishing?’’ re- torted Pierce, as he swept the line around the bow of the boat, the fish having gone under. “ We can’t etd with these yellow beauties as though they were ut,’ “ How do you know it is a perch?” “Thave felt their tug before,’ returned Pierce, brin the line from the water with a powe awine though the slender rod bent half double. “It’s a regular shiner! A beauty of the first water!’ exclaimed Harry, enthusiastically, as the fish hung dangling in the sunlight for an instant, ere it was landed into the boat. “ Less noise there!’’ came the growling tones of Jack Hasard, from the other boat. ‘ Don’t fiatter yourself you've got all the game. There’s a school of them, and they’re beginning to bite like grass- hoppers. Just cork up your bluster, or we won't land a fin. “And I don’t think you will hold the fish b ing them set speeches,” retorted eA ag none of them cease Congress. He’s a picture, Pierce. | ! It’s my turn now!’ cork was tripping on the ruffled water, there << just enough wind to raise a slight wave. “lis the ripple,” said Pierce, as Harry skillfully played his line. Not abit of it.. Ah! there it dips! That’s no ripple, at any rate.” | “Don't let up on him, or he'll slide from the hook,” Pierce. “ Bring up on a rur.” With a quick jerk Harry brought his line from the ater, with a fish litle smaller than that which Pleros had just landed. mek- ere’s pretty as The figh seemed to have come in a shoal, for the | tinued, as a huge but trim-built and . istant part of | | ‘‘Up with the anchor! Let us go for it!” cried Harry Waters, agen: “Go for it? You might as well go for the wind!” “He will be ashore before we could make ten strokes. See! there, he has touched the shallows now! A noble deer, I'll swear. Hang me, if I won’t havea stalk for him to-morrow!” The flight of the deer was followed by a on mee wrestling in the bushes, and Will’s young pointer broke into sight on the creek bank, loudly giving tongue. “Listen to that!’ exclaimed Jack Hasard, in his rowling tone. ‘‘There’s your Wildfire pointer! unning a deer, with his nose in the air, and yelping like a mongrel pup! I doubt if Will has had muc good out of that thoroughbred.” But we must return to our gunners, whom we left following up their covey of quail. Ben had already a brace of the birds in his game bag, but ee as we are aware, had not brought down a eather. He had now got round the upper end of the swamp. The undergrowth was somewhat thicker here, and it was necessary to proceed slowly and cautiously, The dog, also, seemed to have learned a lesson from previous experience, and coursed in advance of his master with watchful diligence. “Ware, Sport! ‘Ware, Jad! There goes Ben’s p-zun again! Look out, lovely! There’s quail in his bit of blue grass, I'll bet high on it.” As Will thus, in a low tone, encouraged the dog, the latter suddenly halted on the edge of the grass reach. is body stiffened, his neck craned out, his tail straight and stiff as an iron bar, one fore-foot raised from the ground, the only sign of life being a slight quivering motion, he presented the beau ideal of a pointer. He had caught from sheer nature the duty demanded of him. A few cautious steps, with gun at shoulder, from | the huntsman, and the covey suddenly flushed. But | Will was ready this time. Crack! crack! went his | two barrels in succession; and two of the noble birds, oor a wild whirl, came crashing down to the und. “Bravo! Bravo, Sport!’ exclaimed Will, patting the dog's neck. ‘Come! do as well as that eve time, and we'll beat Ben Huntly’s trained dog hol- low. Never tell me there’s nothing in blood!” During the next half-hour’he got in several more shots, and his Extoetbes a to grow heavy with its feathered and speckled freight. For ten minutes now they went onward cautiously, without a shot, when Sport again pointed game. Will crept up and glanced between the animal's ears into the dense thicket ahead. He caught sight of the bird which Sport had spot- ted, and brought bis gun to his shoulder just as the ; quail took the alarm. The shot was at point-blank range, and almost along the ground, yet it failed to hit the bird. For at that instant a sudden commo- tion in the center of the thicket disconcerted the hunter’s aim. The shot flew wild, toward the locali- ty of the noise. It was followed by a A pomes ery. and the same thrashing sound that had been heard by the fishermen. An instant after a stately buck broke from the thicket, tossing his antlers, and heading tly for the creek, followed by Sport in full cry. CHAPTER VI. THE HAUNTS OF THE DEER. “Myhound! Yes, there’s not his match ‘twit river and river, if ldo say it. Put him on the trail of the best-buck that ever jumped, and it’s all day with that buck. There’s no discount on that.” The speaker was a lank, raw-boned, athletic fel- low, with a skin like parchment, and dressed in leather breeches, which were stuffed into the tops of his slouching boots. A skull-cap, with an apology for a visor, covered his straggling hair, while a blue shirt, open at the throat, completed his attire. “* Come here, Tiger!’’ he ca in a tone of com- mand. ‘“ Now, there’s a dorg as is a dorg,’’ he con- flanked he Woods. hound walked gravely up and insefteé his nose into his master’s’9) m. : ‘As Tsaid afore the deer that flings him has go’ to be as lively as a cricket in harvest time, and just you lay your bets on ¢hati/”’ “We want him then,”’ said Harry Waters, to whom these remarks had been addressed. ** You know bars rd oth iong be a f the Car “Yes; on the lon, nd 0 e bon,” replied Joe oe individual above mentioned, a he leaned his back against the public p of the vil- lage of Coalville. ‘‘ And so you flushed a buck there yesterday?” ** Yes “Just about where, say?’ “A couple of miles below camp. There's a piece of swamp tothe left that you may know it by.’ “Know it? I know it as well as I know beefsteak from mutton chops. And the critter swum the creek?” eee: He made for the hilly ground to the ‘Ah! Hum. That's good. Yes; I hope you may get him.” **When can we look for you over?” ““Me? Well, mebbe you'd best not look for me.” “But we want you,I say. You and your dog, Hang it, you'll be well paid for your trouble.” ** Look here, young man,’’ drawled the gaunt woodsman. ‘There mought be other thin fit’ our life that you'll want wit You on’t out getting. s’pose that a chap of my inches is to be had at every crook of your finger?”’ “‘Isn’t this your business?” asked Harry. **Reekon it is.”’ ‘““Then what is wrong? You have nothing against our party, l hope?’ “Your party mought be sugar and butter, for all I know to the opposite.” ““Why do you object to hunting with us, then?” ‘Cause we follow in this country the barber-shop rule, first come first served. I’m engaged a’ready for that very buck. You’re not the first as has seen nes trottin’ reund these mountings; mind you at.’ ‘““There’s a party out for him?” “‘T was bespoke an hour ago.” “Who are they?” “Oh! a pack of city enhorns; first cousins to our crowd. The man that hired me called himself ark Preston.” “The devil!’ broke from Harry’s lips. ** Don’t look much like him; so fur as I’ve seen picters of that there individual,” was the phlegmatic reply of the woodsman. ‘No, no; I don’t mean that. But—then we can’t a a dog Ls ‘ ‘This dorg’s engaged,” returned Smith, pin the ears of his favorite. J eiuih nies “Then, as you've pumped me to find where the deer lay, maybe you can recommend me to a dog?” A grim smile curled the lips of the woodsman. “T allers pump where I think water "ll come easy,” he rejoined. ‘As fura dorg, you ain’t gota ghost of a chance if Tiger once gits on the scent of that beast. There's Jerry Prime, though, who hangs out in the frame shanty, to the left of the road, about half a mile toward your wwe He’s got a consid’ble fair hound, which you mought go fur.” There were some odd thoughts in Harry’s mind, as he trudged along the mountain road, toward Jerry Prime’s shanty. ‘Mark Preston, eh?’ he said to himself. ‘“‘ What brings im here? There's a blind somewhere in this deer-hunt. Couldn’t he find room, in the United States, without settling down on the edge of ow camp? Sure as shooting he has followed us; and tl.ere’s deviltry afoot somewhere in that chap’s game bag. Tl have to t Will Wildfire, for he’s the buck that our jail-bird is on the scent of.” Jerry Prime was engaged without difficulty. Hig dog was a young animal, and was not likely to have the experience of Joe Smith’s veteran, but it was clean-limbed, alert, and intelligent, and Jerry swore that its equal did not exist between the two oceans. In this he had rather the best of Joe, who had limited himself to the two rivers. Jerry had lost one eye; but the other was like acorkscrew. He walked with a long, loose-jointed stride that forced Harry into a half trot to keep up with it. And the whole way to the camp was enlivened with stories of the hunting experience of the woodsman, in which he certainly drew heavily on the long bow. “Yes, [fotched that b’ar a-standin’. It were in the old times, you know; ‘fore folks got thick ’round here. My nighest neighbor were on the West Branch, "bout twenty mile, or thereaway. But if we hadn’t folks, we had b’ar and catamount fur com- pany. And, as I were sayin’, when I drawed a bead on that critter— Drat my eyes! what in the saint's name’s that?” This exclamation was accompanied by a loud barking from the dog, who retreated between his master’s legs, as if he had seen a specter, Poof tha quickly around at this interruption, to the bear story, and burst into a loud laugh as he observed the cause of it. They were now near the camp, and were following & Rarrow path, fringed by a th ck tangle of bushes, Andin the center of these bushes, like an ebony picture in an emerald frame, had suddenly appeared @ small face of midnight blackness. There was no rtion of the hee visible; only the sable coun- ianae whose roll ng gogele eyes, thick lips, the gleaming teeth add the effectiveness of the ictvre. “It’s a devil’s imp, sure,’ exclaimed Je f — pig “ve haif a a be thee ushes with a et, see thar’s anything under."
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eee 4 : ee ee ee a _ ei m2 » Will Wildfire in the Woods. — 7 ——— — eee Xz “Wo, no!” cried Harry, hastily. “‘It’s sound flesh and blood. Come here, Pete, you villain! What are you up to now?” = “ Jess scoutin’, to see who's a-comin’. Dat’s all, rejoined Pete, eme' from the bushes, while the dog and his master took a step backward. “Dar’s dinner on de oil-cloth, and two or t’ree ob de folks out. Marse Will’s away somewhar. De Lord knows whar. “What is it?’ asked Jerry, with a slight tremulous- ness still in his voice. ““Who? Pete? Why, he’s our man of all work. Pure blood, Jerry. African to the finger-tips. All as boy. You can scout round for your mester. will keep our share of the dinner from spoiling.” There was a depressed look about the hound, as he followed Jerry into the camp. It seemed partly shame at his recent terror, and partly doubt as to whether the apparition was not really supernatural. Pete’s decided color was something unusual in that | ped locality. He wasa species of game to which the hound had not been broken. But it was certain that the start which Je had received had no effect upon his appetite. He did the duty of two good men at thew nd table, wiping his lips on rising, with an air of supreme satisfaction, like that of one who has approved himself amply a man. Within the next half-hour they were on their way to the spot at which the deer had vanished. Will had not yet returned, and Jerry was not content to wait longer for him. “Jist as like as two .” he explained, “ that thar buck isn’t half a mile from whar ye last sighted him. Ther’s a famous feedin’ spot fur ‘em jist thar. I’ve brung down more’n one seven-tined critter in that very spot. Puddin’ grass, I call it; fur the deer like it as much as humans jove their toppin’-off arter dinner.”’ “How shall we manage, Jerry?’ asked Pierce. “I'd give acow for ashot at that buck. Do you know the mountain?”’ ‘ “Do 1 know beans?” rejoined Jerry, with a show of being nettled. ‘‘ Jist find me the spot, within ten tniles from here, as big as the palm of your hand, whar I ain’t set foot, and I'll sell it to you, the big- gest bargain you ever made.” ‘ “ T hardly think I will go into the real estate busi- ness hereaway,”’ Pierce gravely replied. “It’s a bushy bit o° sile,”’ continued Jerry. “Ther's four or five paths leadin’down. Atween them it’s precious brambly. I calculate to station you folks at the deer runs, while me and Nebby— Nebychudnezzer his name is, but I call him Nebby fur an easier mouthful—well, we'll scour the top. If that buck’s thar we'll rouse him sure. If he aren't, we'll take a stretch over to Pilot Knob. That’s the next likeliest place.” The hunters stationed, with ready rifles, and throb- bing hearts in some of their breasts, Jerry and his dog disappeared up the hillside. . An anxious half-hour passed, with no of gems though an occastonal yelp from the dog broke thesilence. At the end of that time the scout re- appeared, down the path watched by Pierce Brown- ing. He gave at the same time a shrill whistle, the prearranged signal to the others. ; “He’s not thar;” Jerry announced. “Ain't a mouse on that hill that Nebby hasn't started. Pilot | Knob is got to be our next holt.”’ “* Where is it?” “The risin’ ground you see, off yander. It’sa famous hurtin’-ground. I recollect onc’t—let me see —about Saher or thereaway, years back; any- how, afore this kentry thought o’ fillin’ Mp. Why, you mought a-gone good twenty-five miles on a stretch, in any d’rection, and found nothin’ but sky an’ woods, deer an’ b’ar; not a human to the squar’ acre, as we’s got it in these days. Well, asl war sayin’—” m “Whom did you find to talk to in those days?” in- terrupted Pierce. “np my rifle and my dog. They both ’preciated me, you kin bet your level dollar on that. But we must leave them on the wait for the arri- val of the others, and cut short Jerry Prime's cele- brated deer story, to look after another of our friends. Will Wildfire had been two or three hours out, yielding to a restless feeling which would not per- mit him to stay in camp. e had taken his rifle, with the possibility of getting a shot at something larger than a partridge or a rabbit. But, for an our or two, he had wandered aimlessly about, with tle thought of game, his whole soul filled with the ger of the woods, a dreaming sensation flooding as he roamed under the shadows of aborigina trees, and in the solemn silence of unbroken glens. It was about three o’clock of the afternoon, when he found himself on the verge of a grassy valley, flown which a brook came tumbling and singing, while the warm sunlight flowed into its inmost re- eesses, and kindled into beauty the crimson and gold of the autumn foliage. Will seated himself on a knoll which commanded this scene, his eyes and heart full of warm admira- tion. as he looked upon what seemed to him an in- fusion of fairy-land into the heart of the primeval rest, forte sat thus for half an hour in complete silence, the rifle resting idly between his knees, and his eyes fixed in entranced delight upon this strangely beau- tiful woodland opening, with its lawn-like grass, and its glistening brook. set sor Macnee edd man a ; a , gaunt aiee iiound, who ve coursing slowly along, with nose to the ground. “The lads are at hand then,” thought Will, as he recognized Joe Smith and his dog. | He was not aware of the fact that they had been forced to engage another aid. The hunter passed on and disappeared. Ten min- utes of silence followed, and then another figure ap- peared upon the scene. And it was one that sent a sudden thrill through Will's heart. For, from the woods to his left, with a stately step and proud bearing, walked the graceful animal in search of whom so many huntsmen were abroad. For a moment the buck stood, outlined against the sky, with uplifted head and thrown-back antlers, | snuffing the air. Will could see his nostrils dilating, as though with suspicion. He half raised his rifle; but let it fall again. { ‘No, no,” he muttered, “That would look too | much like murder.” j Now the buck, seemingly reassured, walked with an easy step down the grassy slope, and paused at | the brook, where he bent his head, and eagerly lap- the grateful waters. “*T suppose I would be called a fool for my pains,” said Will to himself, ‘‘ but hang me, if I have the heart to shoot at that pretty creature, in his inno- = security. He can go, if I never havea shot ata eer.” Will was now on his feet, looking down upon the buck, and fully revealed himself to eyes which he did not dream, in the wood behind him. Suddenly the animal raised its head. From a dis- tance came the faint ery ofa hound. It stood look- ing to right and left for an instant, then gathered its body together for the first spring of its flight. The thought of its escape suddenly roused the huuter’s spirit in Will. In a moment his rifle was at his shoulder, his eyes on the sights, his finger on the trigger. The aim he took was as quick as lightning. He pressed the trig r— But at that same instant a sensation shot through his head_as though it had been pierced with a hot iron. His rifle twitched nervousl distant hands. ree-tops. e weapon dropped from his | broke on the air. The keen crack of his rifle was accom ed with that of another. | At the same instant the startled animal leaped, with a light bound, across the stream, and darted | up the opposite slope, while the musical bay of the | hound came in a louder strain down upon the rising wind. But it was audible no longer to Will Wildfire’s ear. | The spring of the deer and the call of the hound were alike unseen and unheard by his vanished — ae as they were in a sleep like the sleep of death. CHAPTER VIIL DEER-STALKING. Tr is an hour after the scene with which we closed our last chapter. At the further foot of Pilot Knob | stand two men, the gigantic fi to the right being that of Pierce Browning, while to the left cory a ery the one-eyed hunter, leans heavily upon his e. “It’s pretty much as I thought,” remarked Jerry, | with an odd wink of his sound eye. ‘Thar ain’t a | mite o’ use tryin’ to drive that buck past a deer run. | Ihadn’t no *jections to give you folks a trifle of ex- | ercise; tho that it war jist a waste o’ muscle.” ‘* What is to be done, then?” asked Pierce. “It is against the grain with me to go back empty- handed.” **Dunno as I hinted at sich a thing,” retorted Jerry. ‘‘ Hain’t the least idear of sich backin’ down as that. But, as I said afore, we can’t run him down afoot, at the end of a dog’s nose.” ‘* How then?” Jerry made no immediate reply. His gaze was | fixed on the ground at his feet, which was covered | with fallen leaves, the turf being my Sas and there | visible. With the muzzle of his rifle he swept these leaves a little aside, and closely observed the ground beneath them. “How are you fur bottom? I’m kinder afeard | thar’s more weight than go "bout you,” asked Jerry, | looking up. | _‘* Me?” queried Pierce. “1m the laziest fellow this side the Jerseys, when there's no game afoot. But set me on a good track, and I won't be the last to flinch.” | ‘You're my man then,"’ was Jerry’s quick reply. | “We've got to stalk that deer. Long's we flung the other cheee you an’ me mought try it on.”’ | ** Stalk him?” “Sartain. We'll make a still hunt en’t. Thar ain’t no other style.” * But what do you mean?” Jerry glanced at his companion with a look of supreme disdain. Well, l'll an at gre though, you don’t know | no better. Thar ain’t much deer-stalking on the | city streets. Ye've heered, I calc’late, *bout how an heappyp Solione up a track?” “Tt’s jist that way we've got to go fur our buck. , Why, man alive, I've trailed them twenty mile afore now, through the wust kind o’ timber. Wish to Ju- petter, though, that Nebby was home. Dogs is a nuisance on a deer trail.” ‘“‘Nebby seems well trainec,” “Yes, yes. Calc’late I kin keep the pup at my <i ,, Though if he breaks at the wrong minute it’s iuaelne voted remark form started Ae me \ ace, Ste) repress e dog, and orde him to follow cites behind 9s h it run all the time in my coat-sleeves | up, a the useless bullet above the He staggered, half wheeled around, and | | fell prostrate and lifeless, while a double report | trail they walked rapidly through the open ~~ with the autumn leaves nestling in the trees, dropping downward like a silent rain. erce ne silent for a half-mile of this quick walk, though he was quite at a loss to know what it all meant. His curiosity at length got the advaa- e. ES can’t gee for the life of me, where you are go- ing, Jerry,” he remarked. ‘You don’t expect to strike a deer by making a straight wake through the trees?” ‘* Not much,” returned Jerry, slackening his pace. “Back thar, Nebby! Jest you keep your paws at my heels, or I'l] bu’st your b’iler.”’ ‘How then?’ persisted Pierce. “Aren't we on his trail?’ growled Jerry, in 8 snarling tone. ‘‘Thar’s deer track on the sile as lain as if it was printed in butter. See here!” and e pointed down to a spot amid the fallen leaves. ‘I s’pose you kin make that out?” F “Tonly see that the leaves are slightly pressed own.” “That’s the mark of a deer’s hoof,” laughed ee “The critter passed here inside o’ two ours.” Pierce looked up in surprise. ““How can you make that out?” “Don’t you see it’s a new track? The leaves are coming down here like snow, but thar ain’t one teched it. Why, bless us, I could foller a trail like that at five miles an hour, from sun-up to night, and mt miss a foot-print—Back, Nebby, you uneasy villain!” Jorry had again started quickly forward, follo with complete confidence the slight marks w Pierce could barely distinguish. Their path led them up, or rather around the flanks of another hill. The forest here becamemore open, while the soil grew barren and stony. Pro- ress was not so easy as on the springy turf; and he deer tracks became fainter, to Judge by Jerry’s slower pace and close watchfulness. He stopped entirely, at length, on a space cover- ed by small flat stones, and looked cautiously around. : **Any scent "bout, Nebby?”’ he asked the whim- ring dog, who was coursing here and there, with is nose to the ground. **Not as I ‘spect much scentin’ from a stag: hound,” he explained. “Only Nebby’s got a good nose, fur one of his breed.” Pierce rested quietly on his rifle, not venturing to compete with his two experienced companions, in the search for the deer trail. Slowly over the stony level Jerry advanced, find- ing indications of the buck’s passage in the most un- promising spots. - “See whar his hoof has scraped the moss from that stone,’ he explained. ‘An’ yander’s his track as plain as if it was done in ink. Not an hour old, either, I'll venture to say.” Pierce curiously followed his pointing finger. One of the flat stones appeared to have been displaced from a larger one beneath, its shape being outlined on the lower stone, in a broad moist spot. ‘*He weren’t goin’ very fast, neither,” said Jerry. ‘““We ought to overhaul him in a mile or two more.” “But how do you make all that out?” “His hoof struck this stone,” explained mi” “but not over hard, or it would slid further. He were jist out of a walk.” “And how do you know it was less than an hour 07? ‘**Tt’s as plain as the nose on Nebby’s face,” laugh- ed tbe woodsman. ‘‘ Ye see that stone’s wet. That’s pes of night-afore-last’s rain. The upper stone has ept it from dryin’.”’ * Exactly.” ‘Waal, with this air, that stone ought to be as dry = ror hand in less nor an hour. But it ain't quite ry ye ay Pierce's acknowledgment of his sense of Jerry's shrewdness was prevented by the dog, who gavea quick, knowing yelp, and then a deep bay, as he sprung eagerly forward. “Hold, hound! Held, villain! Blast me if I don’t wing ye!” yelled the scout, half raising his rifle. _ -_ down on that trumpet, or it'll be worse fur ye ” The hound ee unwillingly in his eager cow and returned, with drooping ears, at the renew commands of his master. ter!” growled Jer to the spot at whic the scent. “Yes, yere’s the track ag’in, sure as shootin’,” he — “The dog’s got a good nose, as I said ‘ore.”’ The spot at which the trail was again taken ug was beyond the stony locality. A thin turf here ¢oy- ered the ground, with a slight spread of fallen leaves. But Jerry seemed to have no difficulty in recognizing the tracks of the deer, and he stepped forward at a good pace. They had now passed the curve on tie hill, about half-way toitssummit. A few minutes more brought them to the foot of the can slope, the bottom of the incline here being clothed in bushes. Through these Je made his way, following a path which he said had been made by the deer. “Our buck’s gone through it,” he continusd. “They know these bush openings, and don't make new tracks ‘cept they're in a desp'rat’ . Aha! LF nal vg I ’spected. The critter’s been * his Pierce followed the direction of his finger, which a to have , ashe stepped the dog seem Pierce had to exert himself to k with his | pointed to a bush whose branch leose- their a foen freshly bro an jointed companion, Holding their rifles at ken: They were rent in an upward bse
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— -awai! @reotion, as if a lifting force, and the splintered wood was yet thes “Are you sure it was the deer?” asked Pierce. “Some of Joe Smith’s party came this way.” “ Sure!” repeated Jerry. ‘‘I’m certain, anyhow, and that’s as good assure. "Tain’t possible ye don’t know that a man breaks a limb one way, and a deer another? A man’s fist pulls things down, but a deer’s borns lift them up. You kin bet yer level dollar that’s no human's handiwork. Come ahead. The scent’s gettin’ warm.” A mile further on it grew cold again. A most un- promising bit of stone intervened, over which Jerry made his way slowly and doubtfully. “T'd try the dog’s nose ag’in, only I’m ‘feared of his tongue,’’ he remarked. but I’ll sw’ar I’ve lost the trail. Ah! yander’s what I was lookin’ fur.” He stepped briskly forward, to where a slight ling sound announced the presence of flowi water. A spring burst out at this spot from beneat the rock-bed, its waters flowing in a narrow rivulet through the forest, their course marked by a line of fresher verdure. Jerry was in a moment beside the flowing rivulet, his one sharp eye eagerly following it in its down- ward course. ™ ’ he cried, after a minute. ‘‘ Ye kin most ailers trust a buck’s love of a drink. Thar’s where our chap has come for water. And yander—by—” We will not repeat the oath that fell from his lips, as he cast a reproachful look at Nebby, who shrunk back as if he knew himself in fault. “Thar’s no use talkin’; but it’s enough to make a saint sw’ar!”’ “What is wrong now?”’ “The seary critter had his nose in this very water, when that confounded dog let out, a while ago. It’s all here in the mud. Thar’s the quick step he made when he heard the yelp. An’ here’s whar he stood, with his head up, sniffin’ the air. He sprung from here. Ye kin see how his hoofs dug inter the mud. T bet high he went off like a flash of lightnin’ at that rascally brute’s yelp.” He cast another glance of reproach at Nebby as he stepped over the stream, and took the trail again, while Pierce was yet curiously engaged in reading 2 Qe indications in the muddy banks of the vulet. Meanwhile the remainder of the party, disappoint- ed in their deer hunt, and having unaccountably lost sight of the scout, had returned to the camp, a little es to growl at their ill-luck. fully expected to find their missing friend ng them at the tents. He was not there, how- ever. absence arose in their minds, which increased as an hour rolled by without his —_ in an appearance. The reported presence of Mark Preston in that Magy gave them just cause for apprehension. “Did any of you see Joe Smith and his party?” asked Harry Waters anxiously. “He was a tall, lank, raw-boned chap, was he not?” asked Ben, st ly. You know Mark Preston. Was he with him” “No. Smith was alone. I met a couple of his followers afterward, but I certainly did not see n. “TI tell you what, 8,”’ cried Harry. deviltry afoot. We mus do something. * i start out on a scout for our missing friend. you live, he is in trouble.” - y > ogy exclaimed Jack Hasard. ‘‘ And take the dogs. eir noses will be better than our eyes.” In five minutes more they had set off, in different “ there’s move we Sure as directions, through the forest, preceded by the two | dogs, Pete being left alone in charge of the camp. CHAPTER IX. THE SEARCH FOR THE MISSING MAN. Tux five men who thus started from the camp in search of Will Wildfire branched off in as many di- rections, each toward some point where the missing man might have been likely to proceed for practice with the rifle,he having taken no other weapon. The down- m route was the most | goer gre and Waters and Ben Huntly took that course, followed by one of the dogs. Harry crossed to 4 ; bod. 00) won Pete. a “missin! Spec jounds boot r to foller up de hounds. Dat’s de wuss feature "bout it.” He slowly fastened the boat to the bank, still cogi- “Wonder ef dar ain’t no catties in dis yar creek? ba bound to fine dat out. I’s jess tired of pearch.” attraction was too strong to resist. In a few minutes Pete had provided himself with a line and a | py supply of bait, and was making his way along t creek bank in search of a promising locality for * Muss git back *fere de boot-leather comes in,” he muttered. “ Dat's a kind o’ exercise which dis re Pete was thus engaged in the ancient and x honorable sport of fishing, the others were scouring the woods we uest of their missing comrade. For several miles they thus proceeded, examining every | a where the attraction of game would be likely | have drawn him, but without finding him or any trace of his recent presence. Nor were the dogs inore successful than the men. They put up abundance of quail and rabbits, and a stray woodcock or two, but they could not be made to understand that larger game was now required, Ben Huntly’s dog struck the same course he had followed on the previous day. He led the swamp and through the thicket, ys my g, every | now and then, to point some concealed But Ben flushed this game without mercy, and | “Here’s the soft sile; | slight sense of uneasiness at his protracted | j en and for a full quarter o pushed on for the open woods below. Suddenly the dog paused, snuffed the ground eagerly for a min- ute, and then gave a lo ith his nose to the he ran slowly onward, whining at intervals. ‘“What in the blazes is he after?’ queried Ben. “Tt must be a cold scent, or his keen nose would take it up quicker than that. He is heading straight for the creek.” A few minutes brought them to the bushy borders of the stream. Ben stopped suddenly, exclaiming with angry emphasis: emeci me if this isn’t where the deer took to the water! lo. A blamed good nose you've got, my lad, but we don’t want follow such old issues. I hope Harry will have more luck, for I'll bet a cow I’m on the wrong side of the water.” He continued his search, however, following down A “Will Wildfire in the Woods. eee nnn, | | | | ng, Whining cry. The instinct | | of the hound was aroused in him. The dog is on its old trail. Come here, Car- | ee: narrow space between the creek and the moun- | As for Harry Waters, who was searching the woods beyond the creek, he had, as yet, no greater luck, The sharp-scented dog took up more than one trail, but they were near the runways on the moun- tain where Jerry Prime had posted his he whistled Sport sharply from these scents. “Don’t want to follow our own footsteps,” he admonished the eager brute. “Let us strike fur- ther south, Will may have gone in this direction.” He continued onward for a mile without success, the wood opening out as he advanced, and presenting long, sunny vistas. “There’s Pierce Browning, ee ee —_ ‘I wonder i e has | sing,”’ soliloquized ee struck on Will, and if the pair of them— Hallo! a. Pi up, lad? What have you struck, my earty bh The dog was running about, with his nose to the ground, occasionall giving vent to a sharp yelp. “He has something there, sure. Not a bird, either, for Will says he pointed beautifully yester- day. Come, lad; after it, my hearty!” ‘With a fresh yelp the young dog ran forward, with his nose to the ground, giving all he could do to follow him. “Steady! Steady, there! Slow up, boy! slow up, you brute!”’ bees | the animal back, and forcing him to proceed at a slower pace, Ha followed his devi- ous course, which led through the open wood, but over mere than one hill, and across more than one valley. He finall reached the beautiful green val- ley in which Will had{caught sight of the buck anjhour or two before. It was now silent and deserted. With little thought of its beauty Harry crossed it quickly, . _ rear of the dog, who ran up the opposite Instead of continuing in the course he had so far pursued, the animal now turned and traced his way along the northern declivity of this hill, giving vent to another impatient cry as he did so,” His yelp was echoed a moment afterward by the sharp report of a rifle and by a crashing sound, as if some heavy body had fallen. Harry — eagerly forward, following the swift- running dog. Indeed, more than one veg oy had been converg- ing upon this locality, for the fugitive deer, whose wandering steps had been so closely and shrewdly followed by Jerry Prime and his apprentice in the art,of woodcraft, Pierce Browning, had, after man devious turns, led back toward the region which Harry Waters had just reached. We take up the thread of the still hunt again at a —_ in which it had become of deep interest to the wo huntsmen. They had struck a most unpromising piece of a mile Jerry had n at fault, having lost all indications of the trail. “It’s durned queer,” he cried, after a further un- successful effort. ‘‘I've gl up a trail in con- sid’ble wuss ground than this; and not stopped at once nor twice neither. That chap’s been goin’ as uiet as an old cat on the track of a mouse. rly he'd put his foot down héavy I couldn’t miss it, no- ’ how. “How would it do to try the dog again?’ suggest- ed Pierce. “It wouldn’t do fur nothin’. Thar ain't no trustin’ his tongue, ye see. Ef he were to give tongue now, that deer would go like a streak; fur if it ain’t in hearin’ then don’t buy me fur a scout.” ‘“Back, Nebby! Back, lovely!’ he continued, as the dog showed a desire to press forward. “‘ Back, I say, you crop-eared reprobate, or I'll bu'st yer biiler! “Ye're too consarned eager fur a dog as been trained like a gentleman— Aha! by the seven blessed pipers, ther’s luck fur them as waits fur it!” He sprung quickly forward as he spoke. Pierce watched him curiously. A smooth-barked beech read is wite boughs over the spot where they good. ; woodsman chesely examined the bask of mg this tree, at a spot in which its smooth skin appear: ed to have been frayed. * Jist as I jedged,” he exclaimed. “That scratch was made by a deer’s antlers. And see here! Here he stopped to browse, Any old handcould tell ata flash that a deer’s teeth cro that grass, All’s lovel, Mr. Browning. e'll be on himina i 5 ore now. Keerfal, Nebby.” iffy. ; He walked cautiously forward, with his rifle ata trail, his eye fixed keenly on the ground. “Yes, yes, yere’s the trail again, lively. D’ye see rly past | that leaf?” He showed Pierce a dead leaf, with a slight pune- ture near its point, in a curved shape. “Thar ye’ve got the p’int of the buck’s hoof pho- tygrated, jist as plain as if it was took by one of them double-barreled likeness machines. An’ I doubt ef it’s ten minutes since he went over this ground. Steady, now, steady!” They went forward for afew paces more. Jerry was walking with a cat-like tread, which Pierce tried in vain to emulate. They were ascending a slight incline, covered by large trees, and with clumps of bushes here and there. *“You ain’t seen this deer yet, I s’pose?’’ said J rit in a subdued tone. “ hid . *‘And don’t half b’lieve it’s here? Ye can’t swal- ler that a woodsman kin tell whar a deer has trav- eled, and whar he is, jist as sure as ef the critter stood afore his eyes?” ‘ “Tt is hard to credit,’’ acknowledged Pierce. ‘* Well, you shall see with yer own two eyes, an’ mighty soon. In ten steps more we’ll top that hill, and ef we don’t see a full-horned buck on t’other side, and in od rifie-shot, then don’t b’lieve me ag’in, that’s Nebby, you villain! Drop that now, ef you know when yer well off.” e shook his finger warningly at the dog, who was | growing very uneasy. rty, and | tracting | : } y * Don’t break a twig or a leaf,’’ whispered Jerry. “Them boots of yourn come down like pile-drivers. Now, now, keerful!”’ A step or two more and their heads overtopped the brow of the hill, Jerry held his hand back warn- | ingly to the dog, and stopped his companion with a touch from the other hand. ‘Don’t tell me!’ he whispered, while an inaudible laugh marked his face. ‘‘Come up one step more. Look yander, atween the two oaks! A perfect beauty, ef I ever see’d one. Don’t talk ‘bout trailin’. Diye twig him?” ‘ Yes,” replied Pierce, in an er tone, as his eyes fell on the spectacle to which his experienced guide was pointing. There, near the foot of the slope, quietly grazing the green herbage on the edge of the valley, stood a stately buck, his branching antlers almost sweeping the ground as he bent to browse the rich grasses. : It was doubtless the same deer, and almost at the same spot which Will Wildfire had aimed at an hour or two before, when his shot had been so fatally in- ; terrupted. ‘* Hist! Don’t make a leaf crackle. It’s as pretty a shot as 1 ever see’d. Shill I drop him; or d’ye want to try your hand?” ‘“*Tt looks too much like murder,’’ rejoined Pierce, as he raised his rifle. ‘* Murder be derned!”” was Jerry’s contemptuous’ reply. ‘‘ We folks, as is in the trade, git over sich sentimental idees as that. Howsomever, I kin easy make him lift his head, ef ye’d prefer to take him that way.” “T certainly should.” “All right. Get a good bead on him fust. Ef you —— him, mind, my old rifle’s got to show her metal.” Pierce had the rifle at his shoulder, his eye on the sights, and waited — until Jerry should startle the deer into lifting its head: when, froma short distance to their right came the quick sharp ie Aa a dog. e deer’s head went up like a flash, his nostrile dilated, his eyes eagene i, to right and left. “Drat that dog!” c Jerry. ‘Quick! He's im a foot over his head, and let Pierce had never pulled trigger on a deer before, but he was a fair rifleman, and his nerves were at this instant as steady, his sight as true, as if he had been cast in bronze. The spring of the deer and the crack of his rifle were simultaneous. Jerry had raised his weapon in readiness if Pierce should miss. But, there was no need ofa second shot. The form of the bounding animal seemed to suddenly collapse, the stately head drooped, the legs stiffened out, The force of the leap carried him twenty feet through the air, when he came down with a crash- ing thud, way my or the points of his antlers, and . rolling over in a headlong summerset. ; ‘Don’t want no extra bullet thar,” remarked Jerry, lowering his rifle. ‘“‘ Never see’d apurtier | shot, for a greenhorn.” “Al chance,” replied Pierce, as he looked with some pride on the lifeless figure of the animal. “T | couldn't do it again.” ; “Don’t know ’bout that. Chance don’t give nerve ; and eyesight.—But whar’s that blamed dog?” A noise in the bushes answered him. Nebby started forward growling, and showing his white teeth. His master followed. “ Mought as well see what it all means.” A dozen paces took them out of the bushes, into a little opening, into which Harry Waters and his dog emerged at the same time. But neither party went further, for there in the center of this opening, lay the lifeless form of Will Wildfire, his face the hue of death, while the blood slowly oozed from a spot near his ple. /
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U ae os FRO a as ‘Will Wildfire in the Woods. Lae a ET NE ES LS LE TE TS Ne ee ae Re OE na NN eee eee Hw ne CHAPTER X. PETE GOES A-FISHING, AND GETS CAUGHT. “Don’r b’lieve dar’s nothin’ but hin dis yere creek,” grumbled Pete, after a half-hcur’s = in which he had brougbt up a slender show of Ow beauties. ‘‘It’s catties I’s arter, and I don’t wan’t ngne o’ yer old pearch,”’ rap ing his line around the pole he started down the creek, in search of a locality in which catfish might be found. Dropping the line in at 7 ‘prom- ising point, he slowly moved downward, until he was nearly a mile below the camp. - At length a sudden tug on the extremity of his line buried the floating cork, and wakened Pete from his listlessness. 3 “S’pose it’s anoder pearch. Bites like one,” he muttered, as he gave a quick jerk to fasten the hook, and then, with a strong, steady pull, lifted the line from the water. At its extremity hung a naked-skinned, whitish fish, with flatvened head, and wide, sickle-shaped aws. ‘ef dar ain’t ac !” cried the delighted boy, as “A reg’lar brown- he quickly landed ils catch. backer, too; jess de bess kind, an’ fat as butter. But Lisn’t gwine to slide from yer s’long as dar’s a catty left.” Removing the fish from the hook with great care, for Pete knew better than to fool with catfish spines, he baited his hook and threw it in again, papi himself luxuriously on the sh root of an ol chestnut, which here overlooked the stream. For a half-hour more he continued to fish, with varied success, adding several catties, and some other fish to his first catch. ‘Bet I’s gwine to keep dese catties in de pan till de folks is all filed up. Den I’! ax 'em, ‘Don’t ye lub catty?’ an’ dey’ll say, ‘Bet we does, Pete, but don’t want to bu’st on fish.’ Den I'll come in dis way—‘ Ain’t so berry hungry, but don’t like to see good vittals spile.’ An’ de way dem catties "ll slide down dis nig’s throat! Yaw! yaw! I’s got to laff when I t’inks— Hey! w'a’s dat?” Pete’s laugh was suddenly changed to an intent observation of the stream. It curved just above him, and around that curve, a minute before, a boat had appeared, rowed by a skillful hand. But the boy was just then too intent on his fish to yerceive what was going on around him. When, at ength, his keen eyes did get sight of the boat its oc- cupant had disappeared, and it was floating down the center of the channel apparently unoccupied. “Ef dar ain’t our skiff!” ejaculate the boy. “Oh, lawsee! we'll hab boot-leather now sure. Dere's dat ole cook Jack ’ll kick Pete squar’ froo de camp. Mustn't tied it right when I fotched it back from t’other side. Dar it goes!” Pete stood looking wistfully at the floating boat, which was now opposite him, the curve of the chan- nel here taking it near the opposite shore. *Dar’s no use talkin’,” continued the boy. “I's gwine fur dat boat.” He kicked off his shoes as he ogee threw his jacket and his ~_ on the soil, and carefully laid aside his rod and line. t “Ugh!” he exclaimed, as he set his bare foot in the water, and drew it back witha shudder. “It’s jess as cold ‘s if it come from an ice-house. Good deal sooner stay wharlis. Can’t get dat boat dough, *thout goin’ for it. Anyhow, it’s on’y de fust jump dat hurts.” Pete drew slightly back, made a short run, and dived into the flowing water. He came up after an instant spluttering and shivering, but swimming valiantly after the escaped boat. “S’pose dere's nothin’ like cold water fur de narves,’’ meditated the boy, as he continued to swim. ‘But dar’s some med’cine as isn’t good fur de feel- in’s.” The boat was on the other side of the creek, sev- eral yards below him, and floating rapidly with the strong current. But Pete was like a fish in the wa- ter, and gained on it at every stroke. In twoor three minutes he was near enough to grasp its side, and draw himself partly out of the water. “Hope de oars is in it,” he muttered, drawing himself further up. ‘It’s ‘mazin’ queer dis boat got loose, anyhow. Dar’s no tellin’ how t’ings does hap- He had now drawn himself half out of the water. What was his astonishment to see the form of a man suddenly raise up in the center of the boat, while a strong hand grasped him by the arm, with a quick, vigorous lift. ‘**Marse Preston !’’ ejaculated Pete, in surprise and bey as he was ae og: the rsa . ere’s no telling how thin appen, you know,” said his captor with a grim Satie. sgeiphinas Pete looked nervously around him, and was on the point of screaming for help, when his s h was cut short by a choking bank at his throat and he was pressed helplessly down into the boat. “The infernal young hound, I owe hima settler!” growled the irate captor, setting his knee on the breast of the helpless boy. And the boat glided on, under the blue sky, and the shade of overhanging trees. It was some time atter this that, into the water- side camp, was borne the body of Will Wildfire, still insensible, though evidently not dead. The other boat had been moored further up the ereek, by some of those who had searched in that direction. These hed now returned, however, bring- ing the boat with tiem, and setting the mournful n across the c:eek. ” “Not as he’s dead,’’ remarked Jerry. That bullet couldn't ‘a’ bored in, or the man wouldn’t shivered arterwards. But a bullet in the temple ain't to be sneezed at, ven if it’s only a touch.” “Where is Pete?" asked Harry of those who had returned before. “The Lord knows! He was gone when we got in. He and the boat. Likely enough the young hound is out on a Seng exon While they bore Will into the tent, and were making efforts to resuscitate him, Jerry took the re- eee go 3 beat, and Spapes down the creek, with in- tent to bring in the slain deer. . He came back in half an hour, in company with Joe Smith, whom he had met in the woods. They brought the deer with them, and bung it up in a tree near the camp, over the snuffing noses of the impa- tient dogs. “How is it turned out?” asked Jerry, as he pro- ceeded quietly to open the dead animal. ‘“ Hope it ain’t been a settler." “No. He shows signs of coming to. After all, the bullet glanced on the bone, and did not enter. It was the shock that upset him.” “Don’t I know that?” answered Jerry coolly. “Got the bullet here. Dug it outer the tree beyand whar he stood.” He extracted it with finger and thumb from his vest-pocket, and handed it to Joe Smith. A quick Finger on seemed to affect that individual on examin- ng it. Do ou mean to say that the man was shot by this bullet?” he exclaimed. “Waal, it’s about that,” drawled Jerry. “ And have any of ye a notion who done it?” “Yes,” replied Ben Huntly. ‘‘We fancy it was one of the gentlemen whom you led to the hunt. The one called Mark Preston.” “Tl be walloped if it, wasn’t, then!’’ ejaculated the tall woodsman. ‘He had my old rifle. And if this ain’t one of the identercal bullets I poured fer it this very mornin’, then I don’t know my own pri- vate mark, that’s all.”’ There was a decided stir in the camp at this pos- itive announcement. ** Where is he?” asked Harry. “Not much doI know. The rest has gone back to Coalville, but he ain’t turned uP, Mebbe he’s got panic-struck with the notion that he’s done murder, and made tracks from these diggin’s.” “ Didn’t I hear say that the boat were missin’? asked Jerry, as he proceeded with his task of skin- ning the deer. At this suggestion Harry walked quickly to the point at which the boat had been fastened. “It was not Pete that took it,” he announced. "The rope is not untied. It has been cut; and by a very sharp knife.” “Thought so,” said Joe, mg “He's been anic-struck, Been afeard that his legs wouldn’t old out in a cross-country tramp, so he’s took to the creek, ’specting to make a ood lift by water.”’ “But where's the boy?” asked Ben. “Off on some deviltry, I s’pose. That’s what ginerally runs in boys’ heads.” Joe Smith was not loth to accept an engagement to go down the creek in pursuit of the stolen boat. Without stopping to cavil on terms, he whistled his dog to his heels, and set off at a round pace, along the downward course of the stream, Meanwhile, Jerry continued his task of skinnin and cleaning the game. He had barely finish when the lank form of Joe Smith stalked again into Ee enue. at the same pace with which he had eft it. “Does any of you reckernize them articles?” he asked, as he threw down a coat, cap, and pair of shoes, together with a wrapped-up fishing-line.” “Yes,” was the reply. “They were Pete’s. Where did you find them?” “Bout a half-mile down-stream. There’s bigger deviltry afloat, yit. The boy jumped overboard, and didn’t come back for these traps. There's some’at durned odd *bout the whole bizness.” ** What is to be done?” asked Harry. Joe drew Jerry aside, and the two woodsmen stood conversing for several minutes, while the others waited the result of their deliberations. “It’s two good hours to sunset,” Joe at length an- nounced. “If you want to catch this hound, we mought put in some neat work in that time.” “Of course we want to catch him,” cried Pierce, who just then appeared from the tent, “and to pay him up in good coin for this murderous attempt.” “Your friend ain’t no wor. e, is he?’’ asked Joe. “No. He iscoming to. Will be all right in an hour. But what is bd plan?” “Why, me and Jerry, with the dorgs, will go down-stream, and keep an eye open fur trails on both sides. Maybe he'll ’scape our ag ee our dorgs’ noses, bu: I’ve a notion he won’t, e same time a couple of you kin take a boat and foller him down-stream, An’ take particklar care to look into every water-hole or bush. He mought hide some- where to fling us. Is’pose there’s some of ye who can handle an oar?”’ : “Try us,” replied Ben Huntly, with a smile at his friends. “It is likely we can handle an oar with anybody on the Carbon; or on the Schuylkill either.” “Let's be off, then. When a plan’s laid, every minute spent in talk is jist wasted. Set Jerry across the creek. I'll take this side. And mind ye, when we go ona track we mean work. Ef he ain't run down to-night, he mought be to-morrow. Jist say the word and there’ll be no let up.” In five minutes more the scouting party had set oo two woodsmen on foot, and Bin and Harry at the oars. gen ae Se eer See Oe on the other aide of the waters. The night air is very chilly, and the duly otis ieeh Ww a “Don't know nothin’ better nor fire; * water,’ remarks Jerry Prime, rubbi his before the blaze as though he were w: them. Harry Waters and Ben Huytty forma the resnabaing arry Wa an n Hun orm the re members of the party. peery in Indian fashion ny sit looking into the vivid flames, while the flash f the firelight kindles up their faces, and gleams through the woodland avenues behind them. “T hope our blaze won't draw ne, wild beasts in this direction,’ remarked Harry, looking over his shoulder. ‘‘I suppose, though, there's nothing left in these regions more dangerous than a ora ground squirrel.” “Think so, hey?’ drawled Jerry. “Yes. There have been too many wide-awake pies about these mountains for the health of wit asts.”’ ““Now don’t ye be goin’ away with any sich notiou,* returned Jerry. “ ‘They're teinned out, I guv in to that. But thar’s a good show of wild ground "bous these mountings, and l’ve a solid notion that a stray catamount mought be kicked up yet.” : “T hope to the stars that none of them will us a visit,’’ and Harry looked nervously behind ‘ “Oh! they aren't as thick as strawb'ries in a patch. The last I seen was—let me see—well, a ten years back. I were comin’ over the flank of old Cromlech—that’s the tall mounting ye moughé ha’ me te off yander, to the sou’-east’ard. It were a good two o'clock in the mornin’ by the stars, Didn't carry no other watch in them days. Waal,I were oon’ to feel bitter lonesome, fur the night war dark an’ chilly, an’ I'd a good six mile afore ma Sudden enough I heerd a sound that jist made my blood stand still fur one minute. Can’t venture to d’scribe it. Somethin’ atween a squeal an’ a scream, It’s one of them things thar’s no words fur, bus which no old hunter ever thinks is a stray baby ora st lin’ calf. Ef ye'd ever heerd a catamount, yg wouldn't want no dictionary to reckernise his voice, “I suppose you a it a good time to try your d 2 Pog Sema n. “Yes, I'd thoughts o’ that kind. But these critters slip “long the ground an’ the trees at a ’mazin’ And, I dunno whether it’s by smell or no, but kin follera man like a hound follers a rabbit. It come to me, then, to stand still, and wait. Besides, I took a sudden hankerin’ arter that chap’s hide.” “And I suppose he had a wuss hankerin’ after your hide,” drawled Joe. “Well, as I war sayin’, I hadn’t come ® anchor five minutes afore I heerd a sudden rustle in the leaves, and then I cotched sight of suthin’ b nor any hornets’ nest a-top a long bough, not fifty foot off, But thar were never no hornets’ nest lit up by lanterns like that brute’s eyes. Ther’ were some blinks o’ moonlight then, ye see, that sent me the glint of ‘em; an’ it weren't the most comfor’ble light as ever shined on me, you bet.” “You had your rifle?’ asked Harry. ‘Ef I hadn’t I'd ha’ been breakin’ y neck over stick an’ stone fur my shanty, ‘stead o’ waitin’ fur an interview. I weren’t long in drawin’ a bead, nei- ther. But the whole thing had been outrageous sud- dent. Istoodjin the open, in a patch o* moonlight, an’ the critter were crouched fur a jump when eyes grabbed him. He were in the air afore I co touch the trigger.” ‘*That was what I should call a critical situation,” remarked Ben. ‘ ““Wuss nor fever an’ager. I jist rattled in my boots, Ishook so. But it weren't no place to lose nerve. I hed the rifle at my shoulder, and got it p’inted upward, when down come the brute. as you live his breast struck squar’on the muzzle. Down I went 's if I'd been hit by a stroke of light- nin’, an’ Ishet my eyes fur a minute, not speetin’ to see the sun ag’in. But, whether ye'd b’lieve’t or no don't matter, but sure’s you set t that stroke set off the rifle. As I went down, the solid old critter spoke out in her sharp, suddent way, but it war all so mixed up with screamin’, an’ rippin’, an’ rollin’, that ye'd thought an earthquake had broke its ter. Not as I hadn’t an ideer of what had took H but I crawled outer that like a cat up a back fence, ‘fore I ventured to look. Thar was that brute a-toss- in’, an’ snarlin’, and bitin’ the ground like all pos- sessed. “Twarn’t healthy round thar jist then, I rammed another charge down the barrel quick as a flash, an’ fired at the bunch, for ye couldn't told for yer life which was head an’ which was tail. That ullet hit him in a tender as fur he straightened it were all over with that ter. painter. It was past midnight when J had finished his panther story. e moon, which had shed a faint luster over the trees, had now sunk beneath the distant mountain line, All was deep gloom, ex- cept in the narrow space lit by the cam fre. ou smi ‘lL hope we won't have oy such gen Harry, as he sleepily ing around here,” remar stretched himself out. ‘“* Ain’t much fear of that,” returned Joe Smith, - toasting his huge feet betare the fire. “ Guess Jerry shot = of eve ee time." an ** Anybody as don’t b'lieve it, jist ket ‘em to my shanty, an’ I'll show Se skin,” saaitel Jerry. “Don't fancy myself that catamount is as poy as caterpillars. But thar's one thing I do ow. Thar’s bar in the mountings yit.” “ Bar?”’ asked Harry, doubtfully. “ Bear,” he means,” growled Joe, “ He ain't much on eddication 2 aa anh. out jist the suddenest, an ain’t Jerry. “It’s allers been har aver since I Jerry, ‘‘Mebbe Joe’s gettin’
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\ —<, fangled ways; but I ain't that kind. Howsomever, ‘tain’t two days since one was sighted. Not ten miles from h neither. Ther’s a sk got up now, that’s a-going fur bim to-morrer. I mought wy shed in't my ‘ ef we get through this job in e. A big, black devil, they sey, as’ll make fight. It a’most frighted Ned Bunting, who see’d it, out of ten years’ growth,” “Look a-here, Jerry,’ growled Joe, from his re- eumbent position, ‘‘when are ye goin’ to shet up that talk-mill of yourn? If it’s sot to run all night Tl move, that’s all.” ‘Jerry, with the current of his eloquence thus sud- denly checked, seemed to struggle for a minute with ananswer. But not finding any suitable to the dig- pa fhe cay erisis, he threw himself quickly back, bling out: *Oh! oe to sleep. You're wuss nor a sore ear!” Ten minutes afterward the whole camp was pace oH and silence reigned over the midnight The early hours of the next morning found all astir in the vicinity of the tents. Jack Hasard, aid- ed by Phil Carson, the remaining member of the rty, was diligently occupied in the mysteries_of breakfast, an occupation for which Jack had a special fancy. Pierce Browning and Will Wildfire were slowly walking up and down the edge of the creek, busily conversing. Will looked little the worse for wear. He was slightly pale, and a huge patch of sticking plaster covered the vicinity of his right temple, but he — to have gained his ordinary strength and irits. *Fthe murderous bullet had, in fact, struck glanc- ingly on his forehead, less than half an inch from the temple. His sudden movement in aiming at the deer had probably saved his life. The ball had struck the bone, and glanced off at a wide angle lowing a furrow an inch long in his forehead, but producing meri d a flesh wound, s long insensibility had resulted from the shock to his brain, but had aoe gree no injurious result. Very probably the blood oozing from the temple had satisfied the villain of the death of his victim, as it had almost satisfied his friends, at first sight. “Matters have got to be squared between Mark Preston and me,” said Will, with his firm setting of his lips. ‘It has gone far enough in this way. Hang me if I'm going to set myself up as a target for his rifle practice.” “You are right there,” returned Pierce. ‘‘ 1 would shoot him down like a dog, if I were in your place.” "** What can have become of that boy? I wouldn’t lose Pete for a little.”’ “ Breakfast! Breakfast!’ roared Jack Hasard. “T haven't any bell to ring you in; but here’s your venison steaks sizzing, and your potatoes as brown as gingerbread.” “No bell!” repeated Pierce. ‘‘Why that voice of yours could outroar a hotel gong. Come in, Will, you need some strength.” The venison steaks were voted delightful, the po- tatoes fried to a turn, and the coffee a wonderful success. Andit was astonishing what havoc their woodland appetites made in the provender. “It is my treat,” said Pierce. ‘‘Make yourselves at home, gentlemen. It is my first deer, but I wou't be mean about it.” A thundering fool of a buck it must have been,” wled Jack, ‘‘to jump in the track of your rifle. t must have been sheer Providence, for I don’t believe you could hit a church side, at a hundred aces.” - Thus chaffing and having a good time_generally ee ot sheen breakfast, after which Pierce and i, ollowed by the dogs, started off for a walk through the woods. They had no very defined object, though the thought was not absent from their minds that they might possibly aid in the search which their friends were making. “T hardly know how I would act if we were to meet with Mark Preston,’ said Will. ‘My inten- tions are not amicable, you may be sure of that. I wouldn’t care to quite kill the fellow, though I would be glad to give him something to keep me in memory.” “He deserves a bullet,” answered Pierce, with a stern expression. ‘‘Why not challenge the hound, and make him fight? To be sure that would be a better chance than he deserves, but—”’ “Oh! I don’t fear him,” rejoined Will. ‘“ He would not have the heart to stand before a man’s e, They continued on for several miles, following the course of the creek, Fin the dogs got on the scent of game, and led them back into the woods. where they succeeded in beingiog down sever tridges. Picrce alone had a shot-gun. Will had Pineh his rifle, and took no part in this sport. They were thus gradually led up the incline of the mountain, which here ascended by a gentle slope. For a mile further they proceeded in this direction, losing sight of game, though the dogs sought dili- gently. All at once Sport, the young dog, gave ‘ ng. and started off with his nose to the ground. me here! Here, you villain!’ cried Will, an- ey “Tt’s not a pointer’s business to run rabbits. ou are getting a very bad education.” As he spoke, Carlo, the older dog, struck the same scent. He whined, yelped in a peculfar manner, and'ran about in a distressed, uncertain sort of fashion. “That is no rabbit,” remarked Pierce. “The do; fs at fault. It is evidently a new scent. to_him, an ene which troubles him. t them go, Will, lam to know what sort of game this is,”’ “answered by grasping bis rifle at a trail, and Will ' x Wildite inte Moods —— $$ Re RELL SA following the dogs, which were re already eagerly, but somewhat uncertainly, follo the Boat ¥ It led on over the mountain flank, leading gradual- iy Yb ata and then downward, into a glen that ivided two hills. “*See here!” cried Pierce, as they came to a clump of underbrush. ‘‘The creature, whatever it is, has pone straight through the bushes; apd made no ight wake either. It is some bulky animal” ‘“* Another deer?” suggested Will. “No. LIhaven’t been on a deer trail for nothing. There has been no hoofs nor antlers here.” “What can it be then?’ asked Will, as they fol- lowed the dogs through the bushes. He was answered by a sudden cry, in a distressed tone of voice; a loud appeal for vp. It seemed to come from their left, where a thicket of brambles barred the way. With a loud yelp the dogs ran around this obstruc- tion, followed eagerly by their masters, who had just heard a renewal of the distressed call. “ Here, Pierce; down the glen!” cried Will, dash- ing forward, with ready rifle, to where the dogs seemed to have stopped, and were barking furious- Pierce rushed through a corner of the brambl thicket, caring little for the thorns that rent h clothes, in the excitement of the moment. A strange spectacle presented itself to them on passing this obstruction. Before them spread a smooth surface, coal down to a brook that traversed the bottom of the glen, and thinly dotted with trees. At the foot of one of these trees was the object at which the dogs were bark- ing, a large, black, shaggy mass, out of whose rotundity rose a rounded head, with red tongue and gleaming teeth; while a pair of well-armed paws gave warning to the furious dogs. ‘** A bear! ‘by all that’s good!” cried Pierce. “ Back, Sport! Back, Carlo! He will tear you to pieces!” A repetition of the cry for help now drew their eyes to the tree. What was their surprise to see, on the extremity of one of its lower limbs, to which he clung with a death gripe, no less a person than the foe of whom they were in search, Mark Preston, Certain marks on the bark of the tree showed that the bear had ineffectually pursued him, Failing in this it had stationed itself at the foot, waiting pa- tiently until its treed prey should fall into its open jaws. Evidently he had recognized them at the same in- stant, for a deep pallor spread over his embrowned face. He was treed by worse enemies than the bear. Treed by the ghost of Will Wildfire, as he for the moment fancied. CHAPTER XIl. SHOOTING THE RAPIDS, “Dye see them marks?” asked perry, pointing down to the banks of the creek, at a locality where a small bay set in from the main current. It was thickly overgrown with bushes, which hung down to the water’s edge, but which he had parted, in his careful search for traces of the fugitive. ‘*Here’s whar he spent the night,’ he announced, ‘* Ye kinsee whar the bow’s dug inter the mud. And the rope were tied to this saplin’, D’ye see whar it’s frayed the bark? Ther’ weren’t never a book writ plainer.” ‘“What then?” asked Harry. ‘ Did he take to the water again, or has he tried to escape overland?” ‘‘That’s what’s to be found out, It’s my ’pinion he tuk to the water.” “Of course he has,” exclaimed Ben. “The boat has gone.” ** Bless yer eyes, man, a boat kin swim without a rower. So that counts fur nothin’. What’s your ‘pinion, Joe?” * He’s off by water,’ Joe quickly replied. **Jist as I thought. Ye see, he stood here when he shoved off the boat. And he jumped in as she went off. Thar’s his foot-marks in the mud, whar his toes kicked it up when he jumped.” ““We must after him,” remarked Joe. ‘“‘ The fool dunno what’s ahead of him, or he’d back water straight.” “What do you mean?” ‘“Only that it’s not five miles to the rapids of the Carbon, A mighty skittish bit o’ water fer green- horns, you bet, If he tries to shoot ’em it’s a chance if he ain't drowned, and his boat ripped into kindlin’. Canes gentlemen, ther’s no time to lose in cogerta- ions.” At this hint the two young men sprung quickly into their boat. Ina minute the oars were in the water, and they were swiftly rowing down-stream. They were both good oarsmen, Ben Huntly being celebrated for his skill with the oar. Their blades fell with the precision of clockwork, and the boat shot swiflly forward under the impulse of their strength and skill. The Carbon was here some thirty feet wide, and ran with a rapid current, under the shade of overhanging boughs. It was a fresh, clear morning, and the two athletes highly cnioy the exercise, and pulled with a vim which called forth admiring encomiums from the two woodsmen, “Dunno whar them young chaps l’arned it,”? mut- tered Jerry, ‘‘ but they sartainly know how to feath- er anoar, Never seen better pullin’, ’ilsw’ar, That boat ain’t got up muchly fur go, but they’re makin’ her dance.” “Ye’re right there,” Joe replied. “If they keep that up they'll overhaul the hound ‘fore he gits to the rapids. Let’s strike out, Jerry, cross corners, and head off the chase.” “Taint best,” rejoined Jerry, shaking his head. ‘You kin go, but you’d best leave me to ronnd the We don’t want to overlap him.” ht.”” And Joe walked off at a quick pace woods, with the intention of cubting off the frequent bends of the Carbon thus heading the fugitive. Jerry, at the ene followed the twists of the stream, getting first some distance in advance of the boat. And so the pursuit went on, It was what might have been called a blind trail. Nothing was seen but the water and the undisturbed earth. It is not necessary to repeat the old adage, that water leaves no trail, The stream flowed on, all unconscious of what had ruffled its waves the previous hour. And as for the land trail, the woodsmen were too confi- dent of finding the fugitive in the boat to keep a very sharp eye on the ground they were passing over, Nebby, the dog, it is true displayed a passing uneasiness, but he was sharply reproved for his folly, and afterward followed submissively his mas- ter’s steps. Yet it is never safe to let yourself be carried away by anidea. It was really Mark Preston’s footsteps that the keen-scented dog had discovered. C) scouts were correct in supposing that he had left his night’s place of rest in the boat, but he had taken an early opportunity to land; rather to his misfor- tune, asthe reader may fancy, if he considers the quandary in which we found the villain in our last chapter, Some four miles down-stream, and within a mile of the rapids, Joe Smith at length sighted the fugi- tive boat. But, to his surprise, it was floating quiet- ly on, instead of being rowed, as he had expected to ped it. There was no trace of life about the drifting craft. “That’s a durned queer sarcumstance,”’ remarked Joe, seating himself on the bank, and taking Tiger’s head on his lap. ‘I dunno what your dogship thinks about it, but it’s durned queer to me. There’s one o’ three things sartain; the chap’s either dead, or drunk, or asleep.” He contitued to watch the boat, as it floated down a straight reach of the water, much wondering at its deserted look. This silent espionage continued for some time, Joe slowly gathering his ideas. “Wonder if he’s gi’n us the slip?’ he muttered. “Tl fetch him a hail anyhow. It mought stir him. Hey, the boat! Ahoy, there! Hey, my hearty! Rouse! rouse with a will, and be derned to you!” This vigorous hail was answered, after a minute, by the appearance of a head above the gunwale of the boat. It remained visible but an instant, how- ever, and then disappeared. Yet in this glimpse Joo noticed somethin Gage about it, a most peculiar combination of white and black, which he could not understand. He hailed again, but without any success. The head failed to reappear. The scout shook his shaggy locks. “Dunno what to make of it, I'll gi’n in to that, Wish the other boat were here. Ah! yander it come, now, round the upper turn. And here’s Jerry.” His fellow-hunter had just then emerged from the woods. * Ain’t struck nothin’,” he announced. “ Hello! re the blue hills of Connecticut, what’s up yander? e ain’t twigged an empty boat nor nothin’ ha’ you?” ‘°Tisn’t empty, Jerry. Ther’sachapin the bottom of it. But jist what he means [ give up. Can’t see through it,” ‘*He’s not ten minutes from the rapids. I bet that wakens him.” “And here comes our craft,” said Joe. ‘Them fellers kin fling an oar, ther’s no use talkin’. But they'll go to splinters in the rapids. You'd best git aboard, Jerry. You know all the tricks of the waters. ; a aa gad so,” replied Jerry, with a knowing augh. A call from Joe caused the oarsmen to shift in to the shore, where the state of affairs was quickly ex- plained to them, In a minute more Jerry was seated at the helm, and the boat had pushed again into the current. “*Tt’s only Providence as ‘ll save that chap from drowndin’,” cried Joe. ‘‘Row like sin, ‘Tain’t wu’th while to let him commit suincide. I s° “ though, he’s got as much chance down_in the boat’ as he would with the oars in his fists. Let out, lads, Ye may overhaul him,” Not far ahead a fretting and agi! could be seen in the smooth bed of the stream. Joe ran quickly forward, anxious to observe the event of the danger- ous experiment, At the point which he soon reached the stream widened, and evidently shallowed, for a number of ugly rocks stood above the surface. Between these the water swirled and twisted, shooting with race- horse speed down a steep incline, foaming violently, and occasionally leaping upward in a wild fury. There were spots that looked as smooth and bright as a mirror, and in which no one would have dream- ed of the great speed to which this smoothness was due. In others all was rush and uproar, as oo Ae toes flood. e drifting Loat came on, gai s with every minute, as it was evepitinte thie feaeeds current of the rapids. As for the boat of the pursuers it had rapidly gained on the fugitive and was row not ten yards behind it. “Thar’s danger ahead,” warned Jerry. ‘ Hadn't we best swerve inter shore? We won't gaia nothin’ by follerin’ that fool down the rapids.” “Can you take us down?” asked Ben, * Ain’t much "feared of that.” “Then let her slide, There's nothfing like taking in new experiences.” ; At this moment the fugitive boat poised for an instant on the very peak of the liquid declivity. And again, at this instant, a head showed itsel? momeutly above the gunwale. pursuers wero rs Bige see it distinctly, but a loud shout caxae ‘om Joe.
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- ““Skoot usali for donkeys!’ he cried, “if we ain't agiu’ \he little nig! It’s the miss blackbird t’y in the skiff.” “ What, Pete?’’ exclaimed Ben, in an earnest tone. " By. Jupiter, we must save him, then, if it’s in the w “The boat’s struck the channel, and head on; by the best of juck!”” cried Joe. ‘‘Down, down he oes !”’ “Ship yer oars!’’ screamed Jerry. “Trim boat! And set as stil as sparrers on a fence. A feather mought upset us ’mong these rocks.” The fugitive boat was shooting like an arrow down the first straight reach of the rapids. In a minute afterward the other boat struck the incline, and darted downward. s It was like gliding on an inclined plane of glass, as they entered this first smooth reach of the treacher- ous rapids. Harry and ben wondered for an instant where the danger was. Their backs were to the rocks, but they might have seen the peril of their situation in Jerry’s set, stern face, in the fixed glit- ter of his eye, and in his firm clutch of the tiller. ‘** He’s shootin’ the rapids like a breeze!”’ cried Joe. “Ha! the craft's caught in the eddy! There it twists! The jaw-bone rock has got it! Good heavens, men, it’s bein’ torn asif it was in the mouthofa grizzly bear! I wouldn’ Babee toss of my old cap fur the little nig’s life! at ails him, anyhow, that he sticks to the bottom?” The others could hear the pending. of timber, but their own peril was too great for them to think of aught else. They were now shooting past rocks, swerving at quick turns into cross reaches, darting under the edge of curling foam. “The boat’s in splinters!’ announced Joe. ‘“ But the nig’s above water yet. He’s hangin’ onto the keel. Bless my eyes, if he ain’t tied hand and foot! The hound’s been tryin’ to murder him, too.” “ How fur ahead?” yelled Jerry. **Ye’ll be on him in a minute. Sure’s you live he’s cotched inan eddy! He’s whirlin’ like a dead leaf! If ye’ve the mind to risk it, you mought grab fur him in passing. It’s the on’y chance, but it mought beach you all.” Without a moment’s hesitation Ben Huntly twist- ed round in his seat, so as to face ahead. It was a frightful sight that he beheld. All before him seem- ed a strange mingling of rocks and foam, and toss- ing waves, through which no safe pronade appease possible. And just in advance, in a little bay-like corner of the flood, an odd-looking mass was shoot- ing round and round, in a swift eddy. ‘Quick! Ther’s on’y one chance. Ef you miss bre t’s all up, mebbe with him and you both!” cried oe. As for Jerry, he had but one duty to perform. His res gy eye was fixed a on the rocks ahead. He had three lives to save. The fourth must trust to its own chances. But as they passed the whirling eddy, Ben, who had crouched down in the boat, with his arm ex- tended outward, made a quick, successful grasp at the twisting mass. He made no perilous effort to draw it from the water, but with a vigorous hand, pressed it firmly against the side of the boat. In an instant more the darting craft shot past the eddy, leaped between two rocks in front, and turned into a new channel, grazing one rock so closely that the sleeve and part of the flesh was torn from Ben’s arm. But, despite the sharp pain, he held on with a death gripe, retaining, with all his strength, his prize against the ferocious water, which sought to tearitfrom his grasp. | Another quick swerve around a rock to the left, gud a broad smooth channel lay before them. They were still in the rapids, and darted forward with un- checked speed. But in another minute they struck the quiet waters below, Jerry giving a shout of triamphas the boat shot across the smooth stream puree by the roar of the rapids as by the cry of a aftled Sper p With Harry’s aid Ben’s prize was now lifted on board. It was indeed Pete, tied hand and foot, and with a broad bandage drawn tightly around his mouth, A moment sufficed to free him from his bonds, and he made the first use of his liberty to stand up and take a long look at the peril just passed. Golly, but dat were a hizh ole jump down-hill he exclaimed. “ Lucky my mouf was tied up so tight, or Imought a-swallered more water’n I wanted. It’s ole Marse Preston dat’s done this, folkses, an’ if e’s arter him he’s done struck ‘cross country fer de Pe ons mg house ago,” what made you lay there, li , in the bottom of the boat? owed Joe. ReRAaes. 18 “Coz I were tied down, Jess ’s much ’s I could do ie io m en up. ae somes pchens de ole boat was abbered inter toothpicks; but Jimi , i were al as with Pete,” iny! I t’ought it o use standin’ here,” said Jerry, “Ww. leave the boat. It'll be safe. We've got to oeo back fur that cee's trail. I'd gi’n a cow togot on that b'ar-hunt to-day; but ef we kin run down this wild-cat it’s "bout as good. Let's strike out.” In five minutes more they were malaimg their way , on the back track through the woods. ”? CHAPTER Xi. Tar FIGHT WITH THE BEAR. himself from falling into the jaws of the patient . \ ‘ Will Wildfire i _ > teh a As for the two men who had just discovered him, some strange thoughts passed through their minds. A short, grim laugh broke from Pierce's lips. ** By all that’s good,” he exclaimed, “ but our rat is caught in a neat trap. I move we back out of the quarrel, and leave him and the bear to settle it. Be- tween you and me, I’d sooner see the bear get the best of the fight.” ** [don’t see why I should put myself in danger to help him,” Will replied. * Here, Sport! ere, you little fool! You'll be | cured in a hurry if that chap gets a paw on you. Here, Carlo!” The dogs, who were barking ne around the | bear, which had reared itself on its hind legs in readiness to receive them, reluctantly obeyed this stern call. The irate animal followed them a few steps, fixing its ferocious eyes on their master. But as they withdrew with the dogs, the bear returned instantly to its station under the oe evidently | thinking that a bird in the bush was worth two upon the wing. The involuntary prisoner had made a hasty move- | ment toward the trunk of the tree during this diver- tissement, with the hope of a possible escape from all his foes. But this hope died out at the return of the bear. The villain’s feelings of superstition had vanished | inaninstant. He realized in a second thought that | they were living men that he saw, and he again piteously ap ed for help as he beheld them dis- appearing in the bushes. But they walked on, heed- less of his cries, and were soon hidden by the tall | stems of the thicket. As for the animal it seemed to hesitate between two opinions. Now it took a few steps, in its —< | gait, toward the bushes, now returned and gaze wistfully up the tree, licking its red chops as if it fancied it was being very badly treated. Its next movement was toward Mark Preston's rifle, which lay uselessly on the ground. This the bear picked up in its sharp teeth, and spitefully bat- | tered it against the tree. Dropping the weapon the animal took another eedy observation of its foe. He was now on the | hick part of the limb, near the trunk. Just what thoughts passed through the bear’s mind we will not venture to interpret, but the next moment he clasp- ed the tree-trunk, and began to make a lumbering ascent. Another piteous cry for help came from the lips | of the unhappy man, at this new move of his foe. | He hastily scrambled back again to the slender part of the branch, followed by the bear, which had now gained the limb. Step by step the cautious creature | advanced, clinging firmly to the bough, while Mark caught an ws 2 limb for support, and made his way out to where the wood was perilously weak. ‘The bough, indeed, was bending dangerously un- der its double load. With his habitual caution the | bear carefully paused at each movement to test its effect upon the limb. He stopped, at length, on | finding that it swayed down at a perilous angle. Only about three feet separated the fugitive and his | ursuer, who remained crouched upon the branch, his small, fierce eyes fixed eagerly upon his prey while the open jaws showed a row of uncomfortably sharp teeth. } Mark Preston looked despairingly down. He was | twenty feet from the ground; too far to risk a fall. | | He tried, by swaying the limb, to shake off the | brute; but Bruin clung firmly, and seemed rather to | enjoy the exercise. Ho next looked eagerly for the men who had so coldly retreated, leaving him in his bitter peril. “‘Cowards!”’ he exclaired. ‘*Dastards! To leave aman exposed to so cruel a death! Punish me as you will; but save me, ch, save me, from this fate!” The reader must not suppose that Pierce Browning | and Will Wildfire had any serious thought of aban- | doning the wretch to the jaws ofthe bear. Their only idea was to punish him severely for his attemp- ted crime. They were, in fact, now hidden behind the thicket, out of sight from their foe, but able to see, through chinks in the bushes, all that was going on. “By Jove, there's a situation!’ cried Pierce. “ He's | trying to shake the bear down; but Sir Bruin ain’t that sort of anapple. He doesn’t let go his hold so | easily. It is just as neat a bit of retribution as the day you horsewhipped him at the games.” “Had we not better go to his rescue?” asked | Will. ‘‘I don’t want to see the bear quite get him.” “No, no, you soft-hearted boy. Let them have it out. He is good for a half-hour yet. Wait till you see his hair begin to turn white with the scare. It ge be time enough then to try our hands at a bear- unt.” It was fun, for those who could look upon it in that light, to see the conflict between Mark and the bear. In his despair he delivered a furious kick at the animal. The alert creature caught the boot with his ready paw, and made a vigorous effort to pull Mark toward him. Bruin, failing in this, con- veyed the boot to his jaws, and began to gnaw at it. Only by quickly jerking his foot out of the captured leather did Mark save his flesh and bones from being | subjected to the same fate as the boot. | Bruin contentedly gnawed away for a while, at his prize; not for an instant removing his eyes from the trembling poet: whom he hoped to serve in the same way before long. “Come, come,” “an ‘eo ° sense Ma humanity | wing stronger than his desire for revenge emadnt we better go to his rescue? You heard him give us the privilege to punish him in what way we would, if we only saved him from the bear.” | tr oy | he is pretty seve! unished already,"’ hed Pierce, as he yon u i gue “T haven’t &s sweet a morsel of satisfaction for a year. | n the Wodds. | behind the shoulder, making a severe 11 Come on, then, Ij this must be the last bear fnet Sonty Price upoke ct yestertay.* We Might a0 t Jerry Prime spoke of yester : e might as well have the honor of idling ay “Tf he don’t turn the tables, and obtain the glory of killing one of us,’’ returned Will, examining the charge of his rifle. ‘‘I wish you had brought some- thing of more use than a shot-gun,”’ “T will tickle him, anyhow, with a load of buck- shot,” replied Pierce, as he drew the charges of his gun, and reloadedit. ‘‘She shoots hard, as my shoulder can attest. I may hurt his feeliigs.” A cry of joy burst from the cuaking prisoner of the bear, as he saw his ——— rescuers agai approach. The animal saw them also, and at once began to back down from the limb, with awkard haste. Ere he could reaeh the ground he was attacked by the uncontrollable dogs, who barked madly about him ogy | their teeth in his shaggy hide. * Here, Jarlo! Here, Sport!’ yelled Pierce. “Here, you fools! He will tear you into ribbons, if he once gets his paws on dag Ware, Sport!” His warning was too late for the younger dog; for the bear, the instant he touched the ground, struck the incautious brute with a quick dab from his well- armed paw. The yelping hound rolled helplessly over, and was instantly caught in the crushing hug of the infuriated beast. “Tt is all over with Sport,” Will sorrowfully re- marked. “Itisapity; forhe had the making of a good dog. Shall I revenge him by a bullet?”’ “ Are we near enough, do you think?” “T could hit a crown piece at that distance.” “Take him just back of the ear, then. That ought to find a vital spot.” Carlo, warned by the fate of his companion, was barking at the brute from a distance. Bruin now dropped the torn body of the younger dog, and made a hasty assault upon his new foe, disconcerting the careful aim which Will was — “Hold!” cried Pierce. “Our lives may depend | upon that bullet. I will tickle him with buckshot.” Ere Will could object he had fired. The animal slightly wounded, and furiously enraged, turned from the pursuit of the dog, and made a rapid dash toward those whom he recognized as his most dan- gerous foes. It was a critical moment. The bear was one of the largest of his species, and was no trifling foe to deal with. Only the single bullet in Will's rifle stood between the two young men and imminent peril. Yet neither had ever seemed less nervous. Will stood like an oak post, erect and firm, with his eye firmly fixed on the dangerous foe, waiting with én- forced patience for the proper moment to fire. Not ten paces now separated them. The bear was making straight for him. The rifle was at his shoul- der with deadly aim; bis finger pressed the trigger— and at this critical instant Carlo made a furious yy 2 “ i bear’s flank, causing him to quickly turn nead, It was an unlucky move. Will’s bullet, instead of traversing the brain of the fierce arnag tree him ut not dis- abling wound. Quickly turning again, the wounded brute sprung | furiously at his foe, who oniy saved himself by a hasty backward leap. It was a moment of immi- nent danger. Pierce still had a second barrel loaded with buckshot. Without an instant’s hesitation he advanced until the muzzle touched the brute’s ear, | and pulled the trigger. At that short distance the shot had deadly effect. | The animal fell heavily upon its side, and oy 4 seem astlly trate fora moment, during which Will was seeking to reload his weapon. But with a sudden accession of strength and fury it sprung again to its feet, and aévanced on Pier who had incautiously remained too near to avei this unexpected assault. In an instant the wounded brute was upon its _— legs, and had caught Pierce in its furious em- race. Now was there peril indeed. The hug of a full- rown black bear is no trifling matter, to the east. But Bruin had caught a Tartar in Pierce Browning. The gigantic form and immense muscu- lar strength of the young man made bim something of a match for his antagonist. In an instant he had the brute by the throat, keep- ing off his glittering teeth, and choking him with a vise-like gripe, while he administered resounding kicks on the creature’s side with his heavy boots, it was not, however, a comfortable situation for himself. The keen claws of the animal had alrea Pred torn off his clothes, and were repding le “Hold on a minute!’ screamed Will, as he ram- med down his charge with nervous haste, “and I will put a bullet through his head.” “Hold on?” returned Pierce, stoutly, “‘I can’t do anything else than hold on. Leave me alone, and I wiil whip the bear yet.” ‘ The blood of the young giant was up, and it did seem as if he might come out victor in the contest, though at severe cost to himself, as the creature’s claws were furiously rending his flesh. But at this moment the s crack of a rifle re- sounded in the woods to the left. It was followed by the deep bay of hounds, and by arush through tithe limbs of the bear imbs of the instantly relaxed their hold, its head oot 1% toe over. With a quick jerk, Pierce tore himself loose from the weakened gripe, and ws ney animal furiously from him. ‘ee didn’t you leave me alone?” he angrily cried, “IT would have choked iis down#in e. minute more, Sear into a fight I like to here ‘t out.” ugh gree his grumb...g reception of hig
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—=t so = 12 = — ~~ release from the bear, and the two scouts, followed closely by Ben and Harry, rushed upon the scene. v4 to have disturbed yer little fun,’’ remarked Jerry. ‘But I've been hankerin’ arter a shot at that b’ar; and when I see’d you an’ him tusslin’ it | looked to me like a good oppertunity.” : -“You got a second ahead of me,” said Will. “Thi were getting too warm for fun. But you are badly pecan § ierce. You are bleediug pro- e tusely. ‘This must be looked after, at once.” “T'll cure sores with the hide of that bear,”’ re- turned Pierce. ‘‘I think I won it, in fair battle.” While Jerry, who professed a degree of surgical akill, was examining and preparing to bandage these wounds, Joe advanced toward the slain dog. Suddenly he raised his rifle, and called out: “Come back, there; blast you for a sneakin’ hound! Quick, now, ’fore my finger gits narvous!”’ These words were addressed to Mar had taken the opportunity of the bear-fight to de- scend from the tree, and was hastily making off in- to the bushes. “Back, consarn you!” growled Joe. “So ye treed him, hey; arter all our chase?”’ “The bear did,” answered Will. In a few hasty words he told the story of the affair, while Mark Preston reluctantly turned at this stern.command, and slowly walked back toward his foes. -* Stand thar, now!” continued Joe. ‘‘ Watch him, YViger! We'll tend to you arter we git this gentle- nan in order.” Spo : t y tedet keg / i Will Wildfire in the Woods. “"Diaff myself ef I see’d anythin’ to laff "bout," cominued the boy. “ Yere we’s got ter chaw hard- tack all day, coz we can’t make no fire; and I’clar to goodness dat I don’t hanker arter no sich Bs: And the day passed gloomily enough to all, under the close w of the tents, though they had | more or less occupation in repairing damages. | forget that bear for one good month to come. Joe Smith had taken away the bear-skin to have it cured and prepared for stuffing, Pierce declaring that he was going to keep the counterfeit present- ment of that black bear on a pedestal in his room. as a perpetual reminder to his friends that they had a Nimrod among them. ‘By Jupiter, I have earned it!’’ he said. ‘‘I prc how my shoulder hurts, and what an infernally dis- mal day itis! It’s enough to give a saint the blue | devils.’ Preston, who | He lay back on his couch, puffing volumes of smoke from his cigar, as if there was nothing but | smoke in the world worth living for. With bit lips and pale face the captured villain | silently awaited the completion of the surgical per- formance, a cowardly tremor shaking his whole frame. It proved that Pierce had received no dangerous | Wounds, though the flesh had been badly torn on his logs and shoulders. , : ‘What's to be done with this chap, now?” asked Joe, with a grim look at his prisoner. : “Oh! I fancy he has been well punished,” said Wil. “Lhave nothing more against him, The bear settled my score.” * And blamed near settled mine,” grumbled Pierce, “ That’s all very well,” replied Joe, a law of the woods as well as of the city. When yer imurderin’ devils come out yere to lay the’r pranks, we wood folks like to hev a finger in the pie.’ a taste of backwoods law. Will is too tender- | ed.”’ he “No lynching,” said Will. “Oh, no! Only a little keepsake to remember us “The others moved off, leaving Joe and Jerry alone with the prisoner, On dedhig this he aptang forward, making a pite- ous appeal not to be left in their hands. “Stop thar!’’ cried Joe, authoritatively. ‘‘ We've rot a trifle of bizness with you.” The four friends walked on into the woods, pay- ing no heed to this appeal. An hour after they had reached the camp, Joe and Jerry came in, bringing with them the hide of the bear, which they had skillfully removed from the slain enimal. “Where is your prisoner?” asked Harry, curiously. “ Flobbled off, on one boot and one stockin’,” an- swered Jerry. “But what did you do with him?” “Guv him the full law of Moses. Forty less one. And with a prime hickory switch. I'll bet that b’ar’s lide that he wears plaster on his back fur a good fortnight to come.” CHAPTER XIV. AN ASSAULT IN FORCE. Tue next day it rained. Camping out, however agreeable it may be in sunny weather, marvelously loses its attractions when dark clouds gather on the sky, chill winds roar through the forest, and heavy rains pour down upon the sodden ground. The genial warmth of the Indian summer sunshine changed to a shivering chill; the bright-colored autumn leaves, which still adorned many of the trees, fell, like a flight of migrating birds, before the winds; und a general chorus of discontent went up from our storm-stayed friends, who did not like confine- iment in tents, Ye was particularly unpleasant to Pierce Brown- ing, who was now feeling the pain of the wounds “But there’s | The next day dawned bright and clear. The sun shone warmly on the sodden soil, rapidly drying its surface, while a thin mist filled the ambient air. The pleasure-seekers were early abroad, quite for- getting the dismal gloom of the previous day. Their camping-out season was near its end, and they felt like making the most of the short period remaining. As soon as the grass had sufficiently dried Pierce seated himself in a camp chair at the tent door, with a pillow to sustain his back, smoking, and criticising the culinary labors of Jack Hasard in a style not very agreeable to that individual, Of the others some went fishing and some shoot- ing. Will started out on a tramp after woodcock, in company with Jerry Prime, that personage agree- ing to lead him to a famous resort of that desirable game bird. As for Pete he went a ‘* Mought be some catties left thar,”’ he soliloquiz- ed. “Efthar is I’s bound to haveamess. Don’t keer much fur rch; dey’s sich a berry common kind o’ fish. ouldn’t guv one good catty fur a barrel of *em.” Only Pierce, Jack Hasard, and Harry Waters, re- mained at the camp, Jack swearing that he was so rascally sick of wet-weather grub, that he was bound | to have a first-class dinner that day, if he exhausted | the powers of the cook-book. “Good for you,” rejoined Pierce. “‘ Give the hound | which had troubled him little in yesterday’s excite- | ment, “This is confoundedly uninteresting,” he grum- bled, as he rolled restlessly on his cot. ** Ridiculous- ly sharp rand tce-nails that bear had. I won’t be myself fom pho a month to come. Wish I was well in my own room at home, with a bottle of sherry end the morning paper, instead of in this wishy- vashy, drippy, dreary bit of country. Hand me a cla, Jack, and a light. | the sun can beat a wo A man must have some | omfort, While the invalid was striving to extract comfort | trom his icut, was indulging in sirnilar Jugubrious thoughts. ba ‘jena like ‘em,’ Le muttered. ‘ Brung back my vhoes an’ jacket, but dey neber fotched one of dem yatties. ‘Sif thar weren't nothin’ in de world of no ‘count ‘cept shoes an’ jackets? An’ me tied up like a spring chicken; and floatin’ down de riber jess like o stray chip; an’ shootip’ de rapids; or de rapids shootin’ me; dunno which it were. Sure’s ign Pete, sqnatted in the door of the | you lib, I felt ’sif I'd been shot outer a seventy-five- | under. An’ now it’s got torain; an’I jess’ ook catties is done sp*iled; an'I Won't git empther bite; an’ I jess wish 1 were home.” te’s grumbling voice sunk to a lower tone, asa od behind him showed that his lamentations were merriment in his audience, Harry sees with him as a nevessary aid-de- camp, and Pierce because he was in no traveling trim. ‘“Where’s that confounded B tage 0 rascal, Pete?”’ growled Jack, as he found his fire .ood running short. ‘I hope the seve ger ron youth isn’t out on another boating-club expedition. There’s one thing sure, he is a genius for being out of the way when wanted.” ‘* Yere’s Pete; an’ I’s cotched jess the nicest mess pa a you eber see’d, Look dar; and den don’t talk.’ The boy held up proudly a string of large cat-fish, while his ebony face beamed with satisfaction. **Dar’s no use talkin’,’”’ he declared, ‘* but a catty’s jess de best fish goin’. An’ when Pete drops his hook fur ’em dey know dey mought as well take holt. Dar ain’t no gettin’ away.” “Let us have them, Pete,’ said Jack. “Fried cat-fish are not bad provender that s a fact.” “‘The’r scrougers,’”’ declared Pete, as he brought forward his string of fish. ‘‘ Neber see’d sich beau- ee do you t’ink’s dat comin’ down de hill yander?” He pointed over his shoulder with bis thumb. “ How’s that, Pete?” asked Harry. “ A kerridge; sure’s you lib. I cotched sight of *t *way up dar, *bove de woods. Comin’ down yere, suah.”’ ‘“*T hope it is not lady ge pee remarked Jack. ‘We haven’t got what I call prime accommodations for the ladies.” “Let them come; we'll set them to cooking,” an- swered Pierce. ‘Of all the animals out of a place in the world a man turned cook is the worst.” “Growl on. You're gion egg retorted Jack, slicing away at his venison steaks. Harry meanwhile, with the aid of Pete, set him- self diligently to work in cleaning up the camp, in preparation for a possible inroad of ladies. “*T don’t see where in the world they could come from, or who they could be,” he said, ‘but if they are traveling here I don’t want to have them making game of our housekeeping. There’s nothing under in seeing a hole through a ladder, or a speck in a pigeon’s eye. Stir up there, Pete! It’s ‘ cl’arin’ up’ time. He soon had matters in a somewhat more pre- sentable condition, though it is very probable that an accomplished housekeeper might have suggested some improvements. “Let them come now,” he remarked, with a sigh of relief. ‘‘ We’re spick and span clean.” In a few minutes afterward the sound of wheels was heard, and it was not long before a carriage rolled into view, coming carefully down the rude mountain road. This road, in fact, was little more With a rich chorus of laughter the ladies descend ed from the ‘accepting Harry's proffered ‘** Miss Moreland!” he exclaimed. “Miss Darling! This is too good of you. Let me help you, ladies,” holding out his hand to two others, whose names were unknown to him, ‘‘ Why our camp will be like ‘ re sunbeams. What ever put tt into your eads?”’ A chorus of laughing responses followed his words. ‘“We were bound to take you by surprise.” ‘ We wanted to see in what heathen way im were livin here.” “It is only a delegation of the archery clu come to pay you a visit.” ‘‘ Have ridden over from Pottsville, through the mountains.”’ The clatter of happy tongues soon became too live- ly to distinguish just what they were saying, as they advanced im column on the camp. Mr. Browning!’ cried several of the ladies in concert. ‘ And not moved out of his chair! Well, this is gallant!” “Glad to see you, ladies. But, as Jack Hasard has just said, I am privil Fide “Jack! Grim old Jack!” and there was a flutter of bright dresses in that direction. ‘‘ Cooking! Well, I'll declare! Oh! do come and look here! Do come and look! Oh! what a sight for a housekeeper!” **Now make tracks, if you don’t want to be scald- ed!’ grumbled Jack. “This on of mine gets mighty awkward twist sometinnes.? ey “ Because it is in a mighty awkward hand,” laugh- ed Miss Darling. ‘‘Let me have it.’’ Andere he could hinder she had reft it from his sp, and was great iron ne stirring up the contents of pot. “I don’t know all that’s in here,” she cried. ‘ Let me see. Potatoes, beef, barley, a lar combina- tion. And mutton-chops and catfish in the same pan. Oh! did you ever?” “Give me that spoon, or you'll be soup from head to foot,’ growled Jack. ‘‘Mutton-chops, indeed! It’s as pretty a venison cutlet as was ever sliced. And as for the catfish, don’t you see it’s a double barreled pan? They can’t run together.” “Lay it onto him, ladies,” laughed Pierce. *“ His shoulders are broad, but his sins are a legion.” “Ido not see that your virtue goes very deep," said Clara, with a touch of sarcasm. ‘To nos “ven leave your chair to receive your lady friends.”’ “You must excuse me, I am troubled with corns,” replied Pierce, with a ace, asa sharp pain shot through his shoulder. Missy Clara, It's con- “He’s jess a-foolin’ yo sid’able wuss nor dat,” cried Pete. He qeevertn “What, Pete? You here? And I did not see you before!” exclaimed Clara. ‘‘ But what is it then?” Nothing. Hold your tongue, boy,” commanded Pierce. ““He’s jess been chawed up by a b’ar,”’ persisted Pete. fo half eat upa 7. Ub. la wéee, Miss Wants to make out it’s corns! °*Tain’t no corns, no- now and Pete’s voice had a ring of deep indigna- on, “Bitten by a bear!’’ the cries of sympathy rose almost into screams. They huddled arcand Phares with warm earnest questions, and tender expressions of feeling and interest, and we must admit a degree of curiosity, until he felt that he was being half smothered by the warmth of their sympathy. * Oh! it is nothing, ladies,” he exclaimed despair: ingly. “* Just don’t press so close, I pray you. Pete's a little humbug. Got scratched a bit, that’s ail.” But they were bound not to be satisfied so readil as that. ~{ plied him and H and Jack wit a multitude o: as and would not be satisfied until they had heard the whole story of the bear- hunt, and knew precisely the part that Pieree had borne in it. “Of course we did not see it all,” said Harry. ‘““When we came up Pierce and the bear were hav- ing a free fight. They were h ng each other like two wrestlers or two lovers, whichever you prefer. And between us all I hardly know which was get: ting the worst of it, Pierce or the bear. However, | we settled the animal, by a bullet through its head. | But all we got for our pains from this champion Lear-fighter, was a scolding that we did not let lim have it out.’ If the nonchalant giant had never been a hero in his life before he was decidedly one then, and for the next half-hour was overwhelmed with praises, congratulations, and pity for his wounds from his fair assailers. “But when are — going to have dinner?” asked Miss Darling. “There is nothing like a mountain ride for the appetite, you know, and we are ‘most fa ant ide tf h “ n’t provide for such an addition to the camp, | tented Jack. ‘ You will have to take short rations. “T don’t fear that, with your immense potful. Besides we can provide you with dessert. e did | rot come empty-handed,” than a narrow cart track through the woods, and it | was very doubtful if it had ever been invaded before by any vehicle worthy of the name of carriage. Yet this was a stylish uche, drawn by four spirited horses, and revealing, even at a distance, the bright ON stepped Opposite the cars Harry Waters 8 opposite the camp, Harry Wa’ run- nin, elokty forward, while Pinves contented him- self with slewing his chair around in that direction, and Jack stood, with sleeves rolled up and ladle in hand, looking toward the new-comers with a grim frown. “If it’s dinner they want,” he growled, “I’m afeared scanebody’s to have sbort rations." With the assistance of Pete she soon exttacted certain jars and packages from the carriage, whose contents were speedily displayed upon the table, whieh the other ladies were diligently setting. “Preserves! jellies! fruits! Gracious me! won't our friends be oxipetent when they come in!" ex- as the con claimed. Harry, tents of the packages sue- a nib | appeared. That they would be was @ mild term for it. When, a half-hour afterward, Will emerged from the forest with a half-dozen of woodcock, and Ben Huntly and Phil Carson with a bag full of quail, they were astonished at first by the musical laugl- ter that came to them through the trees. But were overwhelmed on catehing ht of the land table, 8 by a la bevy of car \
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beauties. And were utterly astounded on see- tag who their fair theives were, and by the Babel of ulations with which they were met. “Tt’s a special occasion,” cried Will. “ Venison and catfish don’t half expressit. Here’s quail! here's woodoock! Put them on the spit! We must greet eur visitors with ali the honors. CHAPTER XV. WILL WILDFIRE’S TARGET. Muarxwui.sx the driver of the barouche had drawn his carriage into a clear place amid the trees, unhar- tessed the horses, and tethered them where they id get a feast of the rich grass, which grew so uriantly in the vicinity. ‘‘We must be back so as to reach Coalville by night,” explained Clara, ‘“‘for it is very plain that your hotel has all its rooms occupied. But we want you to amuse us this afternoon. That is what we came here for, and we are not going away un- satisfied. “ Just tell us all that you have been doing, and what =o you've had, and—and—all of that,”’ ex- claimed Miss Darling enthusiastically. ‘‘ Of course you've had adventures. There’s too many of you, and too great reprobates, not to havea host of queer — to tell us. *“Oan we have the oe of drawing on our nations?” asked Pierce. “No, sir! The truth, the whole truth, and notbing but the truth.” Pierce had a ae audience around his chair, as he descri the sport and earnest of their camping-out life. The danger Will had gone through changed, for a while, the current of their sympathies, and he was overwhelmed with con- gratulations on his rey The next victim of sym- pathy was Pete, when the story of his boating ex- tion came out, And the story ended with the merriment that greeted Mark Preston’s adventure with the bear, and the thrilling interest attending Pierce Browning's great bear-hugging match. “Oh, dear me! what and what you have gone through with!’ exclaimed Miss Darling, her blue eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “‘And what a charming life it must be, out here under the trees and in the sunlight, and with plenty to eat, and ciety ae to do but to have adventures. I move that we lad es start a camp too, somewhere in this wild on,” But we have no guns to shoot partridges and deer; and I don’t believe one of us would be of any use ina bear fight,” said one of the other ladies, with a look of admiration at Pierce. ‘*We have our bows and arrows,”’ returned Clara. “That is all that Robin Hood and his gallant men had, to live by. And, by the way, we have brought them with us. We thought that we could have some archery practice out here in the wild woods.” She ran quickly to the carriage, and returned laden with an armful of bows and arrows. ““Yes,”’ exclaimed Miss Darling enthusiastically. “T want to see Mr. Wildfire shoot. He esca the last time, by shoo a@ man’s hat off in the thicket. But we will not let off that easy.” “And Mr. Browning,” cried another lady. ‘‘ He did not try to shoot, that iy.” “Now Lery your pardon,’ exclaimed Pierce, with affected dismay. ‘If you have a barn door, at ten aces, it is possible I could hit it. But I would not ike to ex myself on anything smaller.” “Here is your target,” and Harry snatched up a broad brimmed straw hat, the my 4 of Jack Hasard. ‘‘We will see what Will can do at hat shooting to-day. The crown is the bull’s-eye, and the brim the outer circles, mind you. And whoever hits the nail carries away the honors.” He seized a hammer and nail, and ran out toa tree at some distance, followed by a roar from Jack, “Stop thief! Come back here with that hat, you rascally burglar, or I’ll chop fas into mince-meat and make an Irish stew of you! Do you suppose I have no other use for my Mackinaws but to make targets of them?”’ “Oh! dry up! You've worn it six years now, to my certain knowledge,” retorted Harry, as he drove e center of the crown. “It “Well, if this isn’t a high-handefl_proceeding!”” k, flourishing his ladle. ed man,” returned “Don’t be too sure d : w to which she had Clara, quickly drawing the fitted an arrow. The feathered shaft whizzed through the air, so ; elose to Jack’s ear that he made a hasty leap back. | eart In a minute more it had struck the rim of the hat, ing quite through, and making a wide rent an Bch long. “Oh, my fated Mackinaw!” groaned Jack. “ But ig mn 2. oeanes shat I believe _ that my safest place would be with my head inside that hat.” “Yes, if you can’t keep it out of the way here,” exclaimed iiss Darling, maliciously another arrow past Jack's ether ear, but very of the Pel tines ou, young that you are laboring . id imeelf quickly wader 6 miei, be orien. that the target—not will be kind enough to remem- ting fact.” returned Pieros, © what is Your cars are.so large tas 4 gare covered: but I would advise you vo Lids your tent \ ‘ y ear behind another tree. Iam going to shoot now, and I want a chance to see the “ef “Go on,” exclaimed Jack. “Iam a T al ways wasa victim, and I sup I always be a victim. Go on, if you think there is no hereafter.” A general laug followed, rye which Pierce drew the bow, as well as he could in his sitting tion, and let fly an arrow. It struck a weve | about ten feet to the left of the target, and stood vibrating in the tender bark. ‘““ And they call that shooting!"’ groaned Jack, while Pete ran off to gather up the s Will Wildfire in the Woods. | | nt arrows. | sigh, her eyes bent upon the dis' i3 ooo eS “Oh, you romantic rogue! How te faded ay must be. Ihope your love will never be like em.” “Never. The Wildfire love is a hot fire, but it is a ps gece one, dear Clara, Its flame does not easily out.” His arm slid tly around her slender waist. She was drawn closely to his breast, while his lips a wy i aie shee a h i ‘or a minu e t ine. a) n his embrace. Then f looked weed, Nh age, t t depths of the **But my hat’s safe, that’s some comfort. Lucky | forest. for me they made it a target. If it was hanging any- where else, within twenty feet of the center, they would be sure to hit it.” “Don’t c replied Ben Huntly, who had now taken up the bow. ‘It takes a few shots to get the range, you know. T'll bet you a new Mackinaw [I hit it.” “Make it a beaver, and it is done. Mackinaws are out of season.” ‘*Done,” cried Ben, as he drew the bow-string with a strong and skillful hand. before you are out of the brambles,” | | The arrow flew, striking the rim of the hat near | its former wound, and with such force that the 4 was rent asunder, and hung dangling down- ward. “Oh, the deuce!” roared Jack. “And here I have to find this fellow in a new beaver as a to harard for tearing my bat. That’s what comes of gambling.” His assumed distress was followed by a roar of laughter. Several well-aimed shots succeeded, to the sad detriment of the hat, whose brim was now | hanging in ribbons, while one arrow quivered in the outer edge of the crown. “Will Wildfire! Will Wildfire!’ voices. “‘Itishis turn now. He is trying to avoid shooting.” ‘“Why I wasn’t educated on a target like that,” said V in a quiet tone, as he ste Suddenly, with a hasty ejaculation of terror, she phen | oT er feet and threw her arms impulsively uni : aro} “‘Ah, good Heaven!” she cried. “No, no! me first, if one must die!” “What is the matter?” exclaimed Will, in quick alarm, as he sought to rise. But their voices were drowned in a sharp report, that seemed to come from a bushy clump a few paces to the left. Clara fell upon Will’s breast, her arms convulsively clasping him. ““Ah, my God! Lam shot!” she exclaimed. “Itis he! Mark—Ma k Preston! Ah! Heaven be thanked; itis my life, not yours!” A rustling sound was audible in the thicket; Will's — eye caught a hasty glimpse of a retreating gure. With an impulsive movement, he caught up the bow and arrow that lay by his side, and, the dear burden that lay spon his breast, dischargec pec a random shot in the direction of the ve. ery of pain followed the impulsive shot. Then ' all was silence. cried several | forward. | “We did a little archery work at college, I admit; | but not at old hats.” “*Old hats indeed!” cried Jack. ‘“‘And I bought it new for this trip. It has hardly been christened.” ** At what sort of a target, then?” asked Miss Dar- ling. Fon! we used to split arrows on open knife-blad and shoot the eyes out of potatoes; and that sort o thing,” replied Will nonchalantly, as he tried the bow, and snapped the silken string. wy, , that sort of thing, no doubt,’ rejoined Pierce, with an incredulous smile. “You are a prime hand at that sort of thing. I hit the mp ons | there to the — It will be a miracle if you don’t hit the one to the left.” “ Wait, first, until I drive that nail further in,” re- sponded Will. He had lifted the bow, grasping it in most archer- like fashion. It was a tough piece of ash, yet Will the arrow, whose feathered shaft touched his ear. A moment’s silence and expectancy followed the twang of the bow-string, and the whistling flight of the arrow. “T haven't quite got the feel of that bow,” Will quietly said. “I have a — though, that you a find my arrow not two inches away from the His words were echoed b iron. Their eyes opened wide as the keen the arrow rung upon the exposed head of and the shaft flew back upon the ground. “Tt’s chance! ehance!” exclaimed Jack. “You couldn’t do it again, for a thousand!” “Don’t asiggme to rob you,” laughed Will. ‘ Such . t, Ms such adistance! Why it would be sheer urg. fame.” He walked off toward the woods as he spoke, car- rying the bow, and the blunted arrow, which he picked up as he passed. “T will go with you. There needs some witness of — wonderful shot,” and Clara ran laughing after “*T had no idea you could shoot so,” she continued, after they had gone some distance into the forest. “Neither I,” laughed Will. “It was two- thirds chance, But I am not green hand enough to int of | With a sudden revulsion from revengeful thoughts Will’s eyes fell upon-the pallid face and closed eyes of the r girl in his arms, who had so bravely oaSBpeak tome, Clara!" he cited.“ Gay—sily that “a me, ra ” e i “ ou are not dead! Ah! I shall never forgive myself this dastardly shot prove fatal!” “You are not to blame, dear Will,” whispered Clara, striving to smile, though her lips were set with pain. ‘‘I have always feared we both would die by this man’s hand.” “It is his last shot!” cried Will, with blazing Act. 1 “T will have his blood in revenge! Oh, my can she be slain? Can she have died, and Istanding y 9 \ lasping her impulsively in his arms, he ran with the camp. the speed of a deer towa Those who remained there, and who were still amu themselves with archery, were suddenly poere § by his wild cries, in which plainedive lamen- , tation was mingled with bursts of tiger-like fierce- | ness. | A dozen quick words told what had happened, | spread terror and dismay through the lately happy bent it with apparent ease, his eyes glancing along | the clang of iron on | e nail, | Wait tillI find a target worthy my | and camp. - Quick, put in the horses!” he screamed. “You take the , Ben. Drive like mad for the nearest town. Have a doctor here within an hour, if you kill all the horses. Pierce, you know some- thing of surgery. Ah! if she be slain! if she be slain!” He surrendered her into the arms of the affright- ed ladies, to whom only the short and stern com- mands of Pierce gave any power of action. “It is serious,” he announced, after a hasty ex- amination, “but may not be fatal. The ball has gone in below the shoulder. But it seems to have entered at an angle. It may have reached no vital organ,”’ “Thank God for that!” exclaimed Will, fervently. * And now, Jerry, Harry, Jack, revenge is the word! He cannot have gone far! The wet leaves will carry his trail! Shall heagain escape?” “No!” came in a general stern cho while every hand reached for a rifle, or other d wes pon. CHAPTER XVI. THE WORK OF AN ARROW. JERRY Primz had his one eye fixed closely upon fran fn | the ground, while the others stood by in shoot again, and give them the opportunity to find | that out. When one has gained a crop of glory he a 4 as well hold on to it. and their eyes ling A half-hour rward found them seated on the fallen trunk of a forest monarch, around which the trees had heaped their leafy burdens, while new ar gid of colored leaves dropped steadily upon the “How softly and silently they fall,” he thought- fully remarked. ‘They are like rich thoughts, or oad ft oa wl creed Pho heart %. heart. ave you fo . ra, t evening our cheerful fireside?” 18 “T shall never fo it,” she replied, war ao hand. “Itdid not need what I heard hen from your lips, dear Will LIalways knew you loved me.’ “Prom the time a led me sugh a chase,” he poe A srret “From the evening of the mask- “ Ah!I am ahead of you then, for I more than half fellin love with you on the day of the boat- race when you so gallantly came in first at the goal.” I can see your face now, looking over the cliff,"’ he quickly mded. “And this soft hand that dropped me the flowers. I nse. - Daylight isn’t plainer,” he muttered, as he cast his glance from ht to left, ‘“‘Yere’s whar the murderin’ hound stood. And by the seven — candles, yer arrer went home!—see yander. em | aren’t nat’ral colored leaves. It was & man’s blood as made them red spots.” “And here is the arrow itself,” exclaimed Ja as he groped in the depth of the thicket. “ Its poin' covered with blood. It’s a pity it was blunted by the former shot. It might have stopped his fun for good, only for that.” : “Dug in an inch as it were,” replied Jerry, criti- cally examining the crimsoned point. ‘Stuck fast too. He jerked. it out and flung it over thar. ahead, boys, every minut’ counts. A cow could fol-" ler this trail." Will, who had stood with lowe face and con- ri ) tracted brows, grasping his rifle tilt it seemed as if ‘mily | his Angers w have some of them yet, | at | if he were following a street in the cig inom ° ‘0! a oe se, in the words and eagerly pre enced guide. tid: “Keep back now, Nebby,” commanded the scout. “We aren’t axing any duty from your nose, Ye'd jest be as like, anyhow, to lead us arter a rabbit as arteraman. Keep back, I say. We'll call on yon when we want you.” : With his long stride the scout walked barely be ae a id iron, started at to follow their ex- man's f thro: Yet any one there trail h the depths ht have followed rain of the hard the leaves, only their upper layer
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en = —— a Se a ——— === = r , ; ime r 7 ; / A : ¥ \ : oe \ ; ; ’ } . ‘ y mers ee ee —— ose S=F a oe © . Thad that villain in my " mought fling us off the track in the end.”’ ~ Will Wildfire in the Woods. dried by that day’s sun. In consequence, every step of the fugitive had left a deep impression upon the thick bed of fallen leaves, whose rain-soaked state had destroyed their elasticity. The way led straight onward toward the moun- tain, but turned on rrr its slope and ran along the edge of the declivity in the direction of a glen leading through the hills. ; “He run till he got here,” said Jerry, stopping beside a mountain ash, and again closely inspecting the ground. ‘‘ But he were bleedin’ more nor were comf’able. Yere’s whar he stopped to tie up his hurt. Don’t ye see how he’s tried 0 play it on us, kickin’ leaves over the blood-drops? _That arrer of yourn hit him sore, Mr. Wildfire. It’s a lame bird we’re follerin’.” “Would that it had reached his dastardly heart!” and Will’s face grew dark with rage. ‘* But why do bh “oP here? Why delay an instant in our pur- suit?’ “ Softly, softly!’’ came Jerry’s cool reply, “Slow and sure is the best traveler. Any p’int missed now Jerry, after a minute’s further delay, started again on the trail, followed closely by the dog, and less im- mediately by his three human followers, “Was he still running?” asked Harry, as he strove to read the indications of the footprints. “No,” answered nae “He dropped to a fast walk. It’s a good stride yet, but the tracks are shorter and lighter.”’ The trail had now entered the valley, which led up between two swelling hills, which scarcely de- served to be honored with the name of mountain, The ax of the woodcutter had never entered this primeval forest. The sloping elevations were cover- ed to their summits with thick growing trees, while in the valley, watered and fertilized by a gurgling streamlet, huge pines, oaks, and poplars lifted their sturdy forms heavenward, some of them being of immense girth, while a new growth of slender sap- lings filled the intervals between the monarchs of the forest. Much of this space was clear of obstructions, though an occasional thicket of brambles or clumps of undergrowth made the way difficult. Here and there, too, reposed the half-decayed trunks of older trees, the relics of some Nom storm, closing the pas- sage with the bushes which had clustered thickly around them. “He were in some’at of a hurry,’’ announced Jerry, ashe led on, ‘Straight through bushes and over dead trees, A crow couldn't fly in a straighter line. Ah! thar’s a change in the programme. He walked round that dead trunk.” hase he think he had distanced pursuit?” asked arry. “Not he,” returned Jerry. ‘That weren’t the trouble. Wait a bit. The thing is gettin’ kinder ecvryus hereaway.”’ e walked more slowly, his single but very sharp eye intently reading the indications of the trail. “Yes, yes,” he announced, after some five min- utes of this quiet progress. ‘It’s consid’ble as I *pected. That arrer hit him heavy. We've gothim, sure’s ever a cat got a mouse, Ye hit the nail ag’in, Mr. Wildfire, I'll s’war to that.” “What do you mean?” asked Will, eagerly press- ing forward. ‘He’s gettin’ weaker every step. Ain’t no more tree-jumpin’ in him, And see yere! He sot down on this stump fur a rest, and to try and wrap up his hurt ag’in. It weren’t done bleedin’ yit. Yere’sa spot on the bark.” “Tt seems a shame for four hearty chaps like us to be running down a single wounded creature; even if he is of the wild-cat genus,’ ventured Harry, with a feeling of shame. “Don't you be gittin’ no soft notions of that sort,”’ retorted Jerry. ‘“’Tain’t no wildcat we're arter, but a mighty cunnin’ human. He ain't cotched yit, by a jugful. So fur he’s been _trustin’ to his legs. From this pint on ye’ll find that he trusts to his brains. We won’t foller the trail quite so lively, ye’ll see that.” “ The ship is flinging her cargo overboard,” return- ed Jack, who had been looking through the bushes. er lightening weight for a sharp run. See ere!’ He held in his hand a rifle which he had just found in the thicket. Jerry examined it carefully. ‘Light weight, but looks like a good tool,” he said. ‘“‘That’s the identercal rifle that the poor gal was shot with. The infernal catamount ain’t took time to load it ag’in. Yere’s the old cap on the nip- le yit.” 4 on snatched the weapon from his hand, and look- ed at it fora minute with lowering face. He then flung it fiercely to the ground, a revengeful expres- sion darkening his countenance. ‘‘Lead on!” he hoarsely commanded, ‘“‘ Ah! that ands, as I have just had Lo murderous weapon! I could tear him limb from mb! Without a word of reply Jerry again took the ) trail, his face reflecting some of the revengeful fury which burned on Will’s ingenuous countenance, The scout now led in asloping line toward the narrow stream, which flowed through the center of the valley. Without hesitation he crossed it, and continued his course on the other side, The character of the soil was changing. The rich loam of the lower valley became a hard, clayey soil, through which rocks here and there protruded, while the huge trees below were here replaced by a feebler wth. A short distance further on a stratum e h. Broad shelves of a slaty rock were tala with narrower reaches of soil, in rich - the few trees of this locality had taken root, open space the sun had. more thoroughly dried the surface, so that the trail became less distinct. “Now legs has guv up the game, and brains has took their place,” announced Jerry. “Ther’s on’y one thing ur us. We've got to put our own brains to work. His former rapid a Si was succeeded by a slow, cautious, doubtful movement, his gaze fixed earnestly upon the earth. “The hound’s makin’ every use of the rocks,’’ he continued, ‘He’s stepped from one to t’other wherever he could. Keep yer eyes open, gentlemen, Ye mought catch the trail whar it ’scapes me. Thar’s no tellin’ what backin’ and fillin’ sich a chap isup to. Nottooeager. Softly, softly! Be keerful *bout puttin yer own feet on the sile. Ye mought make trouble.” In fact the shelving rocks approached, in many places, nearenough to step from one to the other and the fugitive had evidently made skillful use o this opportunity. Jerry found, in several of the broader reaches of soil, traces of his feet. But the soil itself grew hard and dry as they advanced, and finally every vestige of the trail disappeared. The scout made a careful but vain search of the whole locality. “T told yer we hadn’t no fool to deal with,” he grumbled. ‘*Mebbe, though, the gy nose mought be keener nor our eyes. Sick ’em, Nebby! Go fur *em, honey!. See what you kin make of it.”’ The dog, at this Suara! to his sagacity, sprung forward with a short bark, and began to run back- ward and forward with his nose to the ground. ‘Further out, lad! Beyant the stones! See ef ye can’t pick up a scent in the grass,” and Jerry follow- ed the circling animal to the outer soil, which he moanehed closely, while the dog ran in widening cir- cles. The animal suddenly stopped with a whining bark, and looked questioningly up in his master’s face. “No, no, Nebby, ’tain’t rabbits,” said Jerry, with a shake of his head, though he stepped up to satisf himself that the dog had not really found the trail. “Tt’s two-legged game, Nebby. Nosich small fry as rabbits.” ieee as if understanding him, continued his search. Jerry’s companions had done their utmost to aid in this investigation, but without any satisfactory result. They now stood woes watching the movements of the dog. Jerry walked up to them and rested his weight upon his rifle, as he watche for another minute the dog’s fruitless search. “Tt’s bout asI thought,” he at length said, ina half soliloquy. ‘‘The rat’s took to the water. S’pected so from the fust, but didn’t keer to leave this spot ‘till we worked it out.” A quick start passed through his hearers at these words. They turned and looked at the stream, ae ran through the center of this rocky stra- ‘um. “His steps lead away from it,’ continued Jerry. ‘But that’s a stale trick. He could reach it from here by the rocks, ’thout ’teching a morsel of sile. Runnin’ water leaves no trail; but he can’t git outer the water ‘cept by the land, and we’ve got to look now fur whar he left it.” He walked to the border of the shallow stream, and looked intently upon the waters. “ Has he gone up or down?” asked Harry. “That’s what I’m cogertatin’. Won't pay us now to take the wrong track. Is’picion severely, though, that he’s struck ee % “Why?” asked Jack, who could see nothing in the water leading to such a conclusion. **Oause the water ain’t asclear as it oughter be. It’s ginerally like glass, an’ now yecan scarce see the bottom. Ther’s somethin’ stirred the mud_up- stream, and not long ago nuther. Come here, Neb- by. No use wastin’ your precious timeyander.” He whistled for the dog, and started up the stream, followed by the others. *, You folks had best take t’other side,”’ he advised. “He's left the water ag’in some’ere up yere, and we've got to hev sharp eyes on the sile.” The pursuit continued in deep silence for nearly a half-mile, every eye intently bigeegir 3 the banks of the stream, while the dog ran eagerly to right and left with his nose fixed to the ground. At the point which they had now reached the wa- ter came through a narrow, rocky channel, and then suddenly widened and shallowed over a flat bed of alnyey soil. erry paused and laid down his rifle, stooping over the waters. He shook his head after a minute. “Too thick,” he said. ‘*I’ll hey to make a dam.” The stiff clay of the bottom served him in this quandary. Two or three handfuls pressed in the narrow rock channel stopped the flow of the stream, only some slight rills trickling through. These he stopped with a fresh application of his natural mor- tar, and then waited patiently until the flowing nen should. empty the ow basin below the am. They had but a minute to wait. The stream quick- ly ran out, showing the bare bottom of the channe except where sundry depressions remained fill with water. A dry smile came on Jerry’s weather- beaten face as he pointed downward. “Don’t talk!” he remarked. ‘It’s as plain now as the nose on Nebby’s face. D’ye see them water-logged holes? Them was made by a man’s boots. And it’s the man we are arter. I know the track to a hair.” It needed no keen eyes to recognize the shape of a human foot inthe depressions in the stiff clay, made go recently that the water had yet hardly worn their sharp Ss. , warm, * remarked Jerry, as he start- ed forward again. “’Tain’t half an hour since he passed yore, and ye’ll find he'll soon leave the wa- ter. Use yereyessharp, A broken leaf mought sell the game on him now,’ The stream now passed through a thick growth of bushes. Jerry forced a passage through the midst of these, bidding the others to pass around the out- side, with a sharp look-out for the trail. For perhaps a hundred yards this bushy growth continued, after which another stretch of stony soil succeeded, ‘“* Yere’s whar he left the water. As sure asyou’re living men,” cried Jerry. ‘‘And to the left. The stones stretch further in that direction. No. use huntin’ through these stones, but we’ve got to in- vestergate the outer edges mighty make you bet.” The stony locality was about an eighth of a mile in breadth. Jerry walked straight to its borders, preceded by the dog, whose eagerness of search seemed increased. After a few minutes the hound broke into a furious barking, running back to his master and forward again to a point In the forest. But Jerry shook his head. He stood eerie upon his rifle, his eye fixed curiously on the ground. ‘The chase is up,” he announced to the others, who had gathered around him. ‘‘I fancied ther’ was more work afore us; but it’s allup. He’s let go the rae, and the ship’s all adrift. That arrer done e job.” They looked down without speaking at the point on which his eyes were fixed. There was indeed a most striking indication. Fora broad patch of blood had crimsoned the surface of a flat stone, while a slight pool of the crimson fluid, not yet hardened, filled a depression in the stone. ‘*He couldn’t go no further,” said Jerry. ‘He stopped here to rest, and the bandage has slipped. It’s no trifling wound that chap’s got. Id wager my old hat that the life blood’s been touched.” He walked on, with his eyes to the ground, the others following. ** Trailin’s easy when it gits to be a blood trail,”’ he quietly remarked. ‘‘ Look at the tell-tale drops, on stones and leaves. He hasn’t had the strength to tie it up ag’in. Why he’s been staggerin’ like a drunken man!—Quiet thar! Quiet, Nebby! What ails you, boy?” The dog was barking and whining in a peculiar manner, beside some bushes not very far in advance. They hurried forward to the spot, the bloody marks increasing in volume at every step. “* Whist! whist, Nebby!—Aha! The trail’s sartainly come toanend. You folks needn’t ha’ brung yer rifles. The murdered leddy’s revenged, Fs | ir. Wildfire’s arrer did it. Lok thar!” They already bad their eyes on the spectacle which had arrested him. There, half buried in the bushes, lay the form of Mark Preston, stone dead his white face turned upward, while a pool of blood crimsoned the ground beneath his neck, which was marked by a gaping wound. CHAPTER XVIL FINALE. “*Gonn?”’ exclaimed Will, as he leaned heavily upon his rifle, near the opening of the tent. “Yes,” answered Pierce, from his easy-chair, ‘The doctor—who seems to know his business, b the way—decided that she could not be Troe a tended tohere. She is comfortably fixed in the car riage, and they were walking the horses back to Coalville.—Don’t look so glum, Will, It was not with her own wish she went. I promise you that.” ‘* But—but,’” wavered Will, ‘“‘ the report? Is she safe? Is there any norer “She is not one to die easily, my dear boy,” was the encouraging response. “It is a dangerous wound. ladmit that. But she will pull through it, if I am not sorely mistaken.” : ““ What does the doctor say?’ Will asked. “That nothing vital is touched. The ball went deep, bus it escaped the life organs; and he thinks he can extract it.” “Heaven grant that he may,’ Will fervently re- sponded, He walked for a few minutes restlessly about the camp, and then, with a gesture of impatient anx- iety, took the road toward Coalville. He could not pass the night without further tidings. The next morning the camp broke up, its mate- rials being transported in a country wagon te the same locality. ““How’s it come out?” asked Jerry Prime, as he met Will and Pierce the succeeding day, “y hope to *tarnal gracious that it ain't goin’ to be no seryus hurt to the poor leddy.” “The doctor has extracted the ball,” answered Will, ‘‘and she seems comfortable. We have every reason to hope.” ** Waal, that’s as good news as I’ve heered fura fo’night. Ef that reprobate ’d killed her, 1'd feel like givin’ his carcass to_the dogs. It’s lucky you peppered him, anyhow. He'd ha’ gi’n you trouble slong as he stayed afoot.” “You are good on the chance shot,” remarked Pierce. “You could never have made such a bf with a steady aim.” “*T doubt if I could,” answered Will. ‘ What have you done with him, Jerry ) hd “We guy him Christian burial. In the old grave- ard down by the corners. Had the crowner u Fast, though. He guv a verdick of justifiable baat. cide. Ef ye don’t know what that means, I do, fur IT axed him, It means that the murderin’ hound got jist what he desarved.” With a laugh at Jerry’s definition of justifiable homicide, the two friends on toward. the Coalv@le Hotel, anxious for the latest news from 5 shemnhs, id the gre ht le ery he was m erly n lady friends, and so far everything looked voratle. ‘ . ij
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Will Wildfire in the Woods. ee —————EEe—E eee ll——eeeeEEEeEeEeEeEEeEEEESEEEEeEEeEeEeEEeESESESESES—EES=Sa—SENESSSEETEE ES “If no fever or inflammation sets in,’ said the octor. ‘* But if they do set in?” queried Will, with an anx- ious look. z “Our fight will be harder, that is all. I hope to bring her through, in any case. econ please let me change the dressing on your wounds, Mr, Brown- ing? You must feel dreadfully uncomfortable.” ‘Why I don’t feel as sweet as if I'd been a into a barrel of molasses,’ Pierce grimly replied, ‘nor as limber as a fresh cut hickory switch. But, anyhow, I've got my bear. That’s some comfort.” “And Mr. Wildfire brought down his game, too,” laughed the doctor. ‘“‘ You are both good sports- men.”’ The hotel at Coalville was not very extensive, and the sudden irruption of guests had brought a strong pressure on its means of accommodation. In a day or two, therefore, the remaining members of the Perey set out for the city, leaving only Will and : a and the ladies in charge of their wounded riend, One other remained, it is true; Will’s right-hand man, the ebony-faced Pete. But he spent the great- er part of his time down at sory Prime’s cottage, a taken a strong fancy to that eccentric indi- vidual, and finding some elegant fishing in a neigh- boring brook. Three weeks slowly moved by in the mountain village, three des rately wearisome weeks. At the end of that time Pierce’s wounds were almost en- tirely healed. As for Clara, she had been attacked by fever and inflammation, as the doctor feared. But both were now allayed, and her wound had so far progressed toward healing that a removal to the “= was pronounced perfectly safe. hree more weeks passed by. They moved more rapidly, however, for the slow drag of yitege life oo been replaced by the high pressure of a city ex- nce. “There never was such a piece of white oak as a humble friend,” remarked Pierce, on meeti ill at the end of this period. ‘Sound from bar' to core. There are some scars of bear’s claws on my shoulder, but nota pain or ache left from head to foot. And that bear! You must come around and see him. Just the neatest bit of stuffing ever got Ne You’d swear he was on the tree limb yet, with that same cynical grin with which he ee A 9 at Mark Preston that no Pete called on me yesterday, and I introduced suddenly to the bear. I vow I thought that ‘culled person’ was going to be scared white. ‘Fore de Lord,’ he said, ‘it’s jess alive! Needn't be tryin’, Marse Pierce, to git dis nig near dat critter. Ain’t a-gwine to chawed up inter fish bait jess yit. No use tellin’ me it’s stuffed. Look at de b’ar’s eyes! Why, he mought as well pry right out, Come yere, Pete, an’ be chawed!—but "t we Yom: nohow.’ ” ftera mutual laugh at Pete’s fright at the bear, Pierce asked: “But how about our lady friend? I haven't had a bulletin for three days now.” “She is on the high road to health,” answered Will. ‘Has been sitting up for a week. Come up and see her. I am on my way there now.” “ Wish I could,” replied Pierce. ‘ But I’ve a trifle of business on hand. Will try and call on her to- morrow.”’ An hour afterward found Will in the sitting room of Clara Moreland’s residence. She was sufficiently strong to be able to leave her room, and was now seated in an easy-chair, well prop up by cushions, and had a smile as warm as a June sunbeam with which to greet her welcome visitor. “You do not know how well I feel,” she exclaim- ed with animation. ‘ Not quite as strong as I did on that day when we sat on the fallen tree together. You remember, Will?” “Yes, indeed,” he replied, drawing his chair closer. “Your arm around my waist, do you recollect?” Somehow Will’s arm found again the same com- mrtable resting place. “ And—and—” her eyes looked softly into his for completion of the sentence, Will was not dull of compr: iension. His lips met hers in a warm kiss. Her heud lay restfully upon his shoulder, . Iam so happy,” she murmured. . : And yet you have had a hard struggle for your e. ‘But my friends have been so kind and gentle. And you, dear Will, you have been so loving and at- tentive to my slightest wish. It is no hardship to be sick when it brings one only love and kindness. And I have other reason for happiness. It was a terrible death which our mutual foe met; but eould never have been happy while he lived, with your life in constant danger from his treachery.” “And pore too, Ifear. Iam = it happened as lt did. would have shot him, if we had overtaken him alive that day. It is better his death came from a momentary impulse. I have nothing to re- gret.’ é Fer an hour they sat thus, happy in each other's ve, Itis but two weeks to Christmas, Will,”’ she at length said. ‘‘ And only one month after Christmas, yr Ot hen edding day will thy lied ur happy wi y come,” he replied, pressing a new kiss ape her rosy lips. ‘* And there shall be nobody in the world as aane os we, my own dearlove. But you must be entirely well by _ ike doytul hope. The whole, future Ie, Tony before + . Our S) e m-full ppiness. bur as to the future life of these twe lovers we eaa say no more here. The curtain of life's stage de scends before our eyes, and cuts off the next scene in the eventful drama of their stirring histories. We may lift it again in some succeeding narrative, but for the present must leave them in the happiness of love’s sweet hope. The merry Christmas season came to all our friends with a mission of enjoyment. Clara was now quite able to go out, and one of their Christmas excursions was to the farm-house of Phineas Brown. More than Will and Clara took part in this excur- sion, fer Pierce Browning, Harry Waters, Ben Hunt- ly, Lucy Darling, and some others of the previous party, joined in the descent on the old farmer, the wrink es in whose face smoothed out at sight of his gay young friends. “You are welcome, all welcome!” he cried. “ And Thope you have brought a violin. For I have lost all my dread of music since the night of our dance in the barn. We will have a happy Christmas dance to-night, if you wish, And you may demolish as many as you want of my wife’s mince pies, and as muchas you want of apples and cider. I wish you to have no end of innocent amusement out of this hap- py Christmas day, And I shall never frown again, while I can smile, aslongasIlive.” And they did have enjoyment out of it. Laughter woke up every corner of the old house; dancing feet shook its rafters; and the ghosts of gloom which had rested for years under its roof, started in sud- den fright, and took wing from their old home, never to return. They could not abide within sound of music, laughter and youthful merriment. And on this scene the curtain of our story falls just as farmer Brown and his wife again take the oor in a stirring country-dance. THE END, ———s The Saturday Journal, “The Model Family Paper =—iAnpe Most Charming of the Weeklies.” A pure paper; good in every thing; bright, brilliant and attractive. Serials Tales, Romances, Sketches, Adventures, Biographies, Pungent Essays, Poetry, Notes and Answers to Correspondents, Wit and Fun— All are features in every number, from such celebrated writers as no paper in America can boast of. What is best in POPULAR READING, that the paper always has; hence for Hom, SHop, Li- BRARY and GENERAL READER it is without a rival; and hence its great and steadily increasing circulation. The SatuxDAyY JOURNAL is sold everywhere by newsdealers ; price sia cents per number; or to subscribers, post-paid, at the following cheap rates, viz. : Four months, one dollar; one year, three dollars ; or, two copies, five dollars. Address BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. The Sunnyside Library. 1 Latta Rooxw. By Thomas Moore........... 10¢, 2 Don Juan. By Lord Byron... .............. 20e. MAH 10¢. 4 Tue Lapy or THE Lake. Sir Walter Scott... 10c. 5 Lucie. By Owe Meredith... 6 Unpivzk on, THE WaTER-SprrRIT. From the German of I'riederich De La Motte Fouque... 10e. For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postage paid, on receipt of twelve cents for single numbers, double numbers twenty-four cents. ADAMS, VICTOR & ©0O., Publishers, 98 William street, N. Y. BEADLE & ADAMS’ STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIGNS. Speakers. BEADLE AND ADAMS have now on their lists the folk lowing highly desirable and attractive text-books, | prepared expressly for schools, families, ete. Each. | logues, ee Vi.—Daniel Boone. XTTI.—Ulysses J The ae publications sale an needa Dialogues No, Thirteen. volume contains 100 large p: a open type, comprising the best collection of Dia- ramas and Recitations, (burlesque, comie and otherwise.) The Dime Speakers for the seasop of 1880—as far as now issued—embrace twenty-three volumes, viz.: . American Speaker. 13. School Speaker. National Speaker. 14. Tudicrous Speaker. es, printed from clear, . Patriotic Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker. . Comic Speaker. 16. Youth's er . Elocutionist. 17. Eloquent Speaker. Humorous Speaker. | 18. Hail Columbia Speak r . Standard Speaker. er. . Stump Spe J 19. Serio-Comic Speaker. , dae 5 5 er. ‘ ~% oe 8 cr mi . Spread- eS cer | 21. Funny Speaker. j Dime Debater hr 22. Jolly Speaker. 12. 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| BEADLE'S | HALF-DIME | LIBRARY. 1 Deadwood Dick, THe Prixcz or THe Roan, Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Vellowstone Jack. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 3 Kansas King; or, THe Rep Ricutr Hann. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain lrederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe, THE Youna WANDERING JEW; or, ‘G FoR A Lecacy. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bul Biddon, Trapper. By E. S. Ellis. 7 The Flying ¥ cast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 8 Seth Jones. By Edward 8. Ellis. 9 Adveutures o ‘® Nat Todd. By E,§, Ellis. 1 The Two Detectives; or, Tae Forrunrs or A Bowery Girt. By Albert W. Aiken. Gulliver’s Travel«. By Dean Swift. The Dumb SEY. By Oll Coomes, 4 Aladdin; or, Wonperrcu Lamp. The Sea-Cat. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. Robinson Cruscee, (27 Illustrations.) Ralph Roy, tse Boy Buccanerr; or, Tar Foerrive Yacut. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 8 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. 19 The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, DEApwoop Dick's Deviance. By Edward L. eeler. 21 The Frontier Angel. By Edward §. Fillis. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, Taz Boy Rosrson Crusox. By Juan Lewis. 28 Nick o° the Night; or, Tu Boy Spry or "76. T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. 25 The Boy Captain. By Roger Starbuck, 26 Cloven Hoof, rue Burrato Demon; or, THE Borprr Vourores. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, THe Boy Gurpgz. Oll Coomes. 28 Buffalo Ben, THe Prince or THE PIsToL; or, Deapwoop Dick rin Diseuiss. E. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, Tue Reck- Less RanGerR. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, Prince or THe Prainms. By Oll Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, tue Borper Rurrtan; or, THE Git Deap-Suor. By Edward L. Wheeler. 83 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, Tae Rep TES OF THE CARIBBEES. By W. Pierce. 34 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wutrrizs’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F. CG. Adams, 35 Wild Ivan, rar Boy CriaupE Dovat; or, Tax BrorgerHoop or Duatu. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown, By Frank §. Finn. 87 The Hidden Lodge. By T. C. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, rue Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, THz Derective; or, Lire AND Love in New York. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Boving Ben. A Story or A Youna Amenrt- can WHo WANTED TO SEE THE WoRLD. Marshall. 41 Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes. 412 The Phantom Miner; or, Drapwoop Dick’s Bonanza. By Edward L. Wheeler. 43 Dick oer: - THe Pony Express Rmsr. By Capt. Frede tk Whittaker. 44 Battling Rube. By Harry St. George. 45 Old Avalanche, THE GREAT ANNTHILATOR; or, Witp Epna, THE GIRL Bricanp, E. L. Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, THe Great SHor or THE WEsT. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 17 Nightingale Nat. By T. C. Harbaugh. 48 Black John, THe Roap-Acent; or, THE OvT- Laws’ Retreat. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 49 Omaha Oll, THe MAskep Terror: or, Dmap- woop Dick x Dancer, By Edward L. Wheeler. 60 Burt Bunker, rHz Trapper. C. E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy Rifles. By Archie C. Irons, 52 The White Buffalo. By C. E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THe Boy Prenr; or, Turoves To Deatn. By Edward L. Wheeler. 54 Ned Hazel, THe Boy Trapper; or, Tuk PHAN- trom Princess. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 55 Deadly - Eye, raz Unxnown Scour; or, THE BranvDED BroTrHERHOop. By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whiffles’ Pet. Capt. J. F. C. Adams, &5T Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, Taz Parps or FLoop Bar. By Edward L. eeler. 58 The Border King. By Oll Coomes. 59 Old Hickory. By Harry St. George. 60 The White Indian. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 61 Biiwed L Bill; or, Tax Reo Riruz Team. ward L. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship. By Col. P. Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood. W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. 66 Hurricane Bill. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 Single Hand. By W. J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe. By Philip 8. Warne. 68 Border Robin Hood, By Buffalo Bill 69 Geld Rifie, THz SHarprsnoorer; or, Tar Boy Dergcrive or rH BLack Ranou, By Wheeler, 41C Old Zip’s Cabin; or, Taz Greennorn iw wuz Woops. By J. F. C. Adams. 31 Delaware Dick. By Oll Coomes. Ore Coto -= ee et pes pet et Ll IO 78 the: Ovi or nad Petunan. By Hamilton, | | i ankee; or, Tae OckEAN OUT- | Baron Munchausen, | | 78 Blue Dick, 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck 3; or, Cauamrry JANE, THE HeRomwe oF WHooP-Up. By Wheeler. 74 Hawke-eye Marry. By Oll Coomes. 75 The Boy Duelist; or, THe Cruise or THe Sra-WotF. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 76 Abe Colt, THe Crow-KiLier; or, Toe Great Fieutinc Man or THE WeEsT. By A. W. Aiken. y far f Bp vacaabag A Deapwoop Dr By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, Giant Trapper. By A.W. Aiken. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nuceet Nep, THe Knicur OF THE GutcH. By Edward L. Wheeler. 81 Lightning Jo. By Captain J. F. C. Adams. 136 Night-Hawk Kit, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 137 The Helpless Hand. Capt. Mayne Reid 138 Blonde Bili; or, Deapwoop Dick's Homx Basg. By Edward L. Wheeler, 139 Judge Lynch, Jr. By 7. C. Harbaugh. | 140 Blue Blazes; re BREAK 0’ Day Boys Charlie, Tae Boy Bravo; or, | ox’s Last Act. By E. L. Wheeler. | 82 Kit Masnieet 74 Woop-Hawk; or, Op } Powprr-Face anp His Demons. By Harbaugh. 83 Rollo, the Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes, | 84 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosesup Ros ON pD. By Edward L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Buekram); or, Bess, THE FEMALE Trapper. By Captain J. F. C. Adams, 86 Dandy Rock. By G, Waldo Browne. 87 The Land Pirates, By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 Photograph Phil, tHe Boy S.ievrs; or, RosEsup Rosp’s REAPPEARANCE, By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 90 The Dread Rider. By G. Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club; or, Tur Youne Rivat Arsueres, By Bracebridge Hemyng. 92 Canada Chet} or, OLD AnAconpa In Srrrine Buu's Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners. By Edward §. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, tHE Roap-Acent; Tux Boy Trapper, By T. C. Harbaugh. 95 The Rival Rovers. Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch-Eye, THE SHADOW; or, ARABS AND ANGELS oF A Great Criy. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, tae Ovriawepd Eart; or, Tar Y Men or Greenwoop. Prof. Gildersleeve, 99 The Tiger of Taos; or, Wid Kate, Danny Rocx’s ANGEL. By George Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville}; or, A STRANGE STROKE FoR Liserty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, THe Boy Smvaoter; or, THE CRUISE OF THE VIXEN, By Col, Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device Sian oF THE DousLE Cross. By E, L. Wheeler. 105 Old Rube, tHe Hunter. Capt. H. Holmes. or, 106 Old Frosty, THz Guns. By T. C. Harbaugh. | 107 One-Eyed Sim, By James L. Bowen. or, THe | | | 108 Daring Davy, THe Youna Bear-Ki1er; or, | Tue TRAIL oF THE BorDER Wo Fr. H. 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 Bowen. 111 The Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingraham. 112 The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe. 113 Jack Hoyle, trae Youna Specu.ator; or, THE Road To Fortune. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 114 The Black Schooner. Roger Starbuck. 115 The Mad Miner; or, Danpy Rock’s Doom. By George Waldo Browne. 116 The Hussar Capestns or, THE or Hezr-Gatr, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 117 ee ae Dick, THE Sport Derectrive; or, Tue AD-AGENT'S DAUGHTER Wheeler. 118 Will Somers, tHe Boy Detective. Morris. 119 insta Sam, THe Kine oF THE PLAINs. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 120 The Branded Hand, By Frank Dumont. 121 Cinnamon Chip, tHe Girt Sport; or, GoLpEN Ipou or Mr. Rosa. Ed. L. Wheeler. 122 Phil Hardy, tux Boss Boy; or, Tar Mys- TERY OF THE StronGpow. By Charles Morris. 123 Kiowa Charley, Tum Warre Musrancer. By T. C. Harbaugh. 124 Tippy, THe Texan. By George Gleason. 125 Bonanza Bill, Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 126 Picayune Pete; or, Nicopemus, Taz Doe Derective. By Charles Morris. 127 Wild-Fire, Boss or Tas Roap, By Dumont. 128 The Young Privateer. By H. Cavendish. 129 Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, Tar Guost oF Gorcon’s Guten. Ed. L. eeler. 130 Detective Dick, By Charles Morris. 131 The Golden Hand j_ or, Danny Rock To THE Rescut. By George W. Browne. 1382 The Hunted Hunter. By Ed. §. Ellis. 133 Boss Bob, tue Kine or THE Boorstacgs: or, THE Pawnsroxer’s Piotr. Ed. L, Wheeler. 134 Sure Shot Seth, rar Boy Rreieman; or Tus Youna Patriors of rar NorTu. By Oll Coomes. 188 on itor Sve or tay Mocwiuna. By Olek: or Rooxy Bar. By Frank Dumont, 141 Solid Sam, THe Boy Roav-Agent; or, Tus BraNnDED Brows. By Edward L. Wheeler. 142 Handsome MWMarry, THe Boorsiack Dz- TECTIVE. By Charles Morris ; 143 Scar-Face Saul, By Oll Coomes. 144 Dainty Lance, THe Boy Sport; or, Tuy Bank-Breakers’ Decoy Duck. J. E. Badger. 145 Captain Ferret, tHe New York Derxc: TIVE; or, Boss Bos’s Boss Jos. By Wheeler. 146 Silver hohe ob THE Boy Knicur. A Prairie Romance. By Oll Coomes. 147 Will Wildfire, THe TxoxovcHERED; or, THe Winnine Hanp. By Charles Morris, 148 Sharp Samy or, THE ADVENTURES oF A FRIENDLEss Boy. By J. Alexander Patten, 149 A Game of Gold; or, Deapwoop Dick's Bie Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler, 150 Lance and Lasso, By Capt. F. Whittaker. 151 Panther Paul, Tue Pram Prrate; or Dainty Lance To THE Rescug, J. E. Badger 152 Black Bess, Wr. Wirprme’s Racer; or, WIinninG Acarnst Opps. By Charles Morris. 153 Eagle Kit, tae Boy Dzxcn. By Oll Coomes, 154 The Swerd Hunters. By F. Whittaker. 155 Gold Trigger, THz Sport, T. C. Harbaugh 156 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, Tue Pickep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. 157 Mike Merry, tHe Harsor Porice Boy; or, Nicut-Hawks oF ELPHIA. Morris. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, Tut TrapPerR’s Trust. By Buffalo Bill, 159 The Lost Captain; or, Tar Open Pouar Sea. By Captain Frederick Whittaker, 160 The Black prea or, Daisty LANCE IN JeoparDy. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 161 New York Nell, rue Boy-Grau Dereorrmr; or, OLD BLAKESLY’s Money. By E. L. Wheeler. 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods; or, Caur IN THE ALLEGHANIES, By Charles Morris. 163 Little Texas, THz Youna MustANGER. 4 Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes, 164 Dandy Rock’s Pledge; or, HuntEp Tc \ DeatH. By G. Waldo Browne. 165 Billy Baggage, tHe Ramroap Boy; or, Run To Earts. By Charles Morris. 166 Hickory Harry. By Harry St. George. 167 Asa Scott, THE SreamnoatT Boy; or, THE LAND PIRATES OF THE MississipP1. By Ed. Willett, 168 Deadly Dash. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr,. 169 Tornado Tom; or, Ixsun Jack From Rer Corg. T. C. Harbaugh. 170 A Trump Card; or, Wa. Wiprme Wr AND Loss, By Charles Morris. 171 Ebony Dan, By Frank Dumont 172 Thunderbolt Tom; or, THe WoLr-Herpyr oF THE Rockies. By Harry St. George 173 Dandy Rock’s Rival. By G.W. Browne 174 Bob Rockett, Tar Boy DopeGrr; or, Mys TERIES OF New YorE. By Charles Morris. 175 Captain Arizona, THE Kine PIN or Roar AGENTS; or, Patent Leather Joe’s Big Game By Philip 8. Warne. 176 The Boy Bunaway; or, THe Buccanenry oF THE Bay. Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S.N. 177 Nobby Nick of Nevaday or, Tar Scam or THE Srerras, By Edward L. Wheeler. 178 Old Solitary, tHe Hermit Trapper; or THe DRAGON OF bivEr Lake. By Oll Coomes 179 Bob Rockett, rex Bayr Runner; or, Tm Roap To Ruin. By Charles Morris. 180 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow Wet. Kerr By Lieut. H. D, Perry, U. 8. N. 181 Wild Frank, ree Bucksxm Bravo; or Lavy Lity’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler. 182 Little Hurricane, rue Boy Capraiy; on, THE OATH oF THE YOUNG AVENGERS, By O} Coomes. 183 The Hidden Hand; or, Wri Wupriee’s VENGE. By Chas. Morris. Ready Jan. 25th 184 The Boy Trailers; or, Dawry Lance on THE War-Patu. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Ready Feb. 1st. 185 Evil Eye, Krxo or Carrie Taieves; or, Tur VouLTuREs of THE Rico GranpgE. By Frank Du- mont. Ready Feb. 8. 186 Cool Desmond; or, THE GamMELER’s Bio Game. By Col. Delle Sara. Ready Feb. 15tt. 187 Fred Halyard, tHe Lire Boar Boy: o, Tar SmvucGLers of THE INLET. By C. Morris, Ready Feb. 2%. 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