Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 163) (1880 09 07)
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25" XN N tir tity _ \\ WAC WMA Mw". 1S Mea A a : 8 P.. “ J Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyrighted in 1880 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, ptember 7, 188% - - 2 we a cs Peso co eo a : rer . = ea Se Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. N O. 1 63.. ‘LITTLE TEXAS, The Young Mustanger. mow. OL: COOMBS, AUTHOR OF “EAGLE KIT,” “SILVER STAR,” ‘‘SCAR-FACE SAUL,” ‘SURE SHOT SETH,” “ ROLLO, THE BOY RANGER,” DTO., , eA OE NS SN ~ * OREN TATE Or enseee, —™ —s nee EN 1 RS ss / = a8 ee Ne ee Z
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ute : ‘ eS: | < Little Texas, THE YOUNG MUSTANGER. A "Wale of the Texan Prairies. BY OLL COOMES, yarcomorn oF “EAGLE KIT,” ‘“‘SILVER STAR,” ‘‘SCAR- wFACE SAUL,”’ “‘ SURE SHOT SETH,”’ ‘ ROLLO, THE BOY RANGE” “ HAWK-EYE HARRY,” ETC. CHAPTER 1. LITTLE TEXAS. AcsummrER day on a Texan prairie. Alight south wind drifting across the great ocean ef verdure comes laden with the sounds of wild excitement. Sawage ean, the thunder of hoofed feet, and the | report of firearms disturb the silence of | the distant wood and quiet valley. skimming low along the plain in quest f food, soar aloft in affright and wheel away into ‘the biue depths of the ~ the wild deer, reposing 4in the shade of motte and bu aml sniffs the air with alarm. Then out of the distance comes a horseman at a wild, break-neck speed. He is an old man. His face Ss<overed with perspiration and dust. His horse is wecking with foam. He is being pursued. Close be- ‘hind comes another rider—a boy; and still further sem comes a band of wild Anadis Indians, Ttas a strange chase; the boy appears to be in suit of the old map, and the savages in pursuit of the bor. The foremost fugitive is mounted upon a fine bay “horse and is leading a dark chestnut mustang, both sremarkable for their beauty and speed. The boy “vides a dark bay mustang caparisoned with Mexican ~osaddie and bridle. At the bow of the saddle hangs | wa coiled lasso. ‘The young rider was not over seventeen years of sage, and possessed of a lithe, yet well-developed form. His face, which was bronzed to the hue of an Min@ian’s, wore an expression of manly pride and “eourage, while a pair of soft blue eyes looked out ‘“frorn under the brim of his sombrero, full of the a of wild adventure and reckless daring. chase was a wild and desperate one. The hhorses of all parties bore evidence of having been long and hard ridden, though that of the boy ap- qpeared to be the least fatigued. The savages seem- “ed possessed of the fury of demons, and lashed and “spurred their panting beasts onward with fiendish _ eruelty—bran oe 3 their lances and tomahawks above their plumed heads, shrieking and yelling, “The boy gh was far beyond rifle range of his a and was gaining rapidly upon them, while . distance between him and the old man was mo- mentarily lessening. He was pursuer and pursued, sand a look of defiance flashed in his eyes as he gazed “back atthe foe, while a strange, triumphant smile ‘itmp his handsome face as he glanced gorward at ‘the old man fleeing as if from the wrath of an aveng- d Nemesis. under the burning sun, the chase continued, mile after mile; but the Apache horses were no wastch in speed for those of the fugitives, and one ‘by one the savages dropped out of the chase until fin- iy the last one had given up in an, Gorter teas Be- “tween the old man and the boy, however, the race scoutinned; and pow that the youth was enabled to 4 ll his attention to the man before, he seemed Be oy more rapidly upon him. He took off his hat mene by Ia his head in triumph. His long _ yellow hair floating on the wind at his back, his flash- gy doa! his firm-set teeth visible between his parted digs, lithe form fixed immovably in the saddle eo the wild, picturesque expression of a fabled Te “M@ke face of the old man wore a different look. Aexxiety was written upon it, and as he clutched his _ srevolver in one hand and the reins in the other, he 7 panting horse onward with tongue and P . His pursuer was now within a hundred yards St him, and, glancing back—watchin ‘4or.a shot—he saw the boy waving his hat above his J and heard him, — distinctly call out: *“Hokt up! hold up! I’m a friend; don’t you see I “3 ald stranger?” man gradually drew up, but in the meantime | “he kept his eye upon the boy and his finger upon the aiperr of his revolver. Ina very few moments more the young horseman hed hed within a few paces, when the old “If you be a-foolin’ of me, blest if I don't air your s ina twinkle—I will by the smilin’ Gatamozin. . wee" Do you hear what I’m sayin’, baby- “Oh, yes!” replied the boy, in an easy, good-na- | tured tone. *‘ I'm not deceivin’ you, old mossy back. | \ was prisoner when the chase begun, and by vir- | ‘tue of a fast horse, I managed to escape from those e scoundrels,” ws are you?” yelled the old man, with a sav- Brim Little Texas.” “The Boy Mustanger?” his eyes opening with as- | Sonrghinent Rem gil Seatac. $0 instal EN torte noe ‘ement, “do you perten nsinuate that ye-ou are onal, honest. bona fide Little Texas?” “). deysir,” wes the boy's prompt answer. Little Texas, the Young Must sh, starts from its repose | ur- | - out and out! his chances | | hearsay better than I know half around in his saddle, raised his | ae, el one eye and screwing up his mouth, | back: | it war that very “Wal, what do you take me for?’ the man asked, in a distrustful tone. ‘A borse-thiet, accordin’ to the Apaches’ story.” “Uh-hump!” he ejaculated, with compressed lips; “now, youngster, Ili asseverate that Tm not tiie | handsomesi critter livin’, nor the honestest man in | Texas, nordo 1 possess the sweetest disposition on . | time the sun was almost down, still they rede or « yearth, but 7 am the aurora that’s rejoiced to collide with Little Texas; and so slap your paw thar, you little vagabond of the prairie. The man seized the Young Mustanger’s hand and shook it till he fairiy rattled in the saddle; at the same time he burst into a peal of hearty laughter. This odd old stranger was a man of some fifty ears of age. He was dressed in a suit of buck-skin, If-civilized and half-savage in style. Upon his head he wore the battered remains of a white hat that was settled down over his small head until his ears were just visible under the broken brim. His nose was of a strong Roman type; his mouth quite | large and surrounded by short, stubby whiskers, well stained with sun and tobacco-juice. There was nothing at all repulsive in the appear- ance of the man—nothing to denote the character- istics of a Texan horse-thief; but there was some- thing so frank and outspoken in his address, so warm and genial in his nature, and so bluff and comical in the expression of his thin, bearded face, that they convinced Little Texas he had met a brave, jolly and generous-hearted old plainsman. ‘*Who are you, anyhow?”’ the Young Mustanger asked, as soon as an opportunity was afforded. “1'm Bill Morrel—old Morality for short. TI are the centeral figger 0’ moral gravitation in this ‘ere sin-besot Jand; I are what keeps the morals o’ the deestrict up to the proper standard—white-heat, he know! And, sir, 1 asseverate and affirm that the In- gin that says I'm a hoss-thief can discount Ananias so bad that lyin’in Ana’s day looked like truth in- laid with fidelity. These hosses, my festive young gambolier, belong to Senor—well—ahem !|—well, at any rate, the Ingins stole ’em fust from their owner and then I waltzed up to the ’Pache country like a tropical wind, inserted my anatomy into their vil- lage one night when the lightnin’ slid through the sky and the storm wrastled squar’-holts with the old mountain and forest, and—well, well, here I am, the same smiling sunbeam, Ole Mo-rality.”’ “ Exactly,” said the boy; ‘‘I see how it is now; but where do you belong?—live, Morality?” ““ Anywhere, everywhere and nowhere; that’s me. But, boy, ’'ve hearn of you, course I have, and have been dyin’ to meet you. You’ve never been up—over—down our way, have you?” * Which way is that?” “Oh, never mind,’ returned the old man, evasive- ly; “it’s anyway and everyway; but I reckon them Ingins ‘ll still try to foller me up, don’t ye think? But if theyll jist foller-up till the last, Tl lead ’em to where they'll smell brimstone strong. Oh, my little captain, you may beat me throwin’ a lasso, or makin’ love to some purty gal; but jist rile me_up ' and I’m wusser’n a cactus-burr to sot down on—I’m a hornet’s nest full of tar-ant’lers—a small tempest. I war never in love but once in my life and then I got salted so bad that I swore allegiance to wo- | man’s s’ciety and sailed westward on the fust ox- | cart that left the port of Crabtown over in Ingean- | ny. As to takin’ in deer and game of any ind, from a cochineal bug to an Ingin skulp, I’ve never see’d the critter that can beat me. Oh, I love to | hunt, and, if I never told the truth in my life, I’ve shot and skinned many a deer afore it quit runnin’. Now that’s what I am, my po : ‘“* And for all this you're ed Morality,” said Lit- tle Texas. “ For all this, and more, too numerous to mention; but, Texas, hadn't we better be moseyin’ along?”’ “Yes, it’s just as well; our horses are rested.” And so they rode on together. “What particular occupation do you foller now, Morality?’ asked Texas, as they journeyed along. “Anything that turns up, from herdin’ Texan bulls to fightin’ regulators andIngins. I’m handy at anything, from ‘fishiatin’ at a weddin’—as a hostler —and commandin’ an ermy—as a scout. I oscillate from one thing to another jist as easy as lightnin’ slipt in’ down a cloud, and I vibrate up and down this kentry jist as nice as a gazelle; but when I take hold, boy, it’s got to come or you'll hear somethin’ rip. Now, I know you’re mathimatican enough to put these things all together, subtract what you think doubtful, add fun and frolic to the quotient, find the square root and then you have Old Morality doubly rectified. As to you, boy, I know you from he commandments. But say, what do you think of the prospect of the *Paches catchin’ us?’ ‘“*T have no more fears of that than of breakin’ my neck by fallin’ over a gold nugget; but tliere is dan- ger of Black Boniface’s regulators.” “‘P’izen tar-rant’lers! do you mean to asseverate that — rollickin’ vampires are roamin’ here- awa 79 **T do, for a serious fact, Morality; I’m just out of the clutches of the villain and his minions, and had stopped to rest when the Ingins stole a march on me. Would you believe it, | give old Bonny a pop on the nose with my fist and made the blood fast spout; but if LAD La seen a feller git up and dust onny. By gracious! he resolved to have revenge, and ordered old Doctor Rocheford to amputate my hand; but I tricked the whole kit of them and started out lively. Tl tell you all about it when we oe “ Great Jolliphagus! I hope they won’t find—well,” and the old man checked himself as an expression of ain passed over his face, “all one can do is to hope ‘or the best, and do the best he-can.”’ Little Texas saw that the old man could be serious, nik M4 ager. | that his mind occasionally reverted to scmethicz ' that evidently gave him great concern and unei: i- ness. The two rode on at a waik, though they at, ” close watch behind them for their pursuers. They finally came to a litule creek where they watere: their horses and siaked their own thirst. By t! is few miles further and finally turned into aliti« motte of timber and halted for the night, providis_; they were net compelled to move on by danger. Olid Morality had a supply of dried meats, aii: some water in a canieen, which he divided with t))- Boy Mustanger, and the two made a sumptucus meal. The horses were not unsaddled. Morality icketed his animal out to grass while Texas turned tis loose, knowing, that should danger approach, t! « beast would manifest some signs of alarm. Morality kept watch during the first half of the night, ai was relieved by Little Texas. And thus the hous wore away, and with the first streaks of dawn thc y were ready for departure, but just as they were about to ride from the grove the keen eye of the mustanger discovered War-Ax and his warriors en- camped on the open plain not over half a mile east of them. This delayed their departure. Old Moral- ity insisted upon keeping under cover until the course of the Apaches was determined. Little Texas believed that the old man had more reasons than one for thus keeping concealed; but he did not try to fathom one of the secrets of the old fellow’s heart. To thesurprise of the two friends, however, the Indians made no preparations for departure as the day advanced, and so it became evident that they were resting there before beginning their homeward ourney. It mattered not to Little Texas, after all, ow long they remained there. He was in no par- ticular hurry, and so he made up bis mind that they would pass another night in the motte together; bur to the surprise of both, the Indians mounted their horses about sunset and rode away northward. This afforded the two friends great relief and gave them the assurance of a quiet night’s rest. They unsaddled and picketed their animals to grass in th. center of the grove and made a meager supper o? the remnants of Morality’s supplies. After darkness set in the two sat down under °, tree to converse. The moon came up ina soft blu: sky, flooding the landscape in a mellow light. Not 9 breath of wind was stirrmg. The sweet perfume «©: the little grove and the wild prairie flowers was di: - tilled upon the cool night air. The drone of insect: , the piping of a tree-frog, the tinkling of tne hors: »; bit-rings, and the occasional cry of a night-bird', were the only sounds that disturbed the silence or the hour. “ Boy—Little Texas,” demanded Old Moralif~. spartiug from a reverie, “‘do you like this kind v ife?’ ‘“*T like the life of a mustanger,” replied the boy, “it is so full of fun and adventure, though I mi: admit I had all the adventure-yesterday with Blac Boniface I care about.” “Then Black Boniface is act’ly in the San Sab ; valley again?”’ “Yes, in force;. yesterday, as I told you before, } was in his power, and now I'll tell you the partic'le:; You know there has been a buck-skin mustang | the head of a herd on these prairies that has defi .; the lassoes of the mustangers for years—” “Yes, I do that, Texas,” interrupted the old men, “and I don’t b'lieve there’s a hoss in Texas that cai: run that buck-skin down. Do you?” - es, I caught that mustang myself yesterday’, and—”’ “You did?” “Yes, after a five-and-twenty-mile chase I two the buck-skin in,” continued the youth; “I was of fered a hundred dollars by a trader for it; bur scarcely had I thrown the animal ere old Bonifavs. and his whole gang surrounded me and demande, my surrender; but I wasn’t to be scared by words. and I drew my revolver and let into them, and it’s fact, Morality, I emptied three saddles before they could close in on me.”’ P “Good! good, you little tarrapin!” put in the ol) man. ‘But,’ Texas went on, ‘they overpowered me and took my horses, and waltzed me off up to the timber where they went into camp. There Blac;- Boniface, the villain, thought he’d git some secret; out of me about some ranches over east that he’; like to raid on; but he couldn't get anything out ©; me, and so he up and give me a furious slap on th: cheek, and _quicker’n a wink I lit into him like » sailor, and I give him a blow on the proboscis tha) like to kiltered him over. The blood just flew from, his nose, and if ever you seen a madman it was that Black Boniface. e fairly raved and tore, ani) swore that the hand that struck him should be cu: off. Among his men is one called Dr. Rocheford. He is a Frenchman, and served in the Mexican arm» as a surgeon, — ago. He is Boniface’s lieute: ant. He is the wickede&t, cruelest wretch on th; top of God's earth; and his looks do not belie hin: His eyes are small, squinty and gray, and his face is pitted and plowed by small-pox, and seamed ani} scarred with the result of many a deadly encounte Well, Dr. Rocheford was notified that he must pre sare to amputate my hand, and the doctor was rea!- fy delighted. That night the job wasto be dons, and after an hour’s halt I was mounted upon n: own horse, Lightfoot, and we set off. Dr. Roch: - ford couldn’t hardly wait for night to come, |. wanted to get at me so bad. But we pegged slow’ - along through the woods, a pirate leading my hors. . By the way, Lightfoot was awful lame—he fai) \, hobbled on three feet. He'd strained his ankle, y« it see, when 1 caught the buck-skin—at least, I maids old Boniface believe such was the case, though I cc.
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; make Lightfoot limp any time, or do anything else. He's an awful s hoss, Morality, and knows more than all the Apaches in Texas. But, as I was sayin’, we went limpin’ along through the woods till we come to an awful thick spot, when I put a flea in Light- eae ore ‘Little Texas, the foot’s ear, and away he went—jerked loose from the | robber, and if ever you seen a pair of fellows go tearin’ through that timber it was Lightfoot and I. | Gracious! the trees and bushes fairly smoked be- | hind us we swept apast them so fast! Out into the rairie we sailed, and away we flew over the plain, Foublin’ on those pirates at every jump. Oh, it was a glorious race—beats ours all holler. Isoon left the dancin’ villains out of sight and rode on till I reached a little chaparral, where I dismounted to rest and let Lightfoot graze. I was awful tired, and I sat down to rest and fell asleep—somethin’ I never done in my life before whenin the midst of danger. Well, when I awoke, Lightfoot was frettin’; and, geting ; a quick up, [looked around. Plagued if I wasn’t surround by a score of Apaches, “Great tar-rant’-lers!"’ burst from Old Morality. “T saw there was no escape for me,” Little Texas resumed, “for not less’n a dozen glittering lance- points were so near my breast that I was almost afraid to scratch my head. They acted awful mean | to’ards me, and kept lookin’ around the grove as though they thought there was some more of us about; but finally [found out the whole secret of their presence there, and their strange actions. They were in pursuit of a horse-thief that had stolen two of their horses. They had tracked the thief into that grove, and when they saw me, of course they thought I was the chap; but they soon found I hadn’t their horses; but they b’lieved I had somethin’ to do with stealin’ them, and so they mounted me onto my horse and away we all went again. Light- foot got lame again, all of a suddint, and it was hard work for us to git along, but the Apaches lashed us up, and after riding a mile or so, who should we dis- cover but the veritable old horse-thief himself, and that was you, Morality.” ‘*Ho! ho! ho!” laughed Morality; “ you don’t tell 9 ’ “Yes, I do tell you,” replied Texas; “‘ and when we discovered you we give chase, I lingered behind at first, and when I saw the Indians were all crazy on catchin’ you, I spoke to Lightfoot, and away we went. A few jumps brought us to the front, and be- fore the Apaches knew what was up, we was out of reach of harm, Oh, mercy! the way Lightfoot did tickle the earth would make a stone man smile, and when I seen you runnin’ from me, I thought, to my- self, I should explode with—” “Hark, boy!” suddenly commanded the old man, starting to his feet, and listening. “What is it, Morality?’ asked the Bor, Mustanger. “Thar’s somethin’ or other—my old ears don’t reach out like they did once, boy. You git up and listen, Texas.” The Boy Mustanger rose, threw the saddle on his horse, then crept to the edge of the grove and list- ened. He heard the sound of trampling hoofs upon the plain, and it seemed to be growing plainer each ee eee into the shadows. | wealth The boy withdrew further | Then, from out the depths of the moonlit night | and solitude of the boundless plain, he saw two | horsemen emerge at a sweeping gallop, They drew nearer and nearer—they were before him—then they were gone like the wind apast him, and were soon lost in the distant shadows. Little Texas turned and hurried baek to his com- anion, " “That will never do, Morality,” he said, in a tone that betrayed some excitement; “‘ there is something wrong. One of those night-riders was a_ man, the other a woman. I shall follow them, for I repeat it, I believe there is something wrong. Morality, loan me one of your pistols.” The old man complied at once; then, turning, the boy leaped into the saddle, and a moment later he was flying over the moonlit plain upon the trail of the unknown, mysterious night-riders. And alone under the soft blue sky and mellow moonlight, Old Morality paced to and fro, whistling page to himself, while a strange smile hovered up- on bearded face. CHAPTER I. THE EMIGRANT CAMP. Camp on the San Saba river. The San Saba valley in the twilight of a summer evening. The sound of human voices mingled with the soft, musical murmur of the river. A camp-fire burning under the sheltering boughs of mesquit, and cedar and oak. : A dozen canvas-covered wagons drawn up in a cir- ele around the ruddy fire. Horses, mules and cattle corraled and guarded in the bend of the river below. In short, an emigrant train encamped there upon the banks of the little Texan river, Men, women and children, in all numbering some forty or fifty souls, comprised the numerical force of this band of adventurers. adventurers, for they were such who dared to breast the hardships and the manifold dangers of Texan wood and Texan lain at the time of which I write; and when Colonel srael Miles led his little band into the valley of the San Saba, he did not do so without being futly ap- rised of the step he was taking. He had served is country as a soldier in the Lone Star State years before, and had then remarked the natural adven- tages the country possessed, and_ which time must open to the emigrant. Believing that time had come be had organized his partw and set out for the lan [say oer boy ‘ _ + he of promise; and it is after weeks of weary jJourney- that we find them encamped on the San Saba. king in upon that camp one would see at omce that the emigrants did not consider themselves free from surrounding dangers, for every precaution lad been taken to guard against surprise by enemies, of which there were many. The will Indians, the out- law Mexicans, and the white robbers, or as they were better known, the regulators, still infested the woods and prairies of Texas, and being fully ac- uainted with the cowardly and cunning nature of these Bedouins, Colonel Miles was prepared for them. The wagons were drawn up in a hollow square “tongue and tail,”’ and outside of these was piled brush and logs. Four armed men patrolled the camp, while Miles himself kept constantly on the move supervising the care of the stock and the ar- rangements of the camp. Colonel Miles was a large and rec man, with nervous disposition, and a short, bluff way of speaking that, to a stranger, would seem cold and severe. But no warmer or truer heart ever throbbed than that of Israel Miles. He was a firm friend and relentless enemy, as brave asa lionin the time of danger, as gentle as a child in the family circle. To know the colonel was to love and adinire him. He was not at all a handsome man | s far us features were concerned; but this was entirely ios sight of in the beauty of the man’s great, generous heart and noble spirit. The colonel was a bachelor, wich is tie worst that can be said of him; but this was no fault of his. Death had robbed him «4 the only wornman he had ever loved, more than t #uniy years vefore. He was not alone, however, for he had under bis guardian- ship two lovely girls, Christie May Miles aud Edith Clayton, of sixteen and twenty yeais respectively. The one was the child of of his dead sister, and the other, of an unfortunate friend, au ol! scbool-muate and army comrade. Both of these girls were very handsome and intellicent, aud had they been the colonel’s own daughters he cvutd not heve regarded them more tenderly, for he idolized th And yet, they were as opposite 1 many respects as at is pos- sible for two pretty young women to be. Christie Miles was a darls-ceyed little nymph, just budding into lovely womanhood, Sle was possessed of a sweet, vivacious spirit, and was loved by all who knew her; for her coming wus like a sunbeam to a cold and drooping flower, or Lope to a cheerless, downcast spirit—dispelling the clouds from the heari and the weight of cares fromthe mind, Edith Clayton represented another type of wo- manhood, She was possessed of a svlph-like form —tall, slender and graceful; sort blue eyes and a of light flaxen hair that seemed to cast around her serene, angelic face a halo of infini'e beauty. She was of a rather silent and gentle na- ture, yet that silence and _ gentility were possessed of an influence that made her loved and admired by all with whom she chanced to meet. The emigrants had been encamped in the San Saba valley for several days. For all they knew they were at their journey’s end, or nearly so. Colonei Miles had conceived the idea of planting a colony in Western Texas, and believed the San Saba valley afforded great advantages as cn agricultural and stock-raising country; and it was only until they could determine upon a suitable location for per- manent settlement that they had gone into camp on the river, Settlements in this part of Texas at the time of which we write were very few and far between. | Here and there might be found a lone eattle-ranch, or the quarters of a band of mus’ sigers; and not in- frequently were these ranchcroes and horse-catch- ers in communication and uwnon good terms—if not in league—with the wild Indians and white outlaws, or regulators, of the prairie. If they were honest | men they were compelled to pay dearly for their boldness in going so far beyond tlie borders of Jaw and order, for they were the chief resources of the cattle and horse-thieves. The regulators seldom committed viglence upon the cattlemen and mus- tangers, knowing full well that to do so weuld be to kill the goose that laid the golden egg. Among the noted characters of Western Texas, and one who for years had kept the people, rancheroes | and mustangers in a fever of excitement, was the notorious Black Boniface, the leader of a band of outlaws, or regulators, whose retreat was some- | where upon the head-waters of the San Saba. river. This man of all others Colonel Miles feared. There were treasures in his party that were not to be measured in value, by dollars and cents—such as he knew Black Boniface would prize beyond the value of gold, and for the possession of which he would let no human life stand in the way should he once set his wicked heart upon obtaining the treasures. Then there was another person in those parts, the very opposite of Black Boniface in charactér, though it had not been the colonel’s pleasure to meet him. Young Mustan ’ This was little Texas, the Young Mustanger—a | youth made famous by his wonderful horsemansh'p, his reckless daring, and the use of the lasso—a boy who had sent more wild horses and horned cattle to the markets of Galveston and Austin then any other yerson in Western Texas. At least, this is what ‘olonel Miles had been told, but the stories se «med so incredible that he was disposed to make dpe al- lowance for the average Texan yarn—particularly those told of the regulator, Black Boniface, and the Young Mustanger. The few days tie party had been waiting in camp by the San Saba had made camp life dull and mo- notonous. Everybody was anxious to kiow where his and her home were to be the presence of Christie and Edith, the hours weuld have dragged more wearily than they did, Tothese | i _ soil, I do believe,” said Lucas. girls there was enjoyment in wood, river and bound- located; and but for — . a3 ¥ ‘- ’ L \ er. excitement. Iv was the wont of the maidens to walk by the river at evenins, and watch the sup go down bey vind the great plain stretching away for weary leagnes into the west from the opposite shore of the river. Nor did familiarity with the scene dim its glory im the least, for the fourth evening we find them there, seated on a log by the water’s edge, watching the Sening sun and chatting as only two light-heartod irls can. .: “Oh, sister!” exclaimed Christie, enthusiastically, as she saw the blood-red sun sinking behind the hor zon, “isn’t that delightfuly Ol, that beautiful red sky, and that calm ocean of verdure! Why coukin’’ I have been an artist, and thenI could sketch such: divine landscapes and—" Her eyes were bent downward and resting sos Ld clump of brush upon the water's ecpe. Edith sas that she had been suddenly sta:tled, transfixedl Her face had become blanched and her eyes distend- ed as if under some horrible fascination. There was a movement ot her body as if to recoil from some- thing dreadful, and Edith, imbued with the spirit ef silent fear, peruntted her own eyes to turn in the di- ction indicated by Christic’s startled gaze, Bot 12 could see pething save a ¢ ump of matted brusa, * Christie!’ she exclaimed; “whet do you soe? You are frightened, child.” “Look, Edith!’ she answered, peinting Gowm- ward. Again Edith glanced at tle point indicated, end this time she, too, started; for anid the tangled meshes of the cluniv of brush she beheld a pair of burning eyes sci. in a brown, dusky face—a Rumen face peering uy into hers. “Te is an I:cian, Christie!” exclaimed the calm and thoughtful Edith. Her words broke the spell thet bound the fair Christie, and starting up the liltle maiden uttered « scream and started back from the river. As the maiden’s cry of alarm rung out over the, water and through the wood, the lithe form of a Mexivan glidefl out from under the cover of brush swain rapidly across, and before 2 single man could reach the spot where the maidens stocd, the cunnin fellow hed gained the opposite slore and disappear from sight. Colonel Miles was the first to reach the river, and learn from Edith what had passed. The colonel was sstounded. A look of uneasivess settled upon his face and he began pacing the shore with a nervous step. “The eneaking whelp ts skulking around here for no good,” he said; “if leould only have. put a hub jet through his brain it would have nipped his gamne in the bud, Are you sure it was a Mexican, girls?" “ Yes, sir, quite sure,” answered Edith; “he weg asmall man with dark complexion end hair, and, ch, such murderous black eyes!” “Boys,” the colonel exclaimed, addressing hia men, who by this time hud joinéd hum at the river, ‘‘some of us must cross the river and search fer that covote.” A number of his men volunteered to accompany him, and the party av once crossed the river and be- can the aperen, They had no difficulty in finel the trail, but darkness came on before they cou overtake the Mexican, and so they returned te camp. Every point of approach was doubly guarded that night, but, to the hapyy surprise of all, the lo: weary hours of darkness wore away Withont) the visitation of dangers. till they did not permit their vigilance to relax for a moment, and avother day and night passed but neither friend or foe came. On the second day, however, the approach of thice horsemen was announced, and amid the excitement consequent upon the discovery the strangers rode into camp. They Soe dressed and armed as Texan ranp and bestrode well caparisoned and strong-lin.be horses. They had in charge a led horse—a invstin stud of a beautiful cream color—that seemed wild and restive. Colonel Miles advanced and saluted the trio. ‘the leader of the party responded in a pleasant manucr. The latter was a litile above medium hight aud rize, straight as an Indian, with a fine physical develop- ment, a keen gray eye, a heavy Gaik mustache, ond withal a rather handsome man; but the symmeicy and beauty of his face was slightly marred by aa ugly red scar running diagonally across his cheek. His companions were not as attractive and pre- possessing characters as he. One was a Moxican and the other a half-breed Indian—both low-browed and sulien-looking fellows not calculated to inspire confidence by their personal appearance, After the compliments of the day had been passed the white stranger said: : “Tn passing up the valley the smoke from your camp-fire revealed your presence, aud we could nob’ resist the temp ation to call and sce who was here.” “That was right, gentlemen,” replied the colonel, “bt whom have we the honor of addressing?” “My name is Seneca Lucas—more familitrly known as Captain Lucas. We are mustangers, or, in other words, Texan traders—cealing and trading in horses with the mustangers or men that make m “ Ah, indeed?” exclaimed the colonel “We have been down the rivc:,” continued Lucas,” “after this handsome buck-skin we have here, learned that it had been canght, and determine’? upon having it, for it is a, remarkable horse.” “T declare he is a noble-looking faliow,” seid ti-a colonel, looking around the fretful lit@e animal. “And he's the second porse in & on Tere “The mustang
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. — = & , ; aber Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. bave all had their eyes on that Pegasus for years, | but Christie. As the colonel ed away, a feeling and tried to catch him, but never until a few days | of queer mistrust entered his breast. From Edith’s agro did any of them suceeed, and thea a boy—Litile | words and actions he was led to infer that there was | loo “Why, child, what could you do with a wild horse? tell me that, will you?” asked the bluff old gentle- mon, ‘Haven't I ridden horses, uncle, that some colo- ng we know couldn't ride?” the maiden asked, with a smile; “‘and wasn’t I counted the best la Ty rider in Tennessee? Now, say, uncle?” a didn’t say you weren't, child,” the colonel said, yielding tothe anxious little heart and pleading eyes of hia fair protégée ; ‘but if you do want to get your precious neck broke, 'li buy that pony for you, if it tales the last dollar I’ve got.” Christie’s eyes brightened, and she fairly danced with jy. She clasped he» little hands together and Jeuked the feeling she could not express. Certain Lucas had overheard a part of the con- ve-sation between the colonel and his daughter, and ernbraced the first pk to remark: , “Your daughter, observe, is an admirer of Vor ses,” “Qh, yes, confound it!’ blurted the colonel, in his way. ‘I presume a horse’ll be the death of her, yet. Is that fellow for sale, Lucas?” _ * Weare Texan traders, Mr. Miles, and are prexing our bread by buying, selling and trading. We'll se er trade anything we've got. Fifty dollars is our figaves on that buck skin.’ *Has he been broken to the saddle?” asked Miles. “He has been thoroughly conquered and broken, fir; we always ride our horses as soon as caught or urchased, and, I dare say, your daughter can ride ro if she’s accustomed to the saddle.” “She rides, sir, like a centaur, sir, like a centaur,” said the colonel. @aptain Lucas and his men dismounted. a za,”’ said the trader, addressing the Mexican, “shrow the saddle on Pegasus, and ride him.” Mexican stripped the saddle from his own horse and placed it upon the back of the buck-skin; then he mounted it and r. de up and down the river | —through the corral, and around the camp. The arimal champed his bits and tossed his head a little at first, but finally came in as gentle as an old horse, Every man and woman was delighted with the | beautiful little mustang, and in less than an hour @bristie Miles was its owner, and upon its back. She | rede with a side-saddle, and handled the reins with | ease aud skill, and the noble horse that, but a few days before, ran wild on the broad Texan plain, was new held in thralidom, and guided by the little hand of a feeble girl. Having disposed of his horse, and satisfied his ap- —_ curiosity, the traders took their departure. le exercising her new horse, Christie looked about for Edith, but she was nowhere to be seen; so the maiden rode up to the door of her tent and called fer her to come out. But there was no response, and Christie was surprised, alarmed. She called to olfi June, Colonel Miles’s negro housekeeper, to come and see if Edith was in her tent. The old negress waddled down to Edith’s apart- ment and entered; but a moment later she came yoshing out, frantic with excitement. “Oh, Heabenly Father!” she cried; “’for de Lord, Jane Edith an dead—lying on de cold floo’ dead! Lor’! Lor’!” ith a cry of distress and grief, Christie leaped grom her horse, and giving Pegasus in care of a ser- vani, ran into Edith’s tent. 1 & Leen scream startled thecamp. Onthe fieor of her tent lay Edith, to all appearance dead. Mer face was bloodless and wore a look of pain. eile the fingers clutched tightly, lay limp by her side. “Ob, Edith! my poor, dear sister is dead!” cried Oo a) upon her knees by the prostrate girl and elasping: her hand and raising her head. fhe band was still warm. By this time Colonel Miles had reached the tent, and learning the condition of affairs he called the party’s physician, Dr. Jeduthan Dover, who came aud examined the girl’s pulse and heart, and an- nounced that she was far from being dead; but that she “ was laboring under the effects of nervous pros- tration,” or words to that effect, and had fallen ina #woon. Bestoratives were at once administered, and it was found that the doctor was right, for signe of return- ing consciousness were soon manifested. It was some time, however, before she was able to compre- fiend ber situation, and when she cid, she glanced qnickly and excitedly around her and exclaimed: ‘*Sister—Christie, where is he? Where is he, Curistie?” : _ “Whom do you mean, Edith? Uncle Miles?” an- awered Christie, in surprise. The sovnd of the latter's voice seemed to restore Edith to full consciousness, and, with a little cry, she exclaimed: “What am I saying, Christie?” "*Yon are ill, sister,” replied the fair Christie. Bdith glanced at the faces around her with bewil- dred look and said, in a rather evasive tone: “No, I have not been well to-day.” Jo «(ew iwmutes all withdrew trom her presence e id @ 2 o s 5. z - o re be r 5 E a oe & & F = & = re) 5 it was found that three horses were missing. Their picket-pins had been drawn, and after some examin- ation of the ground and the trail, it was evident they had been stolen. This discovery caused great ex- citement in camp, and in a few minutes the impul- sive Colonel Miles and four of his friends were mount- ed and in pursuit of the thieves. The trail led southward, and was easily followed, as the thieves had taken no pains to conceal it; but after traveling a few miles it was discovered that the villains had separated, each one with a horse going in a different direction. But Colonel Miles was equal to the emergency. He was determined to recover the horses and punish the thieves in such a manner that they would not trouble him again, and so he di- vided up his party, sending his men upon two of the trails, he taking the third one alone. All felt satisfied that the thieves would meet again at some appointed place, and it was arranged that the party reaching this point first should await the coming of the others, so that after some further un- derstanding as to the course to be pursued in case they should not meet, the parties separated—each one taking its trail. : The party pursuing the middle trail traveled in a due south-west course, and about noon came to a little creek where, to their surprise they found the three horse-thieves had come together. It was a surprise to them because not expected so soon, and so they disrnounted and waited the coming of their friends. In the course of an hour the two on the —_ came up. Colonel Miles alone was still absent, still they thought nothing of this until hours began to go by and evening approach; then they became uneasy; and fears for his safety were enltertained. “Tt can’t be he’s reached this point first, and grow- | ing impatient, gone on alone,”’ said Tom Harvey. Ny it'd be just like him," replied another, “in case | he got sight of the thieves. The colonel has a habit of going off half-cocked.” * At any rate, let us inquire into the matter.” A careful search of the ground was made and, true enough, they found where a fourth horse, un- qin that of the colonel, had crossed the ereek. Following this up they soon came to where the grass was trampled and cut with many hoofs; and here and there were little clots of coagulated Night came and went, and with the coming of day | | blood upon the ground, and blood-stains upon the trodden grass. “Good heavens! exclaimed young Harvey, “*here's millions of proof that there has been a bloody fight here between the thieves and somebody: but whether the colonel’s had a hand initI can’t say, but I’m of the opinion, friends, that he has.” arvey’s friends were of the same opinion, and while discussing the probable result of the conflict, and the course they should pursue, night came upon them. They went into camp on the creek, and the next morning made further examination of the bat- tle-ground, and became convinced that there must have been a score of horsemen engaged in the con- flict; and if Colonel Miles had been taken prisoner, he was in the bands of a sarpe party against which it would be sheer madness for them to attempt to array themselves; and with this conclusion in regard to the matter, they mounted their horses and start- ed back to camp to lay the case before their friends, | As they proceeded along they expressed a hope | that they might find the colonel at camp when they | arrived there; but they were doomed to a bitter dis- | pop heey yon for, when they reached the San Saba that day, they found he was not there. The news that the four men brought to camp cast | a shadow of the deepest gloom and sorrow over the | hearts of the little band. Christie and Edith were | almost distracted by the news, and fora time the | camp, that had so recently been filled with laughter, | gayety and pleasure, was now filled with weeping, | istress and trouble. Féaring an attack,now more than ever, from en- emies, the sete was strongly fortified, and for two | days and nights scarcely a man, woman or child | slept, so close and constant was the watch upon all sides. Meanwhile, there were those that still enter- | tained hopes of Colonel Miles’s return, and many and | fervent were the prayers offered up for his restora- tion to his friends and almost broken-hearted daugh- ters. Toward the close of the third day a horseman was seen approaching from the west at a rapid pace, A feeling of hope and joy thrilled through every heart and with eager anticipation was every eye fixed | aon the rider; but bitter was their disappointment | when the horseman dashed into camp, for he was an entire stranger ! | The stranger was mounted upon a clean-limbed apimal whose nostrils were og and sides steaming with hard riding, The man himeelf was a rough, bearded fellow dressed in a suit peculiar to the border-settler, yet the unceremonious manner in which he entered the camp, and the freeness and | frankness of his speech at once dissipated all doubts of his character. As he drew rein before the disappointed group he saluted them, and then, fixing his eyes upon one of the elder gentlemen, gid: “T presume this is the camp of Colonel Israel Miles, ar’n’t it?” “It is,’ answered Mr. Boardman; “but what. do you know of Colonel Israel Miles, stranger?’ “T have come direct, and fast as this hoss ’d carry | a me, from Colonel Miles’s bedside,” responded the man.’ A cry of joy burst from every lip, for it was joy, indeed, to know that the colonel was, at | ; and in a moment the stranger was the central figure of a group of eager, anxious people. “Where is the colonel? here is the colonel?” was asked by a number. ‘*He’s about twenty or twenty-five miles, as the crow flies, from here, lying very low with a wound received in a fight with some horse-thieves and des- peradoes. I found him lying dead, as I su i on the prairie, but when I diskivered he wer'’n't quite dead I took him home with me and give him some brandy and herb-tea and brought him back to life, and he may weather through if he hae the ri kind of treatment—better’n 1am able to give , What he needs is some medicines and a good nurse and so he sent me over here for Doctor Dever a his daughter Christie to come over and treat him till he’s able to be moved, which may be in a week and maybe not for a solid month.” A little ery escaped Christie’s lips—a of min- gled joy and grief—as the stranger concluded _ his story. It was joy to her to learn that her fan was alive, and grief to learn that he was so low and suffering for the want of care. In an eager, excited voice she declared Ler readiness to go at once to his bedside, and even turned and ordered a servant to bridle and saddle Pegasus, the beautiful buck-skin Pg purchased of Seneca Lucas, the Texan trader. Doctor Jeduthan Dover, an odd old gentleman. who was cross as a bear half his time, never seem in better spirits than when he heard Miles was livin and had sent for him. He flew around like a school- boy, ordered his horse, dressed himself for the journey and with his pif-bags on his arm was soon ready to start. Of course, no one objected, under the circum- stances, to Christie going with the stranger so long as Dr. Dover was going with them; and as there could be no doubt of the truthfulness of the man’s story the two were soon mounted and on their way. Many were the kind regards and hopes sent to the colonel, and as the three rode out of a many ou the hearty ‘“God-speed-yous”’ that followed ‘hem. Those at camp watched the trio until the distanca and gathering twilight shadows shut them from view; then they returned to their camp-fires and tents to discuss the situation and b over the first misfortune that had befallen them in that ideai land of promise. The ranger, who gave his name as Victor Ure, and Christie rode together. Dr. Dover rode behind. He was just that kind of a man that would have rid- den behind and alone, even bad there been another lady in the party. Ure and Christie conversed free- ly. The maiden asked many questions concerning her uncle which were answered in a pleasant, oblij;- ing manner. They rode on a brisk gallop. Victor Ure watched the sun go down and the moon come up as if mea- suring the moments thereby. Their course lay over a broad expanse of prairie, broken only by an occasional clump of trees that rose up like a grim sentinel against the western sky, or crouched low in the valley like a murderous assassin. The grass was thick and luxuriant, and rustled under the horses’ feet. Flowers of a thou- sand colors bloomed on the plain and distilled their rich perfume on the balmy air. The moon, bright almost as day, flooded the plain with a mellow = Over and around them was a dead hush t was broken only by the grass-muffled strokes of their animals’ feet. edge, ne an Indian and firm as a centaur the bearded ranger sat his horse; and, with the ease and grace of a fairy-queen, the pretty, patient Christie Miles rode at his side upon her spirited mustang, while on, a few rods behind, came the doc- tor at a heavy, lumbering gait. Deep in the solitude of the great plain and under the shadows of night, with thoughts of what Victor Ure might be, Christie shuddered. The dread lone- liness of the surrounding impressed her spirit with — and gloomy forebodings, and a strange dread | and anxiety came over her and made her feel ag though the presence of the gruff but kind-hearted old doctor would afford her relief. And with this feeling preying = her, she looked back, and to her surprise saw that the distance between the doo- tor and them was widening, ‘*T'm afraid the doctor's horse will not hold out if we ride so fast, Mr. Ure,” she said. “He will certainly tell us if he finds his horse fail- ing,” the ranger replied. ‘It would be just like him to say nothing even were it well to speak. The doctor is a very peculiar man. ‘IT assure you, Miss Miles, he will not lose sight of us. But this did not satisfy that uneasiness gnawing at | the maiden’s heart; however, she made no reply. On they went—the bearded ranger and the lovely girl, and on behind came the doctor. Mile after mile was traversed. The moon sailed aloft, and the shadows that had swept along at the riders’ sides now crept behind. Conscious of the fact that each moment brought her nearer and nearer her beloved gua) dian, Christie did not permit her spirit to give way under the feeling that weighed upon her mind, but endeavored to cheer up and be ready to meet her uncle with a smiling face and light heart. As they rode on Vic or Ure became less commu- nicative, and yf their animals to a faster speed; and now and then he glanced before and aroun him with bis keen eyes, and ever and anon he look-
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ed back over lis shoulder as if looking for the doc- tor. He seemed uneasy, and Chrystie did not fail " notice it; nor did it give her any cheer or com- ort. res Little Texas, the You The maiden did not look back, but now and then | che inquired about the doctor, and pect te received | the assurance thet ho was in sight—still sround, But in this Victor Ure lied, for at every rod fie and Christie had been gaining upon Dover for over two miles, and finally the intervening distance shut the doctor entirely from view. Dover saw that they were gaining wpon him, and called to them to wait when he saw them fading from his view; but they heard him not. Still he urged on his beast, but it was no match for the wiry mustangs, and finally the two melted from his sight. ‘The doctor now began to despair. of the country, nor no more where he wanted to go than themanin the moon. He looked around for a etar or landmark by which he could keep his present olding his | from her seat. * But don't take on now, little eg or I shall be under the necessity of taking you in my arms. | know it is mean in me to deceive you, but then it | can’t be hel 1 consider the worst deceived.” Christie burst into tears, but when!she heard the It is your friends and not you that | villain gloating like a fiend over his exploit in get- | ting her into his power, her fear and terror turned | to hatred and scorn. The gentle spirit of the beau- | tiful, confiding girl was transformed into one of de- | flance. man’s consummate treachery and deception. what could she do, afterall’ The villain had already | taken the hitch-rein of her bridle, and he now con- He knew nothing | trolled her pony. To leap from her saddle was her only chance of escape, and even this must be done | at the risk of her life, but she resolved on attempt- course, A little motte of tall trees arrested his at- | tention. It was not far away, and as he approached it a horseman glided from out its shadows and drew rein before him. Dr, Dover saw that it was neither of his friends, | and before he could rein in his horse he found him- | self at the stranger’s side. “ Halt, there|’’ demanded the unknown, in a voice not calculated to inspire terror in a breast like Do- ver’s. ing it when she saw all other chances of escape were gone. But after thinking the matter over it oc- curred to her that such an act would afford her no Her very soul revolted at the thought of the | But | relief, should she escape death, for the villain could | easily follow her up. She was rg see and riding into the den of the infamous Black Boniface. Many were the thoughts that flashed through the | poor a brain as they galloped on, but none of them “Well, now I’m halted, confound you! what do | you want?” and the crusty old doctor, gazing down upon the stranger, saw a youthful figure dressed in | buck-skin, and a boyish face looking up at him from | under the brim of a sombrero. He was mounted up- | oh a dark-colored’ mustang, and carried, at the bow | of his heavy Mexican saddle, a revolver and a lasso. “T just want to know what ole cross bear you are, ae where you're going?’ was the youth’s rejoin- cer, “It’s none of your business who I am,” blurted Dover; ‘‘but I am trying to follow a man and girl to the ranch of the former, but, bless my eyes, if the rascals haven't outridden me. Have you seen any- thing of them, baby-face?” “Fra! ha! ha!” e, ““What the de’il ails you?’ stormed Dover, furi- ously; “are you a wandering Bedlamite?”’ ** Not at all, old pie-crust; but whom were you fol- lerin’, do you suppose?” asked the boy. “Victor Ure an Christie Miles, that’s who! We’re going to the man’s ranch, where a friend lies sick— wounded. He sent Ure after us.” a And Victor Ure and the maiden have outridden you?’ **Yes,”’ short and crustily. ughed the youth in the doctor's | rought the least cheer or consolation to ber breast. Could she have been certain that Colonel Miles was living, it would have afforded her a spark of hope, but since she found that Victor Ure had been deceiving her in regard to the illness of her uncle, she felt satisfied that he was dead, and that | the man at her side had slain bim. Deep in the solitude of the great plain Black Boniface felt safe with his captive, and surrounded by the shadows of night he believed he was hidden from all human eyes, but in the very hour of his triumph, his self-assured safety, a rider dashed out from the darkness that hung over the distance and saad down toward him—turning his triumph into ear. With a muttered oath the villain urged on the | two horses at renewed speed. By his fears his cap- | tive took courage. Like the wind they sped down the prairie, and on, ' eloser and closer behind, came the unknown pur- “Tt’s well; the gait of your horse has no doubt | saved your life.” “T mean that man Victor Ure's made a pack of fools of you. Why, sir, he’s the worst outlaw and freebooter in all Texas. He’s a man with a dozen faces. He’s Black Boniface.” “T don’t believe it—don’t believe a word of it!’ ‘‘1t’s true, nevertheless,"’ was the cool rejoinder. **Boy, do you know what you say is true?” “Yes, Ido!” * Oh, Lord!” aned the doctor; “‘what in the world will I do, then? Say, can you tell me, boy?” ‘“Yes; go back to your friends and tell them what Ng af agi all been, and J’ll follow Black Boni- ace. suer. Boniface drew his revolver, for he saw he would soon be overtaken. mT ss halt, there!’ suddenly rung out from be- nd. Boniface turned in his saddle and raised his re- volver and fired. A mocking laugh and _ the ‘*whiz’’ of bullets answered him, and the villain saw he was in danger. But again he turned and fired and again was his shot answered by one from his pursuer. In this manner a running fight was kept up until | the outlaw’s horse received a bullet in the leg and “What do you mean, you little night-hawk, you?” | fell. As the animal went down Boniface endeavor- ed to land upon his feet, but his stirrup threw him, and holding on to the rein of Christie’s horse the bits were torn from its mouth. Alarmed by the report of the pistols, and finding | itself uncurbed by the iron bits, the animal plunged | madly away over the plain with bis fair youn rider. Christie saw her danger in a moment. She had , and doors and win | from the dimness of his confused bi escaped from the outlaw, but was a prisoner in the | saddle! She could no longer control her horse, and a dreadful fear seized upon her, but in the midst of | all she heard a voice shouting words of cheer and | “ You'll follow Black Boniface? Heavens and hur- | ricanes! what a large litt/e critter you are! Who are | you, anyhow?” “T am Little Texas, the Boy Mustanger,” the lad responded, and then turning his horse’s head, dashed bab over the moonlit plaiu an the trail of Black Boniface, CHAPTER III. TWICE LASSOED. rode Victor Ure and Christie Miles. her in the heavens sailed the big round moon. The hard-ridden horses showed no signs of fatigue, nor did a word of complaint escape the lips of the | riders. | of a boy. To Christie it seemed that they had been hours | upon the way and that they must be nearing their destination. Inwardly she prayed that such might be the case, for her companion, hitherto so polite and congenial, had grown silent and sullen, She no longer asked him questions, but finally, when de- sirous of knowing where Dr. Dover was, she turned her head and looked back; but she saw nothing of her friend. “Mr. Ure,” she exclaimed, no longer able to re- strain her emotions, “ where is Dr. Dover? I cannot “We left him far behind an hour ago,"’ was the cool response. “But you have told me all along he was in sight,”’ said Christie. “Well, but I lied.” Christle was startled by the cold, bitter tone in which the man nape ‘ and she grew sick at heart; but mustering her cour- age she asked: , is “Will he be able to find the way, do you think? “Tt don’t make a bit of difference whether he does or not, Miss Miles,” he answered. “Mr, Ure, why do you speak thus? Have I offend- ed you?” the maiden asked, with a trembling voice. ‘Not at all, my little dyrling,” the ranger replied, in a sinister voice, ‘The fact is, and the truth may as well be told now, I’ve been lying like au Arsb lo you all along; my nate is m ¢ Victor Ur, but in short is Black Boniface.” Acry burst from the maiden’s lips, and but for the The voice came from be- hind. It was a strange voice. Her heart took cour- age. She listened intently for she dare not look back. She heard the sound of pursuing hoofs close behind. “Stick to your saddle, girl,’ the unknown again called out, ‘and I will save you!” The next instant something shot past her head with a “ skirring * sound, and struck the outstretch- ed head of her pony. It was a lasso, and true to iis aim, the noose settled about the animal’s neck, encouragement to her. | and was gradually drawn taut. This was the last that Christie remembered of her wild ride for some time. moonlit prairie, while over her was bending the form her rescuer. “You are feeling better, now, are you not?” was the boy’s query, as she gazed up into his face; **don’t be abrai of me,” he went on, “ for ’m your friend. lam Little Texas.” “You Little Texas, the Boy Mustanger?”’ the as- tonished girl exclaimed, rising to a sitting posture, and then to her feet. “That's who I am, miss; and I’m yours now to | command. Oh, but 1 did cheat old Boniface out of | an angel, sure! es! | be upon us again, for I didn’t have time to stop and | A shudder passed over her, | But there’s no tellin’ how soon he'll kill him. Come, I have your mustang in charge. Let us mount and be off. your friends, wherever they may be."’ He had and assisting her to the mustang’s back, he mount his own animal and the two rode away. In a few words Christie told the story of her . She fainted, and when she | | again recovered consciousness she lay upon the Hard by stood her own pony and that of | | —jist Ii I will see you safe with | ut his own bridle upon Christie’s horse, | ‘ | eyes seemed to look down into his soul with the holy . | serenity night’s adventure with Victor Ure, prefacing the | same with an account of Colonel Miles’s absence and the visit of the villain Ure. fidence in the gallant Young Mustanger. She saw She placed implicit con- | | that the sealof a brave and noble heart was set upon the brow of the youth. The two rode along for an hour or more, convers- | ing ina free, familiar way, when they finally entered . belt of heavy timber where the darkness was in- ense, ‘ > os ring the San Saba timber, Little Texas?” Chris- 1@ askeu, * No, no, litte girl,” the boy responded; “we are y\ yy’ a | nature, easily thrown off his balance your judgment.” Ana so they rode on until they entered a dark trail that wound through the v , and in a time drew up before a low, wide cabin sitting under the sullen brow or a bluff. . Leaping to the ground Little Texas assisted Chis tie to dismount, then hitchi the hor he con- ducted the maiden to the cabin, pulled latch. string and threw open the door. Buta of sur- prise and horror burst from his lips as he did 80, for the light of a fire burning on tae hearth flashed into his face, and in that light, seated spon the floor and reclining in attitudes of ease and ré@pose, were Dr Jules Rocheford and a dozen more of Black Boai face's freebooters! CHAPTER TV. THE GOOD SAMARITANS. WE will now go back and look after Colonel Miles whom we left in a previous chapter in pursuit of the horse-thieves. After lea is four companions pushed on rapidly, for the trail was fresh and Nain. ' Colonel Miles was naturally of a oe impulsive y excitement, and as he hurried forward, eager to recover his horses and punish the thieves, he never once took into consideration the risk he was running. The re- sult of this impetuous haste was that he came sud- denly upon the thieves with his horses in a little val- ley, and, without a second thought, he drew his re- volver and charged upon them, demanding their surrender. Not knowing but a dozen friends were at the colo- nel’s back, the outlaws leaped into their saddles and attempted to escape. Butin an instant the colonel was upon them. At the first shot a robber fell dead, then followed several other shots and another horse- thief bit the dust; but before the brave man could serve the third in like manner the thief dashed up behind him and dealt him—the colonel—a blow upor the head that partially stunned him, Mile’s horse dashed away, the colonel fell from the saddle and was dragge some distance with his fost fast in the stirrup. a desperate effort he succeeded in free- ing himself from this danger, and then all became blank to him—total oblivion. Nature had been over- done and he fainted, and how long he remained so he knew not; but when he had f recovered his senses the first thing of which he became conscious was the sound of voices—voices that seemed far away and sounded like the distant murmur of wa- ter—like the voices we hear in a dream; then the ; —— of a woman appeared before him—the walis 0 a room with —— pictures and devices upon it; ows were graduall a ; and length he had so far recovered as to be able to com- prehend his situation; he was lyin a room upon a soft bed. _ psa —— and suft from a se- vere pain and a raging fever. Closing his eyes the colonel collected his bewfider- ed thoughts. One by one he recalled the events of the past—his fight with the CO Tee blow upen the head, the flight of his horse with him in the stirrup and the shouts of men and the din of conflict. All these things were clear enough to him, and forced upon him the conviction that he was in the power of his enemies. The thought czused him tostart. He opened his eyes and gazed around him. He saw that theroom ie occuiphhe waa well and tastily furnished, and wore an air of neat- ness and comfort that only the deft fingers of we- man can impart to the arrangements of a house. Near the head of the bed stood a small table, and upon this was a number of bottles, a water-pi and some clean linen, The woman watching by his Ledside was a negress. He fixed his eyes upon her w th sucha strange, bewildered look that she be- came frightened, started up and uttered a little scream. Instantly a voice with a slightly foreign seeens called out from an adj room: ‘What is the matter, Hagar?” “Oh, missus!” replied the n ss, “de sick - man’s speane bis eyes and he’s lookin’ so awful wild ke ole Mars’ Gray did when he died. ‘Fore ba good Lord, Miss Nita, I fear dis man’s gwine to ie!” A young woman, tall and slender, with dark hair and eyes entered the room, and advanced with,» soft step to the bedside and looked upon the si®_ man. A light of tenderness and anxiety was beam-~- ing upon her wondrous face that seemed to infuse new life into the colonel’s body. Her dark, lustrous of a guardian angel. There were a few mo- ments’ silence; the woman was the first to speak. 7 ~ ios ate arg ye -~ said. The sound of er voice broke the s at hung u € col- onel’s lips. He replied i in a feeble Solent first time he had spoken since the day of the conflict on the prairie. * a a know—I am eonfused, weak.” ; “You have passed through a trying ordeal, senor,” ie See ey mene ea bes you have been near death's door, but care S . rd moe but careful nursing bas brought you “ But where am I, and how came I here?” the col- one! asked. * You-are in the house of friends,” she answered;
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SS a e+ —poe St en re eS se a ee: = eae ae ate tks = ee nn Sr == pa <= SS ae a ee “my brother found you on the prairie where the regulators beat you down.” Iu God’s name, who.is your brother that has saved my lifer” Miles exclanaed, starting up and renting his elbow upon the bed, while he fixed his hollow eyes upon the shrinking gir!. * Senor Juan de Rossevan,” she answered, fright- ened by the colonel’s bluff, excited manner of speech. “You are Spaniards, then,” the invalid said, in a wolilcer tone, and with an air of resignation; ‘but I hhepe to Jehoyah that Iam notin Spain.” The maiden smiled, and edvancitg tothe window, mhe drew back the curtain so the sick man could see ut, and said: “You are in Texas, senor.” **in the San Saba valley?” “No, senor; you are many leagues from the San ** Well, where in the plague am I?” persisted the | remorseless, inconsistent sick man. **You are with those who have befriended you, | More than this Iam not at liberty to tell | ecnor. yo"!,” the maiden answered. * onsolation,’? muttered the ungrateful man, lay- th: bis head back upon the pillow and closing his eyo; then continuing in a mental strain: “‘ why iew’y she at liberty to tell me more? Canit be that exer niors have befriended me, and that Iam in the mtron hold of Biack Boniface?’’ t°o maust have given expression to his thoughts in “3 or else the maiden divined them, for she con- *'{ ossure you, senor, you will never have cause to i being in iny Lroiher’s house and care.” colonel started, and a pang of regret actually to-ched his heart, for he supposed he had spoken a@ic’ «| and offended the fair creature at his side. aN botheration,” he said, endeavoring to apol- vA win, or l’m an old ratilepate, and don’t know what Bam saying. ** You have not offended me, I assure you, senor,” sho answered. *(n! well, pardon me; but how long have I been | here?” he demanded, somewhat confused. “You came yesterday, or were brought rather,” whe responded. ‘You were very low, senor—you ead bled much.” “Yes, I must have been; but, oh, what will m ficnds—my children—my daughters do? They’ll “ys ca as dead. Oh! I must go back to my Tyieuds? ‘” The doctor was here an hour or so since,” the mwemiden continued, ‘‘ and he said you must not leave foe inany days yet. If you have friends far or near —«ver in the San Saba—brother will send for them ¥}.04a he comes.” * \ here is your brother, miss?” “Tie is out riding, but will be here soon. Woking for him every minute,” the girl replied. Iam **vou must not git mad at me, Miss de Rosse- , ‘Thus the two conversed for several minutes when | #4 maiden finally excused herself and went out. | "fhe old negress took her place by the colonel’s bed- side, She administered some medicine to him and then sat down and began crooning to herself like a, eat purring in the chimney-corner. The colonel tlosed his eyes and gave way to his reflections. So far asthe people with whom he was lodging were concerned, he felt satisfied that they were true and honest friends; but, despite his resolute spirit and | gat physical powers, he was forced to admit that was ina critical condition, and that it would take days and perhaps weeks to recover his wonted sfrength, for no one knew how near death’s door tiie colonel was better than the colonel did him- self. While reflecting upon his condition the sick man suzi into a doze; and in this half-conscious state he Hernan to talk aloud over his situation. * A bad beginning in Texas,” he muttered: ‘‘ and cress no telling when and where it will end. Ob, way poor girls! if they were cvly here now. Ah! n’t the musical ring of litt-e Christie’s voice be a strengthening cordial, a balm of Gilead to my weak Lody aud mind? Ishall send for one of them Zo come and nurse me. Her presence will be better than medicine. Kind, gentle Edith, poor girl, will he beiter for the sick-room than light-hearted little @hristie. I shall send for Edith, and—” A cool, soft hand was laid upon his feverish prow. Wie slaried, opened his eyes and gazed around him. A stranger was standing by his bedside—a man whose face, magnificent form and brilliant attire wero suggestive cf a Spanish prince of the olden tima, As tue eyes of the two men met, Miles ex- @lahned: “Ab! you, sir, are Don Juan de Rossevan,”’ “Yon, senor,” was the reply of the young cava- Fox, c.d drawing up a chair he sat down by the «,donel’s bedside, CHAPTER V. DR. DOVER AND OLD MORALITV MEET. Wa left Dr. Dover in the depths of the night and &h» eolitude of the ys lg outridden by Christie Yates and her escort, Victor ‘Ure; and when met by tbe Boy Mustanger, Little Texas, and informed that ‘Black Boniface was the maiden’s escort, and ad- wieud to return to the San Saba, the doctor flew into » violent passion, and even when Little Texas had ?arnca and disappeared in pursuit of the outlaw and yxuidcn, the man of pills and poveders sat upon his ‘ose; and swore and raved ;-,axe of the approaeh of another horseman behind }. a, vntla sharp voice called out: » Ry the howling blasts of desolativn, and the hiss- © go’) erdition! what ole p'izen pirate can you x « ker’ : | word at the time,” repled Dover. | alit, | than Dover, M. D., late of Grassville, Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. Quick as a flash the doctor whirled in his saddle, drew his pistol and fired into the air in his excite- ment. “Halt! who comes there? Curse your picters, Ill prescribe—l'll dose your carcass if you come nigh me!” ‘Easy, ole rantankerous!’’ was the cool nse; “don’t stir your liver into sich a rage! e air smeils 0’ brimstone, now, with your sizzlin' profani- “You're an infernal scamp, and I—” “I'm not; my name is Morality, Old Morality,”’ in- we the ranger. “Old Rascality!? hissed the doctor, scornfully; “T believe you are Black Boniface’s rear-guard, an I’ve a plagued notion to shoot you!” ‘Well, shootin’, my amiable ole snappin’-turtle, is a game at which two can play,” retorted Old Morali- ty, raising his revolver; ‘‘ and now, sir knight of the pay liver, if you want to shoot, jist crack in, I'm ready.” ** Hold on, you cussed fool!’ exclaimed the doctor, sliding from his saddle and taking refuge behind his horse; “ hold on, I’m not going to shoot you!” “Oh, you ar’n’t?” exclaimed the old man, lower- ing his weapon, ** No, “but, please the saints in glory, I'd like to.” Old Morality burst into a peal of laughter that ec out wild and er upon the night. **Old man,” he replied, ‘if you have any desire to shoot with me, I'll give you your own distance, and try a@ peg.” ‘I don’t want to shoot; I don’t want to waste lead on your carcass.” ‘You don’t want to talk so sas do you, ole puddin’-head?” the ranger replied; * z allers make | it a rule to knock the stuffin’ out of barkin’ dogs.”’ “Oh, Judea!” screamed the doctor, blind with his rage; “it'd do me good to dissect your carcass. Say, do you know whol am, man? I, sir, am Jedu- ennessee.”’ “And I, sir, as I said before, am Old Morality, late from a den of human tigers, from whom I rekap- tered these hosses.”’ “By the scales of justice!’ exclaimed Dover, “TI | thought you were out of some _animal’s den; but by | your braying I supposed, all along, you were a spe- 9 cimen of the genus jackass. “Come, now, doctor, you don’t want to fling meta- physics at me, but you want to talk square. We can’t ‘ford to be enemies, when we’re in need of friends so bad; besides, I don’t want to quarrel with as nice ole lady as you are.” ““Oh, ho!’’ exclaimed the doctor, sarcastically. ‘I thought you’d tumble from your Pegasian steed of bombast and bluster,” and the old man ventured from his retreat behind his horse. ‘ Now,” he con- tinued, ‘if you’ve anything to say, come out like a white man and say it.” , ‘** Wal, doctor, I'll admit I’ve taken a little advan- tage of you, but then, I'll make that all right,’ re- plied Morality; “‘now, the fact is there’s abundance of danger on this prairie, and you and me are not so numerous as to be divided in our forces. Now, Dr. Dover, honest bright, you can freeze to me—you can count on me till the cows come home.” “Then, sir,’ replied the doctor, climbing into his saddle, “if you are such an icicle—such a true friend, just put me on my way to camp. & Wal, whar ye goin’? to Santa Fe? City of Mexico? or to California?” “No; Um going to camp over on the San Saba ' river—up in Cedar Grove,” eo Dover. } 4 “Whew!” ejaculated Old Morality; ‘‘away up 1ére?” “Yes, away—up—there.” *““Where’ve you been?” “Trying to follow a man and girl that went south awhile ago; but I gwess I'll give it up.” ** 1 would if I was you, Doc, for I presume they’re ten miles from here by this time. If anybody can a ‘em, that little hurricane of a L.ttle Texas can do it.’ “Then that w’ s Little Texas, was it?” ** Yes, it war, Doc.”’ “He said so, but every man 1’ve met to date in Texas is such a caustic liar that I s’posed they began to practice when young, and so doubted the boy’s ** He also said the map. with our girl, Christie, was Black Boniface.” “Then it wus so, if Texas said so, rest easy on that; andif any man in the South-west can catch that villain, the Boy Mustanger’s the lark.” * Then I can go back to camp with some mind,’ said Dover; ‘‘so 1 the way, ace of ld Mor- The old ranger turned his horse’s head northward and rode away, the doctor following him, though not without some doubt and uncertainty, for, since he | had been deceived by one stranger, it was very | natural that he should'suspect another; and as they | rode niong he kept his hand upon his revolver, and | his epe npon the ranger. But despite his suspicions ' and retjvence, Old Morality’s tongue ran eeey, ; ea madman. And , ».'dle be was thus deporting himself, he was not , and his edd expressions, his exciting stories an presses anecdotes, finally drove fears and doubts from the doctor’s breast and drew him into his confidenve, making their sie, bagerer a very pleasant one. In fact, the time passed so rapidly in the old ranger’s company that daylight‘was upon them ere the doctor was aware that it was anywhere near morning; and the sun was scarcely an hour high when they rode into camp on the San Saba. he return of Dover so soon caused no little ex- citementincamp. No,one had a doubt, when he rode up, but that he had been to the colonel’s bed- _ side, and so all were very anxious to hear how their | old friend wes. and they gathered about the doctor, | piying him with a @ozen cuestions, Tam serry to s:y, ci, drieuds,’’ Dover said, as he i} a Se dismounted, ‘‘ that I have not seen Colonel Miles, nas do 1 know where he is.” ‘*Great heavens!’’ exclaimed a dozen men, in a breath. “Tt’s a gospel fact, men,’’ continued the doctor; ‘““we were a set of blind fools. That man, Victor Ure, was none other under God’s heavens than Black a pa and he got away with Christie in spite of me ” The settlers were horrified by this Startling intelli- gence, and for awhile the greatest excitement pre- vailed. A new sorrow was added to the hearts of the little band; another cloud overshadowed its hopes and happiness. “Little Texas is after Boniface,” put in Old Mo- rality, reassuringly, when Dover had concluded his story, ‘and I tell you folks he is a little screamer from Yorktown. If thar’s anything on Texas sile that can throw dirt in Bonny’s face it’s that youn herons r. Thar’s not a man on these peraros tha can hold a candle to him throwin’ a lasso. Thunder! they say it’s a positive fact that he can ride a thun- derbolt or catch chained lightnin’ with a lasso, and I believe it—every word of it.” But whatever the old man believed the emigrants had little faith in, and, in the moment of their great sorrow, his ideas failed to impress them very favor- ably, or his words to inspire them with hope or con- fidence, The doctor and Old Morality were provided with breakfast, after which they were given a tent and bed, and laid down to rest and obtain a few hours’ sleep for the night’s journey and privations had weighed heavily upon the old men, While they were still asleep the camp was again thrown into some little excitement by the appear- ance of a party, or cavalcade, on the lain below camp. As it drew nearer all saw that it was a coach, or covered carriage, drawn by four horses and followed by six or eight horsemen, Our friends were puzzled to know what it meant. A carriage of that description seemed entirely out of place upon that Texan prairie. It looked like a royal turnout. Polished weapons, caparisons and brilliant uniforms flashed in the sunlight. With no little curiosity and impatience the ap- proach of the party was awaited. _In a few minutes the vehicle sped down the prak rie, turned into the woods and came to a halt on the margin of the camp. The vehicle was an ancient-looking and clumsy affair, upon whose panels was embossed in gold the coat-of-arms of some Spanish house of nobility. It was closed with curtains drawn, and as the driver, who was seated in a box on top, drew rein, a foot- = leaped to the ground and threw open one of the oors. The mounted escort, as well as the driver and foot- man, were men of Spanish blood, dressed in their national garb, armed with swords and pistols and mounted upon fine blooded horses; and as the foot man descended from the box these men drew their swords and held them before their faces. Then from the coach leaped a man who caused a _ cry of surprise to escape the lips of the set- ers. It was the Spanish recluse, Don Juan de Rossevan under whose roof Colonel Israel Miles had foun shelter and kind treatment. He was dressed in pur- ple aud gold, A long serape of fine blue cloth lined with crimson silk and embroidered with gold was around his shoulders, A broad-brimmed sombrero, banded with woven threads of silver and gold, was upon his head, A small sword with jeweled hilt hung at his girdle. Altogether this stranger pre- sented an array of princely wealth and royal blood. He was young—not over eight-and-twenty—tall and straight as an arrow. His hair, which was worn long, was black as the raven’s wing, as was, also, his heavy pointed mustache and chin whiskers. Blacker eyes were never set inhuman bead, nor did an eagle ever flash a keener eye from the clouds above than the eyes of Juan de Rossevan. Glancing around him the Spaniard removed a detgren glove, and, with a wave of the band, saluted he emigrants. Ray mond Byrd, as spokesman for the party, advanced and returned the stranger's salutation. “Pardon me, senor,” de Rossevan said, “ but is this not the camp of Colonel Israel Miles?” “Yes, sir, it is,’ responded Byrd, his heart flutter- ing with eager anticipation as he saw the stranger take a white envelope from his pocket and read fe aiteFiere, seid the visitor, ‘is a letter f * Here,” sai e r, ‘is a letter from Col Miles to his daughters, Edith and Christie.” °° An exclamation of joy burst from the party, and Edith, who had been well-nigh prostrated with her sorrow, ran forward and received the letter from the handsome stranger. “Oh, it is his!’ she exclaimed, as the recognized the handwriting upon the envelope. There were those in the party who were reserved in their feelings, for they could not help thinking of the deception of Victor Ure, and thought it possible that this man might be plotting to get Edith into hig power. be you, stranger,” said Byrd, “‘ have met the colonel ?”’ “J have, senor; he is a guest in my house. I took him there nearer dead than alive. He is slowly re. covering from painful wounds inflicted upon him by a party of horse-thieves whom he had the rash cour- age < attack. The letter will state the object of my t here.” “My Dear Grats: You have no doubt wondered what kept me from re and yi abe mourned me as lost—dead. But thanks toa Providence, and Don Juan Ce Kossevan, the gréat-hearted Spanish gentleman who bears this letter to you,I am still 7
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‘ Saar e 7 permitted to live; but, my dear girls, I ang suffering -—of wounds received in a conflict with the heinous wretches that stole our horses. I hope the other boys got back safe. 1am very low and feeble from loss of blood; and _it will be some time before I will be able to be moved. I am treated here with all the kindness and tenderness that human hearts and human hands could bestow upon a stranger, but still I want one, or both of my adopted daughters with me. I know your presence will be good medi- cine for me, and so come without delay. The gentle- man who brings you this will escort you here. To this man I owe my life. He and his body-guard res- cued me from death, and I trust him with all the fullness of my heart. I know you will enjoy his company, and then he has a sister here. Her name is Anita, and she is almost as ph oe Meg charming as my Edith and Christie. Tell the boys it can’t be helped, but to +p an unceasing vigil upon all sides. I remain ours affectionately, “ “IsRAEL P, Mies.” Edith’s heart was all aflutter and her hand trem- bling when she concluded the letter. She was re- inne to know that her guardian lived, and yet the ate of Christie weighed upon her a terrible burden of grief. Other thoughts flashed through her mind. The man Victor Ure had come with the very same intl and he had decoyed Christie into his power. Mig ¢ not this man be a villain, also? As to this, she could not say, but as to Victor Ure, she knew he was & villain! She looked at the Spaniard—their eyes met. He had a noble countenance—not the coun- tenance of a villain. Moreover the letter corrobo- rated this, for she knew it was a genuine letter—writ- ten by the hand of her guardian. Of this she had not a single doubt, and all knew the colonel well enough to know that the most cruel torture-rack ever devised by man could not compel him to write such a letter in the interest of a villain. Edith, however, to make assurance doubly sure, passed the letter to her friends for examination; and all pronounced it genuine, leaving no doubt in Edith’s mind but that the stranger was an honest man, Advancing to where the Spaniard stood with uncovered head, the maiden said: “Mr. Rossevan, I am rejoiced to hear from my dear guardian, but, oh! Ihave such a sad story to bear to his ears. Yesterday, aman calling himself Victor Ure, came here in great haste, saying Colonel Miles was lying in his cabin very low from the effect of wounds received in conflict with robbers, and wanted my sister Christie and Dr. Dover to come to him at once. Never suspecting tg 8 wrong, they mounted their horses and started. at man was Black Bonifece, and Christie is still in his pow- on “ Ah, que desgracia |” cried De Rossevan, in his native tongue, “ your sister in the hands of Black Boniface, senorita?” “Yes, sir,” replied Edith, struggling hard to keep back her tears. “ Ah, Dios!” he exclaimed, shaking his head sad- ly, ‘*it will kill the father to hear this; moreover, you will hesitate to go with me, senorita.” “You do not come as a decoy, nor look like a vil- lain, sir,” Edith replied. “ Gracias, senorita,’ the gentleman responded, with a polite bow; “ your father is a most excellent gentleman, and I am desirous of his speedy recovery, and if your friends have any doubt as to my charac- ter, Iam willing to remain a hostage here until any one 4 da you may elect can go to the colonel for proof.’* pm No, sir, Jdo not doubt you,” cried Edith, “and I shall go with you to my guardian ” “Tt will afford me pleasure, then, to offer you a seat in my ciles /,"’ Rossevan said. “Then I will prepare for the journey at once,” the maiden replied, and turning she sought her own tent to get ready. Meanwhile, Juan de Rossevan and the emigrants engaged in conversation. “How far, Mr. de Rossevan, do you live from here?” asked Mr. Byrd. : “Perhaps thirty miles west, senor, on a tributary of the San Saba river,”’ responded the Spaniard. “ Have you much of a settlement over that way?” asked another. ‘No, senor; Iam there alone with friends and my servants.’ “J should think Black Boniface and the Indians 'd give you hark out thar,’’ observed an old wagoner. “T am troubled some with /adrones, senor, as might be expected.” In the course of half an hour Edith Clayton made her peererecce ready for the journey. A look of admiration passed over the handsome, dark face of Don Rossevan, for in her traveling attire she looked never so fair and beautiful, notwithstanding the ina that had left its imprint upon her heart and ace. Taking the arm of Don Rossevan she was conduct- ed to the calesa and given a seat therein, and when her escort had taken a seat with her, the emigrants gathered around the vehicle and bid her good-by and wished her a safe and happy journey. When the ‘‘ good-byes’ had all been said, Edith informed Rossevan that she was ready to start when, at a signal, the footman closed the door ot the calesa, mounted the box, and then the vehicle rolled away at a rapid rate, followed by the mounted escort. Despite the good impression that Don Roe evan’s appearance, A well as the colonel’s letter, had made u the minds of the settlers, misgivings rose 10 their hearts as they watched the caleea disappear in the distance. the more ee talked and brooded over the matter the more ed and unsatisfac- tory their peace of mind became, although they had point A assurance that Colonel Mil es was alive, and | Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. notwithstanding the fact that Don Rossevan had of- tives. When assured they were all out of the build fered to remain a hostage in camp until they could settle all doubts as to his character. But leaving the folks on the San Saba for the time being, we will follow Edith and her escort. The calesa was driven rapidly over the plain, and al- though the way was rough, the heavy a gave the vehicle an easy, swaying motion to which Edith soon became accustomed. ; Juan de Rossevan watched and studied the fea- | | adjured. tures of the fair * 8 woman before him with a look of thoughtful admiration. He saw that her troubles were weighing heavily upon her young heart, and that she manifested some embarrassment which he attributed to the situation in which she now found herself; but with all the tact of which he Was po: , he endeavored to comfort and cheer her spirit, and to make her feel that he wasin her presence, and not she in his. He could read her te,» heart in her fair face and soulful eyes; and he saw that that heart was possessed of all that was ure and beautiful in woman. The man was aston- ished. His heart had been impervious to the charms of woman’s face and wiles through all bis manhood ears. But there was something in Edith besides er face that he admired. It was her soul. In the course of a few hours they had forded two rivers, plunged across a number of small ravines, wound and twisted through a long, wooded valley, and finally debouched into a broad, open plain. Here Rossevan threw open both doors of the calesa that they might enjoy the scene surrounding them, and drink in the perfumed air. An ocean of green luxuriant grass waved around them, and above this carpet of verdure thousands of wild flowers of every hue and odor thrust their modest faces and distilled their sweetness on the soft south wind, Of the prairie, of the verdure, of the flowers, Don Rossevan talked in strains of elo- quence that filled Edith’s soul with a sense of un- bounded delight. She gazed out upon the plain with a feeling of joy and admiration that she had never felt before, and as she regarded it thus, the words of her companion did more toward ae in her hearta sense of enthusiasm, and in unfol ing the poctos! grandeur of nature, than the scene itself, or he painted the soul—not the form. “Nature,” he went on, “has not —_ expended with a lavish hand upon the material—the outward beauties of this gene country, but she has inspired | it with a spirit of grandeur; and that spirit—invisible soul—pervades the at mosphere until we not only see but feel the beauties of Nature. No one with a true soul can Var upon that landscape without ee | a sense of delight and exultation swelling within his breast. One can scarcely believe that this is a land of ruins, of crime—the home of ladroves and wild men. God intended it for a Paradise, and to me it is a Paradise, a refuge, and a land of promise.” “Then the outlaws and Indians do not molest you?” Edith remarked. “To some extent, senorita; they have stolen some , he could not ing, the lad whispered to Christie: Miss Miles, we don't want to stay out in the woods to-night, and so let’s slip into the house and conceal ourselves iti the loft. They'll never mistrust - | us of doin’ such a daring thing, and to-morrow wher. = go aner we'll be safe.” “T am willing to follow you, Texas,” Christie re- sponded. “Then we'll have to be awful quiet, Christie,” be And so they turned and entered the cabin. Little Texas ‘climbed into the loft and let down a short. ladder, by means of which the maiden ascended also. Then Texas went down again and 4 some dried venison from his larder, and a couple of blankets and a robe from tbe pile on the floor, he: returned to Christie, and drew up the ladder, This: done, he spread the robe and iuviled Christie tow seat upon it; and when both had taken a position that they would, very likely, be required to keep through the night, he produced his cried venison, cut it into thin siie*s, and divided it with Christie: And, while awaiting the return of the regulators, .. they ate their meager supper. If was not long until Rocheford came in, out of wind and humor, for again had the boy thwarted him; and then, one by one, the rest of the = tors returned and resumed their places, and pipes, their oaths and ribald jests before the fire \very word spoken was plainly audible to the young” people in the garret, and more than once were the ears of the sensitive maiden shocked, and a bits brought to her face by the language of those’ ruf fians. Little Texas himself was the topic of much cons versation among the villains; but finally the dis- course turned upon Black Boniface and his visite te the emigrant camp on the San Saba; and our lasse= thrower smiled when he heard them s i upon the ¢aptain’s probable success in pr a new wife gaa me fair ones wo Colon ee ony; and it was all the more pleasing and grati es to hh when he realized that he had ot cated ae regulator in his attempt to abduct Christie, and too, in the very moment of his triumph. He the outlaw wondering who the girl could be that had entered the cabin with bim—Little Texas—but they never once suspected the truth. After the outlaws had exhausted all other subjects. they laid their plans for the morrow. The firsts thing was to make another search for the Boy Mus- tanger. They had found his horse and knew that far away. As the hours wore on some of the stretched themselves upon the floor and fell asleep, of my horses and cattle, and killed some of my ser- | vants. Of late, however, Ihave seen nor heard of Black Boniface and his regulators, and I had _ enter- tained a hope he had disappeared from the plaius of Texas, if not from the stage of action altogether— Great God!” The last words were occasioned by the ery of ** La- drones | ladrones ! Indians ! Indians /” and the crash of firearms and wails of agony. Don Rossevan quickly put his head out to see what the matter was. A number of leaden balls tore through the top of his calesa. He saw the footman fall with a heavy thud to the ground, a lifeless corpse. A yell rose on the air. attacked by a band of Apache Indians and white robbers! CHAPTER VI. HOW LITTLE TEXAS DODGED. To return to the Boy Mustanger and Christie Miles | whom we left standing in the door of the mustang- er’s cabin, face to face with the notorious Dr. Roche- ford and a band of Boniface’s regulators. The latter was as greatly surprised by the sudden ap- pearance of the boy and girl as these two young ae le were startled by the presence of the former nthecabin. Not dreaming of the house being oc- cupied by any one, and seeing no light until the door The party had been | | suppressed cry of horror. was thrown wide, Little Texas found himself stum- | bling blindly into danger. ‘ “ Smoke of the Inferno!’’ exclaimed Dr. Rocheford, in amazement. ‘ Who and what have we here? my eyes deceive me? Is it the boy whose right hand belongs to me? Sacre! itis, by the stinging tarantula! Nab him! ah—out and after for a double glory awaitsus!” Before the eee bare omer ee with great presence of mind, sprung backw: into the darkness and pulled Christie with him. The shadows of oak and cedar lay thick over and around the humble home of the Boy 1 this darkness, in pursuit of the maiden and mus- tanger, plunged the outlaw rangers. So close were they alter them that they felt sure of their capture; but with quick wit, the boy, instead of making straight for the wood, as would naturally be expeci- ed, stepped aside and pressing himself close against the side of the house, whispered words of cheer and caution to Christie. They were within arm’s reach and soon all became quiet in and around the cabin, And, the noise and excitement having a Chris- - tie, overcome with fatigue, sunk into quiet also; while Little Texas, pistol in hand, sat by her side and half dozing kept a watch over her. And thus the night wore on. The moon went down and through a crack in the wali Little Texas. saw the morning star sailing up in the eastern sky, trailing after her the rosy beams of early morn. And about this time there was a stir in the room» Grumbling and cursing the outlaws started from their sleep. They kindled a fire upon the» hearth to light the room. They breakfasted wpa» the Young Mustanger’s supplies of venison, mesquit aud coifee; and, although it was still dark outside, they were soon ready for departure. The Boy Mustanger congratulated himself upom' the prospect of soon being alone so far as the enemy were concerned. : Christie was still asleep, and the boy thought ot . the pleasant surprise it would be to her, upon waken- ing to learn that their persecutors were gone. The youth heard the regulators tramping about below getting ready, as he supposed, for departure. , below. | He heard some of them go out and then come back and throw something solid upon the floor. He heard » them saying something about fire. The Lumgent . odor of smoke suddenly floated up to his nostrils,” What did it mean? He stooped and peered through a crack of the loft floor. He started back with a. The outlaws were firing the cabin. They were building a ‘lo =~ 8 in the middle of the floor. Hot smoke filled t Christie coughed in her sleep. }A lurid glare burst: through the entrance to the loft and the narrow cracks in the tioor. The Boy Mustanger’s soul was filled with terror. - | He awoke his companion—not to a happy sul pri im, men!—catch them, | | to search the loft,” said the Frenchman, Mustanger, and into | | @ man are seen to reac a dreadful fear. but to a scene of terror. The hot smoke ard the red flame beneath them filled her young heart with A shriek burst from her lips. Zhe robbers below heard it ! ‘ “Wasn't that in the loft?’ cried Rocheford. “T veribby believe it was, doctor,” re . ‘Gods of Olympus! Bunty, I thought I told you | ** And I thought I did,” returned Bunty. ‘* Saere | then search again, man!” was the order. Steps are heard crossing theroom. The hands of upward and tie. board at the entrance to the garret. Then a hes} appears through the opening and a pair of eyes set- in a fat, bearded face peer into the smoke and dark- ' ness of that retreat, as the body hangs on the edpe of every outlaw that went out of the door, but the | ns were so blinded by their excitement, and the sudden change from lizht to darkness, that they foaeee them by unobserved, and were soon wrang- ing in darkness and confusion out in the woods. ittle Texas laughed to himself as he heard them calling to each other, and cursing, when one would seize anovher under the imprealon it was the fugi of the opening. A poi in the hand of Little Texas rings out with a dull, stunning report. With a. the robber drops through the Drea bedy fail-—. ‘ly ing on the floor below with a dull, sickly thud. *My God! some one in the loft has killed Bunty!” _ shrieked Dr. Rocheford. A cry of rage and vengeance breaks upon the ear= of the young friends. The fury of demons has! bee: aroused in the breasts of (lic regulators — } “Polke up the fre, beys:’’ Roche. -9 is biact “xis, —s lied another. ~ y
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q rr ’ sam! “and whoever is in that loft, fro wl cook Chiagdt. Gatamozin! Ye gods! let our ven. i...co be _ eweift and terrible!’ : ef f \ ' CHAPTER V1. + —————— Fa a eae in Mal brought upon himse.é by tusing refuge in the peers, end determined to do his utmost to repair Shunde, as he now consiJered it. Never waut- Saye for an expedient in the Limo of danger, he soon taal his coursc marked out, and stooping, he whis to Curristie: : “Oome, Christio, there’s an egress from the loft— me msi escape.” When upon his hands and knees the boy crept “hawk to where the roof aimo;st touched the floor «xed pushed aside some of the long clapboards, mak- Gi his bot rand the ladder. The latter he put out omcwl accd upon the ground, The eaves of the roof ene not over six feet from the ground, and it was . Ay thiv means that the Young Mustanger proposed we ktlempt aa escape. Creeping back to Christie, he “Je must now be brave, and get out of this Yaeger, Miss Miles. We've not a moment to lose, “eicacr. Sf I'd once thought of the regulators firing tee building, ’'d never have come up here.” “You did what you considered for the best, . 2 aa te fs r3 5 2 i) 3 a =a Lo) re £3 iz C & Cc =a 4 4 . Se g co S S ere ee ae nes woe j.aatt to find with anything you have done.”’ ~dvank you, little woman! tt$p you out upon the roof before we are strangled.” .sepyping they crept back to the opening and . @4e4 out upon the low, flat roof. Texas pointed t fhe ladder to Christie and assisted her upon it, , diaa few moments more they stood upon the } ... aad. Then the boy removed the ladder to eon- en 3.01 their means of escape. ————— « regulators were driven from the room, They stood 4a tront of the cabin, listening. They were surprised, ‘puzzled by the silence in the loft. The red light staining throngh the door lit up their bearded faces. the building between them and the out- | 74 <a 4uce a caged tiger, muttering fearful oaths. He | \tetiewed their victims had been smothered or suffo- MT ted in the heat and smoke, He never thought of y temr atteapting to escape by way of the roof; but a osea while ne and his comrades stood waiting for the ows of the unkuown enemies, whoever they might 5 uoLserved, - nape ang animal around to where the maiden ss» nas waiting, he assisted her into the saddle; then «mzain requesting her to await his return, he set out i ee iuis own horse. Abeut this time the flames began to eat through the voof of the cabin and light up the surrounding. »& seowl of bitter disappointment was upon the . »4aces.of the outlaws. Their inhuman scheme had ‘plind fury, they, atlength, began to suspect some- —- the truth—that their victims had escaped. . Mocheford walked around the building. A tongue of by Little Texas. On the ground near by lay a lad- der. This told the whole story—the outlaws had ‘been outwitted. At this moment the roof of the cabin fell in, and il fcom the interior of the building went upa Vesuvius | of sparks, flame and smoke. ‘The vicinity was lit up Ce for many rods with the glare of the mid-day sun, } } «wud within the radius of light, seated upon a buck- cin mustang—the very animal that Black Boniface tad taken from Little Texas and sold to Colonel iifles—the astonished regulators beheld Christie ; iidlest Both horse and rider stood in wild ! “.mazement and a kind of terrified Boe, | arning building. i . Fora moment the outlaws stood as if rooted to Hh i Sar vd fer Little Texas, and in her exeitement and anxi- RS . ey she called his name, But he did not answer; he nt | ‘was nowhere to be seen. To tarry longer would be -&sralto her, and turning her mus ’s head, she y2sloped away inte the darkness of the woods 4 H js animal and mount it, he was not quick enough do elude the eyes of the tors, who rushed in a ett u him; but he made good his escape Wie.e the w Ne it’ it _ failed in its object, and stupid as they were in their | diame was darting through the hole in the roof made | , only to realize, wth a quickening aoe, eae — a we , Cp Tertenal te | _ O C38, Wee 2 spirit that had brought about this separanuon, aud so | he rode around into the Bead vf the valley in hopes of finding her. Now and thea he stopped to listen, but all was quiet; and having reached the upper side of the valley he turned scuth and made bis way from the scene of his night's ac. ven<ure. Daylight at length dawned and found him still alone pushiag on, he searcely knew whither, The sun Came up ina cloudless sky. dew from their emerald robes in the perfumed ' breath ot the young day. Birds sung in glee, though an opening large enough to adinit the passage | paceney, ° 2 | he who journeyed on through its silent halls was | drinking the breast of the Boy Mustanger burned a consuming | love for the fair girl that a cruel fate had torn frum | his protection, and now his brain grew dizzy and his | their song seemed like mockery to the heart of the Boy Lasso-thrower. Tho vol.cude might have seem- ed a paradise sweet with the incense of the wild- wood and vocal with the voices of Nature, and in which the young boy rode a silvan god, had all been gold that glitters. But, alas! that wood was the outlawry, the ambuseade of death, and regs of bitter grief. For, deep in he | heart sick as he sought her everywhere in vain. Yxecas,” replied the maiden, encoursgingly; ‘* Lhave | Now come, let me | The flames by this time had spread so that the | Kove Sy Qawa, Pitts Texas led Uhristie back into the shadows In the course of time he debouched into the open | prairie, Here he paused to think, but the more he studied over his situation the more confused and troubled his mind became. So he rode on out into the | lain. He had no particular poin: in view; he let his 10rse take its own course. At noon he stopped in a valley by a little stream, watered his animal and | turned it loose to feed upon the luxuriant grass. In the course of an hour be resumed his journey—still traveling on like a boat adrift at sea without a com- pass. The day was far gone whenin the distance he saw | a dark body moving over the plain. It appeared to be Srarencieng. and concealing himself in a clump of bushes—one of those prairie-islands that dot the plains of Texas—he awaited its coming. As it drew nearer he saw it was a body of horsemen and a car- riage drawn by four Worses. Itwas the escort of Don Juan de Rossevan. “What mused; ‘Sit looks like a carriage and yet it can't be that; tempest, no! Surely it ar’n’t a stage-coach making a new route—cuttin’ across the near way through this ’ere wild, ungodly land. If the Ingins and regulators only git their eyes on that outfit | they'll swoop down upon her like a duck en a June | goin, iv. .ittle Texas had succeeded in reaching Christie’s | 1 sse and in getting away into the shadows with it | gazi fascination. at the | te but they soon recovered their nee of ie sm started | toward the maiden. Christie look- | | enough. The sight of the bug.” 6 boy’s words seemed, in a measure, prophetic, for scarcely had he spoken the last word ere the erash of es came up from a little ravine to the left of the party. Then from the tall grass rose a score of Apache Indians and white robbers and with a yell charged uvon the escort, firing as they went. A battle ensued. Little Texas saw one of the men on the calesa throw up his hands, reel in his seat and then fall lifeless to the earth. Another volley from the enemy and he saw the driver sink down, while the horses, frightened by the din of the conflict, started away at full speed and came plunging down the plain with fearful rapidity uncurbed by the hand of adriver. Meanwhile, the escort was engaged ina desperate struggle with the Indians, Little Texas saw that the runaway team was uestion with him who was in the carriage: but as if in answer to the question, a man in brilliant attire jut his head and shoulders out of the vehicle and at- | mpted to climb to the driver’s box. Then the car- riage swept past the Lasso-thrower. coach he saw the dying driver with the lines still dips oe in his hand, eautiful woman cowering with terror. This was y's face was sufficient to rouse the spirit of manh in the boy’s breast, and as a look of resolute determination flashed in his | eyes he said, addressing his horse: “Friend or foe, Lightfoot, they shall have our | good fellow, let us to the | help. Come, now, m rescue, Away, htfoot, away!”’ and like an arrow the noble beast shot out over the plain upon the track of the flying team. CHAPTER VII. CHRISTIE'S FLIGHT AND ADVENTURE. Crristis Mines had become so worn by constant | exposure to danger, and kept under such a continual mental strain that she became almost insensible to | fear, and but for her resolute spirit and strong con- stitution for one of her tender yea: sunk down in utter hopelessness and despair. There was, also, another source of inspiration to the little maiden’s indomitable co and pluck; during the short time she had known to regard hia with a feeling of admiration that was stronger than mere friendal length found herself riding alone in the dark, dreary wood—fleeing from the cabin of the mustanger and the followers of Black Bonifacé, her young heart | cried out in its love for its lost mate; and she really lingered at times by the way in hopes tanger might find her, aud tet until the clatter of pursuing hoofs broke upon the ear did she give up | | all hopes of meeting her brave little friend, and put | her horse to its utmost speed. ! ttone. }<.anwhile, Little Texas was making his way, ra- | \ 4 «yas possible, to where Lightfoot was hitched; hae ad alhough the discovery of proved a di- | scrsion in his favor, that enabled him to reach his | Where she was going the maiden knew not, nor did she know what mement she might ride into the | wer of some enemy, or be hurled into some pit- all; but she rode on bes’ Po ar ip of night went the shadows 6@ fear from alee whi Vives an aes ~ : Pan ata on the Young Muctanger The tre-s shook tiie : in the pinaue does it mean?" the boy | to pass near him, and it at once became a | Upon the | Inside he beheld a young and | she would have | ttle Texas she had come | nip, and when she at | the Boy Mus- | hoping and praying for the - t. bie dn a dawned clear and height, and with the | tie’s heart, She assured herself, with a | Sas 8 a a rn tnt ~ fecling of relief, that she had chided her enemies, and permitted her faithful, worn mustanz to mo.2 aiong at a leisurely walk, cropping the Lishis a} tall grass as it went. She trave. onand ov, uv ji the sun crossed the meridian, and yet she <seenu:t no nearer civilization or the ebode of man than whe 1 the morning broke upou her. She was now growityr tired and hungry, but there was no rest, no foo for her. The terrors of another night would soon Le ‘upon her, and the knowledge of this, added to her fatigue and fasting, began to tell upon her youu.s splrii. While brooding over them, a voice called to her from the woods. : With a start she looked around, and saw a horse- man approaching her. He was a stranger, and, ai- | thongh her first impulse was to turn and flee, some- thing stayed her flight. Then it occurred to her, all of a sudden, that she had seen the stranger before. He was a middle-aged man with a smoothly-shaven face, and a red scar upon the left cheek. The man’s eneval appearance was indicative of having beca ong in tlte saddle. We lifted his hat and bowed as he rode up. “Good-evening, fair stranger,” he said. “I ar truly astonished to find a lady riding alone in th.« lonely wood.” Christie started, and a shudder ran over her fram: at the sound of the man’s voice. To her confuse» and wern mind it was vaguely and indistinctly a: - sociated with gorge | of the past, but she could not tell what, nor could she recall the time and place where she met this man. “Tam not here by my own free will, sir,” she re- lied; ‘‘I must contess [am lost. Perhaps you wili e kind enough to set me aright.”’ The man looked at her as if trying to recall the past, then glancing at the horse she rode, a light of recognition passed over his face, and he said: ““T declare, my little waif, I think Ihave met you before, havel not?” | ‘Perhaps you have,” was the maiden’s reply. | “IfI mistake not, Isold your father that pony you ride?” “Oh, yes!” exclaimed Christie, with a sudden start, for all was clear to her now, and a shudder went to her heart; but her woman’s ready wit war brought into play, and she continued, without be traying other than feelings of surprise and pleasure: y you are Captain Seneca Lucas, the Texan trader?” ‘Iam, Miss Miles,” he said, with a smile. “Oh, sir, lam very glad to meet you!” she said, @ little excitedly, though she told what was not true, but acted on the theory that the end justifies the means; “a series of great misfortunes have be- fallen us since you visited our reg “You don’t tell me!” exclaimed the man, looking 2 the maiden with a faint smile visible upon his ‘ace. “The robbers have stolen three of our horses, and for all I know, have killed uncle Israel Miles." “Indeed! Oh, that is too bad, too bad,” replied the trader; ‘but may I ask you where you are going now ?”’ “T know not wherel am going! I am fleeing from danger!” ranch, Miss Miles,”’ tho “T am not far from m trader said, ‘‘ and if you will accept of my company and hospitality I will be only too happy to escort you to my residence, and thence to your friends to- morrow.” | “Ob, Ishall be under many obligations to you, kind sir,’ Christie replied, with promptness, and just as natural as though it were inspired by the heart in- stead of the brain; ‘‘ for I shall be only too happy to accept your very kind offer. I am hungry and fa- tigued, and would surely die were I forced to remain out in this woods and the coming night.” , | “Then come with me, Miss Miles,” he said. Christie turned her horse and rode along at the trader’s side. She conversed with all the joy, frank- ness and enthusiasm of her girlish nature, but at the ' same time it was but a disguise to the most dread- ful, torturing feeling that had ever disturbed her young heart; for she knew that the smooth-faced, silvery-tongued trader, Seneca Lucas, was Victor Ure, alias Black Boniface! | Again had the man and the maid, the demon and the angel met. With the smiles and duplicity of the one had the confidence and trust of the other once been betrayed; but now all the keen instinct and strategy of woman’s nature had been called into ac- tion, aroused; and if Black Boniface, as a villain, was possessed of remarkable powers of deceit, de- ception and pages di Christie Miles possessed, in a high degree, not only the bag | opposite of him, but | the tact and, skill to thwart his designs. She rode away with him because she could do no better at that time.. She appeared wouderfully pleased with his company, and led him to believe that she placed all confidence in the world in him. She talked, and laughed, and cried in just such a natural and girlish way that the man became perfectly enraptured with | her, But, all the time she was ing at him, her mind was busy with another subject. er thoughts went back to the day when Captain Lucas had come to their camp with Pegasus, and this thought es 1H | another, and soon. She remembered the effect t man’s presence had had upon Edith Songer and the words that had escaped her lips while still un- conscious, and the —— repeated itself in her mind: * What could this man aged be to Edith Clayton? Did she know him? Did she fear him? / not, what produced the shock that felled her uncou- scious upon the floor?” Of eourse Black Boniface had taken off the wig of black hair and the mask of long black whiskers in | which he appeared as the ranger, Victor Ure. This wreught a remarkable change in the ap rance of the man, for none but the keenest Pe ttact would ever have discovered that Captain Lucas, Victor Urs l
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and Black Boniface were one and the same—a tri- une character. The features of Lucas were more repulsive than those of Ure, for under the mask of the latter was concealed the index of the man’s sin- ful soul. They conversed quite freely upon different sub- jeves as they rode along. Captain Lucas, the Texan rader, as he had styled himself, lied to her in every breath, and did it, too, with an air of innocence and truth remarkable for its audacity; and upon the ether hand, Christie confined herself strictly to the facts in every ticular. She narrated her adven- ture with Black Boniface in such good faith and wonderful indifference to the presence of that grand scoundrel] himself that the man was surprised at her manifest ignorance of the existing state of facts. And in this manner they had traveled a couple of miles together. They had entered a dark, lonesome part of the forest, and were descending a rather steep hill. Christie was a little behind her compan- ion—perhaps half the length of her horse’s neck. She been watching her chance—the eye of the regulator was not upon her. She took from her pocket the tiny pistol that Little Texas had given her the night before, and concealed it in the folds of her dress, She knew how to useit. She looked at the outlaw and then at his horse. Her soul shrunk from the ae of murder—of having the stain of human blood, however vile, upon her soul. She de- termined upon the other expedient. Perhaps it would again liberate her from the villain, and witb- out asecond thought she held her pistol at the head of the regulator’s horse and fired. Simultaneous with the report of his pistol, Cap- tain Lucas uttered an oath and attempted to strike the weapon from the girl's hand, but he was just the fraction of a second too late, and with an almost human cry the horse plunged forward down the de- clivity headlong into the valley. Captain Lucas was pare stunned by the fall, and when he regained iis feet and collected his senses, he found that inno- cent, confiding ig was gone. To say that the outwitted villain swore would not do the subject justice, so we will leave him for the time being, seated upon his dead horse amid the shadows of the valley, and follow the author of his troubles. The maiden turned her horse's head and rode west- ward after she had got rid of her escort. The ex- citement of her adventure with the regulator had stimulated her nerves and strengthened her mind and courage, but this soon began to wear off, and hunger and fatigue attack her vital energies. To these enemies of mind and body were added the de- pressing influence of night—the melancholy drone of insects’ wings, the mournful song of nocturnal voices and the damp and dismal shadows of the lonesome wood. But the maiden kept on; hope was implanted in her young heart. Finally she struck a dim wagon-road leading up a wide valley, and her heart gave a bound of joy. She felt certain that the road would lead to a cattle-ranch, a settlement or some place where she would find friends, and so she urged on her peny a little faster. She had followed the road about a mile, when, true enough, a light ahead burst upon her view. She rode on until she came to the edge of a little open- ing, when she drew rein. She saw a massive build- ing before her. It stood upon an elevated piece of ground, and was outlined against the blue sky. It was surrounded by a massive wall, upon the top of which she could see a sentinel standing with a mus- ket at his side. He oppeetce to be listening, too; and having made these discoveries, Christie began to ask herself these questions: “Is that a fort, gar- risoned by soldiers, before me? and has that man heard my approach? Surely, this cannot be; I heard of no forts being anywhere in this country. The building looks like an old ruin, but it is inhabited. Can it be the home of settlers, cattle-men, or mus- tangers? or can it be that it is the stronghold of Black Boniface?” The last question caused a shudder to pass over her form and fill her heart with a horrible fear. This was increased by strange sounds coming from the direction of the building, and turning her horse’s bend dows the valley, she fled from the mysterious we en from the ows @ man, dressed i elacatiog of a royal prince, emerged, Galt te the moonlight came toward her. CHAPTER Ix. A STRANGER RESCUES ROSSEVAN’S RUNAWAY TEAM. Down the plain ata fearfu) rate dashed the terri- fled horses Mrith the oalene, at Don Rossevan, the driver doing his best to hold them in, “Oh oar God!” cried Edith Clayton, when she heard the clash of firearms and saw the Apaches ey) up the valley. 4 ourage dear lady,” said Don Rossevan, draw- ing his revolvers, determined to defend the calesa and the fair girl to the last. - : i ge gr day Coe eee an por ano vo at it. Another cry o ny from the top ot the calesa, and the we om lunged forward so suddenly that Don Rossevan was almost thrown from his seat. Then the horses seemed to redouble their speed, for the calesa shot forward, Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. bounding and until it seemed it would be dashed to aaa Don Rossevan’s face now assumed a look of fear “ - his efforts to appear calm in the presence of forced itself upon his mind. He the door and took in the state o hind he saw his escort engag enemy. He turned his head and A shiver of horror ran throug affairs. Back be- his veins, the driver hanging. In his hands he grasped the lines, but it was in the of death—the driver had been slain. The es hui slack, and the horses, uncur ran with wild affright. The most imminent d er threatened Rossevan and his faircompanion. The calesa was in danger of being upset or dashed to pieces at any moment. Don Rossevan saw that he must act if he would avert some dread catastrophe. He could no longer conceal the truth from Edith who sat trembling and | sobbing with terror in her seat. “T must climb out and get hold of the lines, fair senorita,” he said; “the driver is dead; but take swung himself out at the door and endeavored to climb into the driver's seat; but the calesa rocked, his foot slip and he came ~< bein under the flying wheels. He clim vehicle with a sprained ankle stopping the team, he drewa knife and was about to cut away the top of the calesa when a horseman dashed along side the vehicle wheels as possible. He looked and saw that the horseman was a stranger—a mere youth. For a moment it was a question whether he was friend or foe, but before he had time for a second thought the | ility of a circus-rider, rose to his | hee, with the nees in the saddle-seat, then drawing up one foot and planting it by the other knee he made a quick leap and landed upon the flying calesa. An exclamation burst from the . of Don Ros- | oy’s face as he | was an honest, manly | face, and the Spaniard’s heart took courage, and | sevan. He had gota — of the sprung from his horse. It when he heard the voice of the wae stranger try- ing to check the flying horses, and felt the calesa slackening up, a cry of Joy burst from his lips “Thank God, senorita!” he exclaimed, ‘“‘a friend has come to our rescue! Blessed Virgin! the team | is comiog to a halt!” A few minutes later the flying, terrified horses | were brought to a stand by the hand of the fearless young stranger. No sooner had they stopped than Rossevan, lame as he was, sprung from the vehicle, doffed his hat to the youth in the driver’s seat, and in the most rateful tone thanked him for what he had done— or saving his and the fair Edith’s life. “You're welcome, general,’’ was the youth's re- sponse; “but I tell you things was lively as a hor- net’s-nest for awhile, and there’s no time to be lost | in gittin’ out of here. If them Apaches lick your friends they'll foller you u Iam sorry I can’t go any further with you, for I’ve more work ahead of me ji.t now than boys can do.” *‘But, my boy,” said Don Rossevan, “ I must know your name. the Boy Mustanger?”’ “You hit the nail on the head, square pop, gineral; that’s my name,” replied the boy. “Ah, my boy, I’m rejoiced to meet you—to know you. None but Little Texas could have performed the feat that you did, and for your kindness, senor, | I do want to bestow something besides mere words | In honor of my regard and esteem for | upon you. your bravery and kindness, I rmit me to present to you this sword and belt wo h a fortune in itself.” He took from the calesa his sword, a small, keen | Damascus blade with a hilt set in diamonds and | pearls, and banded it to the Boy Mustanger, who still sat in the box. The lad took the blade, ignorant of its true value | aside from that of a weapon. A look of boyish de- light and pride kindled in his eyes as he buckled the belt around his waist; then, when he saw how much smaller he was than the donor, he leughed outright. “ Better to buckle the boy onto the sword,” he said; ‘‘but, stranger, I am proud of this gift. I never had anything so nice given mein all my life, and if the ’Paches and regulators don’t keep away from me now I'll slice some of themup. Thank you, stranger.” The boy descended from the driver’s seat, giving the lines to Don Rossevan; then he called up his horse, that was grazing a short way off, and mount- ed it. This brought him in a position where he could see the white face of Edith, to whom he touched his hat and bowed. The battle between the troopers and Indians could still be heard in the distance, and the Boy Mustanger seemed impatient to be off to the scene of conflict. With a wave of his hand and a “‘good-by” to the man and woman he was off like the wind. Speaking a few words of encouragement to Edith, Don Rossevan mounted the driver’s seat and drove nm rapidly away. he meeting and parting with Little Texas had been under such trying and exciting circumstances that it did not occur to Edith to inguire after Christie until it was too late—until the distance shut the form of the Boy Mustanger from her view. The battle between Rossevan's troopers and the sperene was a desperate one. After the second discharge of firearms by the Indians at least a score of the red demons arose. from the tall and charged the troopers with lances. The latter open- ed @ murderous fire with carbines upon them, for a é Something of the real truth of the situation | ut his head out at | | the troopers, recelvin ed in a conflict with the | broadside that told fear lanced = i or | over the edge of the foot-board he saw the head of | | telling and deadly blows, | troopers. | the superior speed of the Apaches comnas | of them would He divested himself of his serape and sword, then | thrown | ed back into the | but, determined upon | riding as close to the | | of. and raise Cain with you. | forty sich | | echoes — the dismal night. Now and then flashes: | of moon Sir, I mistrust you are Little Texas, | o moment checking their advance; but at this june ture half a dozen more Indians with a led horse for each of the footmen appeared at a sweeping gallop from behind a swell in fhe plain, and a few moments later every savage that was not down was m With a yell the painted warriors charged u pA ‘ from the latter another lly upon their ranks; bot mad with a thirst for blood they came on, The troopers drew their swords and prepared for the onset. Then followed a yell and a crash. The enemies, about equal now in numbers, had met. Swords and spears clashed together, and flashed and | gleamed in the sunlight. The followers of Don Rossevan were brave and fearless men, and, being skilled and scientif.s swordsmen, it was but play for them to parry the lances of the Apaches, and at the same time des! The result of this adva.- tage was the utter demoralization of the Apaches and a complete and overwhelming _— tor the he Indians took to flight and for some distance a running fight was kept up and but for horses not 01.2 ave escaped. When the troopers finally gave up the chase they BRosse~ | turned about and started in pursuit of Don van’s carriage. It was a couple of hours or more before they over- took the calesa, to find Rossevan in the driver’s' seat with the driver lying dead at his feet. When he learned how the battle had gone, the: €paniard spoke a few words of praise to his men, then descended from the box and entered the calesa,, a trooper taking the lines. “Praise God, sencrita,” he said, ‘‘we have escaped, but it was a miraculous escape. I hope I find you feeling much better, senorita.”’ ; “Yes, indeed, Mr. Rossevan,” she replied; “simee | your friends joined us with news of their victory, a terrible weight has been lifted from my min have one thing to regret, however, and that is that I did not think to inquire of Little Texas whether he- has seen sister Christie." “Ah, indeed!” exclaimed the man, regretfully; “T am to be censured for such an oversight; I hope you will pardon me, however, senorita.”’ * Oh, sir!”’ cried Edith, ‘““yvou had enough to thirk I could not think of expecting so much from you, for — have already made too much sacrifice in our behalf.” “No, no, senorita,” he replied; “I feel thankful that I have been able to serve your guardian and | yourself as I have: but I feel that the worst is over with, and hope that by dark we will be at our desti nation. The calesa rumbled on and on over plain and vak ley. The hours wore away and the sun went down, but, contrary to Rossevan’s most sanguine hope, they had not reached their journey’s end. In fact, they were some miles from there when darkness se} in The shadows of night filled Edith with renewed. fears and terrors. They hadentered a densely-tim- bered valley where every foctfall, every creak of the springs or snort of a horse seemed freighted witha thonsarid horrors as they were repeated in hollew ght flitted across the windows of the calera, starting the maiden as though they had heen the | flashes of a gun; and thus were her fears kept werk-, ed up to the highest pitch. Her companicn titked in cheerful tones and endeavored, by eve n eee possible, to dispel the gloom and shadows from her mind. Suddenly the calesa stopped. 2 An exclamation of fear involuntarily escaped Edith’s lips. Don Rossevan opened the door and locked out. A trooper rode up to the calesa and said: “Senor, a horseman is coming down the roed from the direction of the Ruins de Rossevan,”’ Edith’s heart roge in her throat. Don Rossevan — from the calesa, advanced to the head of the horses and looked up the road. A little way ahead of the team lay a small o; ening. flooded with mconlight, and across this opening, true enough, the horseman was approaching. “'That’s a woman,” said Rorsevan to the man be- hind him, as the unknown drew nearer to them. Just then a trooper cried, “ Halt!” The woman drew rein, and Rossevan, advancing toward her, asked: am who are you that rides this way and so ig The woman hesitated with fear or doubt. ‘Have no fears, lady; we are neither outlaws nor~ Indians.” A little ery of surprise and joy escaped her lips, then she said: “T am lost, sir.” “ Your name, senorita?” “ Christie Miles,” she replied, and her words reac h- ed the listening ear of the trembling Edith, who cri Wy out: “Oh, Christie! Christie! my darling sister, cam it be you?” “Edith Clayton!” burstfrom Christie’s lips; “ca my ears d ver” ‘No, no, sweet sister, Iam here!’ replied the de- lighted Edith. Christie rode up to the calesa end sprung frem her pony and rushed inte Edith’s erms. For a mo ment there was a brief silerce of icy: ther Resseven ordered a trooper to take charge of Christie’s he: cy assisted the sisters into the calesa, and entering but self, gave orders to move on. As they rumbled along Christie narreted her re ventures with Black Boniface, and receunted the events that hac trauspired the night previcus at the 4
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f | ; i i i ASS SSS SS ~— a Sa SSS. a SS ae ear = Se en re ee ee nee . Fy -— ‘home of the gallant Boy Mustanger, as well as her Littie sveend mnorting the regulators and her escape. , e T zen from th i, ielligence that Colonel Miles was living, and tliat “ay would soon be in his presence. Dou Rossevan hed little to say from this on. He td no desive to interrupt the happy meeting of the two Indies; moreover: ‘ae inform.tion that Black Boniface and his follow- ers were in the vicinity. In the course of another hour the calesa again BY whei Rossevan said: “here, scuoritas, we have reached the Ruins de Leosevan.’ ‘The mai jens had been so deeply absorbed in each wier’s sovie.y and happiness that they had taken vo note of tirade or aught else until their companion *s.o0e. Then they looked out. The moon shone full vnon the surroundings, and before them, looming up against the north, was a long, low structure— aparently a mass of ruins—overgrown with wild ivy and other parasitical vines—and from the midst «i whicb a light shone brightly. ps of Edith she received the joyful | | / | he was troubied in mind over | alwistie recognized the place as the same from | « boeh she had fled but an hour before. Yon Rossevan assisted the girls from the calesa, | 4tvon giving each anarm he conducted them to the h.cuse. Reaching the door he rapped upon it, and a & omont later it swung slowly open upon wheezy iinges, aud Rossevan and his fair companions “S$ eyaeed into a long, wide hall that was dimly lighted, we. pervaded with the sweet perfume of flowers «ai the soft, dulcet music of an olian harp fixed its ‘he window at the further end of the passage. Puraing from the hall Rossevan led the girls into “/ vivliantly-lighted and handsomely-furnished room, | merchantman, the trader and the emigrant. fam ~ CXS, and led to further question regarding Don Rossevan; but Old Morality evaded the ques:ions du such an adroit and clever way that the settlers were con- vinced that he knew more of Rossevan than he felt at liberty to tell. { Upon being informed that the Spaniard had been gone but a short time, Oid Morality took leave of the emigrants, mounted his horse and rode away, fol- lowing the track of the calesa. This was further evidence of some relationship between Rossevan and the old ranger. It was the intention of Morality to overtake the party when he left camp; but after riding for two or three hours upon the track of the calesa, he gave up all hope of overtaking it, and struck out across the plain toward the West. Not a sign of life was visible except a number of buzzards circling in the heavens far to the westward. The plain stretched away before him to the blue horizon, relieved, now and then, of its monotonous sameness by a little motte or clump of bushes—islands in the ocean of verdure. To Old Morality, however, these mottes were only a relief to the eye—not to the mind. Ex- perience had taught him that they were the Scylla and Charybdis of the prairie ocean; that from their cover the Indian and the robber lay in wait for the There- fore, he shunned them as much as possible. The old man rode on, apparently indifferent to all around him save those buzzards w eeling in the air. | Their presence was portentous to him as it ever is to ; ger and rode leisurely on. vere a young, handsome and dark-eyed girl rose | (aceceive them with kind words of weicome. “This, ladies,” said Don Rossevan to Edith and | ( ‘wistie, “is my sister, Anita Rossevan.” ‘The young dark-eyed maiden greeted the girls tindly and welcomed them to the home of Don Jaan de Rossevan; and then having assisted them to disrobe, she conducted them into an adjoining | :vom where, weak and pale, Colonel Israel Miles ‘atin an easy-chair, ready to receive them. CHAPTER X. ©LD MORALITY IN TROUBLE—FAGAN’S CATTLE-RANCH, Da. JepurHan Dover and Old Morality were sound osieep in their respective tents when Don Juan de | itessevan and his gay escort visited camp, and it | evn3 not until that gentleman had been gone with ith more than an hour that they made their ap- -peeraace from their tents. Dr, Dover was the first ©0 join the little group outside discussing the events «#t che day, and as soon as apprised of the visit of itossevan, the old fellow flew into a passion. “There! by the dancing dervishes!” he exclaimed, *‘yon've all branded yourselves a set of nincom- yoops!—gone and give the colonel's other girl into tae hands of the bloody hellyons.’ Oh, Lord!” “Doctor, there was no deception about that man Rossevan,” said Mr. Byrd; ‘* besides, he—" * Neither was there deception in the kiss of Judas!” , | easier’n slippin’ on ice; and if you don't believe it, «xelaimed the doctor, pacing the camp in rage. “Twas going to say,’ continued Byrd, ‘that he {ought a letter from the colonel who lies very low, 2 4 itis a genuine letter too. He sent for Edith or 4) ristie, or bothif they could both leave.” “What did yer say the feller’s name war what « tno for the gals?’ suddenly exclaimed Old Moral- * . who, at this juncture, made his apysennte, | jug caught a part of the conversation with Dover 4, 40 his tent. “Juan de Rossevan,’’ replied Byrd, consulting WMiles’s letter. “7) min, in astonishment, “you don’t tell me that Don Ressevan war here, do you?” “That was the name.” “ What for a lookin’ critter was he?” Byrd described the man and outfit. " t war him, by the kissin’ Judas! Why in tiuinder didn’t ye wake me?” “Then you know him, do you, Morality?” * Know him! yes, I should think I did know him; avd I know him well enough to know that Edith Clayton will be his captive.” “My Lord! is he a robber, too?” “There!” broke in Dr, Dover, ‘‘ what did I tell you? | Ol, by heavens! you'll learn wisdom from expe- rience—bitter experience. You're aset of nincom- poops to just deliberately give a girl into the hands of a vile old robber!” “Did I insinuate that he was a robber, ole pill- tags?” asked Old Morality; “did I even hint at his leing any thing but what he is—a perfect gentle- tuen, ascholar and a Christian’ Yea, verily I say wato you, folks, that Don Juan de Rossevan is one of ; 4.40 whitest-souled, big-hearted men that ever made hoe by the Gaudilquiver or drank in the glories of ». Andalusian night. If he said Colonel es war «. ulls ranch, why, the colonel’s there, you can bet > ur last fip on that.” “*Man!”’ stormed Dr. Dover, ‘“‘I believe you're in Beane with that man, and that you are both out- :. We . “Tia! ha! ha!” laughed the old ranger, ea turedly. ‘‘you’re an ole cuss, doctor, and t you ¢an't tell 4 pill from a bug. What I alluded to when } sayed Edith ’d be the Don’s captive, was that she'd tall to her eyebrows in love with him, beca’se she ed to the doctors’ corner in perdi- ob is, gentlemen.’ ee relieved the settlers of the emo- ‘ the borderman; but, with the open plain before him and a swift horse under him, he feit no fear of dan- He had ourneyed per- 2% A Tarn 77 wi kidies we the Lounge Buster Sei 3 cactus-point in business, quick ax jacced lightnin’, and can beat all Texas throwin’ a lasso, or chuckin luad into a robber'’s diaphragm. I reckon he's an other subjeet you've got in view, arn’t be, froggy?” *Yes!’’ hissed the Frenchman, “ and by the Vir gin I will have him, too!” * {7 would if I way you,” replied the prisoner, sar casticaliy, “for he’s a good *un.” The ro: bers laughed at the old man’s indifference and audacity. “Old man,’ said Rocheford, stung to the quick by Morality’s retort, ‘I'll make you grimace out of the pa ora corner of your mouth before you get through with me.” “And then old Satan ‘Il make bg squirm like s maggot afore he gits through with you,” replied the ranger. “If Little Texas ‘Il only keep his word he'll give you a check for Dimnation afore the owls hoot or the wolf leaves his lair.” * Sacre’ what do you mean, did vagabond?” de- manded the Frenchman, in evident fear. “I mean, monsieur,”’ replied Morality, with a bland smile, ‘‘ that Little Texas, the Boy Mustanger, has a very pretty little rifle, and in that rifle he has put a charge of powder, and upon that powder he rammed home a half-ounce of lead. Now, sir, his intentions are to excite that powder by tetchin’ | it up behind with a spark of fire, cause it to kick | diaphragm. | he feared Little aps five miles upon the plain, and was passing | along between two little clumps of timber, when a tifle, in the furthest one away, suddenly rung out and the old man’s horse reared and plunged forward witha piteous cry and sunk quivering to the earth. Then forth from their ambush galloped half a score of horsemen with drawn pistols. They were outlaws, and the old ranger seeing it would be use- less to contend with such great odds, returned his pistol to its place, and with folded arms calmly awaited their approach. At the head of the party rode the notorious Dr. Rocheford. ‘*A glorious subject!’ exclaimed the villain, as he rode up to where the ranger stood. “So it is, my gallant knight of the cross-bones,”’ replied a comrade. ‘A willing subject in the interest of science,’’ add- ed another, seeing he made no resistance, The regulators drew up around the old man who stood calmly regarding them with silent contempt. “A purty critter he is,” said Rocheford and all laughed heartily, for Old Morality had assumed an air and attitude that bordered upon the ludicrous and comical. ; “You gol-dashed tar-rant'-lers and blood-suckers of the peraro!” the old man exclaimed savagely, | “you ean ’ford to laugh and giggle at an old, hoary- headed man after you've got the 'vantage of him; | but, dash your cowardly picters! I can take you, two “4coma effects of wounds, in the gentleman’s house; | ers and tar-rant’-lers!’’ exclaimed the old | fret worked un in their minds, | rapin—dooile as a eata;nount in a at a time, and knock the butt end of your brains out jist climb me and I'll dish it up to you so hot that you'll think you're thar, you quintescences of cow- ardice and turkey-buzzardness!” ‘ “The old chap imagines he’s a hoss,’’ said a rob- er. ‘*And if ye don’t b’lieve I are, climb me, will ye? I'll take ye with one eye shet, square holts, and double ye like a fish grub,” replied the ranger. “We know you, Old Morality,’’ replied Rocheford; “we have had our eyes on your moral carcass for two weeks or more.”’ “The devil’s had hisen on you ever since = drawed your first breata and war kicked out of so- ciety,”’ replied Morality. “ Moraliiy |” sneered Rocheford, “what a misap- lication of a name that is! Old Rascallion would better; however, anything will do what little time you'll have to remain away from your Satanic master. Why, sir,I am a searcher for knowledge and natural curiosities, and Ihave a desire to meas- ure your brain, if you have one, bottle your heart and dissect your liver in order to find out wherein your sejf-conceit and rascalities lie.” ‘“You’re a great man, ar’n’t ye?”’ replied Morality; “you're the Rose o’ Sharon—the Cedar o’ Lebanon, ar’n’t ye? you’re the great hugawapusandi, ar’n't ye? + You're the tail send of a family 0’ dirty cowards and French fools, ar’n’t ye? Why, sir, the carcass of that dead hoss is worth more’n your hull soul—I wouldn’t begin to trade, even if the devil hadn’t a fust mortgage on your pestiverous soul.” “Well, this play on words is not ‘business; men, | mount this specimen of the genus catamount upon one of those horses and we'll be moving,” said Rocheford, nettled by the old man’s words, There were three or four led horses in the part; ) and upon one of these Old Morality was mounted; then the band moved away toward the north, ap- parently satisfied with their day’s work. Old Morality saw that the withers of the horse he | rode were stained with crusted blood, and, kno by the caparisons that it was a robber outfit, he to Rocheford: “T see evidence of death in your family, mighty man of Texas; I see claret has been spilt on your hoss’s withers—reckon Little Texas or somebody's been applyin’ lead to your friend’s anatomy—doc- | terin’ "em up,eh? Lead is wusser’n a tar'rant’ler | bite to strike in, and all the horse-hair ropes in Texas won't keep it from crossin’ the line and divin’ into a feller’s system. I reckon it war Little Texas that’s been playin’ ‘ill with your duck, eh? Ah! I tell you what, ole frog-eater, that ‘gs a little tar- as a furiously and slam that chunk of lead through your Now do ye understand?” Rocheford involuntarily glanced around him, for Texas more than he feared the wrath of God, despite his boastful language. Old Morality roared with laughter. Thus they moved on, the ranger arguing and quar. reling with his captors, as though perfectly indif. ferent to his situation, or as to what they sole tit de with him. At different times the old man overheard the reg- ulators talking about Fagan’s Ranch, which he knew was situated some miles ahead of them; and as Je- rome Fagan had always borne a good reputation, he came to the conclusion that their designs were to make a raid upon his ranch. Itistrue, he also heard | them talking about a bull-fight at the ranch that | night, but supposed their language had a different meaning from that implied—that they were talking in riddles. But whatever his doubts and specula- tions were, concerning his captor’s designs upon | Fagan’s Ranch, all were finally dismissed when the party, in open day, rode boldly into the ranch, and, to the surprise of the ranger, were cordially received | by Jerome Fagan and his friends. | self-protection—to save the ranch from t This convinced Morality that the cattle-men were not what pier had always been represented. If the were not in league with the regulators in crime, it was, at least, certain that they were courting the friendship of the robbers, and ghee | them as $ eir depre- dations. Fagan’s Ranch was situated in an abrupt bend of a little stream called Mesquit Creek. The place was heavily timbered, and well watered—natural advan- tages for acattle-ranch. A number of low log cabins stood upon a little eminencesoverlooking the penin- sula, or bend, and were occupied by Fagan and his employees, numbering in all, women and children, fifty or sixty persons. Of these, at least thirty were men. Back of the cabins were stables and sheds for horses, and south of the cabins were the caitle-pens. Of the latter there were four, with a capacity for thousands of cattle. One of the four, however, was quite small, and built in a circular form, of logs set upright in the ground like a stockade. is pen was fifteen feet in hight, and was called the Wild Pen in coutradistinction to the others. It, was intended | for wild and vicious cattle, and those recently taken | now watch | and listen, Then he turned, and with his tail up, with the lasso from the plain. It was built in a cir- cular form to prevent the animals from “ cornering ”’ each other in a fight. Upon one side of the Wild Pen, with front resting upon the logs of the stockade, and rear upon other upright posts, was an elevated cabin, or shanty, covered with shingles. This was a watch-house. When the pen was full of cattle it was found neces- sary to keep a man on guard, day and night, to prevent any accident. Fyom this elevated point the guard could overlook all the pens, as they all cor- nered there. In this watch-house, Old Morality was imprisoned, securely bound, and one of the robbers, anne with the regular watch, was placed in guard over him. There was no window, and but a single low, narrow door in the building, but in this door was cut a wicket or opening large enough for a man to see out, and through which Morality was enabled to survey | his situation. For some reason or other there were no cattle in the Wild Pen with the exception of a single Texan bull—a wild, ferocious-looking fellow with a fierce eye, glossy coat, and white, slender horns, sharp as rapiers, and fully four feet long. This anmmal stood near what appeared to be a cage, on the opposite side of the pen, bellowing, and pawing the ground in apparent rage. e regulator and ranchero, who were seated on | the platform in front of the cabin, were watching the bull and laughing at his frantic efforts to destroy something, real or imaginary. ‘Ah, he’s a vicious brute,” Morality heard the ranchero sa h “T’ve been teasin’ him here all day; m.”’ The ranchero uttered a low, bellowing sound that caused the bull to desist from his at on the his head down, and his tongue out, he came , ing across the pen with a fierce bellow, and fneiky eame up with a crash the side of the stock- ade caneing the shanty to fairly tremble. The guards burst into e peal cf laughter, then, with fhe
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Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. Br et BA es, iat Bs Miele ai * eA 7 ‘ L < & 7 a heavy whip, the ranchero scored the poor, mad brute until it was forced to retreat with the blood trickling from its sides, ain the men laughed, then the regulator said: 7 et of the bulls you're going to fight to- night, is it?’ ** That’s the only one,” was the reply; “it’s to be a bull and lion fight.” “4 bull and lion fight!" exclaimed the regulator, “ well, that’s better yit, I'll swear it is.” “Yes; the boys caught a mountain lion, as they’re called, when up in California, and started right off to the States with it on a showin’ expedition, but by the time they got this fur on their way they got sick of the enterprise, and sold out their lion to "Rome Fagan and then hired to him to herd cattle. "Rome got the lion on purpose to chaw up that bull, and I do hope he’ll claw the very innards outen the horned cuss, for he’s the wickedest bull that was ever calved on Texan soil.” “‘Treckon you fellows have made him so,” said the regulator. “Not a bit of it, Cube; not a bit of it, sir; he’s a royal hellyon from the ground up, and killed his man afore he war a year old. We'd ’a’ killed him long ago, but we s’posed he'd get better—more docile, and then he was sich a promisin’ critter. But, thunder! he’s grown viciouser all the time, and ’s killed a dozen or two head of cattle, disembowled three mustangs and killed two herders. Oh, he’s a wicked scamp. I’ve see’d him stand fight his own shadder till he drueled at the mouth. Ye see he’s got sich infarnal long horns, and then they’re jist as sharp as the p’int of a Mexican dagger. I tell ye he'll make a stiff ole fight; I'll bet he'll hold that tiger or lion a square tussle, and I wouldn’t be afeard to go you a few that he gits away with the critter. itie may not, though, for we've been stuffin’ the lion on voung calves for a week or two, and T'll tell ye What he’s got a tooth for beefsteak rare. There! d’ye hear that? that was ole California’s grow]; he’s in thet pen over yander where the bull's cavortin’ now.’ ay “ ‘* Heavens, I thought that growlin’ were thunder! exciained the regulator; ‘‘ and so that war the lion’s voice?” “Tt war, for a sweet fact.” “Well, judgin’ by that, the bull won’t be a mouth- ful for the lion.” ‘Don't deceive yourself on /hvt point, Cube, for I think it'll be the toughest old fight that ever took place in the San,Saba valley. And won't it be delicious fun? whew-ee!” At this juncture a man appeared from the cabins bringing the guards and prisoner some supper. They passed Morality’s in to him upon a plate, and — the guards were eating, the other ranchero asked? “You haven't heard the latest, have you, boys?” “What about?” “The bull-fight to-night; well, it’s been decided that a man shall fight the victor, be it bull or lion.” ‘** Bravo!” exclaimed the guards. ‘Yes, the Spanish bl of Senor Fagando and the French wit of Rocheford have arrived at an arrangement that'll equal any of old Spain’s royal entertainments. Oh, it’ll jist be gorgeous!” ‘Well, don’t tantalize a feller, but tell us all "bout it. Who's the reckless man that’s going to risk his hide in a conflab with a bull or lion?” “Why, sir,’ said the ranchero, “‘the man you fmiard. Old Morality’s to be placed upon a horse - a-wsgerae into the pen, and compelled to fight or die, “Thunder rolling! the old man’ll not stand a tha ‘ow of a chance with the bull or lion.” ** Not a shadow,” replied the ranchero; “ but then we'll bave the sport just the same, don’t you see?” Old Morality heard the ranchero's words, and the news he brought with their supper from head-quar- ters, but instead of breaking down under the start- liag information, he calmly ate his supper and paced his narrow prison, whistling softly to himself. CHAPTER XI. THE BULL AND LION FIGHT. Ir was night at be me Ranch, but in and around the pens where the fight was soon to come off, the light of a dozen flambeaux lit up the arena witha glare as bright almost as the noonday sun. Dr. Rocheford and his followers and the rancheros were seated upon a platform on top of the stockade, wait- ing. for the sport to begin. he lion in his cage was being goaded to frenzy, while men with red lanterns, stationed at different ints around the pen, were teasing and tormenting ne bull into fury and madiness. Shouts of laughter and the commanding voices of men mingled with the bellowing of the bull and the — roar of the lion, rom the door of the elevated watch-house Old Morality was permitted to witness the preparations tor the struggle. 2 In the course of an hour the “committee on ar- rangements’’ announced all in readiness for the fight to begin. A man witha rod lantern stood on top of the lion's cage, and another with a rope in his hand stood by his side; the rope was fastened to the door of the lion’s cage and passed over a pulley. “Ready!” shouted the man with the rope; then the one with the red lantern lowered the light by means of a rope and swung it to and fro before the door of thelion’s cage. The bull caught sight of it, shook his head, pawed the earth and then witha ow started across the arena, As he neared the object of his wrath, the man with the rope raised the tions fan a xs 4 fan card, A dead hush fell upon the crowd. Old Morality imagined he could hear the voices of the night out in the wood, so profound was the silence. Every eye was fixed in burning suspense upon the lion’s cage. Then a growl and a bellow breaks the silence. There is a rush in the lion’s cage, and the fierce ani- mal eee out into the arena. A shout bursts from the lips of the rancheros and regulators. Crouching upon the earth the lion gazes around him, his green eyes blazing with rage, his jaws open and dripping with froth, and his tail slowly lashing the ground. He utters a growl—a challenge. The bull shakes his mane, utters a deep, short bellow, and with his tail up, his eyes blazing, and his mouth a and tongue protruding, he rushes upon the on, They came together with a dull crash, a scream and a roar. With a leap the agile lion met his horn- ed antagonist, and landed fairly between the animal’s wide horns and buried his fearful claws in the shoul- ders and his teeth in the shaggy neck. With a bel- low that was almost deafening and pitiful, the bull went down upon his knees. He had been taken ata disadvantage. The lion clung to him as if fastened there. In vain the bull tried to shake him off, but his weight almost overcame the strength of his an- tagonist. But at length the bull rose from his knees and charged across the arena with the lion still clinging to his neck and shoulders. The crowd, mad with excitement, shouted at the top of their lungs and waved their hats. ** A thousand dollars to ten that the lion whips the Mas ai Dr. Rocheford shouted across the arena to a riend. Before that friend could reply Old Morality yelled out: ‘“*T'll take you, frog-eater: come over and ante.” “Tf you've ten dollars, I'll take it, anyhow,” re- plied Rocheford. A frightful bellow and a subdued growl drew at- ! tention to the combatants, when a shout again arose from the spectators’ lips, for ‘the i had changed. The lion bad broke his hold and had been hurled over the bull’s back to the ground with fear- ful violence. The bull, with torn, bleeding shoulders, starting eyeballs and steaming nostrils turned, and again rushed upon his fue. The lion made a second spring, but this time it was not so fortunate, for its body came in contact with the sharp horn of the bull, and was impaled thereon. Aroar that fairly shook the earth escaped the lion’s fearful lungs, and he sunk back, almost par- alyzed by the cruel horn rankling in his body. ith a snort and a roar, the bull gave a sudden toss of the head and the lion was disemboweled, Still, in the agonies of death the fierce animal fought on, appar- ently more desperate than ever; but this could not last long, and in a few minutes the lion 4 a quiver- ing lump of flesh, torn, bleeding and dead. e bull had won the battle. ina pore swung in the air and shouts rung through the n i ts at an awful fool you are, Rocheford!’’ yelled Old Morality. “You'll think different soon, my festive vaga- bond,”’ replied the irate Frenchman. A red light was lowered and swung to and fro to entice the bull away from the carcass of the lion. Then several men slipped into the arena, attached a ra to the dead animal and dragged it out. ena rece ie Old Morality shuddered, for he knew w was to come next; but he deter- mined to meet his fate without yielding a point. Five minutes or more had ela when two men aseended a ladder to the watch-house, opened the secs, unfastened the old man and bade follow em. He was conducted down the ladder, around the cattle-pens and into one of the more pretentious of the many log cabins. A light burned on the table in the middle of the room, and by the table sat Dr. Jules Rosheford and a man in a mask. The latter Old ‘Morality believed was Jerome Fagan, who, against his will, was forced to take sides with the robber in what was to follow, “Well, old man,” said the regulator, “how have you enjoyed the sports of the evening?’ “Very well, indeed, but I’d enjoyed it better to have seen you tossed on that bull’s horns,” was the of man’s reply. “No doubt of it, sir; but I have a proposition to make you.” you to fight me ?”’ situation “What is it? for “Not exactly, sir.” “* No, for you are too great a coward.” “Be that as it may, there are terms upon which you can purchase your liberty, Morality. “T am faring very well, my fine frog-eater,” re- torted Morality. * You'll accept of no proposition then?" “Tt's immaterial to me what becomes of me, I as- sure you. ps Fell,” said Rocheford, “I will say this much to you: we will furnish you a horse and spear with | which to enter that arena and slay that bull, and if | you succeed, you go free.” “And if the bull wins I'll gojfree! Hat ha! it’s the same either way,’’ replied the old ranger, Do you accept?” .. Laccept no ing at your hands.” Then you will have to fight, an yhow, or die!” was Rochegord’s reply, and he ed armed men who conducted the old man out into the yard. Here a saddled and bridled was in Waiting for ‘‘ Mount that horee,* ordered one of the men. i wrill you alone thee honest ot ins wo hele ount that horse? or 6 we year’ demanded Rocheford in a stern voice. | | | | | The old man leaped nimbly into the saddle. ‘ er him to the horse, now,’’ commanded Roche- ord. “No, give me a chance, man!’’ cried the old ran- ger, “‘give me a chance and I will enter the arena.”’ “Ah! he weakens; he will fight! There now, hand him the lance. You need not tie him, for he'll bet- ter fight with free use of himself. Glorious spert! splendid fun! lead on the horse to the gate of the arena,” A man led the horse around to the entrance, the regulators following behind with pistols in hand. There were two gates to the entrance to the Wild Pen, one opening inward and the other opening out- ward with a space of a foot between thetwo. The outerj gate was locked, the inner gate fastened by a hook dropped in a staple. The outer gate was unlocked and pulled open, the inner gate unfastened and pushed open. The attention of the bull having been drawn, by a red light, to the opposite side of the arena, a man led in the horse upon which was seated the unwill- ing matador, lance in hand. A shout hailed the of man’s entrance. In amoment the gates were closed, and Old Morality was alone with the maddened dull! The man who wore the mask in the cabin carried the key that locked the gate, and when he turned the key upon the old man, he did not, with the others, hasten to a point where he could see the cou- flict, but turned and walked away into the shado as if ashamed of what he had done—as if quickened conscience was already upbraiding him. Old Morality took in the situation at a glance. He saw that there was no escape for him—no pityirg eye among the many looking down upon him. His horse was old, and lame, and stiff in the joints. The first onset of the bull would destroy it. The old man's situation was, indeed, precarious, but he betrayed no emotions of fear to his enemies. Yet his band trembled. The fire and vigor of youth were not there to support the resolute and unbend ing spirit that age could not impair. Time had sep- ped much of the vitality of his once powerful and athletic form,and yet he felt that he was the al of any man in point of physical strength. He had nothing but contempt for his enemies, and as he now more fully realized their cowardice and cruelty, he lifted his eyes and shouted, in a clear, distinct voice: “ Fellow-beings, your sports are those of cowards; not one of you dare fight me, old as I am, and yet you turn your maddened beasts upon me. God will smite you for such cowardice.” ° A peal of jeering laughter burst from the lips of the spectators, then the red lights were all with- drawn but a single one which was lowered and Aaa ey, behind the old ranger. The bul) saw it and started toward it, and it was the: that it dis evened nag resence of — age in ne eh to) , it began pawing the earth anc bello | then aie its end it ‘started toward the borse. The old matador endeavored to spur the ! or. out of its way, but it came like a hurricane and struck the horse fairly in the side, driving its cruel l.orns deep into the animal's flank, and disembow: ling it in an instant. The horse rolled over upon it» site uttering an almost human scream of agony. oud Morality endeavored to impale the b vith his lance, but the shaft, a cruel deception, snapped in two where it had been “‘ ringed,” and he was left un- armed! Springing to the ground clear of the stirru the horse went down, he ran across the arena. bull did not see him. It was too busy with the poor old horse. The crowd shouted like demons. The red lanterns were swung from the wall to draw the atiention of the bull to the man. The horse s led to his feet and attempted to flee; but he could not evade the bull, and soon he was down again, to rise no more. The horse dead, it was no trouble to attract the bull with the lights, and the one nearest the old matador was swung rapidly to and fro. The mad beast see it, went lunging across the arena to- ward it. Old Morality darted swiftly out of its way, for he was weapenless. The spectators jeered hime It seemed impossible that human beings could be- come so depraved, so merciless, so inhuman. The victim lifted his face and ran his eyes along the line of spectators. Some of them were cage their hats, and some were standing in attitudes suspense. Among all was there not one to pity bin» —to help him? As he asked himself these questions. a voice seemed to whisper: “ Run to thegate!” Just then the bull saw him and darted towa’ m. Run- ning backward the old man avpreeaen the gate. He thought, pee they would let him out, seein, he was completely at the mercy of thebrute. In his excitement he passed the gate a rod or more, ai a the bull was almost upon him. His heel struck « clod; he stumbled and fell. With head lowered a:.-i tail erect the bull plunged toward him. As it passa the entrance to the pen, the gate swung partialig open and the lithe fizure of a man sprung into the areva behind the bull with a sword in hand. There was a downward flash of the weapon, and the bulf balted—another flash, and the animal sunk baclz upon its haunches, both hamstrings severed / Old Moraiity sprung to his feet. “This way, Morality!” cried the véiee of his res cuer. The old man ran toward his friend and the open gate. ; And on the way to liberty he met Little Texa the Boy Lasso-thrower, and together the two glic: J) — Se the arena ni away Into the shathows. af nigh ; :
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eh eee eS SS ep pane —— —— i i a2 i i ae _ take advantage of “imi. CHAPTER. Xil. ADRIFT ON THU PRAIRIE, Timmy had the Boy Mustanger wielded his sword— ‘the gift of Don Rossevan—in the cause. of .right—in «+ cuse of human life. . Aye ‘A howl of rage and disappointment, mingled with 2icw faint shouts of joy, rung out upon the night from the lips of the spectators. In the light of the (2mbeanx, the regulators in particular had recog- word Litto Texas, and his name was rung upon. a @c-n livs. A dozen revolvers leaped from their yisters ond a. random fire opened pes the youth cod the old ranger; but the bullets rattied harmlessiy egainst the stockade, for ina moment the two were cut of the pen and beyond the radius of light, and none of the enemy being near the gate, they, made poerl their escape, “This way, Morality,” whispered the Boy Mus- tamer, when under cover of the darkness; and them te Ind the old man, hy 4 circtiitous route to a dense clurip of timber back of the stables where Lightfoot and gnother horse were i waiting. “Were, Morality, I’ve a horse for you, old pard,”’ cried the boy; “mount, and_let’s make ourselves ceance in these parts, for it ‘ll soon be hotter’n a terentcla’s nest, j Old Morality was so rejoiced and so excited that ke could make no reply, but mounting the horse fol- “owrd the OnE Centaur. 2 “They roce on in silence until they had reached the wpca B amt end assured themselves they were at immediate danger. Then Little Texas reined an b33 animal and rode by Morality’s side. ““Cood-evening, old pard,”’ the lad said, ‘* business bes beenso pressing that I hav’n’t had time to speak to you before. “Cod bless you! give me your hand, you angelic dittle cuss,”’ responded the old ranger, in lan e szzoro fervent than elegant; “if thar is a child on seart I adore just now, it’s you. Boy, you are a firet-class jewel, and have a faculty o’ dove-tailin’ yeroolf into a fiery deefickilty jist like the farmer or age that’s alers ov hand to rescue tho good ith» hoy from the brook in Sunday-school books. Litt's Tcexas—Mighty Young Mustanger ad Lasso- thrower! I thank you from the very bottcm of my old Scart!” “Oh, never mind that, Morality; I’m only too glad to know you are safe, A moment later and you'd shave been a goner.” “1 lnow it, I know it; and it makes one crateful ‘to a friend that has sandwiched himself between athim and eternity on a moment’s time. Oh, ifwar Alclicious, boy, the way you sailed in thar butii’sa question with me how you got in,” “*Y got in there in a rather singular way, Morality, and to tell you tho story I must go back to the time of your capture. I was not far away when the xegulators took thy in and marched you off this way, wand so I concluded to foller them and sce what they meant to do; and you can judge of my surprise when I saw them ride into Fagan’s Ranch unharmed, I’ve known Mr. Fagan some time—have lassoed many and many a wild steer for him, and only last summcr I took a job of catchin’ two dozen wild mustengs for him, and I alers cousidered him an honest man. But I saw them imprison you in the elevated watch-houso, and made up my mind to git | you out cf there as soonasdarkness setin. You ge I didn’t know anything *bout the bull and lion gh*, but wuen I saw ’em fixin’ up platforms and tin’ torches’ I knowed somethin’ war up. Well the firht came off; from the branches of a tree I taav the fiendish sport, then Lsaw ’em take you out ef the waich-huouse, and’ with what I heard in gcoctin’ around, I knew what wasup, and began to rtew and b’ile. I saw them’take you into the pen; I f£2w 2 tan—the one who wore a mask on—”’ “That war Fagan, Téxas, I'll bet a jip /”* interrupt- al Biorality. ’ “Tiever mind who you think it was,” continued Feras, but I saw the man with the mask un- kak the gate and let you in, and thenI saw him lock the fate jones you. Now, sir, my fingers just lawned to get hold of that key, and to git the key was to git the man first. 1 didn’t want to kill the awan for I saw he wasn’t a regulator, but, as luck asould have it, he marched right straight into the 4brush where I was hid jist as if he wanted to con- ceal bis guilty conscience; but what do you eA — that man come there for? to'kill self? to ide the key to'the pagent sy gate? No; he come there to pray. It’s a 's fact, he went upon his imees and Bahay that you, you, Morality, might and that the hand of justice would for- ever rid the country of sich men as Black Boniface sand his followers. Oh, I tell you it was a rattlin’ jood prayer; showed he’d been used to it. It done ‘me good—it strengthened me. f tell you there is extvength in prayer, and I jist felt like shoutin’ when “hat man mede some splendid hits, and when he had finished I couldn’t, to save my soul, keep from sayin’ *Amen!” out loud. Gracious! you'd ought to ‘a’ seen him junip and start to run; but I said: ‘I am Little Texas,’ and was there to help the Lord fulfill his prayer. ‘Now,’ says I, ‘give me that key, and | i will endenvor to save the old man.’ Without a | word be pulied out the key and give it to me. Then I went for the gate, and he went dcwn upon his | knees again, and for all I know he’s there yet, The | rest you know, Morality.” “Yes, yes; and glory to King David! Boy, thar | Asu"t avother youngster in Texas that can equal you!” exclaimed the old man; “but say, don’t you think #eut man in the mask was Fagan?” * Wsecver he was, he’s to be pitied for his moral | wowardice,” was the evasive reply; “he will receive | ‘them reguiators aud treat them kindly just to keep from robbing him j aud this is the way they | 2 ¢ sii.me.” “ Another question, boy; I see you sport a sword; where did 2a games across sich a tool as that?” “T carned it.” . “Oh, you did, eh?—bin doin’ somethin’ for some- body else eh?” “s Yes: T rescued a lady ang pyatlenee sodey from death, or injury by catchin’ their runaway horses. They were crossin’ the prairie and their driver had been suddenly killed by ambushed. Indians, and anpy, went their horses, lickey-te-kilter over, the Llain.” “The kissin’ Judas! what war a man and woman doin’ in a rig o’ that kind in this Kentey f “ He was taking the lady from the Saba valley to his home’across the prairie.’ “Heavens!” exclaimed Morality, something of the truth beginning to dawn. upon his conf mind, “* what war his name?” " “Juan de Rossevan.” “Great horned gallinippers! de Rossevan and Miss ae CATIDR: I presume?” said the old man, inter- rogatively. 9+» Ah, I see you know him, Moraltty. | ““Know him? I should think I did, boy; I have been his scout and spy. and secret agen’ for five years, but, I'll swear to man, you are the. first stran- erl ever breathed the fact to, aud I hope you'll old your peace on the Don’s account for he’s a no- ble feller; and I guess he don’t want the folks over in Spain to know where he is, just pet awhile,” sb: recy is my motto, Morality; but as I was going tosay, Don van gave me this sword.” ‘‘ A worthy present, boy, for that sword_has a his- tory. Royal ds have clasped it, hundreds of years ago. It is said that Don Rossevan's ancestors wore it at the court of Isabella and Ferdinand, and that it has come down an heirloom in the Rossevan family. It’s a wonder that Don Juan would with it. It’s worth thousands, boy, for the t’s set with diamonds and—”’ “What? I thought it was glass or stone,” replied Little Texas. ‘Diamonds, boy, diamonds; you’re rich in jewels, But look here, boy; you know you left me rather sudden, t’other night; I’ve been dyin’ to ask you how you come out m your pursuit of old Boniface and that girl.” “T catched old Bonny and—” “Checked him for perdition?”’ “No, I had no time to stop, and shoot him; I thought more of saving the girl than of killin’ him, for the saying, of the life ,of such a girl as she is was worth more to me than. the destruction of a mil- lion sueh critters as Black Boniface.” we Dr. Dover told me she was an angel of a little eritter.”’ “Yes, Morality; but she is now—well, God only knows where. [have been hunting her since yes- terday morning; we. became. sepaiated near my cabin in the dark, and where she went tol know not. Ilknow this much, however; she is not in the power of Rocheford’s party.” “*D'ye know anything about ole Bonny hisself?” “* Nothing,” i That gal must be found, then,"’ said Old Mo- rality, mee oy I shall never rest until I know where she is, whether she be déad or alive,’ replied the young Lasso-thrower, “Texas,” said Morality, as a po suddenly oc- curred to “let's cut a bee-line for the Ruins of Rosseyan, nce there and the Don’'ll furnish us men and horses to search and scout. this country over for the gal.”’ “Tow far away is it, Morality?” ““We can make it by breakfast.’’ “* So near?—then lead the way, and I will follow.” Thus was their course’ determined, and they turned in the direction of the Ruins de Rossevan; The night was not half gone, and the moon drifted serenely through the tender blue sky. About midnight the two dismounted to rest and allow their tired animals to graze. They sat down in the tall grass and talked in low tones. They talk- ed for nearly au hour or more, and were. about to re- sumé their journey, when the sound of hoof-strokes fell upon their ears. ea bre JH their feet they dis- covered a horseman appr iee Old Morality challenged him.. He drew reih and answered: ‘** Alvrez, Senor Morality.” He had recognized the ranger by his voice. ~ An exclamation of delight burst from the old man’s lips. was one of Don Rossevan’s followers, The two friends advanced, and clasped hands. Morality introduced his young companion, and the Spaniard uttered a little cry of surprise when he heard the boy’s name mentioned. “Little Texas!"’ he exclaimed, looking close into the boy’s face; ‘*thenI have a message for you, senor.’ ‘From whom, Alvrez?’’ asked the boy. ‘Senorita Miles, senor.” : “Christie Miles?” exclaimed the boy, with a start. “The same, senor; she wished me to say to you, if I should meet you, that she is safe at the Ruins de soon,”’ Little Texas tossed his cap in the air and uttered a shout of joy. ** By the kissin’ Judas, boy, I b’lieve you're in love wih that gal, Little Texas,” declared Old Morality. I'll bet you'd be, too, +f you'd see what an angel she is,” answered Texns. “Bah, my boy, I soured on love years and years ago; still, 1 like a pretty girl—they’re nice to have around,” replied Old Morality; then turning to Alv- rez, continued: *“* Where you going, Al?” “To the San Saha; I go with a message from the | guest of Don Rossevan to his friends in camp there, | Little, Texas, the Young icustanger. } Ww Rossevan, where she will be delighted to see you | | noticed the youth’s emotions. ‘ —- They are to move at once to the Ruins de Rossevan and make it the nucleus of their colony.”’ “You don’t tell me, Alvrez! Why, what’s got the matter'with your young master?” asked Old Movai- ity. Xi Ah, senor! I think he loves the pretty lady with the soft. blue eyes and the golden hair—she who was in the calesa when the Little Texas caught the runa- way team on the plain.” “T don’t blame him for that, e#ther,’’ declared Morality. . ‘‘ I see’d that woman with my own eyes, and she’s nice enough for any king on the footstool; she’s sister to your gal, Tex.” “Indeed?” exclaimed the young Texan, in sur- prise. Alvrez did not tarry long with the ranger and mustanger, but. continued his journey_ toward the San Saba: while Little Texas and Old Morality mounted, their horses and continued on toward the Ruins de Rossevan at a steady pace. A great weight had been lifted from the Boy Las- so-thrower’s heart, and for the first time in man days he,found himself without.a care upon his mind, or an especial object to pursue; and, thus relieved his thoughts were free to roam in the realms 0. fancy.. Christie Miles was the first. object to come up before his mind’s eye, and his boyish heart beat jovounls over the thought. of meeting her soon, and hat, too, under circamstances never. presented be fore—in the midst of friends, and away from the dangers and terrors of wood and plain—where her woman’s nature undisturbed by fear and excitement would shine forth in all its wondrous beauty and gen- tle love. It was, indeed, a happy thought. When morning dawned ii found the two some dis- fance from their destination; but moving on they finally reached a little creek where they stopped to water their horses and make their ablutious, Ther our little friend arranged his clothing, combed his long yellow locks back from his forehead and tem- ples, and even with this hastily made and simple toilet, the appearance of the little mustanger was greatly improved. It gave a renewed luster to his eyes and freshness to his cheeks. Mounting their horses the two moved on and final- ly came in sight of the Ruins de Rossevan, “Ay!’’ exclaimed the boy, “I have: been near this place many times, and beard of yonder ruins, but never saw them before. What a huge oid pile it is! Colonel Hayes was telling me. once about the people that built these ruins—Jesuits, I think he called them. Up in New Mexico thar’s lots of them: tumbled around. The colonel said this country was once peopled and wealthy; but the hand of the in- vader desolated it, and gave it !ack to the savage and outlaw, the wolf and the owl.” * Yes, this land has a history, boy,” replied Old Morality—“ a history written in blood and fire. The curse of God seems to have fallen upon-it.as. it feli upon Sodom and Gomorrah; but, unlike those stricken places, the day is not far distant when it will be reclaimed from ruin and robbers, and out 0” the ashes of the invaders’ torch will spring, Phenix- like, the fairest land and grandest improvements the- country ever saw.” ‘Tam surprised at Rossevan settling down in this dismal old ruin ‘mong dangers and privations,”’ said the mustanger. ‘“No doubt of it, boy; but you'd ort to ’a’ see’d the antes when he first come here. Scarcely one stone Yy upon another, and everything was overgrown and infested by coyotes, owls, serpents and bats. The Don rebuilt one wing of the building, cleared off the yard and planted oranges, and oleanders, and peaches, and flowers, and thus turned desolation into a little chunk of a paradise.” “I see now that the place has been repaired and rebuilt, and that, too, so as to preserve the aspect of ruins,”’ said Texas, **'but—” ““Good-morning, Daco!”’ suddenly exclaimed Old ge eg en They arrived at the gate of the great stone or quadrilateral, surrounding the buildings; and here they drew rein and dismounted. A colored man was there and took their_horses. Then Daco, the guard, opened the gate and admitted them to the grounds. A nice grayeled walk led up to the door of the old .mission-house. ee trees and oleanders lent the fragrance of their bloom to the peach and the rose that bloomed upon ey side. Thé Lagso-thrower was surprised, astonished. “Great sun of the temple!” he exclaimed, “ that is a sort of a second-hand paradise, ain't it, Morality? I declare, if I war & robber or an Ingin, I'd be tempt- ed to a it—rout the Don, and take possession, myself. ‘It’s a lovely place, Texas, and the people that live here add another pecooliar charm to it. It’s a garden bloomin’ in a wilderness, my boy.”’ The two proceeded slowly up the walk toward the building. eos were passing to and fro about the door in performance of their morning duties. Birds chattered merrily in the trees overhead. The air was rife with the intoxicating perfume of flowers. The walk was strewn with orange bloom. Little Texas’s heart begen to throb, wildly. A few steps more, and he would stand in the presence of Don Rossevan, Colonel Israel Miles, Edith, th beautiful heroine of the calesa, and of her whoec presence had not been absent from his heart or mini since they parted, Christie Miles! Old Moralit; He saw the color coming into the brown face, and his lips twitching, | nervously; but never in all his life did. he look upor: | | a more manly young cavalier, with his straight form, his well-poised head, his long yellow hair gath ered back from an intellectual brow, his great brown eyes, and, withal, his bearing of princely grace and manhood. As the two approeched the ruins, the sound cr
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a, j : a ae ~- voices fell upon their and three ms ap- peaaee around a clump of shrub and stood face face —— renege Pend nee gown Israel Miles and: his two —_ ers, an istie. At sight of the two strangers coming so suddenly and unexpectedly upon them, the three involuntarily started back; then Christie, with a quick glance at her father, and then at the intruders, uttered a little sry of joy, and forgetting that the others were resent—obeying the promptings of ber own childish eart—left her friends and flying to Little Texas, threw her arms about the boy’s neck and kissed his brown cheek, while tears of pure joy filled her glori- ous eyes, “Christie! Christie!” cried the colonel, sternly, “what do you mean, my child?” ‘Oh, uncle Israel!’ cried the maiden, turning and clasping her little hands with joy, “this is Little Texas!’ “Little Texas?’ yelled the stormy old colonel, ‘ this Little Texas? Then kiss him again, Christie, ferme. Boy give me your hand!” CHAPTER XIil. LOVE AT THE RUINS DE ROSSEVAN. A pay had passed since the arrival of Old Morality and the Boy Mustanger at the Ruins of Rossevan, and found our hero still there, res’ from the labor and excitement of the Ds ow few days, and basking in the social suniight of the good people of the ruins, and feasting his heart upon the glories of a new existence that acquaintance with Christie Miles had seemed to open unto him. Colonel Miles had so far recovered as to be able to ride out; but he was still weak and feeble and dared not venture beyond the inclosure unless at- tended by some one. Anita, the beautiful and accomplished sister of Don Rossevan, proved herself an a ble hostess and entertaining companion, Indoors’ Edith and Christie were treated to music, poetry, paintings, books of travel and history; while outdoors they were led amid profusions of flowers, under silvan shades where bright-eyed birds sung and twittered in ag ’ on Rossevan was also an entertaining host and companion, and did everything in his power to make his visitors happy and comfortable. His great paper was for fine horses, of which he pos- sessed a score of all colors and breeds; and his daily wont was to harness a span of these to his calesa and drive his lady friends about the ruins, and point out to them the almost obliterated landmarks of that faithful people that once dwelt in the land. He would also drive them to his great herds upon the prairie, and entertain them with displays of horsemanship on the part of his Mexican peons, some of whom seemed born in the saddle, and would take a wild horse from the corral and ride it without saddle or bridle. Altogether there was quite enough of the dead past and present, the rude and the beautiful, and ideal and material about the ruins to inspire them with an air of picturesque grandeur and romantic beauty, It was a place that possessed a strange, mysterious attraction and wild, weird fascination to Colonel Miles and his daughters. In fanvy they walked with the ill-fated people of ages gone, and conversed with Jesuit, and proselyte. san A stood under cedar and oak that no doubt shel- tered the hosts of the Spanish invader. They watl:- ed by the stream flowing through the grounds and Little Texas, the Yo | listened to the same murmuring song it no doubt | sung for Aztec maid and Aztec lover. The building, or mansion-house, was in strange contrast with the people that dwelt within it. It bore the marks of ages gone, bg it was the home of beauty and refinement of the present. It was a broken stalk blooming in a deserted, desolate gar- den—an oasis in a great desert. It was located in an out-of-the way place, though in the century past the mission might have been on a great thorough- fare running from the capital of the Montezumas to the Seven Cities of the Cibolas. lt was this seclu- sion, ang. with its ghostly air of desolation that seemed to keep watch and ward over the approach to the place—that had kept red-skin and robber away from it so long; and it was for this very rea- son—because red-man and outlaw shunned it with superstitious dread—that Don Rossevan had select- ed it for his home. He had rebuilt the walls of the mission and the quadrilateral; he had cleared the grounds of its rank growth of vegetation, and plant- ed trees and flowers of nearly every description known to the salubrious climate of the South-west; and in a short time had, in a measure, reclaimed — aun ey ese ese me passed pleasant ndeed at the rui Rdith and Christie had joined their guardian there Don Rossevan was unremitting in his attentions to Edith, and it was evident enough to all that she en- couraged him in it; and so one day found them seated together at an open window overlooking the grounds and the distant forest, engaged in a pleas- antconversation. _ The day was beautiful, and the scene before them lovely in the extreme. Around the ruins, and be- fore them, lay the dark greenwood of cedar and oak, The wind drifted lazily from the south laden with the odor of the orange and the oleander, and the fragrance of the wild-wood. , Edith Clayton never looked more charming than she did upon this occasion; and yet there was an expression of sadness in her voice. Don Rossevan studied her features closely, and one would have seen by the look of admiration in his fine, dark ayes, the flush upon his face, and the tremor upon s lips. that usual spirits had uxdergone @ * U Se ee ee eee that the emotions of his heart were lead- ing him a captive to the shrine of woman's beauty and woman’s love. Edith was a great admirer of nature, and as she gazed out over the grounds, the stone wall, and the —— yy reaching away into the tender blue sky, e said: ““When you became a recluse, Mr. Rossevan, you chose a very picturesque as well as isolated home.” “JT will admit, senorita, that it is a far more ro- mantic spot than I had at first regen I selected the place solely upon account of its | desolate loneli- ness, its security, and remaining buildings.” “ But why did you choose a ruin and its desolation when there were plenty of broad, fertile valleys in Texas inviting the settler?” i “T chose ;, senorita, because it was a ruin, knowing that the Indian and outlaw have a super- stitious dread of these places.” : “and you enjoy this life? this living here, shut out from the gay society, the pleasures and enjoy- kee tan to «Open pe . er y far, a Span rison, se- norita; and since I have come here and adapted my- self to the circumstances surrounding me, I have come to like this sort of life.” “Spanish prison!’ exclaimed Edith, “do you mean to tell me that you are a—a fugitive from justice, Mr. Rossevan?” ‘Your people would call me a political offender— nothing more. I dared to raise my voice, and would have raised my sword, against the crowned tyranny of n,and for this wasI condemned to death; but I esca’ and fled to America—to this glorious republic where I could breathe the air of freedom— where a man could speak his thoughts and yet be | safe in life and property. Many of my old retainers | and servants came with me, and many others have joined me here. Old Morality was my first Ameri- can acquaintance and friend. I found him at Gal- veston, speaking the Spanish language well. He has been with me ever since—he is an odd, strange old man. So far as our international laws are con- cerned, Spain could not have demanded me, as a — offender, of the United States, and I could ave settled in St. Louis or Washington, or any- where, but for one thing: I knew if my whereabouts should become known, my enemies, the emissaries of my native country, would hunt me down in se- cret, and if there was no way to get me back to Spain, they would assassinate me. You have no idea of the extent to which Spanish vengeance will go, even in an offense like mine. Stil! I do not re- gret what I have done. Iwould doso again were I to live my life over. Iam a libertytoving man.” “Then I am surprised that you will, after living here for years and becoming attached to this place, permit others to come and share it with you, and publish your whereabouts to the world, and your enemies,’’ Edith remarked. “My dear senorita,’ the young recluse replied, his voice full of emotion, “there is an, attraction in Colonel Israel Miles’s party that makes me very de- sirous of their location by me.” Edith blushed crimson; she knew what the young Spaniard meant—her heart told her; and yet his words seemed to give her for several moments. She glanced out over the landscape; the past came back witb a bitter remem- brance to her mind. Finally she spoke: ‘Oh, it would be too bad if your kindness to us should break up the ce and quietude of your hap »y, secluded home, Mr. Rossevan.” 7 Fate decrees the good and evil of our lives, senorita; the will of that inevitable fate decreed that your guardian, that you and bf et sister should be- come my guests—that J should love you, Edith |” “Oh, sir,’ Edith exclaimed, ‘‘I am unworthy of any man’s love,’’ and tears gathered in her eyes. “Senorita!” he exclaimed, impetuously, ‘‘ you are worthy of the love of a king; and it has been with no little hesitation that I, a poor exile here, have dared to declare my love to you, Oh, senorita! do not turn me away from you; since the day of our memorable ride over the plain I have loved you, and a the hope that my love might be recipro- cated,’ Edith's eyes were bent downward, while a mingled expression of pain and joy overspread her face. With nervous fingers she picked to pieces the orange bloom that her gallant lover had given her. A tear fell upon her lap. “T could be nothing but a friend to you, Juan,” she murmured, ‘‘even though I loved you dearly.” ‘Oh, my fair lady, do not tell me this!” he cried, impassionately. “Tt is true, Juan.” “Then you love another?” “T do not.” “Then you do not love me,” he said, a little bit- bas 4 but with an air of resignment. “T did not say so, be your wife—not now,” she responded. Rossevan took courage. ‘‘ Not now,’ he repeated, in his mind, for there was a faint spark of hope in these two words. ‘**Oh, I shall continue to live in hopes!” he finally exclaimed, rising to his feet and pacing the room with restless impatience; “‘when we have known each other longer, I feel that you will say that you can be my wife.” : “Oh, Juan!” she cried, lifting her tearful eyes to his, “‘ you know not what I mean—what stands be- tween our happiness and—”’ : “ Brother! Mrother!” an excited voice. suddenly broke in, and Anita burst in upon them in citement; Senor Morality wishes to see you once! Iam so afraid something is wrong!” reat ex- low at ‘** Excuse me, senorita,” he said to Edith, and with a bow he took his hat and left the roor. ee Meera. in, She remained silent | Juan; I meant that I could never a CHAPTER XIV. DISTRESSING NEWS. Down in the yard by the front door Dr. Rossevan found Old Morality waiting his coming. “What is wrong, Morality?’ he exclaimed. | “Senor, in scoutin’ in the woods this mo I discovered an Indian skulxin’ near the north wall of the quadrilateral. 1 followed him, watching bis movements, and saw him join two white men whom | Lrecognized by the white bands on their hats as be- ing Boniface regulators.” * Curamba !” exclaimed Rossevan fiercely, ‘* we must keep watch on these ladrunes/ Morality, lock well to the herds, the cattle-pens and stables, and see that every man is armed and upon the alert. To-morrow Colonel Miles’s party will be added to our force, and then we can defy the hosts of Boni- face and War-Ax.” The faithful old man went away to fulfill his mas- ter’s orders, accompanied by his yo friend, Lit- tle Texas; while Don Rossevan, filled with doubt and fear, began pacing restlessly to and fro beneath the shadows of some trees. His thoughts naturally drifted back to Edith Clayton. He repeated in his mind her words, and pondered long over them, While thus engaged he was joined by Colonel Miles. “Well, my dear friend, you seem thoughtful this morning,”’ the bluff old colonel said. “Tam, colonel, for they tell me enemies are lurk- ing near." *The deuce you say, senor! Well, by Jove, I’m ready to fight again, and if my friends get in to- night or to-morrow, we'll make Black Boniface and those red devils b’lieve there’s a little Thermopylx here. I tell you, senor, I’ve some men that'll fight like Spartans.”’ “*T am delighted to hear it, colonel, for with them and my men we need have no fear,” replied van. Then the two men sat down under the shadows of an orange and talked long and earnestly. The day wore away, night came and went and another day dawned upon the Ruin de Rossevan. Late that day Colonel Miles and Little Texas were walking in the grounds near the entrance to the _in- closure. The colonel was restless and uneasy. His train had not yet arrived, and it should have been there by noon. He had not even heard from it. “I’m afraid, Texas,” the old man said, “ that these infernal robbers are troubling them. Don Rossevan instructed the messenger sent to guide them here to come by way of the Sand Ridge Route, it being a nearer and better route.” ‘*] know that route, colonel, and I must say it’s a bad one, though I say so with all due respect to Don Kessevan's opinion. It runs over a hot, arid tract of sand over two miles long, and a mile wide. The sand ridge is fringed with mesquit and other bushes, and | makes a capital lurkin’ place for Injuns and regula- | tors to lay and watch. lt was only two years ago | that a Government train was attacked there by In- | dians and destroyed, and I don’t know how many tumes since traders and drovers have been attacked | and massacred, and their stock run off. You see the | red devils hide in the brush, and when a party is ex- posed out upon the open ridge they pounce upon them like tigers from their lairs; and I don't like the | Sand Ridge Route for that reason. It’s nearer here, I presume, but it may be a never-endin’ road for somebody, colonel.” ‘I wish to the Lord I'd known this sooner, Texas; but it’s too late now. They’re past it now if they ever pass it. But, my boy, how is it Black Boniface hasn't killed you afore this?’ ‘*Tempest, colonel!” laughed the boy, “for a rob- ber to kill a lasso-thrower or ranchero is killin’ the goose that lays the golden egg. Robbers and prairie pirates don’t ever molest us tellers unless they have ’ to in order to save themselves. It’s easier for a mean man to steal than to work, and when we catch wild mustangs and break them, they bounce us, or our traders, and take the horses from us; and it’s a Food deal the same way with the cattle-herders. hat’s why they don’t trouble us fellows.”’ “Yes, yes, I see now; they’re the eagles of the prairie that prey upon you fish-hawks.”’ “That's it to a jot, colonel; that very buck-skin that Captain Lucas sold you was a mustang of my got it down before Black Boniface and his whole band bounced me and took my buck-skin and—” : “The lying scoundrel!” exclaimed the colonel. “But you may risk your wealth on it, colonel,” continued the young mustanger, ‘‘ that they didn’t et the horse for nothin’. When I saw them comin’, got ready for their reception, and if I didn’t empty I <4 never ’ off a maga- snatched me rough with it, I was own catching; and I'd scarcel three saddles before they came, I ho empty another. But it was like touc zine under each one’s vest. They fairl : baldheaded, and before we got ) provoked into strikin’ Black Boniface a jolt that made the blood fairly gurgle. Oh, land of the blest! if ever you see’d a man git up axd howl it was that man Boniface! He was just going to obliterate me, that he was, but finally decided that the hand that struck him should be cut off that night; and so he | detailed Dr. Rogheford, his physician and first liev- tenant, todothé work. You see that was a lick and | a promise, but I didn’t give them the chance to fulfill their promise, for I watched the corners and finally give them theslip. ButI tell you, colonel, it’s war to uhe knife now between me and Black Boniface. | The country won't hold us both, and I'll be blest if I'm oo to vacate as long as I've a hot head and a right hand.” t ; | “That's the talk, my boy! but do be careful; young pagple are headstrong and impulsive sometimes.” “*T know it, colonel, but it tukes all these to head off a robber or lasso a mustang. For awhile I’m go- |.in’ to devote my attention exclusively to Black Bou
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re) a face and li followers. They raided upon my ranch the other night and destroyed everything in the | unconscious ip her seat. Don Rossevan caught her shape of house or corral—in fact, everything that ‘d burn. But I reckon Christie told you all about our night up there?” * Yes, yes, my boy, she did; and I must say you area very brave and fearless lad. I can never re- pay you for your kindness to my daughter.” ittle Texas laughed in a hearty, boyish strain as he said to himself: “Vl take Christie and call it square;’’ then to the colonel he said aloud: “Oh, when a feller works for kindness he don’t vans pay. I'd jist like to rescue Christie every day Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. Edith uttered a startled cry and sinking back, fell | Don Rossevan muttered something under his with — arm while with his right hand he drew his sword. “ Vuelva, sadrone robado!” he cried in his native tongue; “back, back!’ he continued, in English, Victor Ure laughed coldly, sardonically, and point- | ing to Edith’s drooping form, said: if we could always come out at the big end of the | horn. Great tempest! Christie’s got more grit and courage than forty girls, and it’d done your soul good to see how she conducted herself under the most trying circumstances and— Ah! who comes there?” | his question was caused by the sound of clatter- ing hoofs outside the quadrilateral, and a moment | later a horseman rode up to the gate, and in an ex- | cited tone demanded entrance of the man on guard. ** My God!” cried Colonel Miles, ‘it is the messen- | ger, Alvrez!”” And Alvrez was the mansent to conduct the col- | onel’s party to the ruins. The colonel advanced and met the man. The fel- low was all excitement. His face and clothes were covered with dirt and dust, and his horse was reek- ing in foam. He saluted the colonel and Little Texas. ‘* Senor colonel,” he exclaimed, ‘‘I have bad news for ys ‘What is it, man? for God’s sake, what is it?” “ The train was attacked by Indians and robbers on the Sand Ridge, and after a desperate battle—”’ “Were destroyed?” exclaimed the impatient old man. “*No, senor, not when Ileft. We drove the enemy back and then went to work and threw up a defense of sand—dug holes in the earth for the women and | children, anc formed the wagons around all, In that condition I left them under a broiling sun, with but little water in their casks. They will perish with heat and thirst, if not by bullets, unless they are soon relieved. The train is surrounded, and at the risk of my, life I dashed through the lines and came | for help.’ , ‘ “ Felp you shall have, so far as it goes,” exclaim- ed Little Texas, ‘as soon as my horse can carry me to the battlefield!” “And my master, I know, will send an armed force to raise the siege,” said the excited messen- ‘0 ae Ishall wait on no one,” replied Little Texas; * good-by, colonel!” ng, the youth hastened to the house buckled on his sword, loaded his rifle and pistol then pro- curing his horse, mounted it and went flying away at a wild, breakneck speed to the scene of conflict. Colonel Miles turned and hastened back to the building as fast as his feeble strength would permit, : CHAPTER XV. THE CLOUDS STILL GATHERING. ’ Wuinr matters on Sand Ridge Route were assum- ing the condition of a siege, and Little Texas was hastentng to the aid of the train, affairs at the Ruins “ Sir Knight of the Ruin, that woman is my wife and I demand you to leave us here alone!” “Never!” cried the young Spaniard, his eyes flashing with all the fire of his impulsive nature; **ypon my honor and this lady’s I will fall here be- fore I leave her with a villain!” “Then, by my soul, you shall fall,”’ replied Victor Ure, drawing his revolver and cocking it, but as_he | raised it, Don Rossevan sprung forward and with a | pnp eed pew of his sword picked the weapon out of his hand and sent it flying from him. An oath of rage and onge pen pee escaped the | villain’s lips; but catching the sound of approaching feet a look of devilish triumph overspread his face, | and he exclaimed: “Fight then, will you, sir knight—champion of other men’s wives?” Don Rossevan saw @ dozen armed regulators ap- proaching through the shrubbery from the direction of the eastern wall of the quadrilateral, and it flashed upon him in an instant that the enemy had scaled the wall and forced an entrance ait that point. Seeing the imminent danger that he was in, Rosse- van drew from his pocket a silver whistle and placing it r his lips gave utterance to a quick, sharp, piercing eall. Almost instantly it was answered, and then from the direction of the house came Old Morality and a | | score of peons and retainers. They had been in / | front of the building drilling in the manual of arms when the call of alarm was given, which accounted for the promptness of their answer. Seeing their danger, Black Boniface and his men | inelted away among the shrubbery as if by magic while Don Rossevan, lifting the inanimate form o Edith in his arms, carried her to the house; and leaving her in the care of Anita and Christie he | hastened back to the grove, where a sharp Sring | was going on. His men and the robbers, concealing themselves among the shrubbery, were engaged in a kind of guerrilla fight; nor was the combat a blood- less one, for already two or three of the defenders were down, while groans of agony and curses of pain could be heard among the robbers. Things went on in this way for some minutes with- out an na around to Don Rossevan’s side and said: ‘Senor, the sooner we end this the better. Boni- face has more men, surely, somewhere abouts, and no tellin’ what moment they ‘ll pounce upon us. We hold the winnin’ cards now, so fur as numbers | g0, so my advice is to lead out and rout the moog et / n “Sound a charge, Morality, and do as you th best,” was the Don's reply. and then he gave a sharp, cutting scream upon bis Then forth from the bushes plunged the old man shouting to his comrades, and a moment more the retainers and peons of Rossevan were 8 in a hand-to-hand struggle with the robbers. The battle de Rossevan were also overshadowed by a menacing | was fierce, but soon ended, for the force of the loud of danger. While Colonel Miles and the Boy Mustanger were taking their stroll near the entrance to the ground, | Don yan and Edith Clayton were seated upon arustic bench under a cluster of trees a few rods from the entrance of the building. Rossevan had been ep | to his fair vege g ta a charming Pp story of old Spain in the days of her — glory; but finall g wearied with this, he closed the book. turning to Edith, he said: “Those were the haleyon days of my native land senorita, the days of mailed warriors and helmeted hts—days forever gone.” *You should have lived in those ve pg for gic, ato age days of chivalry,” repli ith. « , senorita, for the compliment, but I must say that Iam very glad I live in this a e—glad, be- cause it is the age in which you live, Edith.’ “You may —-? that you have ever known me, Juan ” she replied. o,no; @ Spanish nobleman never forgets that which given him pleasure and honor. atever may be the result of our meeting and our parting, I shall always look back to these days as the brightest and sunniest spot in life’s journey.” “IT must confess, senor, that our meeting has af- forded me both pain and pleasure,” said Edith, earnestly, thoughtfully. “Why has it afforded you pain, Edith?” “Senor, I cannot tell you.’ “T see, Edith, there is some mystery overshadow- | ing your young life; and yet I feel in hopes it is no- | thing sefious—nothing but a mere matter of short uaintance or national blood that causes you to hesitate, and no doubt prudently, in plighting your | hand to me, —— your eres for me were sufficiently strong to admit of such.” . “ Juan,” she said, with a pleading, imploring look, “T cannot be your wife, nor is it because I do not jove, for I do.” ; “Bless you, senorita, for those last words; but may I ask you why you cannot be my wife?” ‘“Because—” she began, but the rest of the sen- Sece was taken from her lips by a stern voice that “ Because, she is my wife!” F And a man stepped from kegs hee | of bushes and confronted them. The look of a demon was upon his face and in his eyes. man was Victor tre, and Victor Ure was Black Bonifaee / our a - Spanish recluse was treble that of the robber. Black Boniface was seen no more within the in- h Old Morality and Rossevan kept for him. His men escaped from the grove into the woods by way of the southern gate which was found open, and the guard lying ead near it. The sudden disappearance of Boni- face, and the actions of his men in their retreat, caused no little s ation in the mind of Don Ross- evan, and when the gate was reached, he was joined by Colonel Miles, who hurried from an opposite closure, altho on the look-ou he two yee on just outside of the gate while Old Morality an men continued the “The hellyons come at last, did claimed the colonel. “Yes, senor, and they have been well punished,” was the reply. “Furiation! I broke my neck, almost, trying to get here in time to have a hand in it; but_the worst of itis, senor, my train is surr< vunded nd Ingins and robbers on that ‘cursed Sand Ridge, and—”’ “ Heaven forbid it!’ cried Rossevan. “Oh, but it’s so, and Little Texas has gone there a-flying. Your man, Alvrez, brought the word.” tide ey must go with men and assist your ends.” vie Great mercy, Rossevan, what is the meaning of at?” The colonel pointed in the direction of the stables and cattle-pens, which were concealed behind the grove, but from the immediate vicinity of which black smoke was rolling into the heavens. “Great Dros /’’ exclaimed Rossevan, his face as- suming a look of despair, ‘ have the robbers drawn tion here while they robbed the casa and fired the stables?”’ “God forbid!” cried the colonel, and together the two men started toward the house. They soon reached the door and there, to their awful horror, they found a female servant lying | dead with her head cloven; while from the shrubbery | hard by another one came crawling out, a picture of | ab. ject terror. / “Oh, my master!” she exclaimed, wringing her hands and moaning, ‘the ladrones have killed poor re: | and carried off my poor young mistress and e ear young ladies!’’ A groan of bitter anguish escaped the lips of Colonel Miles, and he fairly staggered under the terrible blew. : ursuit. ey, Juan?” ex- | “do not press upon me or I will run you through!” } } | decided result, when finally Old Morality | whistle. | | | —— of the grove to take a hand in the conflict. breath. His dark eyes blazed with a deadly fire, and his face became contorted and knott by the | twitchings upon it caused by the convulsions of a vengeful heart. His very form seemed to expand with the emotions of his breast. His voice became low and deep, like the sullen voice of the lion pacing his cage. He advanced to the door of the building and looked in. A glance told him that the hand of the despoiler had been there. He turned around, looked up at the sun, and then out at the western horizon; but the smoke rising from the burning stables and sheds settled around and above him, shutting out the sky and the distance. He blew a call upon his whistle, and in a few minutes Old Morality and a number of men answered it in person, “They have beaten us at last, senor,’ said Old Morality, half-choked with his emotions, as Le came | and saw the dead woman lying on the earth, and other evidence of the despoiler’s work. “Yes, Morality, they have trapped us at last,” re- lied Don Rossevan, “and we must retrieve our onor; we must rescue our friends, and deal © just punishment to the invaders of our home. Go, senor, | and find who they are, and whither they have goue, | and we will follow them to—” “To the ends of the earth, which is eternity |” ex- claimed Colonel Miles. The old ranger and scout moved away in search of the enemy’s trail; and while he was gone, the friends and servants of Rossevan brought in their wounded comrades and buried the dead. The horses and cattle exposed to the raging fire were also taken care of and conveyed to other pens and corrals. Don Rossevan went through the building and found that the robbers had not plundered the house generally, but had hurried away with the women and such light valuables as came in their way. This was evidence that the robbers had not come for | plunder, of which the Ruins of Rossevan were rich, ut for the three beautiful and innocent women. The wounds of the wounded were dressed, and a | party of six men detailed to remain and attend them | and look after the stock; while the rest of the little band were organized, armed and equipped for the pursuit of the foe. Pending these arrangements, Old Morality re- turned, ‘* Well?” said Don Rossevan to the old scout. “T had no trouble in finding their trail, senor, and I came in sight of them about two or three miles from here. They are pushing Nor’-west, no doubt for the Double Mountains, or the retreats and fast- nesses of the mountains of New Mexico. They havs your calesa, and to it is driven your four wlute orses.”’ “ Ah, indeed!’’ exclaimed Rossevan; ‘it occurs to my mind, now, that Anita had just ordered the ca- lesa out when I carried Edith to the house in a swoon. She and Christie were all ready for a drive; but what else, Morality?” “jZ did not see the girls,” the scout continued, ‘*but they, of course, were in the calesa. The doors were closed and the curtains drawn. A Mexican drove the outfit, and the way he handled the lines convinced me he was an old hand at the business. But the worst of it is, the robbers are not alone, Not less than twenty Apache Indians are with them, and, altogether, they number forty or fifty.” Me Great heavens! then there is no hope,” e¢xclaim- ed Colonel Miles. “Yes there is, colonel,” said Morality; “‘ there mvel be Aad “On, what hope is there for me,” cried the co!- onel, in bitter anguish of heart, ‘‘ with my childrer in the hands of those inhuman fiends, and my friends all surrounded on the open plain by murderous sav- ages and regulators?” “Cheer up, senor colonel,” said Den Rossevan; ‘I have little here, save the memory of the past to care for, myself; and a determined and desperate effort must made to rescue our fréends, I shall take every man that I can spare from those unfortunate men lying wounded and put them upon the trail. But, senor, a word with he aside, if you please.”’ “With pleasure,” replied the old man, following him to one side. “Colonel,” Rossevan said, with some little embar- rassment, “I want to ask you one question regard- ing your adopted daughter, Edith; is she a married woman?” Colonel Miles started, and gazing into the face of his interlocutor with an expression of surprise and pain, asked: “Senor, why do you ask that question?” “T was told she was,’ ** Alas! senor, it is too true, too true! She was a wife and a widow within the same hour, and that, too, when she was a child, senor, a child scarcely sixteen. The only woman I ever loved, senor, was the mother of Edith Clayton; but her husband— Edith’s father—was a bad, soulless wretch. Money was his great desire, his love. was no sacti- fice he would not make for money, and it was with the belief of obtaining money that he forced Edith into a secret marriage with a man whom he believed immensely rich. But the villain deserted her the hour that the ceremony was performed, and sent a letter back to her father stating that he had only married Edith for revenge upon him for a fancied wrong alleged to have been committed in a certain transaction between them. He wrote Mr. Clayton to take care of his young child wife, that he would come some day and take her away. The blow killed her mother, and her father died with remorse. Then 1 adopted Edith, pure, sweet girl that she was, with all the grace, the love and gentleness of her sainted mother. Of course Edith never loved her husband. Child that she was, she knew not what marriage |
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~ rs 7 ! ec i 4 ; > : = e : ye e : 1 ' Tittle Texas, the Young Mu ‘ re vrs; she only acted In obedience to her father’s “that that little diversion at Sand Prairie will help vish; but it hasfottercd her liberty and happiness, for ever and anon sie les received a letter from the villain reminding her of her marriage vows, ap threatening to return to her. But she hates the very thought of him, Al! it was a God-send that sent him away the hour of their marriage, and a God- send that keeps him away.” ** Where was he when she last heard from him?” wsked Rossevan. *“ At New Orleans, I believe; he was talking of go- jng to Cuba. I don’t think she wiil ever be cursed with his presence again.”’ “Ah! senor, you are mistaken; she is with her husband this minute.’ “What? My Edith with that heartless villain? Rossevan, you trifle with my heart!” “Nay, nay, senor, I speak the truth; Edith is with ker husband, aud that husband is Black Boniface.” ‘How do you know this, Rossevan?” Don Nossevan narrated all that had transpired in : 10 orange grove between him and Edith and Black oniface, * Oh, God!” exclaimed the old man, clutching his brow, while Lis powerful frame shook with the in- tensity cf his emotions, ‘this is more than I can stand, I.-csevan, it will kill me!” “Courage, senor, courage,’ replied the Spanish recluse, ‘ail may yet be well.” = this juncture Old Morality approached and said: “ Senor Rossevan, we are now ready to march.” CHAPTER XVI. A STRANGE KNIGHT. Ir was night under the soft southern sky and a full moon and a galaxy of bright stars tiooded woodland and plain with a mellow radiance. Not a breath of air was stirring, and scarcely a sound emanated from the pulseless bosom of the xreat green prairie stretching away northward of the South Concho river; but upon the summit of a bold eminence, crowned by mesquit and oak, the faint glow of a camp-fire could be seen for miles, and now and then the flash of a lance-point, in the hands of a sentinel pacing to and fro outside of the chaparral in the moonlight, caught the eye of a watcher in the valley below. In the chaparral, or motte if you please, were en- camped Black Boniface and the Apache chief, War- Ax, and their followers; or most of them, at least. Three days had elapsed since the attack upon the tuins of Rossevan and the capture of Anita and the daughters of Colonel Miles. Rapidly had the outlaws been pushing northward with their fair captives and their mye hoping to seach a place of safety ere the friends of the maidens eould overtake them; and three days’ journeying had been made without hearing or seeing anything whatever of pursuers. When they went into camp upon the night in question they were over one hundred and twenty miles from the Ruins. Th had made forced marches, and but for the trouble they had met in crossing streams with the calesa, or carriage, in which it was found more expedient and comfortable, in one sense of the word, to carry the women, they would have been well on toward the great table-land of Northwestern Texas. Darkness had long since settled over the camp of the regulators. Su »per had been dispatched, and Anita, Christie and Edith had retired to their tent between which and the carriage ag A were permitted a choice of lodgings. Contrary to their expectations they had been treated very —- Everything had been done to make them comfortable. When in their carriage they were seldom troubled by the presence of Black Boniface, and when in their tent a were provided with ample food, water and such requirements as the march would afford. They were also permitted to wander at pleasure any- where within the closely-guarded lines of the en- campment. Anita and Christie had become somewhat indif- ferent to their situation and less defiant and resent- ful to their captors; but Edith was cast down and sad at heart and would have died with sheer despair but for the presence of her two companions. The latter, perhaps, did not fully comprehend the mag- nitude of their danger, although there was a terror in the presence of the rded outlaws, the painted and pec savages, and low-browed, evil-disposed Mexican half-breeds. As their captors had treated them kindly, the journey, to these two maidens, began to partake somewhat of a romantic adventure. At any rate they possessed a faculty of appearing bappy: epee: pea rere a’ not, and whether é@ march they talked and sung in sweetest strains. And when they sung ‘all po Bes cn oo for there was that in their sweet youn voices that stirred their capturs’ hearts and’ fill their breasts with tender admiration; and men who had never known respect for a fellow-man swore in their beards if at all, and otherwise yielded respect to the serene and lovely presence of woman. At the time we introduce the reader to the outlaw camp, Black Boniface, Dr. Jules Rocheford and War-Ax were seated at one side, smoking and con- yersing in low tones, , * Another day’s journey,"’ Boniface said, in reply to a question, ‘ will, in iny opiuion, place us beyond reach of any disposed to follow us. we are attack- ed at all, it will be to-night or early to-morrow morn- ing; but I feel assured that our scouts patrolling the valley will see that we are not taken by surprise. Moreover, every man must eat, sleep and walk with his arms at hand ready for a fight, for, I tell you het, Saas old Miles will fight like a demon for his ids. “{ think, monsiéur, said Rocheford, blandly, ee ee | us out.” “Yes, if the boys and Indians can only hold Miles’s train there, if they cannot capture it alto- gether, it will keep thcir forces divided. Of course, | there's nothing to fear of the strength that Don Ros- | sevan can put in pursuit of us, if it iz, as I have | heard, that he cannot muster over a score of men; and some of these we struck off the list in the fight | near the ruins the other day.” ‘*But we must not forget that Old Morality will, in | all humav probability, lead them,” said Rocheford, | “and with fie cunning of that man and the audacity of Little Texas, they might give us a peck of trouble.” ‘We give them lead and lance-point,” said War- | Ax. “Yes, or carve them with broad-sword and battle- ax,” replied Boniface; “ but then I really don’t a rehend the least bit of trouble, and I’ve not been in | exas these three years not to know about how the land lays in such matters.” ‘Captain,’ said aman running up to where the | three men sat, “‘ Red Joe wants to see you on the south side of the chaparral at once.” “Well, Red Joe’s beenon the scout to-night. I | poet what he wants,” said Boniface, rising to his | eet. 4 | don’t know; but he seems in a great hurry, ex- ) cited.” Red Joe was a Mexican half-breed, a sly, cautious | fellow, and Boniface’s most trusted scout, whom the robber had sent out in company with two Apache | warriors to patrol the valley south of them. He sat | in his saddle when Boniface came out of the grove | and asked: “What's the matter, Joe?’ * Somethin’ wrong in the valley, captain. A horse- man’s been seen there—a dark horse and strange- looking rider.” ‘Furies! it must be some of the enemy’s advance scouts!” replied the captain; “‘couldn’t you ride him down?” “We might possibly, but then we thought it best | to report before attemptin’ it. Ye know there might be others nigh ready for us. That strange horse- man might be a bait to a spring-trap for a few of ‘“You'’re right there, Joe,’ responded Boniface; “Tl give you credit for a and cool-headed- ness; but it would be well to find out, if you can, who that horseman is,” *T am satisfied, captain, it’s some one reconnoi- terin’ our position, and I'd suggest the utmost silence—that not a gun or pistol be fired at the horse- man even if a good shot be offered. If we give chase, my trusty saber’ll answer all purposes in close quarters, while the lances and knives of the Apaches will do their work silently.” *“All right, Joe; use your own judgment in the Srowises bring the unknown in alive if possible— ead, if Stag must,’’ replied Boniface. Red Joe turned his horse and rode southward the guards, and galloped down the hill and oined his Apache comrades in the valley. The moon was shining brightly, though here and there the shadows of a bush or a huge cactus dotted the grassy plain, and it was by the flash of their lance-points in the moon-rays that Red Joe was en- abled to distinguish his motionless Apache friends | from the bushes, and riding up to them he said: ‘* Have you seen that horseman, Tall Pole?” “Yes, see him there—then there—then there—all uick as one time,’’ was Tall Pole’s way of illustra- ting the ubiquity of the unknown horseman. “Well, we've orders to look out for him,”’ said the Mexican scout, ‘and run him down if possible, and take him dead or alive.” “Ugh, good!” ejaculated Tall Pole. The three made their way slowly and cautiously up the valley, Red Joe with drawn saber and the Apaches with their spears ready to throw. They moved on as if expec ing the strange horseman to emerge from every shadow or rise up out of the earth. They scrutinized each bush, and searched the tall grass with ferret eyes.. They rode up the valley upon one side, then back upon the other. Then they searched the tall grass and the shadows right and left. It seemed as though they had ridden over every rod of ground where it was possible for | an enemy to be concealed, but despite their close | per se a3 looked-for horseman suddenly rose upon their right. Pe savage who saw him first uttered a cry of | arm. ** Ride, men, ride!” exclaimed Red Joe, and put- ting spur he dashed away in pursuit of the unknown, | the Indians following up. Not a word was uttered as they thundered gay The unknown horse fled as if upon winged feet. It headed south across the valley, circled the point of agg and then began to ascend the sloping hill- side. ym the first to start in the chase, it soon be- came evident that the Apaches would pass Red Joe, for their animals were fleet; but fleeter still was the horse of the strange unknown. The Mexican seeing he was | ap es whip and spur more vigorously, but it. was all to no pu ; the Apaches m, and soon a hundre \ yoni separated em; but the Indians gained but a trifle if any upon the foe, and they had begun to despair of ever over- taking him, when suddenly and unexpectedly, the own came to a halt, and facing about, pre to meet them in combat. A sword gleamed in his ds, and his whole body seemed to emit a shim- mering, ine light. The Apaches ug their heels into their ponies’ sides, and poising theif lances hurled themselves upon’ the stranger ‘The ons in the lead aimed his | m4 ie : Srangs . i s LP Lah bg ES Re A Sa ee ee tS ev! | to the > 4 . 15 Eee eae Serna a i lance at the breast of the foe; but to his surprise the sharp steel glanced from his body with a ring as if from a metallio breast-plate, and as he sped on apas> the unknown, the latter struck him witn the sworu he held aloft, and the Apache rolled to the earth nearly beheaded. About this time the other war- rior came up and hurled his lance with all his power | against the foe, but.to his surprise the keen poin: failed to pierce the unknown’s breast. It glanced harmlessly off, though the blow well-nigh unseated the stranger. After throwing the CUE the Apache sped on but seeing that he had failed in impaling the foe, he wheeled his horse and again charged upon him. Again they came together, but the lance of the Apache was shattered on the iron breast of the stranger, and the Indian, himself, fell under the sword of the terrible horseman. Red Joe, by this time, bad come up, and seeing the fate of his companions saw that he had an enemy worthy of his own steel, and drawing rein he turned ht and began circling and maneuvering around the unknown. He had a fair view of him and saw that his head was covered with a queer- looking cap, that his face was masked, and that his body glowed and sparkled in the mocn’s rays like rippling water. But all this filled the Mexican with. | little concern, and with an oath he finally turned to- ward the enemy and charged upon him. came up the masked stranger braced himself in his saddle, and for several moments the clash of sword and saber rung upon the vibrant air. Red Joe was a skilled swordsman in his way, and this he soon discovered his antagonist was not. By a dextrous pass of his saber he essayed to yeach his. enemy's heart, but the point of the weapon glanced off; and it was then that he discovered the stranger wore a coat of mail—was in full armor even to hel- met and visor. Who was he? from whence came this armored knight of the great Texas plain? These were the questions the Mexican scout asked himself, but he had to consider them in tke heat of battle, for the strange knight was now pressing him sorely. Right skillfully did the robber-scout parry the blows aimed at his head and heart, for since his failure to find the unknown’s heart he had been placed upon the defensive. Suddenly he struck the point of his en- emy’s sword downward, inflicting a wound in his horse’s neck which caused the animal to leap for ward and carry his ridér beyond reach of the armior- ed foe; but quick as a flash, almost, the latter wheeled his horse and followed him up and struck the saber from the Mexican’s hand, rendering him defenseless save in the speed of his horse; and this he put to good use—fleeing in the direction of Boni- face’s camp. ; The mysterious victor did rot follow up his vic- ry, but with a low, triumphant laugh he drew rein, ised his visor and gazed around . His breath came quick and hard. His face was flushed. His eyes finally became settled ag the dim light on the crest of the hill north of him. A deep, tremulous sigh escaped his lips and his form shook with emo- tion. ‘They are there,’ he mused. ‘God, if I only dare!” The thought uppermost in his mind seemed al- most irresistible, and, as if in fear of its getting the better of his judgment, he pulled his horse Meeps | around and turning his back upon the camp of B Boniface rode away. As he ae ae down the plain in his glittering armor the mind of a casual observer would, no doubt, have been carried back to the his- toric days of chivalry—when the helmeted Sy on went forth to do battle for his country or fight for the Holy Cross on the plains of Palestine. The mailed horseman rode on until the level plain broke into a succession of wooded hills and bluifs overlooking the valley through which flowed a small stream paying tribute to the South Concho, then he drew rein and listened. Hearing nothing he turned down a narrew defile and entering the shadows of the dense woods rode on until a voice commanded: “Halt! who comes there?” ‘A friend and scout,” replied the horseman. ‘“* Advance and give the Nandpone pie, pt The armored knight advanced and gave the coun- tersign and then rode on a few rods further whén he came suddenly upon a score of armed men seated and reclining around the embers of a waning camp- fire. They were a band of Texan Rangers under one Captain Lore Reynolds. e mailed scout dismounted and hitching his horse entered the crowd where he was hailed with no little surprise and eager joy. “Well, my good knight,” said Captain Reynolds, “ did you find the camp of Don Rossevan? iF “No, but I struck a thing almost as good,”’ replied the aor mere . } in bal “Yes, I found the camp of Black Boniface, and three of his scouts found me, when 1 proceeded to engage them in a tilt with sword and lance. To this armor I owe my life, but I'll swear I like to got the life jolted out of me atime or two, but Icame out first best—in other words, I licked the robbers.” The rangers clapped their hands and shouted with delight. Thon the mailed knight removed his helmet and visor, and the red, flushed face of our hero, Little. Texas, the Boy Mustanger, was revealed. CHAPTER XVIL . IN THE FOOT-HILLS. Tugs reader will remember that we left Little Texas in a previous chapter on his way to the as- sistance of Colonel Miles’s train that was surround- ed by robbers and Indians on the Sand Ridge Prni- rie. In due course of time the gaHant youth reached
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16 his destination to find that Captain Lore Reynolds and his rangers had preceded him there more than an hour, and had already driven the Indians awa and relfeved the train. So there was nothing left for him to do but return to the ruins, and this he did at the head of the train and the Texan Rangers, ar- riving [there during the night to find the place al- most deserted, and to learn the terrible and distress- ing news of Boniface’s attack upon the Ruins and = _— of the three women, Anita, Christie and cdith. The youth was bowed down with grief, but he soon rallied. There was work for him to do, and as the Texan Rangers were in pursuit of Black Boni- face he accompanied them when they continued their march northward from the Ruins. The Ruins de Rossevan had been left in care of old Senor Alphonso Gomez, an aged retainer of the house of Rossevan, and the devoted and inseparable friend of Don Juan, whom he had followed across the sea to his secluded home. He had been the companion of Juan’s father, and had fought with him when a mere youth in the wars of Spain. He had been a great military man, and possessed a wonderful love for the brave and beautiful. Asa natural consequence he had taking a great se to our hero, Little Texas, and when the Young Mus- tanger came marching into the place at the head of the emigrants and rangers, his joy knew no bounds. In his great admiration for the boy, he was inclined to give him more credit and honor than he merited or claimed; and before his departure with the ran- he took the youth into his private room and un- ocking a heavy chest that bore the marks of time, he took therefrom a beautiful knightly armor and said: ‘*My boy, you are a brave and noble lad, worthy of the emulations of the pen of the inspired histo- rian, and it is my desire to bestow upon you a pre- cious gift—this armor, whibh was worn centuries ago by the young Prince of Gonzomas. It is just your gize. I wore it when I was a boy, and fought with it on by the side of Juan’s father. It has been handed down from generation to generation, an heir- loom in the illustrious family of Gomez, I being the last of the family, the last to receive it, It must soon fall to strangers—a new heritage, andI can think of no one that I would rather bestow it upon than upon ag Little Texas; for you, I know, will not disgrace it. oreover, my boy, it has been a charm to him who possessed it and wore it upon the tented field. Put it on, my son, and may the blessings and mercy of a kind Providence rosper and protect you.”’ Little Texas’s boyish curiosity and admiration were excited by the sight of the glittering armor, and he could not resist the temptation to put it on. It fitted him neatly, and though it was rather hea and cumberspme, the youth’s heart swelled wit pride, and he accepted the gift with many kind thanks. He was too much of a boy not to wear it, and so he rode forth clad in the armor worn by Spanish knights of old. He soon became accustom- to it, and at noons and nights, when halting for dinner or for the night eo go pie! Spon took great delight in drilling him in the sworc exercise, for he was an apt scholar. What little he had learned we have seen A to good use with the two Apaches and Red Joe, all three of whom he had vanquished, and then rode back to the rangers’ camp among the hills. The lad had gone out in hopes of finding Don Ros- sevan’s party, for, although they had not followed the trail of those pursuers, but had “ cut across lots,” they felt certain they would overtake their friends near the point where they had encamped; but when the Boy Mustanger reported the proximity of Black Boniface’s camp, the whereabouts of Rossevan and Miles became a question of no little importance. “Surely,”’ said Captain Reynolds, “‘they have not been driven back by Boniface’s minions; and yet it is singular that they should be behind us since they had a day’s start of us.” “I’m of the opinion, captain,” replied our hero, “ that they’re off on our right if they haven’t been driven back. To-morrow will be very likely to reveal the situation of all parties concerned; though I'll be blest if I wouldn’t like to bounce Boniface’s camp bas ye “Did you ascertain his strength?” asked Reynolds. “T couldn’t, captain; they had a double line of pickets, and scouts outside of these so thick that I couldn't git pear the eamp.” “Then we had better not pest g 23 to do payching to-night, for, if we do strike and fail, all will up. We must make sure, before we leap, where we are to land. Da t will enable us to find out their and then if it is deemed expedient we will make the attack, whether we meet Rossevan's party or ni Thus the matter was settled, and in a few min- utes the en were stretched along the earth with their dles for pillows and a blanket over sound asleep. Their horses were tied to sa hard by. They slept on their arms. Guards, wi peecured eye and ear, paced their lonely beat. thus the night wore away, and as the red dawn began to blaze up against the sky the rangers arose froma refreshing slumber. They were su plied with rations from which t made their matutinal meal. Then their horses, which had been icketed to grass an hour before, were brought in, Pridled and saddled, and at a signal every man leap- ed into his saddle. The Boy Mustanger donned his armor and took | SS his place at the head of the column with Captaiii | es Py when the order to march was given. the little party filed up the narrow, wooded valley and debouched into the open prairie, the re- | port of a rifle came rolling down the morning with startling intonations. lt was immediately follewed in rapid succession by a dozen other reperts that were mingled with fierce, savage yells. | ! | “By Jove!” exclaimed the captain, “there's a fight going on!” ** Captain,” replied Little Texas, with a sudden start, “that firing is just off to our right, and T’ll venture the assertion that our friends under Don Rossevan have been attacked there by Boniface’s hounds!” “TI heartily agree with you there, boy,”’ said the captain, then turning his head, he exclaimed: ‘ Right wheel, and forward at the double-quick!” Tt went the rangers at a iti ee, | gallop. Little Texas still kept his place in the lead, and as the sound of battle came nearer, the lad seemed at- tracted by some dreadful fascination, and he spurred on as if eager for the conflict. They soon arrived in the vicinity of the battle, though they could see no enemies; but from the cover of the wooded blutts that swept around from the South, they could see the smoke of battle rising on the still air. By it were the rangers enabled to tell the location of the two lines, but which was enemies and which friends they could not deter- mine, and so the Boy Mustanger was sent forward to reconnoiter. When the lad returned the sun was just_rising. He brought the information that a party of Indians and regulators were posted on a densely wooded ridge, and were oberg | a vigorous attack upon “gg one, he could not tell whom, in the valley be- ow. “At any rate,”’ the boy concluded, “it will be safe for us to attack the Indians, and that at once. We may relieve our friends by it, and, if not, we’ll re- lieve somebody else’s friends.”’ Without further delay the rangers entered the woods, and then, at a —— charged down upon the foe with a battle-cry that had struck terror into the heart of many an Indianand robber. The enemy, taken by surprise, fied at their approach, and mount- ing their ponies, hitched just over the brow of the hill, escaped into the prairie, The rangers would have given pursuit, but at this uncture their attention was attracted by a deafen- ing cheer coming up from the valley on the right, and then a score or more of gees ge oy up the hill toward them. At their head e Old Morality, Don Rossevan and Colonel Miles. ‘*Tt’s them! it’s them!” shouted Little Texas, and waving his sword above his head he uttered a shout that was repeated by the rangers and the morning | | echoes. Colonel Miles was delighted to meet our hero, and his joy knew no bounds when he learned from Texas's lips that his train had been rescued by Cap- tain Reynolds, and was then safe at the Ruins of Rossevan. But a few moments’ delay were made when the pg oe: and settlers, with a force now equal to that of Black Boniface, pressed forward upon the trail of the enemy, They soon reached the grove wherein Little Texas had found the foe in camp the night be- fore. Far over the level pain they could just see the dim outlines of the fleeing foe—miles away. ‘“Porward, men, forward!” commanded Captain Reynolds, and then the pursuers galloped on ata lively speed across the prairie. Little Texas, still clad in his a. armor, rode with Rossevan, Miles and Morality. Tolim the old soldiers and the Svanish Prince looked for guidance in the pursuit, He knew the country better than any of them, and in reply to a question in relation toghe prospect of overhauling the foe, he said: It’s doubtful whether we overtake them before they reach the foot-hills of the Double Mountains, and yet we had ought to catch them if possible, for | if they do get into the mountains we may have | trouble.” / “Our strength must be equal to theirs, Texas,” said Rossevan. “Yes, but mind you, we’re going away from our friends while they're goin’ into their own stronghold | and where their strength will increase right along, / say nothin’ about the advantage of actin’ on the de- | fensive.”’ | “Tf they beat us into the hills, we'll have to rely on stratagem,” said Captain Reynolds, “to overcome | them; when T find I can’t win’ one way, I have re- | course to another, and I have never known what it is to fail; neither has the Boy Mustanger.” “Of course there can be no doubt but that the eneniy has been apprised of our being in hot pursuit, and they will be atthe more vigilant and exert every effort to elude us,’’ said Don Rossevan. “Yes, but gol-dash ther eyes of ‘em, we'll foller them into the polar sea, or & warmer region, but what we git them gals,” said Old Morality; “ we must git them.” ** We will rescue them, Morality," said Little Texas, “cost what it will.” The pursuers passed on, their eyes constantly up- on the moving column before them, and asthe hours wore away and weary miles were traversed they seemed to gain but little upon the foe. In view of this fact, they did not halt for noon, and as the sun sunk slowly westward the dark woods skirting the foot-hills of the Double Mountains came in sight, causing the hearts of Colonel Miles and Don Rosse- van to sink within their breasts. It seemed utterly impossible for them to overtake the enemy before the mountain was reached. |° Reynolds and Little Texas cheered them up with the assurance that they were gaining upon the reru- lators faster than it seemed. And such was rv ail the case, for when the sun was still two hours | iz they were not over two miles behind Boniface, while the mountain was still miles away; but the fact that they could not overtake the foe before he reached the foot-hills could no longer be concealed from the sorrowing friends of the captives. After some discussion as to their future plans, it © ‘Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. —— was arranged that little Texas and Old Morality en- deavor to reach the timber, by a circuitous route, in advance of the foe. This seemed possible since both were mounted upon swift horses, and in case they were successful, they could ascertain the exact strength of the foe, and perhaps get an idea of the course they would pursue through the hills, With the best wishes of all, the old man and the boy set @ff on their journey. The latter, in order to lighten the load of his horse, had left his armor in care of a young Mexican. He felt that he would have no particular need of it for a while, The two kept in the valleys out of sight of the reg- ulators, and as the way was smooth and anidbatruct ed, they put their horses to their utmost speed, and a little before sunset they reached the little creek at the southern extremity of the woods. Crossing the stream they gained the cover of the forest a few minutes before the cavalcade of Black Bonifact came in sight, not over a quarter of a mile away. “*Gol-dashed if we wer’n’t in the holy nick of time!’ exclaimed the old ranger, gleefully; “but then = allers have a way of bein’ jist in time to a dot—like the farmer or gard’ner in the Sunday-school book that’s always nigh to rescue the good httle boy from the brook. Oh, Ill never forget that bull-fight, and the way you inserted yourself in between me and that frolicsome old bull, and saved my life. I do hope you can sandwich yerself in between ole Bonny and them gals jist as nice.” “Til do my best, Morality; I want to rescue them gals just to hear Colonel Miles go on.” “The colonel does love his gals, don’t he?—both of. ‘em, while I think you only love the one, Ha! ha! ” ‘** Fiddlesticks, Morality. I love them all.” F “Yes yes I understand you, my lark; but then I don’t blame you for likin’ and lovin’ that daisy of a little Christie, for there’s more sunshine and sweet- ness in her soul than forty angels. If I just had the time, gol-blest if I wouldn’t primp myself up and cut you out of that gal; but say, what’s become of our robber-folks, Tex?” “They've reached the creek a quarter of a mile be- low,” said the boy, whose eyes had never for a mo- ment lost sight of the enemy, ‘‘and are crossin’ this blessed minute. We'd better gh, © down that w: and see where they go. I’m of the opinion they'll ve the calesa up soon, owing to the difficulty of we sage Fa through the wooded hills with it.’ this time it was sunset on the prairie and twi- light in the woods, and our two friends were enabled to get within forty yards of the enemy unobeerved. The last of the train had just crossed the creek and the carriege and some thirty men moved on, while a party of about twenty more remained at the creek— ostensibly for the purpose of disputing the passage of the pursuers. “That'll never do,’’ observed Old Morality; ‘you can see what the hounds are up to, and I'l) beat that little game, I will, by heavens! I'll circle back and meet the boys as they come in and dropa bug in their ears.”’ * And I'll follow the carriage and escort,” said the Boy Mustanger; “they'll rot go much further to- night unless they give up the carriage, and if they do stop and poe can get our folks in between them arbuaked villains and camp perils we will sur- srise old Bonny to-night. 1ll tell you, Morality, you hustle around and bring the boys to where we left our horses—end wait there till I come. I'll be there by midnight, if I come at all, and nothing but death it keep me away.” “ All right, boy, do be keerful,” cautioned Old Morality, and the two parted—Morality going back to where he had left his horse, while Little Texas, on foot, tock the trail of the calesa. As the shadows were deepening in the dense tim- ber Poniface was compelled to move slowly, and so the Young Mustanger soon came in sight of the rob- ber. The way lay across a level bottom, but this sud- denly broke into a chain of stee hills and narrow velleys. The hills were bald and barren, the valleys rough and aor gf wooded. Into one of these de- files Boniface led his cavalcade; and Little Texaga hurrying forward, passed up along the hillside and, by a wide detour, descended into the valley in ad vance of the enemy. By this time darkness con- cealcd all from view, but Texas could hear the sound of the horses’ feet and the rattle of the wheels of the calesa approaching. Satisfied that the regulators must soon stop for the night, the boy climbed into a tree and creeping along a large limb concealed himself among the dense foliage. Here he awaited the ap roach of Eoniface, and he had scarcely become settled in bis position when he felt the limb, upon which he was seated, swaying, and heard a slight, scratchin sound thnlling along its length. e started an gazed along the bough a through th: Egyptian gloom of the place he beheld a pair of dull, £ owing orbs. A shiver passed over the youth’s form for well he knew those balls of fire were the eyes of a panther. The animal had crept toward bim and now lay crouched upon the limb ready to spring upon him at the slightest movement. He could hear the tail of the beast lashing the limb. He fixed his eyes upon those burning orbs. The sound of Black Boniface’s voice giving ccmmand, and the curses of the driver of the calesa could be heaid near. The outlaws would pass directly w.der him and their approach would no doubt precipitate the panther upon him. His situation was, indeed, pre-\ carious; but he prepared himself for the worst. A dozen Apache warriors, the edvance guard, soon passed under him, their plumed heads brushing the foliage at his feet. Then came Black Bon‘fece and several of his men, and close behind them the neisy calesa Stfil Little Texas kept his eyes upon
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those of the \ vehicle came dragging along under the low-hang- ivg foliage, he saw those burning crbs move, then spring toward him, accompanied by a fearful scream, mther, and as tho higa tep cf the Witb drawn knife the boy met the panther, and | drove the blade into his neck. With another horri- Lle scream the beast broke its hold and fell to the | earth, striking the edge of the calesa as it went down. | The vehicle stopped. The horses reared and snorted with alarm. <A wild confusion ensued. The ; anther, recovering itself, sprung upon an outlaw. A fearful scream burst from the man’s lips as the tatons and fangs of the maddened beast tore into his quivering flesh. A dozen men dismounted and rushed to their friend’s rescue. Cries and yells rent the night. Horses reared and plunged with affright, some breaking away and flying up the valley; and but — - age 2 _ . Se ‘ ard. ey ‘ <b | ac pe irate -~ US ee oe Mis hs pled A AIELLO ORs ! k:.ife-Llade protruding through the top of the car- | becn upon a consiant move ever since their eapture, riage, cud n.oving along witha tearing sound, aud | perhaps his silence was only owing to the want of u cutting its way through leather top and silken lin- ing. en it was withdrawn, a slit over six inches long had been made, and fingers were seen to pull the edges apart, and then a face, but partly seen, became visible at the opening. “For the Lord’s sake, giris,”’ they heard the un- known lepirr, ge in a quick, excited tone, ‘don’t let on; keep still, now—I am Little Texas.” It was well the Young Mustanger gave words of precaution before he gave his name, for even then the captives could poaroely restrain their emotions. Christie’s eyes glowed with joy and excitement, and | biting her lip to keep Lever the emotions struggling asped her for the assistance of others the driver of the calesa | could never have managed his team. for utterance, she c hands over her breast and started to her feet, her eyes fixed on those look- ing down upon her. But recovering her self-control, she sunk back into her seat by Anita’s side. “Christie,” whispered the daring boy, ‘‘come ; nearer.” But the conflict soon ended and order was restored. | The panther Jay dead and an outlaw dying. The youth in the tree was unharmed. He sat on the limb, his feet resting on the carriage top. In a few moments more the march was resumed, and when the calesa rolled on, the daring Boy Mus- tanger was a passenger, lying at full length upon the top, his head within two feet of the driver. he youth had resolved upon a desperate expe- dient. - CHAPTER XVIII. THE VIALS OF A VILLAIN’S WRATH. On through the dark defile crept the cavalcade. The shadows were deep, for overhead was spread an unbroken canopy of low-hanging foliage through which neither star nor moon was visible. In the calesa sat the captive girls, their hearts filled with shadows as dark and foreboding as the shadows of night around them. They had grown despondent as the day advancing brought no one to their rescue; but on the contrary brought them nearer the Double Mountains where escape from the power of Boniface would be impossible. They shuddered as they rode along through tho dark woods listening to the oaths of the driver. They could hear the drooping foliage dragging across the side and along the top of the vehicle, the doors Christie pulled the door of the calesa shut, then, rising held her ear near the youth’s lips. “ Be awful careful, Christie,"’ the boy whispered: “we're all in a bad pickle, but the robbers don’t know Iam here. You gals must get out and take } — walk. Never let on but you're feelin’ awful I don’t know that Ican help you any, the position I'm in. The droopin’ foliage covers me, new, but before the carriage leaves here I've got to climb into the branches above, and I'd like to have you folks climb up with me. There’s several big limbs so close that I can reach them lying here; but keep still and wait. Colonel Miles, Don Rosse- van and some forty citizens and Texan Rangers are not far away, and no tellin’ what moment they'll come plungin’ down on old Boniface. But say, Christie, do you folks sleep in the calesa?” “Black Boniface,” she replied, “always has | given us our choice of the carriage or a tent, and we | always take the tent because we canliedown. Here of which were locked; and a knowledge of their | being shut up in a prison liable to be dashed to | pieces at any moment did not add to their mutual comfort. After creeping along a mile or so a voice suddenly | commanded: “Turn in there, Jehu, under that tree, and we will stop till morning.” * Oh, thank the good Virgin!"’ cried the fair Anita; ‘did you hear what the man said? Now we will get to rest.” The calesa was driven under some low-hanging foliage, where it was half-hidden from view, and the horses unhitched. A dozen guards were stationed around the camp and a fire lighted a few rods in front of the vehicle. Then Black Boniface came with a lantern and, un- locking the door of the wheeled prison, said: ‘* Ladies, we have halted for the night, and, as you must be tired of your long confinement, perhaps you would like to walk out. Jfso, lassure you that ce have the liberty of the camp to come and go at will." “Thank you, senor,” dy rae the Spanish maid, ‘*we will be pleased to avail ourselves of your kind- ness.”’ The regulator hung his lantern on a limb near the door of t’.e calesa and turned and walked away. “Oh, my sweet little sister!” cried Edith, pushing back Christie's disheveled locks and kissing her fair brow, “I see this suffering is beginning to wear up- on your young heart. “I am trying to be brave, Edith,” replied the maiden, “ and bear my burden with— What, Anita?’ This abrupt question was caused by Anita, who, frosping her arm, raised her finger to impose si- nee, ** Hark!” whispered Anita. The three listened, and, besides the murmur of the voices outside, they heard a slight tapping upon the leather top of the carriage. They had heard it before, but thought nothing in particular of it, until it had grown louder; and now that they had fixed their attention upon it, seemed fraught with a strange significance. he girls continued to listen in silence for several moments, Finally the ta oping ceased, and was im- | rege d followed by a different noise—a noise like | that produced by the point of a keen knife, cutting , through paper or silk. It seemed to be overhead, oo glance upward the maidens saw, in the dim peer. of the lantern, something burst through the Silk lining of the calesa. It was a slender, pointed ) object that glowed and sparkled in the light like a ,tiny stalactite. It was the point of a knife. t ickly the captives exchanged glances, while their hearts, half in doubt and falt in fear, rose in _their breasts. Their tongues became paralyzed, ‘and Edith was upon the eve of leaping from the car- 4 in affrighi, when she saw the knife-point with- tawn, and hea#d a voice, distinct enough, whisper: h Hist, girls, hist! a friend’s near you.” This is be at the voice seemed to say, and yet each one look- as though she were in doubt as to what she had 5 eg and not until they had exchanged views upon © subject, and found that each one had heard the same words, did they become convinced that some pear Py en upon the carriage, or in the tree directly _ Seeing there were no robber eyes turned toward tcn., pila again looked up, again she saw the we have to sit up all the time.” ** Well, you must take the calesa to-night, and if I can I'll helpyou. I'll be nigh you, anyhow, and that’s a great pleasure. Now go and take your walk and then come back here. ave them bring your sup- per here, too, and then—”’ ‘*Then you shall have some,”’ interrupted Christie, her eyes sparkling. Thus the conversation ended, and putting on their hats and wraps, the girls alighted from the carriage and sauntered listlessly about the camp, though their thoughts were ever upon the lad lying upon the top of the vehicle, for they were in a constant fear and suspense lest he be discovered, notwithstanding the fact that they had seen, by a casual glance, that he was well screened by the dense foliage. Meanwhile, the robbers and Apaches were busy. A huge bonfire had been built in the entrance to the valley, and another one some distance above camp. This was done to guard against every contingency of danger from up or down the valley, while, on the barren ridges on either side of the valley, a double ard was stationed, with the moonlight to aid em. Supper was cooked by the fire lighted a few rods in front of the calesa for the men; but for the ladies, supplies had been brought from the pantry of Don Rossevan. The women spent half an hour or more walking about the me and then as they were returning to the calesa, niface advanced and said: “Ladies, will you occupy the carriage or the tent to-night?” “The calesa, if you have no objection, senor,” re- plied Anita. “None at all, ladies; act your pleasure,” the vil- lain replied. The women entered the vehicle feeling much re- freshed and invigorated by their exercise. The lan- tern still hung upon the limb where its red beams flooded the interior of their apartment. a was finally brought to the captives. It consisted of bread, meats, fruits and wine, all of which had been taken from Anita’s home. And no sooner was the servant’s back turned than Christie began to pass the lion's share of her supper to the hot ee boy lying on the top of the heavy Spanish sa. lesa. “Tve heard about the ravens feedin’ Elijah in the wilderness,’ the lad whispered, “but this is three angels feedin’ a boy mustanger.” “Why, Texas, how can 70 joke when you’re in such danger?” asked Christie, a faint smile lighting up her pretty countenance. “I'm not jokin’, Miss Christie,” he replied, “I’m the most serious boy in Texas, particularly wher I'm in such danger.”’ ‘““And when you are where I am, in danger," replied Christie; ‘I s our ride and the night at your cabin.” When the quartette had finished their supper, the servant removed the remnants, and then Black Boniface came and leaning upon one of the wheels talked to the women some time. He stood between the lantern and the door of the calesa so that his own shadow concealed the flushed, burning faces of the girls, They were so afraid he would discover the rent in the lining of the calesa overhead that they scarcely knew what they said and did, and when he bid them -night, closed the door of the vehicle. and locked it and went away, he flattered himself that the captives were becoming reconciled to their situation and really “ge gnioy their journey, as did the heroine of la kh her journey in! the delightful valley of Cashmere, Black Boniface did not_repreach Edith with the past—of being his wife. His lips seemed sealed in regard to this, and he addre: her with the same attention he did the other two. But as they had ou are always never forget opportunity to speak of the past. he r ator took his lantern away, leaving tho women in blinding darkness; but this did not troublo them. In fact, they were giad of it, for it gave ther, an opportunity to converse with Little Texas; aii for the next hour the three plied the lad with ques- tions concerning their friends. In the meantime, most of the robbers had laid down to sleep with their arms at their sides. The horses belonging to the calesa had been brought in from pasture and “— in harness ready to move av a moment's notice. The party left at the creek to watch the pursuers had not come in yet, and as long as they were absent, Elack Boniface knew they stood between him and danger, and so he gave him- self no uneasiness about the pursuers. The night seemed to drag wearily by upon leaden feet. To the women it seemed as if daylight woulé never come. Not one of them closed an eye in slum- ber, neither did the brave boy lying upon the cale: a. All were waiting for—they knew not what. Thcre was little to encourage them in the hope of escape. The Boy Mustanger seemed powerless to aid them in any way. If he could only have got away from there, he could have brought assistance in a httle while, for he felt assured that Old Morality, with the rangers and citizens, was waiting for him back at the creek where he had left his horse. But he was helpless, powerless. us the hours wore on until morning was not far away. Streaks of red, heralding the coming of day, were beginning to shoot athwart the eastern sky. The Indians and regulators were astir—some pre- paring their morning meal, some saddling up the 1orses, and others packing up their traps and bun dies, when suddenly a scout came charging into camp with the startling intelligence that the Texan Rangeis had flanked their friends left at the creek, and were then marching upon camp. Had a bomb-shell exploded in their midst it would not have caused a greater consternation; but in a very few minutes every regulator and red-skin was ready tomarch. The horses were harnessed to the calesa, and, when ready to start, Boniface went to the vehicle with his lantern, opened the door, and looking at the captives, said: “ Ladies, I hope you hada good rest; we will start at once.” “Very well, senor,’ replied the fair Anita, with sarcastic innocence. Boniface closed the door and again locked it. Seg giving the lantern to one of his guides, he said: ‘Take that, Pressley, and then lead the way where the driver can follow. Daylight will soon relieve you.” The guide turned and moved away, and the rob- ber-chief, rn his saddle, shouted: ‘Ready! march!” The advance guard started off after the guide, the calesa rolled away, and the escort wheeled into line alongside the vehicle—the cavalcade was in motion. Its course lay northward up the valley. Boniface had journeyed but a short way when the sound of fire-arms suddenly broke forth upon the clear morning air. Itcame from behind and told the regulator that the men he had left at the creek to watch the pursuers were at last engaged with the enemy. Doubtful of what the result might be, Boniface grew uneasy and hurried forward the calesa. This he could do now with impunity, for the trees were not so thick, and the lantern carried by the guide enabled the driver to keep clear of those that did obstruct. the way; and ere the sun rose they were miles from the place where they had passed the night. Up to this time nothing had been heard from the battle-field, and still in doubt as to the result of the conflict, Black Boniface grew more restless and im- patient than ever, and kept urging the calesa for- ward until at length the way became so broken and obstructed that it was impossible to proceed further with the vehicle. But Boniface was not long in sup- plying a contingency. He ordered three of the orses taken trom the calesa, unharnessed and sad- dled with men's saddles. Upon these he p to mount the caytives and move on. He advanced to the calesa, unlocked the door and jerked it open. As he did so he started back with a horrible oath, while his face became contorted with rage, and his eyes blazed with the frenzy of a madman. The 2 was but one of the three captives in the calesa, and th: ¢ one was Chirstie Miles ! “ Hell and the furies!"’ burst from the villain’s lips, “what does this mean? Where are those oa Driver, speak out; is this the work of treachery?” it Captain Boniface,” said the driver, in dumb sur- prise, the captives. I supposed all along they were in the calesa.”’ “Curses on your blind stupidity! Did you not sex that the top of the carriage was cut away?" “*T did not, captain, Pll swear I did not. I hay: not looked back since we started. I saw you lool into the calesa a moment before we started, and supposed all was right.” And so it was, 1’ raved the regulator. “You know,” continued the excited Jehu, “ that ~«. dar’n’t move ees ot Pest nome cemin’ up tle valley, an' e time then I had to k dodgin.’ and fukin’ to git along at all.” a “Well, by heavens! * howled the infuriated Boni- face, * there’s a traitor in this party, and he has re leased them women. I will shoot the dog the pn «- mare a be he is!” e drew revolver and brandished it threai«::- ingly above his head—all the demon of the mav's nature eropping out upon his anger-knotted face, ‘as true as there is a sun I know nothin’ o/' <2
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> — Pe Pt oe gs ee a ten NES RRR _ ea > rr rn ee er eee general confusion around them, and the darkness, _the calesa upon its creaky springs. 18 Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. ! Christie regarded him for a moment and believing | he Oy going to shoot some one on suspicion she said: “ Sir, you need accuse none of your men of releas- ing Anita and Edith.” “Then you pretend to know who released them?” he raved. - | Snape I not, when I have been here all the time? Had you not started just when you did this morning I would not be here either. Little Texas released the girls.” E ” ‘* Little Texas?’ repeated the outlaw, wild with fury. Yes, Little Texas,” answered Christie, calmly; “T tell you this to save you the trouble of killing any of your men on suspicion.” “Tt will be the death of more than one man, for I will recapture them girls if I have to wade through the fires of perdition,” replied the regulator; then turning to his men he continued: ‘“ About face, men, and ride like demons to the south, Them girls must be recaptured!” Obedient to the command of their leader the regu- lators and Apaches turned their faces down the val- ley and rode away at a wild, breakneck pace. CHAPTER XIX. THE CONFLICT IN THE VALLEY. Litrige Texas deeply regretted his failure in car- rying out the plan he had matured for the release of the three captives. The departure was made so uick that he was unable to relieve but two, and ristie was carried away. The moment he heard Black Boniface inform the girls that they would de- ey at once, the youth drew his inife, and with as ttle noise as possible, cut away the heavy leather top between the two rear bows of the carriage making a hole large enough for the passage o the slender forms of the captives. Then Edith step- nea upon the hind seat, bringing her head and shoul- ers through the opening in the top, and with the assistance ef our hero was lifted from her prison and seated upon a large bough that had been pre- viously selected by the boy for the purpose. Scarcely a sound had been created, so silently did they work, and so perfect were the most minute details of the Young Mustanger’s plan. Then the | ad much to do with his success in executing his work so far, but no sooner had Edith been seated than the driver began climbing into his seat, rocking Taking advan- tage of this moment, the boy lifted Anita from the carriage and placed her upon the limb at Edith’s side; but before he could rescue Christie the driver spoke to his horses, the vehicle rolled away from under the tree, the pendent foliage swung back to its place, and no human eye could ever have pene- trated the spot where our three young people sat concealed. The regulators and savages soon filed away beyond the light of their camp-fires and into the twilight | shadows beyond, never once suspecting the truth of the situation. In fact, the adventure of Little Texas was so bold and Speer any impossible that the most careful and analytical mind would never have classed such a feat among the possible ones, In the | first place, Boniface regarded it utterly impossible for an enemy to pass inside of their lines that night guarded as they were by bonfires, moonlight and men, and in the next ae he felt assured the guard left at the creek would check all advances of the pursuers, “Bitter, indeed,,was the disappointment of the Boy Mustanger and the two maidens when they heard the calesa roll away with brave little Christie, and bitterer still must have been the regret and dis- ip’ portny sez of Christie herself. t was several moments before any one ventured - to speak; but when assured the enemy had ail left, Little Texas said: “ Girls, we three have escaped, I do believe.” “Oh! if poor Christie was only with us!’’ Edith lamented. “The villains were a little too quick for me, or she'd have got out, too,’ said Texas; “‘but Christie must be rescued. You must first be in a safer es »bers The shouts of men and the blare of a bugle sud- Seay awoke the morning echoes. “Glory!” burst from the lips of Little Texas; “ne are safe! we are safe! The rangers are comin’, s r “Thank Heaven!’’ murmured Edith. The next moment a dozen horsemen, leaning for- ward in their saddles in order to pass the low ne om a under them. They were going up the valley. y were outlaws and Indians fleeing before Cap- _ Lore Reynolds and Old Morality and their fol- wers. “Ho, there, Layee troopers!’ shouted the Boy Mustanger, at the top of his lungs. A dozen men drew rein under the tree. Among them were Don Rossevan and Colonel Israel Miles. “Who's up here?” demanded the colonel, parting the foli overhead with his sword, and peering up among the branches, “We're here, uncle: Anita, Little Texas and I,” responded the fair Edith, “Bless the good Lord! It is my Edith!” shouted the colonel. “Yes, and Little Texas rescued us.” “God bless that boy!” the colonel shouted. ‘‘ But, Ohristie—where is she?” “The lators got away with her, sorry to say,” the Boy Mustanger answered; ‘I done my best, oolonei, to save her. too, but | failed,” | rear. scouts to feel the way in advance, and the party had | “Brave and fearless boy.. He has done nobly,” Rossevan, “Yes, he has,"’ affirmed Colonel Miles; ‘‘come down here, children, and let me embrace you.” **Hullo!”” suddenly exclaimed a familiar voice “what ‘ve you got thar? A ’possum ora ring-tailed robber?” ‘i Neither, Morality, but little Texas and two of the girls.” Old Morality uttered a shout of joy, and riding under the tree looked up into the Boy Mustanger’s face and exclaimed: “Oh, you little imp of glorification! Didn't I tell you I wanted to rescue them gals myself? You acamp, I see now. why you sent me off after the boys, while you hooked it off up here. God bless rote gals and boys, I am delighted to see you, but lest if ITar’n’t in the dark as to how you escaped from that pack of human hounds.” “That was easy enough,” said Little Texas, swing- ing himself to the ground, and then narrating his night’s adventure with the panther and upon the top of the calesa. When he had concluded, Don Rossevan called at- tention to their delay in the pursuit of the robbers. ** Yes, yes,”’ said Old Morality, ‘‘ we must not tarry longer. Christie must be rescued, poor child.” ** Shall we send Anita and Edith to the Ruins with an escort, or—” ‘* No; it will never do, senor, to weaken our force,"’ interrupted Old Morality; ‘“‘we’ve not a man to spare.’ “ Uncle,” said Edith Clayton, “we can accompany you. I would rather do so than return to the Ruins without you.” “ And so would I,’’ added Anita, and the question was settled. The rangers having brought Little Texas’s horse from the creek the lad was soonin the saddle. A couple of led horses taken from the enemy were caparisoned for the maidens, and by the time the sun was an hour high, the pursuers were again in motion. The Texan Rangers took the lead, with Captain Reynolds, Little Texas and Old Morality at their | head, while Don Rossevan, Colonel Israel Miles and a few others with Edith and Anita brought up the Rossevan had dispatched two of his best not gone far when one of them came back with the news that a band of horsemen, outlaws and Indians, was approaching from the north at a rapid speed. Ina few moments Captain Reynolds formed his rangers in line of battle, the settlers and followers of Don Rossevan forming behind them, and in this order they awaited the foe. The clatter of hoofs soon burst A oe their ears, then from the woods nearly the whole of Black Boniface’s band swept into view. The outlaws were on their way back to | search for the missing girls, and not until they were ' upon them did they know th Dr. Jules Rocheford was at the head ofthe band and when he saw the rangers drawn up before him he ordered a halt. His first impulse was to turn and flee, but seeing his force was as large as that of his enemy, if not larger, he gave the order to charge. With a yell the regulators and Apaches charged eir pursuers were near. | from among the combatants and follow him. Then began a lively race, but it was a shortone. Roche- ford, seeing he could not escape with his captive on horseback, dismounted, and, with the form of the half-fainting girl in his arms, attempted to dodge his pursuer among the trees and shrub ery; but, quick as a flash, the Boy Mustanger was off his horse and gliding, like a ferret, in and out among the shadows upon the track of the regulator, The boy gained rapidly on his foe, and by the time they had gone twenty rods, Rocheford saw that he must either give up the ie and flee, or stop and fight. The latter seemed the most agreeable to him, since he believed that the boy’s friends were havi all they could do, and that, alone and sipinitended he would have no trouble in crushing the life out of the troublesome youth. Sostopping, he laid the now entirely unconscious form of Anita upon the ground and turned upon the pursuer. His pistols were empty, his sword he had dropped when he seized e maiden, and his knife was the only weapon he had left; but this, in his powerful fist, he felt was sufficient to crush the puny boy now so completely at his mercy. Little Texas had drawn his sword—that euety blade presented him by Don Rossevan. With a loo of desperate determination the boy confronted Rocheford, eager enough for the fray that was in all human probability destined to decide the fate of Anita Rossevan. “Come on, you accursed little stunted blood- hound!” exclaimed Rocheford, ‘‘ and Ill carve you, soul and body into ribbons!” “Coward!” fairly hissed the youth, as he stood within five feet of the burly Frenchman, “I do not fear you, and you know it. He who would leave the battlefield to steal an, innocent little girl would strike the blow of a coward.” dicks “Little fiend! say your prayers!” hissed the wretch, “for I—” “God protect the innocent,” said the boy, humbly, then he lea forward, and with a dexterous pass of his sword struck the knife from Rocheford’s hand and sent it flying ten feet away, and bac almost with the same motion, he made a forward thrust and drove the point of his keen blade into the vil- lain’s left breast. Rocheford started back, his face frowns black with baffled triumph, then white with fear. His ioe parted with a snarl, his eyes blazed with a green- ish hue. His face twitched with pain, and his body doubled over as if with a deadly cramp and sunk to the earth. As he went down he clasped his breast with one hand, while he raised the other—the palm outward—as if to ward off a blow, and in the im- ploring voice of a dying man he cried out: “Mercy, boy, mercy!’ Then he stretched himself at full length along the earth, rattled in the throat and became motionless. Blood trickled through the | gash in his apiece. and spread over his breast, ‘The poor wretch,” said the boy hero, sadly, sor- rowfully; ‘‘he’s gone, and such a wicked, wicked soul. May the good Lord have mercy upon him,” Then the lad clipped off some leafy boughs with his sword and covered the body of the regulator that | it might not meet the eyes of the maiden when she upon our friends, but they were met with a cool and | deliberate fire that emptied a number of saddles and threw the band into some confusion; but Dr. Roche- | ford was as brave and fearless as he was wicked, | and, in tones that seemed to come from brazen lungs, he rallied his men and again led them to the onslaught. But again the rangers poured a wither- ing volley into their ranks and then advanced and met them in a hand-to-hand encounter. Sabers and lances, pistols and rifles clashed and rung together. Yells and groans, shouts and oaths burst above the horrible din of battle. Combatants in the saddle seemed imbued with the spirit of devils; the wound-' | ed upon the earth writhed and twisted under the grinding hoofs of the frenzied steeds, begging and crying for mercy, CHAPTER XX. A WRETCH’S END. For awhile the result of the conflict seemed to my’ upon an even balance; then it turned in favor of the regulators, then in favor of the rangers, so | that no one could have told how it would end. From their covert under the shadows of a clump of trees, Edith and Anita watched the sanguinary struggle, while Don Rossevan and Colone! Miles hav- } — ridden aside from them, sat upon their horses w h revolvers in hand, pouring in a deadly fire spe the enemy whenever an opportunity was of- ered. In the thickest of the fray was Dr. Rocheford, his head seeming to be encircled by a band of flashing steel, so skillfully did he handle his sword. i voice could easily be distinguished cheering on his men; but suddenly his voice became hushed, and Little Texas, who had singled out the villain and was making his way toward him, saw him ride out from among the combatants and spur his frantic charger tow the point where Anita and Edith were con- cealed. The Boy Mustanger followed him, for he saw what he was up to. Not until the regulator was upon them did the maidens notice his approach. Both uttered a cry and turned their horses’ heads to flee, but the Frenchman was already upon them, and riding alongside Anita, he leaned over in his stirrups and throwing his arms about her slender form, dragged her from her saddle; and then placing her in front of him, supported by one arm, he attempted to steal away. The viilain believed that his movements were unobserved, so close was attention drawn to the battle; but he had gone but a little ways when he saw his implacable enemy, Little: Texas, glide out recovered from her swoon. This done, he turned to the girl and endeavored to bring ber back to con- sciousness, but after working with her for a time he found his efforts were unavailing—that she was nearer dead than alive. Being unable to move her, and in doubts as to the result of the battle, the firin and fighting having ceased, the boy found himse} inadilemma. He was afraid to leave the girl until he could go for help, and yet something must be done. As if actiated by a sudden thought, he turp- ed and ran back toward the valley. : On the way a groan arrested his attertion, and stopping he Jooked into a pgs of bushes where lay a wounded Mexican with a bullet-hole through his left shoulder. He was one of Don Rossevan’s men who bad crawled there from the battle-field. “ Ah, Little Texas!’’ he groaned, “the battle went ill with us.” “ : ‘What! did the robbers whip?’ questioned the Young Mustanger. “Our friends were compelled to withdraw from the field—or they did withdraw, when in truth we were victorious, and some of the enemy already flee- ing. Why it was, I know not.” “Perhaps the enemy received re-enforcements,” “] think not, Texas; but they followed our friends.” , “Then the retreat of our friends must have been some of Old Morality’s ideas to bag the enemy alto- gether.” “T hope so; but, Texas, I die of this wound,” “Let me see what I can do for you, Patro, though I have not much time to tarry. Don Rossevan’s gis. ter lies near us in a swoon.” “Go, then, senor, and save the fair young lady, I shall die anyhow.” “No, Patro, never; I cannot leave you without helping you; but first I wiJl run to Anita and try and cerry her, then bind up your wounds. Dcn’t give up, Patro.”’ ‘As he concluded he turned and ran back to where he bad left the maiden, but to his surprise end hor ror he found she was gone, as was the body of Rocheford also. Upon examining the ground he found that he had been the victim of a foul decep. tion—that he had been deceived by the villain Roche ford who was not only not dead, but so slightly wounded that he had been able to make off with the maiden. He had played his part with the consum- mate skill of a powerful actor, and our little friend eould Ly wneg suppress a flood of tears when he realized how he had been deceived, and the danger that meiaced the fair young Anita. With eyes swimming in a mist, he searched the
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ground for the villain’s tracks. He had no trouble in finding them, and started off to follow the villain, when the promise he had made Patro suddenly oc- curred to-his mind. Turning he ran with all his | speed back to where he had left the Mexican, ant found him dying. Drop by drop his life had ebbed away. Ler pa fellow was so near gone that he | could not lift his hand nor speak. He tried to say | something, but could not utter a syllable. He lifted bis glassy eyes toward heaven and stared into va- — as though he had a glimpse of the great be- | yond, Little Texas’s heart was touched with pity, and as the tears gathered in his eyes, he knelt by the dyin man, and, lifting his eyes toward heaven, murmur a prayer—a true, sincere and beautiful Christian | prayer; and as the last words fell from his lips, a | voice behind him said ‘* Amen;”’ and then from his concealment Old Morality came with tears in his | eyes. Taking the boy’s hand, he said: “I know now the secret of your success, boy; you | bo are a Christian; you trust in God.” “T recognize Him as the giver of all good,” re- sponded the Young siustanger; “but, Morality, I | must confess that I am in trouble.”’ ‘* What now, boy?” asked the old man. ‘Did you know Jules Rocheford had carried Anita away?” 4 Yes, Edith told me; she said you were after | Rocheford, and so I started to follow you up.” “ Weil, I overtook the villain and slew him, as I supposed, for he bled profusely, and sunk down in | all the apparent agonies of death. I covered his motionless form wlth some brush, then ran for help, | for Anita lay unconscious—nearer dead than alive, | When I returned both she and Rocheford were gone. | He had deceived me by feigning death, and he did it | well, or else I was very stupid. Isupposed my sword | had found his heart.’ “We can catch them, can’t we?"’ asked Morality. “We can try,” replied the,youth, “ and the sooner we start the better it will be.” Leaving the dead Patro, they hurried back to where Rocheford had made his coup, and taking up | the villain’s trail they followed it over the ridge into the valley beyond. They moved slowly, for every step of the trail had to be picked out by the closest scrutiny. The regulator’s course wound here and there, and finally led back into the valley where the battle had been fought. This discovery led the yursuers to fear that Rocheford had found his way | oack and been joined by his friends; and while the | two stood discussing the matter, they suddenly caught sight of the Frenchman’s head above a clump | of bushes on the opposite hillside. He was looking | into the valley in a doubtful, undecided way. | “The infernal old frog-eater!’’ exclaimed Little | Texas; ‘‘if lL had my rifle here I'd drop him like a deer. Oh, if ever I get another pass at him with my sword, daylight will shine through him.” “Let’s keep an eye on him, boy, and mebby we can find where he’s left the gal ” said Old Morality. ‘“ Ah, see! there he goes up the valley, now!” ‘So he does; now, boy, if you'll jist kee eyes on him and see where he goes to, Ill and search that hillside for the gal.” So saying, the old ranger stole across the valley and cautiously ascended the hill, while Little Texas crept away upon the trail of the regulator. Rocheford walked rapidly, but nervously and un- easily, aloug for some distance, when he finally began to ascend a hill, upon the side of which our hero espied Don Rossevan’s calesa. The vehicle stood upon the very spot where Black Boniface had first discovered the absence of Edith and Anita, There were no horses to it. Hard by stood the horse ridden by Black Boniface, and two other fine-looking animals, all caparisoned and ready for the rider, On the calesa sat a man with a rifle across his lap, your p over “ih, shoulders when he captured her; and as he strode into the dark, damp, dismal place, he saw that ' everything was as he had left it; and stooping he lifted the silken cover from the prostrate figure, but the figure rose with the cover, and when the latter was drawn aside, the face of Old Morality—not that of Anita—was revealed to the outlaw’s astonished gaze. “Uch-oh! ’mornin’, doctor!’’ exclaimed the old ranger, with a grin. ‘ Rocheford dropped the mantilla in an instant and : attempted to draw a revolver, but the eye of the ranger was upon him, and before the villain could | even lift his revolver from his belt, a pistol flashed | in his face, and he sunk down like an ox in the shambles, without a groan or struggle. Then from the darkness of the “ dug-out” came Anita, and from the outside Little Texas appeared at the mouth of the “ dug-out,”’ ‘ “The thing worked, did it, Morality?’ asked the * Like a charm; the jig’s up with Dr. Rocheford,” | replied Morality. Anita’s heart was filled with joy when she learned that she was safe once more; butin the midst of her joy four horsemen were discovered coming up the valley. They proved to be Apache warriors returning from the pursuit of our friends under Rossevan and Miles, and but for the horse left near Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. i9 ' j ; | | } the cave by Rochetord they would have passed by ; / but the animal did not escape their eag in a moment they were on the alert. “Trapped again, by Judas!’ exclaimed Old Moral- ity; “‘when in the thunder-rollin’ will we ever git out of this accursed, demon-infested country?” ‘Well, we will have to abide our time,” replied Little Texas. And so they did; but the patient Indians remained on the watch—never for a moment relaxing their vigils. Our friends could see them from the dug- out, but from the actions of the Apaches they judged they were not observed. Again our friends felt the want of a rifle, for it would have been an easy matter to have picked the e eyes, an | Indians off, though at the risk of bringing others | down upon them. As it was, however, they would have to wait the relief of friends or the coming of night to relieve them of their dilemma, Thus wait- ing, every hour seemed a day, and none grew more | impatient than Black Boniface. The prolonged ab- sence of Rocheford called forth the most bitter re- flections, and about the middle of the afternoon the | outlaw chief came riding down the valley in quest of his lieutenant. He met the four Apaches, who ointed out the horse which Boniface recognized as hat Rocheford had ridden away; and when he learned that the animal had been standing in that one spot all day, a terrible suspicion forced itself upon his mind. Conceali himself for fear of a stray bullet, he sent an Indian to reconnoiter the situation, Old Morality was watching every move- ment, and lying flat in the mouth of the cavern he awaited the approach of the warrior with a cocked revolver extended before him. It was not long until he saw the bushes before him part and the face of the ey 3 appear in the opening; but before the ad ad a moment’s impse of the piace Old Morality fired and he sunk cae with a cry of agony, shot through the brain. A deep silence followed. Finally a few random shots were fired from the valley, the balls clipping through the bushes in frout of the dug-out and burying in the hillside. | long silence again ensued. and hard by stood Black Boniface and another of his | companions. From the door of the calesa the sad face of Christie Miles looked hopelessly out into the dark, dreary wood. é Black Boniface and his men were waiting the return of those who had gone in pursuit of Edith and Anita, and they were both surprised and re- joiced to see Rochefort approaching. The captain advanced and met the Frenchman, but what passed between the two Little Texas could not learn; but, certain it was that Rocheford soon mounted a horse and rode down the valley, taking with him, from Anita’s wardrobe in the calesa, a handsome shawl and a Spanish blue silk bonnet, that the maiden wore at the time of her capture at the | Ruins. Had the Boy Mustanger been possessed of any | other weapon than his sword—a rifle or revolver, he would have attacked Boniface and his companions at long range. As it was, however, he dare not attack the three outlaws single-handed. Rocheford rode rapidly down the valley, still be- —— his usual nervous fears. € was conscious of the fact that Little Texas was at large, and as he had learned from experience that the youth was an | enemy to be feared, he knew not what moment he might spring from ambush upon him. For this enemy, however, he was ss Boniface having furnished him with a brace of revolvers, : Ina few minutes he reached the immediate vicinity _ in which he had left the unconscious Anita, and dismounting he led his horse up the hillside and hitched it to a tree. Then he advanced to the mouth of an artificial cavern, or, in other 1S * dug-out,”’ that had been excavated years before by | some hunter or trapper. In this cavern, whose en- | trance was concealed from the valley by bushcs and vines, Roeheford had left Anita tied to a post or support, while he went in search of assistance to bear her away. Over thrown the long silken mantilla that was about her | | the villain's i her unconscious form he had | lad replied. The hours wore on. Rucheford’s horse stood paw- ing the ground uneasily where his dead master had Boniface, “but we know very well—as well as you do—that you're there alone with that girl Anita, and it’s to save unnecessary bloodshed that we offer you terms; but if you think you can contend with twenty armed men just say so.” “‘T have no borror of bloodshed,” returned Texas; “TI don’t care how much outlaw and Apache blood I spill—the more the better." “ And if ye think the boy’s alone,” chimed in Old Morality, ** jist crowd on us—tread our corns if you want to wake a slumberin’ volcaner or two—advance and balance on the corner.” There was a momentary silence on the other side. Evidently the regulators were surprised. ‘I don’t care,” finally came from the regulator's lips, ‘if there’s a dozen of you. We'll starve you out unless you surrender, ready fifty men sur- round you.’ ‘“* That's a lie,”’ said Little Texas to Morality. ‘“ What’s your terms?”’ called out the old ranger. “Oh!” aed the regulator, in a sneering tone, “*that sounds more like it; I thought you'd weaken. But if you'll send me that girl on Rockeford’s horse you shall go free and to the devil for all 1 care.” “Yes, we might go free, as far as he cares,” said Little Texas; ‘“‘but he'll take good care to let his bloodhounds loose on us. But, Morality, bis pro- position has suggested an idea to me, and I believe we can york him out of both Anita and Christie by conceding his terms. “What! by giving up the gal? Texas, that'll be cowardly in us—] can never consent to—” ** But look here, old friend; you don’t understand me.” They went back into the “dug-out,” and talked with the girl and each other in low, hurried tones. There was some protest to the boy’s suddenly con- ceived plans; but finally the ranger and maiden hee a and going back to the mouth of the cavern e shouted: “Old Boniface, what assurance have we that you'll treat us as you promise, providing we surrender Miss Rossevan ?’ “You've my word, that’s all,’ was the decided answer, “and you can take that or the conse- quence. The girl’s all I care for, and have her I will in spite of you, and you can follow me if you want “Tt is by the girl’s own request that we would ever, for a moment, think of accedin’ to your de- mands.” ““That don’t make any difference to me,” Boni- face responded, ‘* but it does show her woman's goud sense and self-sacrifice to give up to save your worthless hides from my vengeance. Put her on that horse aud send her down here and J/'ll leave u. “Black Boniface!” cried the sweet, quivering voice of the fair Anita, “remember that it is because I love my young friend that I consent to go with you to save him,” “That's noble and generous in you, girl,” replied Boniface, ‘‘ but I promise you kind treatment. You shall queen it over the Ruins de Boniface, and I know you will learn to love me fully as well as you do that little th coy Little Texas.” ‘Oh, Senor Boniface, 1 know it will kill me!" again cried the maiden, “No, I think—” began the regulator, but at this | juncture a horseman came thundering up the valley, and the robber chief turning, screamed out; “ Halt} | who comes there?” Then a | left him; and there he still stood when the sun went | down and the shadows of night enveloped the jand. CHAPTER XXI. A BOGUS “KID.” UnvER cover of the first shadows Little Texas with one of Rocheford’s revolvers, crept from the cavern to reconnoiter. He was gone but a few min- utes when the harsh twang of a horn, which ail re- cognized as that of Boniface, went leaping down the he of our friends. few minutes later four or valley and over the ag sending a shiver to the | five horsemen came thundering up the defile, passed | woe cavern and then turned and came g horsemen, and Little Texas, who was concealed near where the , saw what ay were up to. It was to convey the idea, no doubt, that the valley was full of men, and that resistance on the part of those in the dug-out would be madness, Creeping back to the cavern the youth reported his discovery, adding: “TI think six men will cover the entire strength of the enemy, and if we will act promptly and care- fully, I believe we can get away from here with Anita by creeping out and hiding in the bushes, and then when they charge upon the cave we can slip away before they find out we're not in there.” “T can see no other course,"’ said Old Morality. At this juncture a voice in the valley was heard to out: “Hulloa!” It was the voice of Black Boniface, and no one answering it the call was repeated: “ Hulloa there, in the cave!" **Let’s see what's wanted, anyhow,” said Little Texas, and advancing to the mouth of the cave he answered: ‘“* What do you want out there?” “Immediate surrender!” was the cheerful re- sponse. Old Morality and the Boy Mustanger laughed at udence. “We're not that kind of truck, Mr. Boniface,” the “You can talk brave, you littie fiend,” zeplied oping | This was repeated several times by the same | “ A friend, captain!” was the reply of the horse- man, who recognized the villain’s voice; ‘‘ gads, lam glad I struck you!” ‘“What’s the matter?’ demanded Boniface. “Oh, by the gads!” the rangers and the followers of that Spaniard drew us into a trap to-day and’ whipped biazes out of us and—”’ “Hush!” interrupted Boniface, but his prisoners | had heard every word, and a moment later the voice ; of Old Morality rung out: “Good! glory! friends are comin’! Come back Anita, come back quick, for friends are comin!” As these words fell upon the robber’s ear he heard the tread of horse’s feet, and saw the dark outlines of Rocheford’s horse with the maiden upon it emerge into the valley; then, in obedience to Mo- rality’s order to come back he saw the horse’s head turned; but quick as a flash, the regulator, who was already in his saddle, spurred alongside of the horse and leaning over, threw his arm about the form of | the cloaked and bonneted rider, and dragging her EE Oe | from the saddle and placing her before him, gallop- ed away. The captive uttered a little scream and struggled to free herself, but her efforts were in vain, and with a sob she swooned in the villain’s arms, Cries and shouts now rose on the night far down the valley, and fuli well Black Boniface knew what it meant. The rangers were coming like a whirl- wind up the defile. g his heels into his animal’s sides he it on at a cruel speed. Up the valley he fairly flew, and soon he came to where the calesa stood. ‘Stokely )” he shouted tothe man left to guard Christie, ‘mount your horse and take that woman in your arms and let us ride! The rangers have whipped our boys and are coming; but they shall not have these women if1 have to kill them, for we've paid dearly for them. Come, man, hurry oe n a few minutes Stokely was upon horse with Cusete in his —. ’, ee ao en away they rode up th shadows - y ip the hill among the swear she’s heavy, Bonny,” gaid Stokely, as the half unconscious form of his captive hung ahets arm. ‘Save her, Stokely. and she'll oe yours,” replied ‘ ~
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— oe et ee 7 . 7 ; er amr FR I -— s+ ~ ad a ie eee ee ee WE ae ee " x pe ES Se om 3 = bales ao eat ee ne ATE BR ad es A acres 4 Se ee ee eS —=— nee Boniface, in hopes of peenrenins his man; “ this little Spanish duck is not as — as a feather, for she’s fainted—wilted like a tender flower, too, Gods! what fools men are! what they will do—what sacri- fices they'll make, what dangers they'll risk for a fair woman—a pretty face! These women have cost me two score of men, I do believe—but here we are on the old Fort Concho trail with a smooth way and dense shadows. Now let the bloodhounds of the Government and of Don Rossevan and old Miles fol- low us if they can. _Ha! ha! ha! ye gods! I must have a kiss.” He sropeed the rein, lifted the head of his captive, parted the borders of her bonnet that had been crushed over her face and imprinted a kiss upon the unconscious captive’s brow. He could not see her face, so deep were the shadows. “That’s a delicious kiss, Stokely, even if it has been purchased with blood. But then we need- ed thinning out, Stokely; we were getting too nu- merous for heaith,” said the villain. Yes, we did, Cap,’’ replied Stokely; ‘our gang was gittin’ too big and unwieldy; and then Roche- ford, peace to his soul, was anxious to secede and set up a rival band. 6 was gittin’ ugly and kind o’ wanted things his way. But I’m afraid some good grains—some of our best boys—have gone over with the chaff.” “Well, at any rate, we've got a delicious wife aplece,”’ replie Boniface; “but, great Jerusalem! how I'd like to have had that other al, also, and I would if it hadn’t been for that little purgatorian, Little Texas. The infernal runt beats anything to turn up at the wrong time I ever saw—just like the ‘hero of a novel, exactly. I hope the boys ‘ll raise him to glory before another sun rises, e's really to be feared—or has been, for as to the future I don’t propose to throw myself in his or anybody else’s way. ers by changing the subject, Stokely, that woman—the one that escaped us, Edith Clayton—is my wife!" tokely uttered a profane exclamation. “It’s a fact,” continued Boniface, “though I left her the hour! married her. I only wedded her to spite her, and the whole cursed Clayton fraternity. e was a weak, silly girl then, of course, and didn't know love from a good appetite, and she waltzed right up to the altar. Her people thought I had money and would get some of it, but f matched them. I owed them a grudge and paid it, even if it were over the girl’s shoulders. I always hated Edith Olayton, and I don’t know why. She’s pretty as a h and gentle as a lamb, but then I just don’t e her, and freely relinquish all my claim on her, But this little Spanish Lager 4 I know I can love.” “You'd be a monster not to love her, Cap,” re- plied Stokely. “ Yes, yes; but then we'll have to hunt other quar- ters, for that Spanish Rossevan and old Colonel Miles are men that will never yield until death cools them; and they will fight for their kids unto the death. If we can make New Mexico inside of a week or so, we'll not likely to be found. Let’s see; we'll about make Relay Sarony by midnight or soon after; and I think—in fact, I know—we will be safe in taking a short rest there, get something to eat and fresh horses.”’ **) should think by that time our women could ride a horse without the support of our arms,” sug- gested sesageree “Tf the station can afford us four good horses we'll have them.” Beer Sarony was a station, or ee Ag eos kept in the interest of the rabbers by an old half-breed Indian named Sarony, who pretended to be a mus- tanger and horse-tamer. On the night in question Sarony himself was away. In fact, he had been pone some time with Boniface in his raid into the Saba Nery f and for all Boniface knew, the old man had been killed. He knew, however, that Sar- ony’s wife would be there to receive them, and that was all he cared for. They rode on, aap Pe in the dark shadows that lay along the base of the mountains. t was a little past midnight when the relay wa; A little old log-cabin, a long low stabie and a few cattle-pens—all stuck in under the brow of a hill almost out of sight—composed Relay Sar- eny. All was dark and silent in and around the place, sone the barking of dogs heralded the ap- proach of the two horsemen. yy in front of the cabin Boniface shouted: * Ho, ay Sarony!” There was a momentary silence, then the doors ed and a sharp female voice shrieked through the night: “Who be you out there?” “It’s me, mother—Captain Bonny,” replied Boni- ace. **Law-sakes alive, capting, have you fellers got around to last? Where's the ole man—I mean pap?” *He’s coming; but there’s only two of us and each of us has got a kid apiece and we want to rest & little while, get something to eat and some fresh horses to ride.” “Well, you know you kin have 'em, capting, jist so free as warter; but what sorts o' kids ye got?” “Girls, mother, two pretty girls,’ answered the outdaw. at > sabe ry you naughty fellers; been into some- bedy’s eorilie? That's jist like you, capting, alers up to suntthin’ mischievous. ut where are the t’other folks as went with ye over to the San Saba?" ‘‘ Phey’ll be along, by-and-by.”’ ‘ e recken as what pap hasn’t got him a kid, has e ‘Oh, no,” replied Boniface, ‘‘ but here, give us a litt, mother.” “sf Peco he take ’em darlings down,” said the old woman, aneing and lifting Boniface’s cap- 29 | Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. “ Oh, the poor capting is dead, dead!’ she moaned, tive to the ground, “ dear!” she continued, ‘* she’s all rustlin’ in silk and purrin’ in satin, and I'll ics me her — swan she’s heavy as a sick pony.” “Yes, and you’l) be dead, deader if don't hoki “My arm feels the effect of her weight, too,” | that ogy ag? of yours still,” replied the boy; then, averred Boniface. / turning Ch continued: ‘but I was most “Oh, the poor dearies can hardly stand for cramp into the body,” Mother Sarony continued, as she lifted Christie to the ground; ‘‘ but I'll lead ‘em into the house, capting, and take good care of them while you ‘uns put away yer hosses and hay ’em.”’ “Thanks, mother, but I shall not lose sight of them,’’ replied Boniface; ‘‘ they have cost me enough to get them and so I don't propose to let them get | away. Stokely can care for the horses.” “Very well, captain, you'll have your way I =e, jist like Pap darony—man-like over and over. Bu come, my sweet déaries, and you shall have rest under Aunt Pandora Sarony’s roof. I see you are tired and fatigued almost to death. A bowl of milk and some bread and butter and sich ‘Il strengthen yer courage and stiffen yer backs,” Pandora Sarony took the silent, sobbing Fes aa one on each side, and conducted them into the cabin, Boniface following behind. All was dark as pt in the room, but holding onto the girls Pando- ra led them around the room until she had found, b feeling with her foot, a couple of stools upon whic she seated them, sors: “There, now, darlings, just wait, and I'll light a candle.”’ While the woman was searching for a candle and a match, Black Boniface took his position with his flack against the door, and stood patting his booted foot and whistled softly to himself, An exclamation of satisfaction finally announced that Mother Sarony had found the candle. Then was heard the scratch of a match upon the wall. A or blue flame pierced the gloom. Boniface watch- ed it in a sort of mental abstraction, and until it had grown and changed in color and, applied to the wick, flooded the room with light. Then, holding the candle above her head, the old woman advanced to take a view of the captives. Boniface’s eyes followed the light. A scream burst from Pandora’s lips. Boniface uttered an oath, and a look of baffled rage settled upon his face. Before them, with the blue bonnet of Anita Rosse- van thrown back upon his shoulders, and her ee | } silken mantilla lying on the floor at his feet, st Little Texas, with a revolver in each hand, and both covering the breast of Black Boniface! CHAPTER XXII. LITTLE TEXAS LETS HIMSELF LOOSE. ‘*Hanps up, Bonny !’’ demanded the intrepid Boy Lasso-thrower, the instant his eyes met those of the outlaw, ‘hands up, or I'll fire!” Again Pandora Sarony screamed till the dogs out- side set up a fearful barking. ‘*Hands up, Bonny,” repeated the boy, “ you're caged and there’s no use squawkin’. ' I’ve let myself loose, and J mean—”’ Black Boniface attempted to draw his pistol, but the eye of the boy saw the movement, and then there was a flash, a report, a groan, and the fall of a heavy body. Black Boniface had met his fate. — had the young actor in the drama turned up when least expected and least wanted. | clatter of hoofs broke sudden] ' to eat?” “Yes, yes,” exclaimed the woman, with a devilish, significant glitter in her eyes. “I'll give you some bread and milk and meats."’ She rose to her feet and started toward the cup- board. ‘Hold on there, you old rascal!” cried Little Texas, “you're too anxious "bout feedin’ us. We don’t want you fixin’ up things for us, come to think. Back to your corner and ‘ q you 4 With the look of a she-wolf driven from her quarry the old woman slunk back into the corner. ‘Christie,’ continued the boy, ‘“‘won’t you see what there is in that cupboard? I'll keep watch.” Christie arose and with quick step advanced to the cupboard and examined its supplies. She found some bread, cold meat and a pan of milk which she placed Pe the table with the necessary dishes. Then the maid and mage r sat down to supper. They ate with a keen relish, for they had fasted long, and had about concluded their meal when the upon their ears. Rising to his feet Little Texas hastened to the door. orsemen were coming down the road from the north. “Christie, come!’’ cried the youth, ‘“‘some one is coming!” The maiden seized her hat and shawl and started toward the door. Little Texas had already passed out into the yard, and as she was about to cross the threshold a hand seized her from behind and jerked her back. Then the heavy door was slammed shut and bolted. *T am not as dead as I might be!’’ a voice hissed in her ear, and, looking up, Christie beheld the ltiv- ing face of Black Boniface looking down upon her! | The villain had only been wounded and stunned by As Boniface went down, Texas turned to the old woman and exclaimed: “Set that light on the table—quick! and be silent | or ’ll shoot you, too!” Shivering with abject terror the old woman obeyed, and then sunk cowering in the corner, crooning to | herself. Alarmed by the report of the revolver, Stokely hurried from the stable to see what was wrong. A bullet went crashing through his brain as he entered the door; and then the worst was over and Christie had been rescued. ‘* Now, thank God, I guess we've got a clear field, Christie,” the brave youth said, with some emotion, as he turned to his fair companion, whose brain was in a wild whirl of excitement and fear; for not until the familiar voice of the Boy Mustanger was heard did she know but that Anita Rossevan was her fel- low captive; and even then she was in doubt as she looked upon the slight form of the youth in the silken robes and pretty bonnet of the Spanish maiden. A very what she had witnessed, however, set her mind aright, and with a sense of boundless joy and de- the power of the outlaws, and that, too, by the indo- mitable Boy Mustanger. Clasping the boy's hand in both of hers, the grate- ful woman, with streaming eyes, called the bless- the Boy Mustanger’s bullet! A scream burst from the maiden’s lips. Little Texas tried to force the door, but in vain. At this juncture the approaching horsemen drew rein be- fore the cabin, and the boy, standing in the shadow _ of the building, saw that one was a a other a woman. Inside the cabin he heard the voice of Boniface, ‘Hullo, in there!’ shouted the man, and his voice sounded strangely familiar to the Young Mustanger. A moment passed and then the call was nepenne. Little Texas started from his covert and advanced toward the man. “Tf am not mistaken," he said, ‘it is Captain Lore Reynolc Se ; “Good heavens!” burst from the man’s lips. “Oh, senor! It is the Boy Mustanger!”’ burst from the lips of the woman. r To our hero’s wey he found himself in the presence of Captain Reynolds and Anita de Rosse- | Van. ‘*What has brought you here, Captain Reynolds?" the boy asked. ** We were forced to come this way to elude the enemy,” replied the captain; ‘‘we were cut off trom the main column and forced into a narrow valle and compelled to follow it. But what cabin is this} “Relay Sarony—a robber station,” replied Little Texas. m “ And what are you doing here? In a few words Little Texas narrated his adven- ture with Boniface, the supposed death of the out- law and rescue of Christie, and the final denovement. “You don’t tell me Black Boniface and Christie are in that cabin, do you?” exclaimed Captain Rey- ' nolds. ew words, in connection with | | door a few sturdy blows. light she realized that she had been rescued from | still within. He rapped u | no — An ax was leaning against the side of ‘Yes, captain; and God only knows what moment a horde of friends may be upon us.” Captain Reynolds leaped to the ground, and giv- ing the reins of his horse to Anita, advanced with Texas to the door of the hut and listened. AN was nthe door. There was ding, and taking it up, Reynolds deait the It yielded and burst in. the b | The room was in darkness and silence. Little Texas of Heaven upon the noble youth’s head; then, | ings as she sunk back into her chair, almost fainting, she said; “ Little Texas, this is a miracle.” , “Tt was a narrow risk to run, that’s a fact, but I'll do anything for an innocent woman,” replied the boy; “and if Old Morality come out as well as I have, Anita is safe, also.” “ But where is sister Edith, Texas?” ‘* Oh, she’s safe and well; but I’ll declare this beats all the nights I ever I couldn’t hardly hold r devis talking about their rg Sie One Os 2e'd eat tas in a position where I oould spring w at an advantage, and if I hada’t a him eed a woman, I'd ’a’ eprung trap there, obd weunateapiie Gove called the name of Christie, but there was no an- swer. The building was deserted. The two began ping about the room. Reynolds stumbled and oe sted a prostrate body. it was the dead form of okely. sac they have escaped, I am afraid,’’ said Little Texas, bitterly; “yes, here is a back window open. Oh, heavens!’ “ Hark!’ commanded Reynolds. A scream outside came to their ears. The two rushed out into the yard in time to see aman dash al e the fair Anita, drag her from her horse and GL 7 “Oh, great heavens! Anita is gone!” cried Rey- nolds, leaping into his saddle; “* come, Texas, mount t a sniffing anda | Anita’s horse, and let us pursuit. the outlaw; but the chase lasted but for a few min- utes. The tor en the dark woods and was lost from t; and sick, almest, at heart, the captain and ma drew rein, Captain, we have both committed blunders that uile’ or I'll have to shoot . >
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es — Little Texas, the You ay cost us the lives of those girls,” said the Boy ustanger, sadly. : * Yes, Texas,” replied Reynolds, with the bitter- est agony; ‘‘we may never set eyes upon them again, for we will be unable to continue the pursuit until daylight. By that time they will be miles away.” é : “Captain, I can never face Colonel Miles again— never, unless I can go to him with his daughter. I have no excuse for my blunder in lettin’ ole Boni- face defeat me as he did, for Dr. Rocheford played | the same trick on me but yesterday, and I should have been sure he was dead. No, I shall stay here | land take the villain’s trail again to-morrow.” “And I will stay with you, Texas; those girls must not be left to pas § a fate—but hark! More horse- men are Comming OF the valley.” The two sou orsemen rode up and halted before the cabin. ey were regulators and Indians—no doubt from the battle-field in the Double Mountain. Some of them dismounted and entered the cabin. goon shone from the open door. intermingled with oaths and exclamations, came to the ears of the captain and Boy Mustanger. They had found the cabin deserted, and the body of Stoke- ly upon the floor. Finally one of the regulators came out into the | tad and placing a horn to his lips, blew a sharp | last uponit. Scarcely had the echoes died away ere the twang of another horn answered itfromafar | off among the hills; and then the regulators leaped into their saddles and dashed away in the direction | whence the sound came, To them it was a well- known signal. Again and again the outlaw blew a blast upon his horn, and again and again the answer came leaping down from among the distant hills, guiding the course of the cavalcade. : “Captain,’’ said the Boy Mustanger, “they will ass near us—they are coming this way. That was Oniface’s call among the hills—come, let us fall in and go with them; in their haste and in the darkness they will not discover our presence.” Down past the two friends galloped the outlaws in a broken column at a breakneck speed; and turning their horses’ heads, Captain Reynolds and the Boy Mustanger wheeled into line and galloped away witn the robber band. On through the dark, gloomy woods they rode ina silence that was broken only by the trample of hoofs, the jingle of trappings, and tl distant horn, It was so dark that Little Texas could not distin- uish the form of Captain Reynolds from those of 1e Outlaws; but the darkness was that which pre- cedes the coming of day, and what was to be effected by their daring ride muss be done soon. The peals of the guiding horn became nearer and louder each minute, and finally the quavering blast pie but a few rods before them. Then a voice cried out: *“Who comes there?’ It was the voice of Black Boniface. ors; ‘*how have you got along with your kids?” ** Bad, indeed,”’ responded Boniface, with an oath; “did you not stop at the station?” “We did, and found Stokely there dead. What does it mean?” ; “Little Texas was there when I arrived at the t the shelter of the woods. A dozen | A light | Then high words, | 7 ze - ms ct, Twa : ‘ in search of the dreaded foes, but Boniface having learned, by bitter experience, that discretion was the better part of valor, detailed three regulators and five Apaches to go back, keeping about the same number with him, As the detachment mounted and turned to leave, Reynolds whispered: “Now, Texas, may Heaven help us!” As he spoke, the captain rode out from under the tree, among the horsemen that were passing to and fro, and turned alongside of Anita, who still sat up- on Boniface’s horse, her head bowed in hopeless de- spair, Without even checking his horse, the daring young ranger threw his arm about the maiden’s waist, dragged her from the saddle, and then putting spur, galloped away. Anita uttered a scream of terror. Taken so sud- | denly and unawares, she knew not what violent hands had seized her. But Captain Reynolds spoke | one word, and her fears had ended. A cry of joy burst from her lips. Black Boniface, startled by the maiden’s cry, ut- | tered an oath, leaped into his saddle, and with a | yell started in hot pursuit. His men, acting under | the impulse of the moment dona in the pursuit, | yelling like fiends and firing their rifles and pistols in the air. In the excitement Christie and Mother Sarony This left the field clear for Little | were left alone. Texas, who, riding forward, called Christie’s name. | With a glad ery of joy the maiden broke from Mother Sarony’s grasp and ran tothe Boy Mustan- er’s side, for even in the moment of her fear and | distress she recognized the voice of the daring boy. In afew moments the lad had her seated on the , horse behind him, and was galloping down the road; | nor was hea moment too soon, for it occurred to Boniface, upon a second thought, that he was acting | rashly, and he turned back, leaving his men to con- tinue the chase. But he found Mother Sarony alone, | and his fury knew no bounds when he learned from her that Little Texas had escaped with Christie. He blew an ear-splitting blast upon his horn, and in an- swer, a number of his men, red-skins and white came thundering back, wild with excitement and | crazed with confusion. 1e Clangor of the | As fast as their horse could travel, Little Texas | and Christie Miles made their way back along ‘the dim, military road toward Relay Sarony. Although Reynolds had gone in an opposite direction it was umiiratood that they meet at the cabin, and he knew the captain would be there unless he should meet with trouble; and so afew minutes’ ride brought them infront of the cabin. Reynolds, however was not there; but he rode under some trees and waited, and soon a horseman came down the road and paused before them. It was the captain and Anita, and having made their presence known, the maidens and their gallant rescuers congratuiated each other upon their exploit, and escape. But they had no time to. tarry, for they were far | from safe. Horsemen were approaching from the ; : ' north ata fearful speed, and so the fugitives moved * “Triends, captain,’’ responded one of the regulat- ; on southward along the old trail. But they had pur- sued this course but ashort ways when the thunder of hoofs was heard coming up before them, and so they were compelled to turn to the right into-a nar- row, mountain defile, not knowing either, whither it | would lead them. station, and he slew Stokely, but I outgeneraled | him," explained Boniface, though he took good care not to confine himself _to the truth concerning his adventure with the Boy Mustanger; “I have the Is here with me, and Mother Sarony, afraid of t young fiend, came with me.” ““Have you seen anything of Pap Sarony?”’ the old woman asked, in an eager, anxious tone. “I’m sorry to tell you, mother, he was slain in a fight with the settlers and rangers to-day,” answered one Chris Diebold. A scream of agony burst from the old woman's lips, and in her sudden paroxysms of grief, she fell from her horse, dragging Christie Miles, who was | seated behind her, to the earth with her. Seating herself upon the ground the old witow began a mournful lamenting that touched the hearts of Ohristie and Anita with pit, Black Boniface diampunied leaving Anita seated — upon his horse, and going to the weeping woman en- deavored to comfort her. But all wasin vain. The more he talked, the louder she moaned. Meanwhile, little Texas and Captain Reynolds were silent listeners to all that was said. The band had gathered around their chief, some dismounting and others keeping their saddles. Texas and Rey- nolds kept under the sr ge boughs, although it was impossible to distinguish an ness. A bright star, however, drifting up the eastern sity, told them that morning was fast approaching. Captain,” said Texas, leaning over in his and oi ering to Reynolds, we've got to be a-spur- yin’ round or day’ll be upon us. There those two irlsare, within two rods of us. Shall we make a sh and attempt to snatch them away? or, shall we creep up and take them when the robbers are not- expecting us?" - , x “J am afraid either plan will prove fruitless,” re- Plied Reynolds; “ but then we can try. Anita and draw the attention of the regulators, and then you can come up and rescue Christie. If we | ey separated, and don’t get shot, we w.ll meet back ay ally cabin. Ah! listen to what Boniface is I left Little Texas and one of the rangers at the ,” the outlaw was saying, “and if about a dozen of us would stip baek there we might take ant in, and avenge the death of poor ly and y one in the dark- | stirrup | I will take | As the darkness was intense Little Texas dis- mounted and led the way on foot. They moved along at a brisk walk. They felt assured that their diversion would give them, at least, two hours’ start of the enemy, which would enable them to elude all danger from Boniface and his followers. Slowly the red beams of dawn kindled in the eastern sky and finally burst into flame. Day was — them with all its glories and all its dangers. he faces of the maidens were pale and worn, and those of their rescuers anxious and determined. On either side of them rose the rugged, pictur- esque mountains. The valley was narrow and thin- ly wooded, aud the way was rough and stony for the jaded, footsore horses. Hunger and fatigue were telling upon the fugi- tives, yet no word of wi Near escaped their lips. On the contrary, Captain Reynolds and Little Texas conversed with the maidens in a free, cheerful spirit that filled the breasts of all with hope. But, in the midst of their fancied security, the ring of many hoofs suddenly broke cee eir ears. Boniface was after them, and gat —— the reins the fugi- tives put their horses to their utmost speed. On down the narrow valley for more thanan hour the race continued, until finally the bosom of a placid river burst upon the view of the fugitives. It , was the Double Mountain Fork of the Brazos river. Upon the banks of the stream the four seon drew rein. A cry of surprise and disappointment burst from the lips of the two men, There was no escape, either up or down the river. B2hind them came a score of Apache savages and white outlaws, while before them lay the murmuring river with its treacherous sands. “My God, Texas! what shall we dof” exclaimed Reynolds, no longer able to control his emotions. “We must ‘sink or swim,’”’ replied the boy; “it is our only alternative—come, I will lead the way. Keep your horse moving when you enter the water, | for fear of the quicksands.” the river, elosely followed by Reynolds and Anita. The horses swam a few yards and then struck a sand-bar, hidden under but a foot of water. / Heavens, be careful!” cried the Boy Mustanger. | The horses began to flounder violently in the sand | and water, and in the attempt to turn and get back into deep water, the had a fata) blander. The animats / } | The youth spurred his horse forward and entered | at an you see ‘ >
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id ee a onfl-- ae kg ED ra td lea a na: Oe eter . SS a 4 ee = - ~ seit of alanine eo / | | 22 “He is not there,” replied the boy, and scarcely had the last word fallen from his lips when a bullet came clipping through the foliage, and the report of a rifle on the opposite shore rolled back through the mountains in quavering intonations. A little ery of Mustanger, and his face. “Oh, Texas has been wounded!’ cried Christie, wa Ho that the enemies were so near. ttle Texas looked around. A faint smile was upon his face. Across his left cheek was a red welt, the track of the enemy’s bullet. ‘Tam not badly hurt, Christie,” he said, ‘‘ though it was a close call. e threw up his hands and clasped situation with bullets. river they might give us trouble.” “Yes, indeed,’ replied Old Kit, ‘‘and the sooner | we get out of here the better, for they'll be sure to cross the river sooner or later. defense of the two little angels, can hold our own with the hull caboodle of Satan.”’ The little band of fugitives remained there an hour or so longer, then landed and started south- ward through the hills, Their way lay over a rough Laer ag carte P sage eT base were in good spirits, an y refreshed, their progress was and slow tealoun. . Old Kit Bandy and Red Raven brought up the rear, keeping just in sight of their four friends; and they had journeyed some five or six miles when those in advance were suddenly startled by the dis- charge of firearms. “Good Heavens!” exclaimed Reynolds, ‘* Bandy and Red Raven have been attacked!” “T am afraid so,’ replied the re. Mustanger, **but from the sound of the firing I should think a regiment was engaged.”’ *Oh! I pray that kind old man and his red friend are not in danger!” said Christie. The Being leted for several minutes, but before Texas and Reynolds had decided what was best for them to do, it ceased altogether. Then followed several minutes of dread suspense, which was fin- ally ended by the appearance of a number of horse- men. * Hurrah!” burst from _the lips of Captain Rey- nolds, ‘we are saved! Those are my Texan Ran- gers!” And so they were. A few moments later the rangers, accompanied by Don Rossevan and Colonel Israel Miles, drew rein before the fugitives. Then there rose on the morning air, cries of joy and shouts of victory that were taken up by the echoes and repeated in almost every valley of the Double Mountains. Rejoiced, indeed, were Colonel Miles and Don Ros- sevan to meet their young friends; and while father and daughter, brother and sister, were re- counting their adventures and trials, Little Texas and the captain paid their respects to the rangers. Old Kit Bandy and Red Raven had suddenly disap- peared, nor could the rangers give any account of them. They had not even seen them. They had come suddenly upon a score of Indians and outlaws and had attacked and defeated them with great slaughter. Boniface was seen among the enemy at the beginning of the fight, but he had escaped. Captain Reynolds ordered a search for Kit and the Indian, but they could not be found, and after wait- ing nearly a half a day for them in vain, the little band resumed its march southward. About sunset they reached the camp of the settlers near where Boniface had deserted the calesa. Edith Clayton was there to receive her little sis- ter, Christie, and her young friend Anita; and then and there was another joyous meeting. The night was spent there in the valley, and ear the next morning the band took its line of marc southward. The three women were given the calesa with Colonel Miles and Don Rossevan as companions. Little Texas recovered his horse, saddle and lasso, his sword and armor, and once more rode forth the free, happy young knight of the prairie. Old Moral- ity was there, the same lively and jolly old man. The first night the party encamped in the very grove wherein Black Boniface had encamped the night before he reached the Double Mountain, an here they passed a pleasant time, and bright and early the following morning they were astir. were about ready to begin the day’s journey when the man on guard announced the approach of three horsemen. is delayed departure and threw every- body into excitement. In a few minutes the horsemen approached the grove and drew up before the Pee: They were ld Kit Bandy, Red Raven and Black Boniface. The last was a captive. Cheer after cheer rose_upon the morning ‘air, for Little Texas, Captain Reynolds and the maidens All had told all who the old man and the red-skin were. | ‘ gg so you took Bonny in, Kit?’’ questioned Rey- nolds. “Yes, by the horn of old Joshua! the gentleman put his eonine head right into our trap, and we not only got him but a horse apiece to carry us overland | to the post,’’ replied Bandy. ‘ “Thank Heaven! our troubles from that scamp will be at an.end,”’ said Colonel Miles; “I can see now that Seneca Lucas, Victor Ure and Black Boni- face resemble—in fact are one.” “Oh, he’s an owdacious villain!” replied Kit, *“and’s wanted badly by parties at St. Louis. There’s a price on his head.” This conversation was carried on aside. Bandy had dismounted, leaving Boniface with Red Raven, wlo had, also, dismounted and stood by the outlaw’s horse.. Boniface, with his hands bound at his baek, Little Texas, xg burst from the lips of the Boy | The heathens suspect we are | hidden along here somewhere, and are exploring the | If they should cross the | Once in the moun- | tain fastnesses and I think we four fellers, fightin’ in | | sat his horse talking and laughing with as much bravado and impudence as though surrounded by his own reckless men. He was mounted upon his own horse, and suddenly, when all eyes were turned toward jolly Old Kit Bandy, the outlaw slipped his bonds, drove his booted foot into Red Raven's face, and then, with a yell, dug his heels into his horse's | rairie. sides and escaped into the open ee-score lips, and Acry of dismay burst from t every man started for his horse. ‘** A cool thousand to the man that catches him!”’ yelled Bandy. Out of the grove and away in pursuit swept two-' score horsemen in a solid column, yelling and their pistols, as if such a din would terrify Blac Boniface, For awhile the pursuers all rode together, but finally they began to string out across the plain, | and foremost among them was the Boy Mustanger | upon Lightfoot and with lassoin hand. ’ The youth was in his element now, and his horse being fresh it fairly skimmed the prairie like a bird upon the wing. He gained rapidly upon his follow- ers and upon the fleeing outlaw, and those watching | the chase from the grove held their breath in dire suspense. knew that Boniface possessed no weapon, yet they had serious doubts as to the result of the Boy Mustanger encountering him in a hand-to-hand struggle. went up from many lips for the brave boy. Black Boniface was headed directly toward the Double Mountains, but when he was still miles from the fastness of that stronghold, he saw that one of his pursuers was close upon his heels. He saw that it was Little Texas, and a curse rose to his ips. “Halt, ole robber, halt!” the boy suddenly shout- ed at the top of his lungs; but Boniface he not. ‘‘T’ll make him hear and heed me,” the Young Mustanger mused, and then he gathered his lasso and held it behind him with extended arm. He spoke to Lightfoot ard the horse shot forward, car- | rying the lad within ten feet of the outlaw. hen he let fly his lasso. With a hiss the coiled rope | shot forward, and true to the aim, the fatal noose fell about the outlaw’s head. Before the villain could realize his peril, the lasso was drawn taut and | he jerked violently backward and thrown to the ground. The fall stunned him, and he lay for a long time unconscious; but when he finally recovered his senses, he found himself surrounded by a score of men. Among them was his captor, Little Texas, and the Texan rangers. The outlaw was securely bound, placed upon a horse and taken back to the grove. On the way they were met by Kit Boney, who, riding up to the Boy Mustanger and taking his hand, nai ~ “Boy, you are a good one, and when you threw the lasso that floored Boniface, you drew a golden rize.”” ‘ And so he did. Without further delay the parties took up their homeward march, and in the course of three days | reached the Ruins de Rossevan without further | Comedy, Farce, Dress { and Burlesque, by noted writers; and Recitations trouble from the enemy. Here Kit Bandy, the old detective, rested a few days, then with his prisoner, and accompanied by Red Raven, he set out for St. Louis. With the rescue of Christie Miles and Edith Clay- ton ended the first and last troubles of Colonel Israel Miles’s little colony in the Lone Star State; and with the capture of Black Boniface and the death of Jules Rocheford ended the power of the freebooters of the prairie in the valley of the San Saba and the South-west, Moreover, the final conviction and death of Boniface removed all questionable obsta- cles from between Don Juan de Rossevan and Edith | Clayton’s love, and in the course of time that noble | Spanish exile and recluse, had the supreme joy and posters of leading Edith to the altar of wedded | Oo ve; and no truer and happier pair ever joined their hearts and affections. In the gallant young ranger, Captain Reynolds, Anita found a noble and chivalrous lover, a true hus- band and a faithful devoted companion for life. Colonel Miles’s colony grew and flourished, and although it had many trials hardships and privations to contend with at first, it finally overcame them all —that indomitable spirit of i and peace, happiness and all the wonted comforts of life were the final heritage of all. Old Morality ever remained in the employ and society of Don Rossevan. years had bowed his form and traced his brow with wrinkles, Don Rossevan made light and pleasant for him the burden of life, while the fair Anita, ever | faithful to her religious duties, turned the old man’s faltering footsteps into that narrow way which leads into Eternal Light. Little Texas continued for some years in the wild, free life of a mustanger; but, in the meantime, he visited, regularly, the home of his first and only love, Christie Miles, And as he grew older and min- gled more and more in the fair girl’s society, he be- gan to realize that there was a broad gulf separating them in every way except in love. He fully realized that his social and intellectual culture was far below that of his promised bride—a difference which so often leads to the alienation of the affections, and to suffering and misery. But instead of growing de- spondent and hopeless, the lad’s spirit became | aroused, and with that resolute determination which | had characterized all the acts of his boyhood days, he went to work to educate himself. In the school and poten he labored, and never until he had gained that goal, and received the crown of all earth piness, did he rest from his labors of love. the Young Mustanger. Fervent, indeed, were the prayers that | ed him | | Book of Verses. a life triumphed, | He liad: become as ‘one of | Guide to Swimming. that gentleman’s family, and when the weight of | | 2. Recipe Book. ette. _ VI.—Daniel Boone. y hap- BEADLE & ADAMS’ STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS. Speakers. BEADLE AND ADAMS have now on their lists the fok | lowing highly desirable and attragtive erg prepared expressly for schools, families, etc. volume contains 100 large pages, printed from clear, open type, comprise the best collection of Dia- logues, Dramas and Recitations, (burlesque, comic and otherwise.) The Dime Speakers for the season | of 1880—as far as now issued—embrace twenty-three volumes, viz. : . American Speaker. 13. School Speaker, 2. National Speaker. 14. Ludicrous Speaker. 8, Patriotic Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker. 4, Comic Speaker. 16. Youth’s § er. 5. Elocutionist. 17. Eloquent Speaker. 6. Humorous Speaker. | 18. Hail Columbia Speak 7. Standard Speaker. er. 8. Stump Speaker. 19. Serio-Comice Speaker, 9, Juvenile Speaker. 20. Select y toe 10. Spread-Eagle Speaker | 21. Funny Speaket. 11. Dime Debater. 22, Jolly Speaker. 12, Exhibition Speaker. 23, Dialect Speaker. These books are replete wit: choice pieces for the School-room, the ibition, for Homes, ete. They are drawn from FRESH sources, and contain some of the choicest oratory of the times. 75 to 100 Declama- | tions and Recitations in each book. Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages, em- brace twenty-six books, viz.; Dialogues No. One. Dialogues No. Fourteen, | Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No, Sixteen. Dialogues No, Four. Dialogues No. Seventeen. Dialogues No. Five, Dialogues No. Eighteen Dialogues No. Six. Dialogues No. Nineteen. Dialogues No. Seven. Dialogues No. Twenty. | Dialogues No. Eight. Dialogues No. Twenty-one. Dialogues No. Nine, Dialogues No. Twenty-two. Dialogues No, Ten. Dialogues No. Twenty-three Dialogues No. Eleven, | Dialogues No. Twenty-four, Dialogues No. Twelve. | Dialogues No. Twenty-five. Dialogues No. Thirteen. | Dialogues No. Twenty-six, 15 to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in each book, These volumes have been prepares with especia) reference to their availability in all school-rooms, | They are adapted to schools with or without the fur- niture of a stage, and introduce a range Of Charao- ters suited to scholars of every grade, both male and female. It is fair to assume that no volumes yet offered to schools, at any price, contain sO many available and useful dialogues and dramas, serious and comic. Dramas and Readings. 164 12mo Pages. 20 Cents. For Schools, Parlors, Entertainments and the Am- ateur Stage, comprising Original Minor Dramas, ieces, Humorous Dialogue and Readings, new and standard, of the greatest celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof. A. M. Russell. DIME HAND-BOOKS. Young People’s Series. BEADLE’s Dime Hanp-Booxs FOR YounG Propra cover a wide range of subjects, and are espeei adapted to their end. They constitute at once the cheapest and most useful works yet put inte the market for popular circulation. Ladies’ Letter-Writer. Book of Games. Gents’ Letter-Writer. Fortune-Teller, Book of Etiquette. Lovers’ Casket. Ball-room Companion, Book of Dreams. Book of Beauty. Hand-Books of Games. BraDLe’s Dime Hanp-Books OF GAMES AND PopuLar Hanp-Books cover a variety of subjects, and are es- pecially adapted to their end. andbook of Summer Sports. Book of Croquet, Yachting and Rowing. Chess Instructor. Riding and Driving. Cricket and Football. Book of Pedestrianiam. Base-Ball Player for 1880. Handbook of Winter Sports. Manuals for Housewives. BeapLe’s Dime Famity SERIES aims to supply a class of text-books and manuals fitted for every per- son’s use—the old and the young, the learned and the unlearned. They are of conceded value, 1. Cook Book. 4. Family Physician, ri 5. Dressmaking and Mit 8. Housekeeper’s Guide. linery. Lives of Great Americars Are presented complete and authentic biogrephieg of many of the men who have added luster to the am c by their lives and deeds. The series em- races: I.—George Washington. | VII.—David Crockett, TI.—John Paul Jones. VIII.—Israel Putnam. Til.—Mad AnthonyWayne| IX.—Kit Carson, TIV.—Ethan Allen. ‘ X.—Tecumseh, V.—Marguis de Lafay-| XI.—Abraham Lincoin, XII.—Pontiac. XII.—Ulysses 8. G The above publications for sale by’ all suofeeaste aia or will be sent, et-paid, on receipt BEADLE & ADAMS, b8 Wena on ny? — 4
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82 Large 'Three-Column Pages. 1.A Hard Crowd; or, GENTLEMAN Sam’s Sister. By Philip S. Warne. 2. The Dare-Devil; or, THE WINGED WircH oF THE SEA. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 3. Kit Carson, Jr., THE CRACK SnHor or THE West. By Buckskin Sam. 4. The Kidnapper; or, THe Great SHANGHAI OF THE NoRTHWEST. By Philip S. Warne. 5. The Fire-Fiends; or, Hercu.ezs, Tux Huncupack. By A. P. Morris. 6. Wildcat Bob, Tur Boss Bruiser; or, THE BorpER BLoopHounps, By Ed. L. Wheeler. 7. Death-Notch, THz Destroyer; or, Tue Spirtrr LAKE AvENGERS. By Oll Coomes. 8. The Headless Horseman. A strange story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. 10. Vidocq, THe Frencu PoLice Spy. Written by himself. vine Midshipman Easy. By Capt. Mar- ryat. 12. The Death-Shot; or, TRACKED TO DeatH. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 13. Pathaway; or, Nick WHIFFLES, THE Op TRAPPER oF THE NorTHWEST. By Robinson, 14, Thayendanegea, THE ScourGcE; or, THE War-Eacie or Tar Monawks. Ned Buntline, 15. The Tiger-Slayer; or, EAaG.e- Heap To THe Rescuz. By Gustave Aimard. | OF SILVERLAND. By Oll Coomes. 16, The White Wizard; or, THE GREAT | PROPHET OF THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline. 17. Nightshade, THe Rosser PRINCE or Hounstow Hratu. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 18. The Sea Bandit; or, THe QureENn OF THE IsLE. By Ned Buntline. 19. Red Cedar, THE Prarrim OvuTLaw. By Gustave Aimard, 20. The Bandit at Bay; or, Tux Pr- RATES OF THE PrRArRicrs. By Gustave Aimard, 21. The Trapper’s Daughter; or, Tue Ovurtaw’s Fare. By Gustave Aimard. 22. Whitelaw; or, NATTIE OF THE Lakz | SHore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 23. The Red Warrior; DeELorMe’s CoMANCHE Lover. By Ned Buntline. 24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai- mard, author of ‘ Tiger-Slayer,” etc. 25. The Gold-Guide; or, Stern Arm, THE REGULATOR. By Francis Johnson. 26. The Death-Track; or, Tue Ovrt- LAWS OF THE MounTaIN. By Francis Johnson, 27. The Spotter-Detective; or, THE Gris or New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 28. Three-Fingered Jack, THE Roap- AGENT or THE Rockies. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 29. Tiger Dick, Tue Faro Kiyo; or, | THE CasHrer’s Crime. By Philip S. Warne. 30. Gospel George; or, Frery FRep, oR, STELLA / LIBRARY. Each Number Complete. Price 10 cts. 82. Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery. 83. Gold Bullet Sport; or, raz Knicu7s OF THE OVERLAND. By Buffalo Bill 84. Hunted Down; or, THE WEITE Wrrcu. By Albert W. Aiken. 85. The Cretan Rover; or, ZULEIKAH, THE BEAavTIFuL, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 86. The Big Hunter; or, THz QuEEN OF THE Woops. By the author of “‘ Silent Hunter.”’ 87. The Scarlet Captain; or, Tus PRISONER OF THE TowrER. By Col. Delle Sara. 88. Big George, THE GIANT OF THE | Guicu; or, THe Five Ourtaw Broturrs. By Badger. 89. The Pirate Prince; or, Prerry NELLY, THE QUEEN OF THEISLE. By Col. Ingraham. 90. Wild Will, THz Map RancHeEro; or, Tok TERRIBLE Texan. By Buckskin Sam. | 91. The Winning Oar; or, Tz Inx 54. Always on Hand; or, THE Sportive | KEEPER’S DAUGHTER. By “Albert W. Aiken. Sport oF THE Foor Hits. By Philip 8. Warne. sean 92. Buffalo Bill, Tue Buckskin Kine; 55. The Scalp Hunters. A RoMANCEOF | By Major Dangerfield Burr. Priarns. By Capt. id. bie: . ee | 93. Captain Dick Talbot, Kine or 44, Old Dan Rackback, Tue Great | EXxTAaRMINATOR. By Oll Coomes. 45. Old Bull’s Eye, THe Licurnine Ssor or THE Piams. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 46. Bowie-Knife Ben, THe LITrLe Hunter oF THE Nor’-west. By Oll Coomes, 47. Pacific Pete, THr PRINCE or THE Revotver. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 48. Idaho Tom, THE YounG OvurLaw 49. The Wolf Demon; or, THE QUEEN or THE KANAWHA. By Albert W. Aiken. 50. Jack Rabbit, Taz Pramm Sport; By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 51. Red Rob, Tue Boy Roap-AGenrt. By Oll Coomes. 52. Death Trailer, THe CuHmr or | Scoors. By Hon. Wm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.) 53. Silver Sam; or, THE MYSTERY OF ' Deaiwoop City. By Col. Delle Sara. 56. The Indian Mazeppa; or, THE | rue Roap. By Albert W. Aiken. Map MAN oF THE Puarns. By Albert W. Aiken. 57. The Silent Hunter; or, THE Scown Haut Mystery. By Percy B. St. Jonh. 58. Silver Knife; or, WICKLIFFE, THE Rocky Mountarn Rancer. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 59. The Man From Texas; or, THE OvuTLAW OF ARKANSAS. By Albert W. Aiken. 60. Wide Awake; or, Tur THE Biack Hiuuts. By Frank Dumont. 61. Captain Seawaif, THE PRIVATEER. By Ned Buntline. 62. Loyal Heart; or, Toe TRAPPERS OF ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard. 63. The Winged Whale. By Aiken. 64. Double Sight, the Death Shot. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 94. Freelance, THe BuccAnEER; or, The Walr oF THE WaAvE. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 95. Azhort, THE AxMAN; or, THE SECRETS OF THE DucaL PaLace. By Anthony P. Morris. 96. Double-Death; or, THE Spy QUEEN oF Wyominc. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 97. Bronze Jack, THE CALIFORNIA THOROUGHBRED. By A, W. Aiken. 98. The Rock Rider; or, THe Sprrir | OF THE SrerRA. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 99. The Giant Rifleman; or, Witp LirE IN THE LumMBER Reaions. By Oll Coomes. 100. The French Spy; or, Tot Brie of Paris. A Story of the Commune. By A. P. orris. 101. The Man from New York; or, THE ROMANCE OF A Rich Youna Woman. By Albert IDIOT OF 65. ihe Red Rajah; or, big A en bea |W. Aiken. oF THE INDIES. By Captain Frederick ittaker. 102. The Masked Band; or, THE Man 66. The Specter Barque. A TALE | wrrnovr « Name. By George L. Aiken. oF THE Paciric. By Captain Mayne Reid. : 103. Merle, the Mutineer; or, Taz 67. The Boy Jockey; or, Honesty | Brann or rae Rep ANcHoR. By Col. P. Ingraham. VERSUS CROOKEDNESS. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. Tur Ovurtaw. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 81. The New York ‘Sharp,’ or, THE Fasx or Ligutnina. By Albert W. Aiken. 82. B’hoys of Yale; or, Tae ScraPEs or A Harp Ser or Cotieemns. By John D. Vose. 33. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken. 34. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Aiken. 35. Kentuck, the Sport. By Aiken. 36. Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 37. Hirl, the Hunchback; or, Tue SWORDMAKER OF THE SanTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 38. Velvet Hand; or, Taz Iron Grr or | Insun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 89. The Russian Spy; or, Tar Brorn- ERS OF THE STARRY Cross. By #rederick Whittaker. 40. The Long Haired ‘ Pards;’ or, THE TARTARS OF THE PLAINS. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 41. Gold Dan; or, THE Wuitr Savace OF THE GREAT SatT LAKE. By Albert W. Aiken. 42. The California Detective; On, Tae Witcues or New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 43. Dakota Dan, THe RECKLESS RANGER; or, Tae Bex-Huntrrs’ Excursion. By Oll Coomes, | Prison, STAGE AND STREET. By Albert W. Aiken. | 104. Montezuma, the Merciless; or, THE EAGLE AND THE SERPENT. By Col. P. Ingraham. 105. Dan Brown of Denver, THE Rocky Mounrarn Derecrive. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 106. Shamus O’Brien, Tur Bou.p Boy or GLINGAL; or, IntsH HEARTS aND Irish Homes. By Colonel Delle Sara. 107. Richard Talbot of Cinnabar; = — BROTHERS OF THE RED Hanp. By Albert W. | 108. The Duke of Diamonds; or, THE | Flower or. Catcutra. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 109. Captain Kidd, Kine or THE Brack | Fuaag. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. Nov. 24th. 110. The Silent Rifleman. A Tale of | the Texan Plains. By Henry W. Herbert. Dec. 1st. 111. The Smuggler Captain; or, Tur Sxrpper’s Cruise. By Ned Buntline. December Sth. 112. Joe Phenix, Private Derecrive; or, THz LzaGvE OF THE SKELETON Krys. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready December 15th, 113. The Sea Slipper: or, Toe Ama- TEUR FreEesooTers. By Prof. J. H. Ingraham. Ready December 224. A new issue every week. 68. The Fighting Trapper; or, Kit Carson To THE Rescue. By Capt. J. F. C, Adams. 69. The Irish Captain; A TaLEe or FontTenoy. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 70. Hydrabad, THE STRANGLER; or, ALETHE, THE CHILD OF THE CorD. By Robinson. 71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, Taz Man SHARK OF THE MississiPpPI. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 72. The Phantom Hand. A Srory or New York HeArTHS AND Homes. By A, W. Aiken. 73. The Knight of the Red Cross; or, THe Maarcran oF GRANADA. Dr. J. H. Robinson. 74. Captain ofthe Rifles. A Romance OF THE Mexican VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid. 75. Gentleman George, or, PAaRLor, 76. The Queen’s Musketeer; or, THISBE, THE PRINCESS PALMIST. By George Albony. 77. The Fresh of Frisco; or, Tur Herress of BuENAVENTURA. By Albert W. Aiken. 78. The Mysterious Spy; or, Gotprn FEATHER, THE BuCCANEER’S DAUGHTER, By Grainger. 79. Joe Phenix, THE Police Spy. By Albert W. Aiken. 80. A Man of Nerve; or, Cauman, TRE DwarF. By Philip 8. Warne. | 81. The Human Tiger; or, A HEART, oF Fire. By Albert W. Aiken. Beadle’s Dime Libra ry is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of twelve cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, | Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
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ol Deadwood Dick, THe Prince of THE ROAD; or, THE BLACK RIDER OF THE BLack His. By Edward L. Wheeler. Yellowstone Jacky or, TRAPPERS OF THE ENncHANTED Grounp. By Jos. ©. Badger, Jr. Kansas King; or, Tae Rep Ricut HAND. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). Nhe Wild-Horse Hunters. w ~ & By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain Irrederick Whittaker. Vagabond Joe, THE Youna WANDERING JEW; or, PLortIng For A Lecacy. By Oll Coomes. Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Lire IN THE Nortuwest. By Edward 8S. Ellis. The Flying Yankee; or, Tas OckAN OvtT- cast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Seth Jones; or, THe Caprives OF THE FRON- vTrmr. By Edward §. Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen. 10 Nat Todds or, THe Fate oF THE S1oux Cap- tives. A Sequel to Bill Biddon. By E. 8. Ellis. 11 The Two Detectives; or, Tot Fortunes or A Bowery Gren, By Albert W. Aiken. 12 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. By Dean Swift. 13 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes. 14 Aladdiny or, THe Wonperrut Lamp. 15 The Sea-Cat; or, THe Wirtca or DARIEN. by Captain Frederick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surpris- ing Adventures, (27 Illustrations.) By Defoe. 7 Ralph Roy, THE Boy Buccanesr; or, THE Fueitive Yacut. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom Spy; or, Tue PILoT OF THE Prairie. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, DEADwoop Dick's Dertance. By Edward L. Wheeler. 21 Whe Frontier Angel. A Royance or KEn- Tucky RANGER’s Lire. By Edward §. Ellis. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, THE Boy RosBINsON Crusor. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o? the Night; or, Tae Boy Spy or "76. By T. C, Harbaugh. 24 Biamond Dirk; or, THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOwstTone. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 56 'The Boy Captain; or, THe PrRate’s Daveutrr. By Roger Starbuck. 6 Cloven Hoof, tam Burrato Demon; or, THE Borper Vuurures. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, tHe Boy Gurpe. Oll Coomes, 8 Buffalo Ben, THe Price or THE PISTOL; or, DEApWwoop DIcK IN Diseutse. FE. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page; or, THe Docz’s Davax- ' vER,. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THE RECK- LEss Rancer. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, Price or THE Prams, By Oli Coomes, 32 Bob Woolf, Trae Borper Rvrrin; or, THE Girt Drap-Snor. By Edward L. Wheeler. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THe Rep PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEES. By &, W. Pierce. 34 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wuirries’ Boy Spy. owe ao By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 35 Wit d ivan, THE Boy CLaupE DovaL; or, THE Brotuyerzoop or DeatH. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 86 The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN OF THE Arena. Ly Frank 8. Finn. 37 The Hidden Lodge; or, Tae Lirriz Hun- TER or tHe ADIRONDACKS. By T. C. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, TH: Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, THe Derective; or, Lire AND Love In New York. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A Story or A Younc AMERI- CAN WHO WANTED TO SEE THE WorLD. Marshall. 41 Lasso Jack, THE Youna MustTancrer. By Oll Coomes. 42 The Phantom Miner; or, Drapwoop Dick’s Bonanza. By Edward L. Wheeler. 43 Dick Darling, THe Pony Express RIDER. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 44 Rattling Rube; or, Tae Nicur Hawks or Kentucky. By Harry St. George. 45 Old Avalanche, THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR; or, WILD EDNA, THE GIRL Bricanp. E., L.Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, Tae Great SHor or Tax WEST. E Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 47 igntingale Nat; or, Tae Forest CAprarns. A GC. Harbaugh. 18 Black John, THe Roap-AGent; or, THE Out- Laws’ RerreatT. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 19 Omaha Oll, THE Maskep Terror; or, DBAD- woop Dick IN DANGER. By Edward L. Wheeler. $0 Burt Bunker, THe Trapper. A Tale of the Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy ifles; or, THz. UNDERGROUND Camp. By Archie C. Irons. 52 Khe White Buffalo. A Tale of Strange Adventure in the Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THE Boy PHENTX; or, TurovcH To Deata. By Edward L. Wheeler. 54 Ned Hazel, tux Boy Trapper; or, THE PHAN- rom Princess. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 55 Deadly - Eye, tur Unknown Scour; or, THE BranveD BroTHERHOOD. By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whifiles’ "a; or, IN THE VALLEY OF Deatu. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 57 Deadwood Di¢ck’s Eagles; or, THE Parps or FLoop Bar. 1 Presi L. Wheeler. 58 Whe Border King; or, Tue Secret For, mY Oll Coomes. 59 Old Wickory; or, Panny Exis’s Scatp. By Harry St. George. \ 60 The White Indian; or, THE Scouts or THE YEuLowstTone. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 61 Buckhorn Bill; or, Tan Rep Rte Team. Edward L. Wheeler. 32 e Shadow Ship; or, Tue Rrvar Lirv- TENANTS. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. \ a eee Sa s 63 Whe Red Brotherhood; or, Tae Twetve AvenGcERS. By W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy J ack or, THE OUTLAW OF THE OREGON Tram. By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustane Sam 4npD His “Parp.” By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 Single Hand; or, A Lire For 4 Lire. By W. J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe; or, OLD RaTTLOsNAKE, THe CHarmer. By Philip S. Warne. 68 The Border BRobin Hood; Pratrre Rover. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle, Tum SHARPSHOOTER; or, Tar Boy | DETECTIVE OF THE BLAcK RancuH. By Wheeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, THe GREENHORN IN THE Woops. By J. F. C. Adams. 71 Delaware Dick, THE YOUNG RANGER Spy; or, BRoTHER AGAINST BrotrHer. By Oll Coomes. 72 Mad Tom Western, THE TEXAN RANGER; | or, THE QUEEN OF THE PRAIRIE, By Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck} or, CaLamrry JANE, THE HEROINE OF WHOOP-Up, By Wheeler. 74 Wawk-eye Harry, THE Younc TRAPPER Rancer. By Oll Coomes. 75 The Boy Duelist; or, THe CRUISE OF THE Sea-WotF. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 76 Abe Colt, THE Crow-KILteR; or, THE GREAT FiGHTInG MAN oF THE West. By A. W. Aileen. 77 Corduroy Charlie, Tae Boy Brayo; or, Drapwoop Drok’s Last Act. By E. L. Wheeler. 78 Blue Dick; or, THE YELLOW Curer’s VEN- GEANCE. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, THE GIANT TRAPPER; or, THE FLOWER OF YaE BLACKFEET. By A. W. Aiken. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nuaaer Nep, tar KnicHr oF THE GuicH. By Edward L. Wheeler, 81 Lightning Jo, THE TERROR OF THE PRAIRIE. a Captain J. F. C. Adams. 82 Kit Maretoot, THe Woop-Hawk; or, OLp Powprer-Face AND His Demons. By Harbaugh. 83 Rollo, the Boy Ranger; or, Tue Herress OF THE GOLDEN Horn. By Oll Coomes. 84 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosesup Ros on Hanp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Buckramy or, Bess, THE FEMALE TrapeerR, By Captain J. F. C. Adams. 86 Dandy Rock, tHe Man From Texas. By G. Waldo Browne. 87 The Land Pirates; or, THE LEAGUE oF Devin’s Isuanp. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 Photograph Phil, THe Boy SLEevTH; or, RosEesup Rop’s REAPPEARANCE. By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jims; or, THe Pret or THE FAmILy. By the author of “Jack Harkaway.” 90 The Dread Rider; or, Tae Texan Dues. ch George Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Clubs or, THe Youne RivaL ATuietes. By Bracebridge Hemyng, 92 Canada Chet, THE COUNTERFEITER CHIEF; or, OLD ANACONDA IN Srrtine Buiw’s Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93'The Boy Miners; or, IsLAND. By Edward 8. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, THE Roap-AGENT; or, GopHeER Gin, THE Boy RAPPER OF THE CHEYENNE, By T. C. Harbaugh, 95 The Rival Rovers; or, THE FREEBOOTERS or THE MississipPl. B: Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch-Eye, THE SHADOW; or, ARABS AND ANGELS oF A Great Crry. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers; or, Taz Captive or THe Harpgs. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, THe Ovurtawep EArt; or, THE Merry MEN or Greenwoop. Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Viger of Taos; or, Wimp Kate, Danpy Rock’s ANGEL. By George Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick STRANGE STROKE FoR Liperty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York; or, * THe ADVENTURES OF THE TRAVELERS’ CLUB. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, tHE Boy SMuGGLER; or, THe CRUISE OF THE VIXEN. By Col. Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea; or, THE VAILep Lapy or San Tropez. By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device; or, THE SIGN oF THE DovusLE Cross. By E. 5 Whee ler 105 Old Rube, THe Hunter; or, THe Crow Cap- TIVE. By Capt. H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, THe Gurpe; or, NIOKANA, THE WHITE QUEEN OF THE BLACKFEET. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim} or, THE ABANDONED For- EST Home. By J. L. Bowen. 108 Daring Davy, THE YounGc BEAR-KI1er; or, Tne Tra or THE BorpER WOLF. H. St. mpg 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 110 The Black Steed of the Pratries. A Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. 111 The Sea-Devil; or, THe Mipssipman’s Leaacy. By Col. P. Ingraham. 112 The Mad Hunter; or, Tap Cave or DeaTH. By Burton Saxe. 113 Jack Hoyle, tHe Youna SPECULATOR; or, THe Roav to Fortune By Ed. L. Wheeler. 114 The Black Schooner; or, Jip JUNK, THE Od Tar. By Roger Starbuck. 115 The Mad Miner; or, Danvy Rock's Doom. By George Waldo Browne. 116 The Hussar Captain; or, Tae Hermrr oF Heii-Gate. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 117 Gilt-Edged Dick, Tae Sport Detective; or, Tue Roap-Acent’s DAUGHTER. Wheeler. 118 Will Somers, tue Boy Detective. Morris. 119 Mustang Sam; or, THE Kine oF THE Pratns. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 120 The Branded Hand; or, Taz Man or Mystery. By Frank Dumont. 121 Cinnamon Chip, THE Gru Sport; or, Tu Gouipen Ino or Mr. Rosa. Kd. L.Wheeler. THe ENCHANTED n Leadville; or, A - or, THE | 122 Phil Hardy, Tux Boss Boy; or, THe Mys- TERY OF THE STRONGBOW. By Charles Moiris. 123 Kiowa Charley, THe Wuttr MuSTANGER. By T. C. Harbaugh, 124 Vippy, THE Texan; or, THe Younc CHAMPION. By George Gleason. 125 Bonanza Bill, Miner; or, Mapame Mys- TERY, THE I"EMALE fforGER. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 126 Picayune Pete; or, Nicopemus, tHe Doe Detective. By Charles Morris, 127 Wiid-Fire, tue Boss or THe Road; or, Tan WoLvEs or SATAN’S Gap. By Frank Dumont. 128 The Young Privateer; or, Tat Prates’ ; STRONGHOLD. By H. Cavendish, 129 Deadwood Dick’s Bouble; or, Tar Guost or Gorcon’s GuitoH. Ed. 1. Wheeler. 130 Detective Dick; or, Taz Hero in Rags, By Charles Morris. 131 The Golden Mandy3 or, Danny Rock To THE RESCUE. By George W. Browne. 132 The Hunted Hunters or, Tue STRANGE HORSEMAN OF THE Prarrniz. By Ed. S. Ellis. 133 Boss Bob, THe Kina or THE BooTBLACKS: or, THE PAWNBROKER’s Pitot. Ed. L. Wheeler. 134 Sure Shot Seth, Tue Boy Rirteman; or THY YounG PATRIOTS OF THE NortH. By Oll Coomes. 135 png nog Paul, THE Kentucky MoonsHiner; or, THE Boy Spy oF THE MountTarns. By Clark. 136 Night-Hawk Kit; or, Toe DAUGHTER oF THE RancH. By Jose h E. Badger, Jr. 137 The Helpless ands; or, Backwoops RetrRiBuTION. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 138 Blonde Bill; or, DeEaApwoop Dicr’s Home Base. By Edward L. Wheeler. 139 Judge Lynch, Jr.3; or, Tae Boy Viar- LANTE. By T. C. Harbaugh. 140 Blue Blazes; or, THe Break o’ Day Boys oF Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. 141 Solid Sam, THe Boy RoAp-AGeEnt; or, Tar BranDED Brows. By Edward L. Wheeler. 142 Handsome Warry, THE Boorsiack Dr- Tective. By Charles Morris. 1483 Scar-Face Saul, THE SILENT HUNTER; or, THe Mystery or Fort Rang. By Oll Coomes. 144 Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport; or, THE Bank-BREAKERS’ Decoy Duck. J. E. Badger. 145 Captain Ferret, tHe New York DETEc- TIVE; or, Boss Bon’s Boss Jos. By Wheeler. 146 Silver Star, THe Boy Knicur. A Prairie Romance. By Oll Coomes. 147 Will Wildfire, THe THOKOUGHBRED; or, Tue Winnine Hanp. By Charles Morris. 148 Sharp Samp} 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 Rsschng or, THE CHILDREN oF THE Cuaco. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker, 151 Panther Paul, Tye Pram Pinare; or, Dainty Lance To THE Rescve. J. E, Budger, 152 Black Bess, Witt Wivprimer’s Racer; or, WINNING AGAINST Opps._ By Charles Morris, 153 Eagle Kit, THe Boy Demon; or, Tue Ovr- _, LAWS OF THE Gotp Hits. . By Oll Coomes. 154 The Swerd Hunters; or, THe LAnp 0 THE ELEPHANT Ripers. By Fred. Whittaker, 155 Gold Trigger, THE Sport; or, THE Gir. AVENGER. By T. d. Harbaugh. 156 Deadwood Dick of Deadwoed; or, Tue Pickep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler, 157 Mike Merry, rar Harsor Porice Boy; or, THe Nigut-Hawks oF PHILADELPHIA. Morris, 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado 3 or, Tar TRAPPER’s TrusT. By Buffalo Fill. 159 Whe Lost Captain; or, SKIrPrer Janez Corrin’s CRUISE TO THE OPEN POLAR SEA, By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 160 Whe Black Giant; or, Damry Lance mr Jroparpy. By Joseph FE. Badger, Jr. 161 New York Nell, tHe Boy-Gmt Derectrive; or, OLD BLaKesty’s Money. By E. L. Wheeler, 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods; or, Camp Lire IN THE ALLEGHANIES. By Charifes Morris. 163 Little Wexas, THE YounG MusTANGER. A ae ae ee big oma a Ol Coomes, 1 andy ock’s edges or, Hunte ne a By G. Waldo Browne. : sax 1 y Baggage, THe Rarmroap Boy: Run To Fart. By Charles Morris. as 166 Hickory Marry 3 or, Ton Tram or Frere. By Harry St. George. 167 Asa Scott, THEStrramnoat Boy; or, THE LAND PIRATES OF THE Mississippr. By ka. Willett, 168 Deadly Dash; or, Ficnting Fire wit Fire. By Jos. E. Badger. 169 Tornado Tom; or, Iysun Jack From Ren Corr, T. C. Harbaugh. 170 A Trump Card3 or, Wit Witprire Wires AND Losrs, By Charles Morris. pw Ebony Dany or. THe Riva LEAGUES or Sirver Crrcte. By F. Dumont. 172 Thunderbolt Tom; or, Tue Wo.r-HERDER oF THE Rocxizs. By Harry St. George. 173 Dandy Rock’s Rival; or, Taz Huntep Map or Taos. By George Waldo Browne. 174 Bob Rockett, THE Boy DopGer; or, Mys- TERIES OF New York. By Charles Morris. 175 Captain Arizoma, THE Kine PIn or tHE Roap AGENTS; or, Patent Leather Joe’s Big Game. By Philip 8. Warne. 176 The Boy Runaway; or, THe Buccaneer or THE Bay. Lieut, H. D. Perry, U.S.N. Dee 7. 177 Nobby Nick of Newada. By Edward I, Wheeler. Ready December 14th. : A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is f Newsdealers, five cents per CODY, OF seat ood - receipt of six cents each. BEAD Publishers, $8 William Street, New Yer “DAMS, —