Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 167) (1880 10 05)
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$2.50 a year. Vol. VI THE STEAMBOAT BOY; The Land inka « the Mississippi. A Romance of a Rich Boy and a Poor Boy. BY EDWARD WILLETT. CHAPTER I. OWN MASTER—HOW ASA SPROULE RESOLVED TO SEE THE WORLD. Onty seventeen, and a fortune to spend! This is how it happened. Asa Sproule was the only son of respectable pa- rents, who resided at the time of his birth, in a flourishing town on the Missouri river. HIS ** aL. ABOARD!” CRIED SNAKEROOT, His father was a lawyer by desing eg but not a very successful one, possibly because he did not give his entire attention to the law, but frittered away matt it et i! on! lt at on Copyrighted in 1880 by BEADLE AND ADAMS. his energies upon what Col. Sellers would style | ‘side speculations."" He gradually abandoned the law, and became professedly a real estate agent, his office being a rendezvous and projectors, He was always up to his ears in all or all sorts of schemers | manner of speculations, and the result was that he | was at times considered to be a wealthy man, and at times he. knew that he would be unable to meet his obligations, if he should be pressed to the wall. Thus his life was passed between poverty and rich- es, and his physical and mental health suffered un- | der the constant strain of his unremitting endeavors | to become wealthy. His only son, Asa, was brought up in the belief | that his father was, and necessarily would always be, arich man, and he was given as good an educa- tion as that part of the country could then afford. Asa’'s mother died when he was fifteen, shortly af- ter he had entered a high-class academy which was dignified by the title of “college.”’ He attended her funeral and was sent back to finish his education. re — = > | the boy since =i) he ep S| ~) OW ia ed! a) el WN seventeen when he was called te the death-bed of his father. . That ardent speculator had gone to the bad quite rapidly after the death of his wife. His spec had, become wilder and more varied, his mind was more unsettled than ever, and his affairs had be- come so inextricably involved that he was finally obliged to abandon his hopeless. endeavors te straighten out the tangle, Of all this Asa bad no knowledge. He had reason to believe that his father owned large surfaces of land, and other properties of many varieties; but he could not know the precarious character of the own- ership of all this reputed wealth. Consequently no one was more surprised than he—though mar were surprised—when his father’s estate was se tled up, and there was nothing left. Just nothing at-all. Houses, lands, stocks, bonds: claims, interests, even the roof that had sheltered bis babyhood—all were sold and _— away, and there was not enough to pay the evn. Where, then, did the fortune come from? You shall soon .see. ‘“WE COULD TAKE HALF A DOZEN MORE PASSENGERS IF WE HAD ’Ex,”
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2 Asa Scott, the Steamboat Koy, Asa Sproule found himself pennflest, He had his ‘@lothes and other personal effects, s Srunk and an old mo ear containing some of his father’s papers which not been thought worth examining. It was necessary that he should do something, in order to live, and whatshould he do? He was determined that 3f poverty was to be his fate, he would not stay to suf- fer it in that town where he had always been weil-to- do. The people with whom he had associated should not have a chance to point their fingers at him, He ‘resolved that he would go to the city ot St. Louis and seek his fortune. Of course his ideas on this subject were very vague and indefinite, and he did ‘not attempt to put them into shape, but left them to be eee by time and circumstance. He knew that che a fair education and plenty of energy, and. be- ‘Heved that he ought to win his way. A sy mpathising friend gave him mon a ‘take him to the city, and he bade adieu to his nirth- eva and the graves of nis parents. As far as he ew, he had not a relative living. There were some ‘distant connections of his mother’s somewhere at the East, but he knew nothing about them. As ‘his father, Asa had never heard him speak Thole was nobody to help him. At the Same time, ere was nobody elp ¥ same there was nobody to hinder him. Arrived in St. Sonia, he established himself at a heap hotel, and te his search for employment. it did not take him long to discover that there was ne special demand in the busy world for boys of sev- enteen who were not able to do anything in eular. He grew tired and sick at heart time hung heavily on his hands. One day, not knowing how else to pass the time, the bethought himself of examining the papers in the old carpet- which he had brought with him, mere as a relic of his father than because he at- ‘tached any other value to it. He found a number of accounts, memoranda, aoe plots and other papers which did not appear to of any earthly use to anybody. But at the bottom of this rubbish he dis- wove a bundle of certificates of stock in a West- ieenantioe’ th fully, and pond @ exam ese papers care an nder- ‘ed over them. He ant not suppose hem Ps be of many value. If they had been worth anything, they would have been taken careof. He had heard of ‘the silver mines in the far West, but generally in connection with the term “wild-cat.”” It was the most reasonable supposition that his father had got SS of the shares at a cheap rate, and had eld them in the hope that they might some day be worth something. scovering that they no value whatever, and unable to persuade anybody to take them off his hands, he had finally thrown ‘them into the carpet-bag with the rest of the rub- bish. Of course they were worthless. _ Yet Asa Sproule concluded that there could be no harm in offering them for sale, or at least in making oe concerning them. e sought a broker's office, and found one on Third street. The sign read: “Richard Brashear, Broker. Money Exchanged. Stocks and Bonds Bought and Sold.”’ There were other inscriptions, ut this was sufficient for Asa’s purpose. He step- ped in, and inquired for the proprietor, The call was answered by a stout, bushy-headed tleman, past the prime of life, who asked the boy hat he wanted. “T have some mining stocks which I would like to —_, if they are worth anything,” replied Asa, rather ‘ttimidly. He was poor in spirit just then, as weil as fn purse, and the array of notes and goldin sight inspired in him a high respect for the proprietor of 0 much wealth. “What sort of stocks?” Asa handed one of his certificates to Mr. Brashear, “whose eyes opened wide when he unfolded the pa- _ He scrutinized it closely, and then looked nly at the boy. “Have you any more of these?”’ he asked. Asa handed him the rest of the bundle, and his yes opened wider than ever. “T want to talk to o Come inside,” said he. ou.” Directing his one clerk to watch the counter, Mr. Brashear ushered the boy into a little epartment in ‘the rear, which was er counting-room and gnuggery. He placed a chair for Asa, and took a seat directly opposite to him. Then exzsued a scene that made the boy open his eS, me broker pushed back his bushy hair with one hand, with the other slapped the bundle of certifi- cates against his knee, and appeared to be ready to burst into tears. “Tt is too bad!” he exclaimed. ‘Here is a splen- @id chance for a swindle, but Dick Brashear ain't the man for the emergency |!” “What do you mean?” asked Asa. “Tdon’t mean you. Imeanmyself. You seem to ‘be an honest, boy, and I don’t doubt that you are. I am honest myself, I am sorry to say. wish I wasn’t, but how can Thelp it? I was born so, and it sticks to me, in spite of wrery thine What a lot of splendid chances I have missed, through not having ‘spunk enough to bea scamp! Lord knows that I have tried hard enough to learn the ropes of roguery, ‘but I have never succeeded, and am still nothing but an old-time Kentucky idiot. That’s what's the mat- ‘ter with old Dick Brashear.” Unable to per ceive what the broker’s lamentation sof his lack of rascality had to do with the Lusiness | /.m hand, Asa again asked him what he meant. ““ Mean? Iam almost ashamed tosay. ButI will | eel you, my , 80 that you can understand it wevithout t ng, and then you will despise me “er ac infernal fool. you will excuse the expression—bringing to Here are you, a green country | me a lot of papers, of the vaiue ~f which you know not a bit more than a ’coon knows fF stmas, wanting to sell them, no doubt, and glad to get rid of them, of course. Now, what me ‘(rom hum-and-ha-ing over those papers, sneering at worthless silver stock, cpg you for bringing such stuff into a respectable office, and meg A er- ing you a few dollars for the lot? Nothing ders me but my infernal folly.” “*T don’t yet understand you, sir.”’ “You would take the offer, of course. I would yy you the money, and ee would be glad to getit. he certificates would mine, and to-morrow I would jump straight into a fortune.” * A fortune?” exclaimed ‘‘Yes,afortune. These stocks are Consolidated erg , Have you never heard of Consolidated inia?’ **Don’t know that I have.” “ Or the bonanza that has been struck in the Com- Steck ledge?” “T have read something about the bonanza, but didn’t. know what it meant, and have scarcely thought about it.” “That is what comes of not having your wits about you. You ought always to think about every- thing.” There’s never any telling what may have an important bearing upon. your own welfare. Listen teme, boy. Thirty days ago these certificates had no market value to speak of. The holders had to y in instaliments more than they would bring. Row the bundle which you have placed in my hands ig worth more than two bundred thousand dollars.” ‘“*Two hundred thousand dollars!"’ The boy pamayer to his feet, and his big black eyes fairly blazed with wonder and delight. Was it pos- sible that one of Martin Sproule’s ships had come into port with a full cargo, that one of his most un- promisin, eculations had at last realized a for- tune, and that he had died without knowing it? This was too much like the story of Aladdin and the lamp to be easily believed. z «Don't you believe it?” asked the broker, “TI will soon prove it to you.” He glanced at a stock-list, counted the certificates, and made some calculations. “Twohundred and ten thousand,” he said. “It may be afew dollars more or less, but that is about the figures. Now, don't you think that Iam an in- fernal fool?” “T think that I am very glad that I came to you,” replied Asa. ‘ Youshall have the ten thousand.” ‘Thank you, but I am notin the habit of taking money I on’t earn. Haven't got good business sense, you see. Sit down, my lad, and tell me some- thing about yourself. 1 want to know how you came into possession of these certificates.” Asa Sproule sat down and told his story, and en- tirely satisfied Mr. Brashear of the honesty of his acts and intentions. **T can’t see,” said the broker, “‘ that your father’s creditors haveany just claim upon these certificates. They grabbed at sversening within reach, forced the property to a sale, and did youa t wrong by not nursing the estate so as to make it bring some- thing like its value. But it might make you feel easier if you should ge ? there and pay off their claims, as they probably don’t amount to much.” “T will tell you just what I willdo,”’ said Asa, “T will settle squarely with the decent ones; but there are a few scamps who will never get a cent from me if Ican helpit.”’ “Very well. I don't blame you. But you will have to sell some of the stock.” “T propose to sell itall. What would you advise?” “T don’t know what to advise. It may be worth more in time, and it may beworth less. It has gone up like a rocket, and it may come down like astick.” ‘*Just so,’ said Asa. ‘It was my luck that sent it up, just when I needed it, and now my luck tells me that I had better sell out—realize, I believe you callit. Ishall put fifty thousandin some other min- ing shares that can be got low, and trust to my luck to send them up. The rest of the money I shall want you to take care of forme.” | The details of Asa Sproule’s business were easily settled. The certificates were soon sold, and the Sale realized about the amount that Mr. Brashear > ween. — = a =? to his ~ home, where he su e peopie by the greater part of his father’s remaining Fos 3 ness, and putting off a few rapacious creditors with “a piece of his mind.” Then he returned to 8t. Louls, to Seen with Mr. Brashear about his plans for the uture, ‘“*T mean to travel before I think of doing anythin else,” he said, ‘‘and the first point I shall aim at wi be New Orleans,” After taking outa considerable sum for eercaees, and receiving a certificate of deposit for use in case of an emergency, he engaged his passage on the steamer War Eagle, bound for New Orleans, as he preferred that mode of traveling to the quicker but more tiresome railroad ~* Thus it was that Asa Sproule found himself his sop 7 Nati at the age of seventeen, with a fertune spend. CHAPTER II. THE STEAMBOAT BOY—A COUPLE OF “ AcEs.” Asa Scorr, otherwise ‘ Snakeroot,”’--age unknown, but supposed to be about seventeen—pantry-boy on board the steamer War Eagle, plying between St. | Louis and New Orleans. Behold him as he stands on the levee at St. Louis, or, rather, on the street that faces the levee, occu- pying the curbstone one* of the pavemert in front of one of those levee shops, in which may be pro- cured everything that a deck-hand or 4 deck-passen- ~ ger is i to want, from a suit of olother te glass of beer. He is rather tall for his leanness would suggest an absence of good feedi on board the War le—a on which woul not be borne out by the facts. His tow-like hair ig bushy, and stands out from his head “like quills up- on the fretful porcupine,” although kept in placetoa degree by a tattered felt hat. He wears acoarse ‘hickory’ shirt, and a pair of dilapidated panta locns, held up by & single suspender, and his stock ingless feet are incased in coarse brogans. This, it must be understood, by way of apology, is Snakeroot’s shore rig. When he is on duty, and the War Eagle is under way, his attire is somewhat neater; but when be is ashore he adoptsthe manner of the levee rat, and prefers to appear as a tatter demalion. of the curbing, with resumed age, and his As he stands there at the ed his back against a post, there is an expression in his keen eyes and on his ae features that means mischief, He looks defiance at mankind in genera}, and seems to be watching for a fight. If that is what he wants, he has not long to wait. Down the levee, on the river side of the street, comes an Irish deck hand, somewhat the worse for liquor, although the morning is not half spent. He, too, has blood in his eye, and is manifestly on the war-path. He sees Srakeroot, and the effect is such as when a talldunghill rooster espies a bantam, and the bantam utters its shrill crow of defiance. He crosses from the levee slope toward the eurb ing, and approaches Snakeroot; but the boy, al though his eyes are everywhere, and nothing ew capes their notice, does not stir from his position. Evidently there is cause for hostility between those two, for the deck hand’s fingers work as if they would gladly clutch the throat of the boy, and there is a nungey Gare in his eyes; but Snakeroot ee ag quite coolly and eaioer carelessly, ‘ve got yez now, ye young ard,’ he saya, as he stands and faces the ae = “Think so?’’ snappishly replies Snakeroot. “‘T know it, ye thafe of the worruld! Didn't yes tell the cap’n on me that I had been sht’alin’ whusky eye bar'l on net ik a6 “Didn’t yer steal it, then?” replied Snakeroot, swering the question in the Yankee fashion. i ‘And didn’t the cap'n tell the mate, and didn’t the mate put me off at Cairo, widout payin’ me me 7. ‘“Reckon_he did if he knows his business, and ¢ reckon he does.”’ 7 “And now I’m goin’ to git even wid yez, and te as her well for that same.”’ * Ante up, eld man,’’ said Snakeroot, holding out his hand. “It’s a good lickin’ ye’re goin’ to git, as sure as me name’s O’Dowd.” “Bet yer four bits by can't do it. Bet yer six bits to four, and give the money to the widders and orfins when I win.” The deck hand's reply to this taunt was a blow but Snakeroot was cleverly out of the way. Then, all of a sudden, the boy seemed to be dow bled up into a ball, and to be flying through the air as if propelled from a catapult, or shot out of a cannon. The head of this human shell struck O'Dowd in the stomach, and he fell backward on the pavement, with the breath knocked out of him, This exploit was greeted with the laughter and cheers of several bystanders, who had come out oo > levee shops and cavesto witness the singn- ar duel. Perhaps a minute passed before the deck hang slowly picked himself up, looking about with 4 dazed and perplexed expression of countenance, The n he moved slowly toward a small pile of stoneg, and stooped for one of them. “Dro Pre” shouted Snakeroot, who had already armed himself with two of those primitive wea pons. “Drop it, Isay!” repeated Snakeroot. | _ O'Dowd did dro the stone. Then he hesitatea, looked around, and grasped it again. At that instant Snakeroot’s ric bt hand was thrown back and launched forward, anc the missile that lefy it whizzed through the air and struck his adversary ae _ m4 ie ay —— 4 the stone, jumped © howl of pain, and hugged his right hand with with a howl of , an the left, while he fairly spun around in the street, “You had better get out of this, stranger,” said a burly bystander, as he stepped upto him. “If you want to fight wild-cats, you can gO West and fing them; but it don’t seem’ to be safe to meddle with that boy.”’ Apparently O’Dowd was of the same opinion, foy he thrust his wounded hand into his pocket, ang weaee away up the levee, without saying anothes word. Snakeroot thrust both his hands into his pockets, resumed his position at the post, and whistled softly looking ebout as if he expecte another adversary to come in sig ht. While he is thus occupied, let us inquire whe Srakeroot is. He could not furnish much information on tha point himself. He could more neg § tell what he was than wko he was. He knew that his ‘sure enough ” name was Asa Scott, and be had indistincg recollections of a little log eabin ony up on the Ohio, or the Allegheny, or the Monongahela—some where in that region, where he had first become aware of ences Rariectes with the | bin were a slouchy man and a frowsy woman, whe Ceesessed several other tow-headed children and @ P umber of ill-conditioned curs, but little else that could be called ap pod 6 nad emerged from chogy Asa also knew
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uncomfortable surroundings, and had made his ad- vent into a broader world, ? not a better one, by boarding a coal fleet on its way from Pittsburg to Memphis. Ashe always refused to »xplain how he accomplished that feat, it may be s.spected that he borrowed a skiff without leave of the owner, and was troubled with compunctions of conscience. Be that as it may, he was permitted to remain on the broad-horn after he had boarded it, and to act as cook’s helper, the cook being a boy not much older than bimself, but so versed in the ways of the world that to Asa he was a paragon. The boy soon discovered that so far as comfort was concerned he had jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire; but he had considerable knowledge ‘mocked into him before he reached Memphis, and nothing could have tempted him to return to the little log cabin away up yonder. Being thus launched in life as a boatman, he re- mained a boatman. The life suited him, and he had no inducement to leave it. Hesoon got above coal- boats, and tried his fortune on stave-boats, hay-boats and earthenware-boats, making Farin from the head-waters of the Ohio to New Orleans, When he began to consider himself an experi- enced boatman, and had acquired a fair share of Mtoe d wisdom, he aspired to steamboats, and worked himself forward from stern-wheelers toside- wheelers, until he reached the dignified position of arnt Cys on the fine packet War Eagle. He ought of entering himself as a “cab” piJot, and saw no reason why he should not become a captain. What had he learned in the course of this severe and varied experience? Besides & Good deal of knowledge, useful and otherwise, ne had also ac- quired a few accomplishments. He could whistle, could sing, and could play the fiddle. He had also picked up reading and writing, and had the knack of being able to see the humorous side of events and describe it to others. He had even gained some lit- tle facility in putting his —— on paper. Decid nakeroot was a boy of talent, but the instinet of es was strong in him, He maintained his position at the post until he got tired of waiting for another 4 pete § ercise of his peculiar abilities, Then he sauntered up to the corner of Pine street. Just then there came down the street to the levee for the ex- a one J gentleman dressed in an entirely new suit black, and carrying a spick-and-span new valise. It was evident that he had not yet tomed to his new clothes, that his new valise was a burden to him, and that he was not entirely familiar with the ways of acity. Itwas also evident that he me accus- was looking for a steamboat. Therefore he was pounced upon by two runners who were lying in wait for wT kona ‘“Where will I findthe War Eagle?” he asked. Thereupon the runners began to protest that he had better not find the War Eagle, but should step right aboard the Republic, which was a new, fine and fast steamer, lying right there, end about to start immediately; whereas the War Eagle was an old, leaky and slow-going tub, which would be sure not to leave port that day, and might never be per- mitted to make another trip. In a word, they plied the usual weapons of craft, without regard to truth or consistency of statement. : Perceiving that the young gentleman was bewil- dered by these representations, and that the War Eagle was in danrer of losing a passenger, Snake- root thought that it was time for him to interfere. “Oh, gerlong, you fellers!” he said, as he sailed into the controversy. “The gentleman’s head is level, and he knows what he wants to do. Thereis the War Eagle, sir, right afore your eyes, with steam up, and out she foes to-day, or the world comes to anend., There is the Republic, and hasshe got any steam up? Not a smucgin, and these men know that she can’t stir till the holes i.1 her b’ilers are sol- dered up and new planks are put in her rickety wheels. Shall I carry your ba-cage to the War Eagle, sir?’ “I can carry it myself,” said the young gentle- man, as he allowed himself to be led away victori- ously. ‘**Do you belong to the War Eagle?’ he asked, as he followed his leader down the levee. ‘*Reckon I do, unless she belongs to me, and 1 reckon she don’t; so he piloted his prize to the War Nagle and up to the clerk’s office, where he left him to arrange for his passage and secure a state-room. CHAPTER IT. THE TWO “ACES” arroarT, ‘Yum War Eagle rounded out from the St. Louis levee at the Seep hour, with a good load of freight and a fair allowance of passengers, and steamed proudly down the Mississippi. The early part of the trip was quite uneventful, and_she pass- ed Cairo, and entered the broader and deeper ex- panse of the lower river without the occurrence of any noteworthy incident. To Asa Sproule—the youthful passenger who had been brought aboard by Snakeroot—the novelty of his situation and of the changing scene was at first quite exciting; but the novelty wore off, the scenery became monotonous, and he began to feel bored. This was of course a natural reaction, but he was not inclined to submit to it, and he looked about for some means of making the time pass more pleasant- ly. Acquaintances are easily formed on the Western rivers, and it had come to be understood among the passengers, although he was not at all given to boasting, that he was a young fellow of fortune, who was trave! see the worl ed, Consequently he for amusement, and that he meant to ter aryy gene his society was court- 1 into the company of those —+ | | ine who played cards at nightin the forward cabin, and he played at first for amusement, and afterward for money. These points were noted by Snakeroot. The duties of the pantry-boy did not often call him into the cabin, but he was there occasiunally, and nothing escaped his observation. He particu- larly noticed the young passenger whom he had captured from the runners, and in whom he appear- ed to take an unusual interest. Tt was manifest that Asa Sproule was unused to bbe, and unacquainted with the ways of the big world. “A greeny,” decided Snakeroot. His frank and open manner, and his polite and gentlemanly bearing, attracted attention. “ A good feller, though,” guéssed Snakeroot. It was soon apparent that he was the possessor of considerable money, “Got the props to support his dignity,” observed Snakeroot. He was in the habit of showing his money un- necessarily and carelessly. ‘**He ain't used to handlin’ big piles of the lucre,” inferred Snakeroot. He sat down to play cards in the cabin. “ Now they will get him where the hair is short,” said Snakeroot. Soon it was manifest that money was being put up on the game. “ Dog-goned if I don’t and speak to the cap’n,” declared Snakeroot. “Those sharpers will die that = out of his boots, if somebody don’t look after him. Snakeroot was as good as his word, and requested the captain to interfere between Asa Sproule and the gamblers. This was a piece of presumption, but Snakeroot was a general favorite, and in some rere a privileged character, on board the War e ‘All right,” said Captain Ryers. ‘I will look af- ter the poung fellow and see that he don’t come to harm. Butit will scarcely hurt him to get bit a lit- tle, as he must learn his lesson some time.” This assurance was not entirely satisfactory to Snakeroot, whose displeasure increased when he looked into the cabin again. There wasa pretty big pile of money on the table, and he saw Asa Sproule ‘going down” into his pocket for more. ‘If the cap’n don’t put astop to that thing afore long, I'll find a way to bu’st up the game,” said Snakeroot to himself, as he passed through the pan- try, and walked out on the after guard. uddenly there was a dull, smothered sound, ut- terly indescribable, unless it may be called a cross between the roar of a cataract and the boom of a cannon, at once understood by all within its reach, though they had never heard anything like it be- ore, The boiler of the War Eagle had burst! The sound of the explosion was at once followed by the rush of steam that filled the cabin and pene- trated every part of the boat, by the crashing of timbers, and . the cries and shrieks of scalded, maimed and frightened men and women. The splendid War Eagle, a moment ago full of life and activity, had become a wreck and a charnel-house! From this scene Snakeroot was suddenly and mercifully separated. Standing egainst a thin par- tition which was blown away in a mass, he was thrown out into the air, and alighted in the water at a considerable distance from the shattered steamer. The game which had excited Snakeroot’s indigna- a net effectually broken up without his interven- ion 7 There were three men in the game besides Asa Serene. One of them wasa pleasant old gentleman whose acquaintance he had formed on the boat, named Col, Thomassieu, and known as a Southern lanter. The other two were professional gam- lers, althongh the old gentleman probably was not aware of their character, and the boy certainly was net. The game was the exciting one of poker, with opportunities for unlimited betting. It was a badstart for Asa, that at the beginning of his enjoyment of his fortune he should fall into gambling; but he was determined, as is the case with all beginners in the dangerous pastime, that he would not go too far, and he thought that he could afford to lose a little money, for the sake of killing time and “seeing life.” His intentions were easily understood by the gam- blers, who knew how to draw him on, and permitted him to win occasionally, in the hope of securing a heavy bet from him in the course of the night. But they had a double game to play, against the old gentleman and the boy, and the same tactics would not apply to both. Thus it happened that an altercation arose in the course of the game, Atone time the hetting, which was quite heavy, was confined to Col. Thomassieu and the gambier who faced him—a coarse-looking man, with bushy hair and beard. Theold gentleman had shown his hand, claiming the stakes, when the money was seized by his opponent, in spite of CoL Thomassieu’s indignant protest, Asa Sproule fired up immediately at this high- handed proceeding. **Drop it!” he exclaimed, in a low voice, but in a be, A decided tone. e gambler looked at the boy in surprise, but also looked into the barrel of a cocked revolver which Asa had leveled at his head, ‘; What do you mean?” he asked, I mean,” replied Asa, “that I don know much about this game, but I doknoy, that you have no right to grab the stakes in that way. 1. Thomassieu is a gentleman, and will give you all that pre ty you. Put down the money, and set- tle the matter squarely.” *t pretend to Asa Scott, the Steamboat Bey. ———————— aS a ae 3 The other gambler, who had introduced himself as Major Brackett, was a tall and handsome man, with | ‘black hair and mustache, and of gentlemanly ap- sagen and manners. A wicked look came into ‘his eyes when the revolver was drawn, bi he quickly recovered himself, and smiled as he stroked his mustache. “Our young friend is right,” besaid. “Wearea party of gentiemen, playing for amusement, and any differences that arise ought.to be settled without @ quarrel. Put down the money, Mr. Medden, anu our young friend will put up his pistol, and we will proceed in order, as they say in Congress.” The money was restored toits place on the table, and Asa Sproule’s pistol was restored to its place in his pocket. After a brief discussion it was agreed that the money belonged to Co}, Thomassieu, who pocketed it, and the game proceeadod quietly. It may as wel! be understood that Major Brackett believed that he had # better and safer pigeon to pluck in the boy than in the old genileman, or the affair would not have terminated asit did, and Asa's rash act might have been severely accounted for. This was evidentiy undetstcod by Madden, and thereafter the ciforts of both the gaimbiers were de- voted to drawing the boy on, so 2s to induce him to bet heavily. Their tactics promised to succeed. Asa occasion- ally won and lost small amounts, precisely as the confederates intended that he snould do, and was becoming excited. At last the betting was confined to him and Major Brackett. “It is very strange,” said Col. Thomassieu. “T get no more cards that are worth looking at.” Madden made a similar declaration, and Major Brackett and Asa proceeded to increase the pile of money on the table by betting against each other. “T will go ten dollars better,” said Asa, after a final look at his cards. “T call you!” responded his opponent. “What have you got?” “Two aces.” The major smiled, and Madden broke out into a broad and insulting laugh. Then came the explosion, followed by the break- ing of timbers, the rush of steam that filled the ee in, and a horrible confusion of shouts and rie The instinct of self-preservation was strong in Asa Sproule. He rose instantly from the table, which was in the forward part of the cabin, and dashed out through the ro door, closely followed by tho others, who were followed by the blinding, scalding steam. The table was overturned, and the money was scattered on the floor of the cabin, with none to claim it. Death had won the stakes! In a moment—he could not have told how it hap- pened—Asa found himself in the water, which was already crowded with struggling human beings. He was a good swimmer, and had practiced the art in the rapid and turbid stream of the Missouri; but he had never had such difficulties to encounter as he found here. The suddenness of the catas- trophe, and the frightful confusion that followed it, were enough to turn the strongest head, and there were few of the survivors who were not frantic with pain or fear. They struggicd madly in the water, snatching at everything that could he seen or felt, and the stoutest swimmer wasltiabie to he seized in a despairing embrace and dragged down to death. The boy also labored under the Gisadvantage of be- ing incumbered with his clothes, which soon began io hamper his movements and weigh him down like ead. He retained his presence of mind. sufficiently to know that he must get rid of at least a porticn of his clothing, and he supported himself by treading wa- ter until he kad got one arm, and then the other, out of the sleeves of his coat. At this moment he was seized by a sinking man, but the grasp only relieved him of his coat, which went down under the muddy surface of the Missis- sippi in the death-clutch of the drowned. he boy knew that he had narrowly escaped a ter- rible danger, and he struck out boldly to clear him- self of the other strugglers. As he Cid so his foot was seized, and he wes drawn under the muddy wa- ter. He kicked vigorously, more from the force of instinct than from conscious will, and succeeded in freeing himself before he was quite strangled, and rose to the surface in a state of almost complete ex- haustion. But he was alive, and at a considerable distance from the wreck. He could stil} distinguish the cries of the sufferers in and out of the water, and knew that they were perishing unaided. But he could do nothing to help them. It was idle to think of it, when every effort must be devoted to saving his own life, and when the utmost efforts might not avail. His only visible chance wastoreach the shore, and he reasoned that if he should exert himself as little as possible, just enough to keep affoat, his strength might hold out until the current should carry him sufficiently near to the bank to enable him to reach it. But he was already very weary, and his boots and clothing seemed to increase in weight with every moment. “ Hello-o-0!” The hail was clear and distinct, and Asa Sproule thought that he recognized the voice. He was sure that it was nota cry forhelp. He looked down the river, and saw a long, dark object, above which a human face was dimly visible, The dark object was a drifting log, and the human face was the face of Snakeroot. “This way!” shouted Snakervot. “Just reach this ss ate = gal proule struck out vigorously and hopeful! and soon laid hold of the toe : si
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4. Asa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. Snakeroot lifted his leg over the log, and offered | care not to be too fresh. You may hev heerd of to pele his fellow- yo gl to the same tion. * aboard!” he cried. “‘We could 6 halfa dozen more passengers if we had ’em.” “What is your name, my friend?”’ asked Sproule. * Asa Sco} Commonly called Snakeroot. What's ‘* Asa Sproule.” “Two aces, by hokey!” CHAPTER IV. THE ‘“‘ HONEST TRADER ’’—A QUEER CRAFT AND QUEER CREW. “Two aces,” repeated Sproule, as he squeezed the water out of his hair. ‘‘ That is what I was betting when the boat blew up.” *“You don’t say!’ responded his companion, ‘TIT don’t want to be too familiar on short acquaintance; but I must say that a feller who would bet on two aces, in — a crowd as you drifted into, deserved to be lowed up.” i - am ficlined to believe that you are right about nat.’ “T saw that game goin’ on, and was worried about it, I meant to raise some sort of a row, s0 as to break it up; but the b’iler did that job as clean as a whistle.” “Tam glad that you took so much interest in me, Do youo ae to card-playing?”’ “Well, I don’t know as I am ag’in’ it on gineral principles, as a feller may say. em as wants to play may play, for all me. But when it comes to “ emblin Say none of that for Snakeroot, if you joase. iknow just enough about it to know that i's a mighty good oct, tha let alone.” By this time the two shad drifted a consider- able distance below the ill-fated War Eagle, which had taken fire and lodged on a sand-bar, where she was rapidly burning to the water's edge. A passing steamboat, which had gone to her assistance was held near her, picking up the survivors. The scene was fearfully grand, as the flames of the burning boat. lighted up the entire river, and the black smoke that rolle | upward made the dark sky yet darker. Although the position of the boys on the jog was by no means a pleasant one, they could not help feeling that they had been providentially pre- served from a far worse fate. **How do you feel, bine peat asked Snakeroot. “Pretty well,” - ed Sproule. ‘*We might be a great deal worse off.’ “That's so. Did you git hurt?” “There is nothing the matter with me, except that Iam wet. Howlong do you ees we will have to navigate the Mississippi on this log?” *Can’tsay. All night, perhaps, In the mornin’ somebody will be apt to see us and take us off."’ “How can we stand it until morning?” asked Sproule. ‘‘ We will fall asleep and drop into the river.” **Reckon not. We've got to stand it.” ‘That settles the question, then. But if the cur- rent should carry the log pretty well in toward the bank, I will propose that we quit it and swim ashore." “Ahi rightif you say so," replied Snakeroot, ‘‘ For my part, when I think of the people up yonder, who “hive been sealded and burned and drowned, I don't feel like grumblin’,”’ ‘‘Tsn’t that a light, Snakeroot, down yonder at the edge of the water? Yes, Iam sure it is.” snakeroot eagerly looked in the direction pointed out by his companion. ‘You are right,” he said. ‘‘Itis a light, and it is on a fiatboat, probably a trading boat. Perhaps the folks ere awake.” ‘Suppose we swim to it.” “ Purty big swim, that, and I don’t feel like takin’ too many resks. Don’t like to let go of this log, either, except for a sure thing. But we can steer ge log over that way, if you say so, and hail the t at. This proposition was agreed to, and the boys got into the water and swam their best, guiding the log toward the west bank. When they were within hail- ing distance of the flatboat, Snakeroot mounted the log and shouted. is ‘*Hallo-o-o!” rung out loud and clear on the night air, startling the echoes of either shore. § ree have good lungs, my friend,’ said Asa proule. . ‘Fine voice for callin’ soundins’ from the b’iler deck. Ain't that a bully yell, though?” Snakeroot repeated bis hail again and again, until it was answered by a husky hallo from the shore. Then he explained in a few words the position and condition of himself and his companion, and an in- distinct reply was understood to promise assistance. Ina fow moments the splash of oars was heard, and soon a skiff became visible in the darkness, headed toward the log. In the skiff was a rough- looking, heavy-bearded_ man, who backed it up against the log, so that the boys could enter. ** Row did you ever git inter that fix?” he asked, when the boys were safe in the skiff. “We were on the War Eagle when sho blew up,” replied Asa Sproule, ‘Blew up! The War Eagle blowed up?” exclaim- ed the man. Then followed astring of oaths that astonished, and probably disgusted his hearers. ‘You @em to take tt mighty hard, mister,” re- marked Snukeroot. ‘Did you own her?” The man rested on his oars a minute, and had the appearance of being Eamewen. by this remark, “T reckon I mought hev owned somethin’ on her," he said. ‘Mought hev had some freight aboard, or some friends a-travelin’. Don’t you be too fresh, young chap.”’ Snakeroot hastened to disclaim the intention of be- ing “fresh,” and asked the man’s pardon. All right,” said he, ‘‘Jest you keep on takin’ —— ace get out of the fryin’pan inter the fire. Blow- n’ up of a steamboat ain't notbin’ to what mought Shpee ef you should fool with Jake Bumstead.’ oth of the boys heeded this caution, answ Jake Bumstead’s ingviries very respeotsully, an soon the skiff reached the flatboat, they stepped aboard, following his lead. Snakeroot’s sharp eyes took in everything on and about the flatboat, There was nothing to distin- guish it from the ordinary trading-boats that were accustomed to do business along the rivers, except that it was somewhat shabbier in its construction than most of them, that it displayed no signs, and that no sort of merchandise was visible. The boys followed Jake Bu ystead into the interi- or of the flatboat. The apartment into which they were ushered was about ten feet square, cut off from the rest of the boat by a plank partition. It con- tained a small cooking-stove, a bench on two of its sides, a table, two chairs, and some miscellaneous ‘traps.’ On the table were a bottle, two glasses, and a pack of cards. Onone of the chairs, within easy reach of the bottle and the glasses, was seated a rough-looking young man, withan unpleasant cast of countenance, who bore a strong family resem- blance to Jake Bumstead. In a corner of one of the benches crouched a lad who might have been a year or two younger than the two Asas, and who re- sembled Jake Bumstead in no particular whatever, being thin and pale, with black hair and large, dark eyes, and with what may be styled a “‘ hunted’ ex- pression of countenance, _He was dressed only in a coarse shirt, a pair of shabby tow trowsers, and rough brogan shoes, His eyes lighted up when the boys entered the boat, but instantly dropped before the frown of Jake Bumstead. That important personage proceeded to introduce the new-comers. “Here ye are, young fellers,” he said, ‘‘safe out of the wet; and here you will be safe and comfitable. This is my eldest and only son, Nathaniel Bum- stead, which I call him Nat. ‘* Here's to yer,’’ said Nat, as he raised one of the glasses to his mouth. “Don't touch it too heavy, my son,” continued the elder Bumstead. ‘Remember that it biteth like a sarpint and stingeth like an adder, when you toucb it too heavy. You may have heer! me mention my name, young fellers—Deacon Jacob Bumstead, of Cache Creek, Injianny. And this boat is the Honest Trader, built by me, and bel :ngin’ to me, and bound down the Mississi Bl on a tradin’ <w dition. Now sit down on one of them benches, and jest make yer- selves to hum.” Before Asa Sproule took his reat, he cast an in- uiring glance at the boy in the corner, and Jake umstead, whose eye nothing escaped, at once an- swered the look. “That,” said he, ‘*is Tom Brackett, the son of an old friend of mine, who is makin’ the trip with us to l’arn the trade.” The name suggested to Asa the <0 Brackett with whom he had been playing cards when the War Eagle exploded; but the thought passed as quickly as it came. “What do you trade in, Mr. Bumstead?"’ Snake- root mildly ventured to ask, *Everythin’ in gineral, and nothin’ in partic’ler. We are ona speckerlatin’ trip, ready fur anythin’, from ginseng root to sugar b’ilers. The Honest Trader brought downa loa: of stunware, and traded it off. Nowshe is ready to fill up with somethin’ that will sell down to New Orleans. What do you think, now, of chickens 2s a speckerlation?”’ " There is money in chickens,’’ remarked Snake- root. ‘Of course there is, and to chickens we can add turkeys and ducks and geese, with feathers and agg odds and ends. But you are so wet, you fel- ers.’ ‘eal anes too,” suggested Nat Bumstead, tapping the e. “Have a little, boys?” asked the hg ma Dea- con. ‘Jest a drop to keep you from ketchin’ cold? No? Shake up the fire, then, Nathaniel, and give ‘em a chance to dry the’r clothes.” The fire was made to burn brightly, and a bench was moved down to the front of the stove, on which the two Asas were seated. As the steam arose from their saturated garments, Jacob Bumstead pressed them to tell the story of the explosion, Each told, in his own way, all he knew of that dis- aster, except that Asa Sproule said nothing about the game of cards in which he_had been a partaker when the explosion occurred. He had animpression shee he would do well to avoid that branch of the subject. “You are a pair of mighty lucky chaps,” said the Deacon. “Tnptead of ae f duced, or burned, or drowned, here you are, safe aboard the Honest Trader, and in good, respectable company. I reck- on you both had your suppers afore you got off the boat, as I may s-y ?”’ The boys admitted that this supposition was cor- rect, ‘Then all you want is a good sleep to-night and a ood breakfast inthe mornin’. Do you happen to ave a little money abeut you, to pay for the accom- modation?” Asa Sproule thought that he might have a dollar or two left, and Snakeroot doubted whether he could squeeze out more than ‘six bits,"’ ““Vory well. Lama poor man, myself; but I will do the best I can fur you, and won't be hard on you, Foller me, if you want to go te bed,” He opened a coor in the partition, and led the boys into a narrow passage, about ten feet in length, with a door at the end, showing that there was yet a third portion of the flathoat set off to itself. At the left of the paasrae Were two doors, one of which Bumstead opened, Josing a narrow apartment like a state-room of a steamboat, with two berths, one above the other. This little room was lighted ed a lamp in the passageway, the light entering throug an open transom over the door, “A 6 yourselves comfortable,” said Bumstead, in his cheeriest tones. © Put had wet clothes out at the door, and I'll hang ‘em at the fire to dry. Holler fur ’em in the mornin’, and you'll git ’em.’ CHAPTER V. IN FOUL HANDS—ASA’'S BIG DIVE—FIRE! “Tsay, Ace,” said Snakeroot, when the boys were alone, ‘‘this is a queer sort of a shop.”’ a se ae know what to make of it,’’ replied roule, Ki ButI do, I know all about flatboats and tradin’- boats and all the mud-turtle kind of crafts. Let's take off these wet clothes, and don’t leave any money in yer kets.”’ The boysstripped off their water-soaked garments, after taking out their valuables, and placed them outside the door. ‘*Now sit down here on the berth,’’ said Snake- root, ‘‘and I will whisper it to yer. I don’t want those chaps to know that we suspect ‘ein, 1 decide ag’in’ this craft as an honest tradin’-boat fur three chee reasons. Fustly, thar ain’t a speck of anythin’ n sight to trade in, and that sellin’ out yarn is too thin a rag to put over my eyes. Secondly, the boat ain’t fitted up to do a tradin’ business, not by along chalk. Thirdly, that old chap is partic’ler to give her the name of the Honest Trader, jest because he knows that she ain’t nothin’ of the sort.” “What do you suppose she is, then, Snakeroot?’’ ve eg poo she is on the make—jest lyin’ around and watchin’ fur what she can pick up. The old man and his son, to my notion, are reg’lar river rats.’ ‘“What do you think of the boy?” asked Sproule. “T don't know what to make of him. Queer duck, ain’t he? Looks as if he had got into the wrong crowd, But youcan bet on what I tell you about the other chaps. They are strickly on the make, and if you've got any money—”’ ‘*Money?’’ said Sproule, showing a wet roll of bills which he had taken from his pocket. ‘‘Ishould think I have got money !"’ Snakeroot sighed, as if he considered so much wealth an incumbrance, rather than an advantage. “ Hide it fur to-night,” he said. ‘In the mornin’ it will have to take its chances, and I’m afeard they will be mighty slim. We had better turn in now, and to-morrow we will git away from here if we can, “Tf we can?’’ repeated Sproule, “Those are the words with the bark on, Ii don’t feel like bettin’ high on our chances. Good-night,”’ Snakeroot took the upper berth, giving his com- panion the lower one, and in a few moments both were sound asleep. The terrible danger which they had escaped, their present doubtfu Poriens and the perils that too obviously awaited them, were nothing tothemthen. The sleep of youth is a bless- ed forgetful ess. In the mornétg they were awakened by the stir in the adjoining a 1ent, and tumbled out of their beds. They called for their clothes, which were brought in by Jacob Bumstead, who also brought water for washing purposes. He lingered a moment, as if he had something to to say, and finally said it, * vi wasn’t all killed aboard of the War Eagle, young fellers. Some of ’em was saved.” “T know that we were saved,”’ said Sproule, “and I hope that many more are as well off." . “Yes, you are well off, young fellers. You was saved and brought aboard the Honest Trader. But others was saved, too.” With that the owner of the Honest Trader disap- ared. ac What acre one old a mean by givin’ us that talk?’ asked Snakeroot. “T suppose he merely wanted to tell us the news,” replied Bproule, ‘I don't want any of his news, I don't fancy his looks or his ways. I don't like the snap of his eye, I wish, Ace, that there was some way of hiding that money of yours.” “T shall do my best. I mean to put most of it in my stockings, and leave a fair amount in my pocket- poe whic may satisfy them if they really mean to rob us.’ “That is a good notion,’’ declared Snakeroot. “ They may bite at the bait, and that will give you a chance,” ; Asa Sproule concealed the greater part of his money in his ae gs iy dividing it fairly between them. He replaced his revolver in his hip-pocket, but the charges had been so damaged by his immer- sion in the river that it was useless to him. When the boys were fully dressed, they entered the outer apartment, and at once perceived why old Jacob Bumstead had made to them that singular communication concerning the survivors of the War le. eated on a chair, facing them as they entered, was one of the gamblers with whom Asa Sproule had been playing when the oy sang occurred, the coarse-featured man who was known as Madden, Sproule’s eyes rested on the gambler with a look of surprise, quite unmixed with satisfaction, and Jacob Bumstead noticed it at once, “Thought you would be glad to git the newsI ve you,” said the old sinner, “You see ‘twas rue. Here is one of your friends turned up, safe ss pen ’ i ‘Iam glad to see you alive, young gen ” said the gambler, rising, J Comtiomnan,
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I ; | He held out his hand as he ke, and Sproule tho ht he might as well take ite, see that you were not among the killed. Weremany others saved?” **Some were, but I don’t knowhowmany. I know that I am alive, and that is enough for me.” ** You remember Col. Thomassieu, the old gentle- man who was playing with us. Was he lost?’ “Can’t say,” replied the gambler. “It was as much as I could do to look out for Number One.” ‘*Let the livin’ look out for themselves, is what I say,” remarked Bumstead. ‘‘I reckon you must be hungry, ag. fellers, and here is your breakfast, smokin’-hot, though we have been afore you with ours.’ It was acceptable, although it was composed of nothing but bacon, corn bread, potatoes, and some very muddy coffee. The boys took the seats that were offered them, and did full justice to the meal. Then they were ready to leave the boat. “Tf you will tell me how much we owe Bumstead,’’ said Asa Sproule, as he rose an hand in his pocket, **I will try to pay you.” **How much did you expect to pay?’ asked Bum- ou, Mr, put his stead. “Two or three dollars, perhaps.”’ “T want more than that.” **How much?” * All you've got !” This plain and unconscionable demand caused something like a consternation in a portion of the company. Asa Sproule looked at Scott, and Asa Scott looked at Asa Sproule, and both of them looked at ‘‘ Deacon ” Bumstead, who answered their looks by the usual expressive snapping of his eyes. ‘* What do you mean by that?’ asked Asa Sproule. “Don't I speak plain enough?” replied the old sin- ner. ‘‘It seems to me that my words are easy to onderstand. Don’t see how I make ’em any plainer. All you've got is what I want, and what I mean to have,” **Give him three dollars, Ace, and let’s go,”’ said Snakeroot. ‘I don’t mean to stand any nonsense.”’ “Dot you?” sneered Bumstead. “That's jest like me, for I don’t mean to stand no nonsense. Don’t you neither, if you kin help yourself; but I don't see how you're goin’ to doit. Young felier,” he continued, turning to Sproule, ‘‘ my friend here, Cep’n Madden, tells me he was with you aboard the War Eagle, that you are a young gen'leman of for- tin, and that you tote lots of money. If you jest shell out all you've got, maybe I'll give you enough to travel on; but I mean to have it, anyway.” “We were strangers, and you took us in,’ re- turned Sproule. ‘It was bad enough to be blown up, withont being robbed.”’ “Don’t use hard words, young feller. Better not rub hs nose ag’inst the grin’stun. You ought to be g' to git out of the scrape with your lives. That’s more’n some of ‘em did. You've got the world afore you, and a little money ain’t to be put alongside o’ life.” “But we don’t owe our lives to you.”’ “You will, though, if you ever leave this boat,” replied Bumstead, as his eyes snapped more wicked- ly than ever, “Tf that is the sort of a fix we are in,” said Sproule, ‘‘I suppose there is nothing for us to do but to submit. Here is Sr He took the pocket-book from his breast-pocket and threw it on the table, where the ‘ Deacon’s " hand closed on it, instantly. ‘*May we go now?!” he asked. “Not quite,” replied Bumstead. ‘You must be s’areched. Nathannel, you and the cap’n attend to that.” The boys submitted to the search, but, not of Jacob Bumstead. in the meantime, was —— the boy’s pocket-book, and was evidently disappoin this oe rich young feller you was talkin’ about, cap’n? s He must haye more than that,’’ replied Madden. “He threw his ——- around like an oil prince.” “Here is a paper that looks to me asif it called 43 hart ator ree dollars. Come and take a squint a cap'n.”’ “Tt’s a draft for three thousand,” said Madden, as he looked over the old man’s shoulder, “ or what they call a certificate of deposit, payable to the or- der of Asa Sproule.” Snakeroot stared at his friend. **T had forgotten that,’’ whispered Sproule to him; me ba 4 pag a use mM “ “Now now what to do,” announced Jacob Bumstead. ‘Young feller called Asa § roule, jest you write your hame on the back of s bit of pa- “T won't do anything of the kind,” spunkily re- plied Sproule. “You won't? What's the use o’ sayin’ you won't, when you've got ter? You don't git off this boat, young feller, till you write your name on that paper, noe. — the money is collected on it, neither. Nab » Nat!” At the word the younger Bumstead sprung upon Asa Sproule, and so did Madden, and they overpow- ered and bound him instantly. Snakeroot had not watered into their calculations; but he had his wits about him, and was expecting some such crisis, As soon as the attention of the Honest Traders was concentrated upon his comrade, he darted out of the forward door of the flatboat, and plunged into the Mississippi. Nat Bumstead left Asa Sproule to the others, and ran out after Snakeroot. Asa Scvtt, the Steamb at Boy. ; * “Shall I shoot him?’ he asked, cate sight of the boy’s head as it came to the surface, a ralong k you,” replied the boy, ‘‘and I am glad to / swim under the swift water, just where a bayou joined the river. “No!” answered the old man. “It ain't worth while. He ain't no ’count.” Nat Bumstead could not have shot him if he had tried, as the head no sooner emerged from the water and caught a breath, than it went under again He 4 up the bayou, and Snakeroot was soon out of reach. The Honest Traders then concentrated their at- tention upon Asa Sproule, who was in an uncom- fortable condition of body and_ mind. He was un- | comfortable in body, because his arms were tied behind the back of his chair, and the position was pd no means a pleasant one. able in mind, because the precipitate escape of Snakeroot had the appearance of a desertion of his comrade, “This is what comes of betting on two aces,’ he thought. ‘I don’t believe that I will be silly enough to do that again.”’ Subsequent reflection, however, showed him that Snakeroot could be of no service to him as a prison- er on the Honest Trader, and might possibly render him some assistance when he was free. His own affairs soon occupied his attention, to the exclusion of all other considerations; for it was evi- dent that the Honest Traders were making prepa- rations to compel him to indorse his draft. The preparations were quite formidable. A poker was thrust into the fire to heat, and a stout pair of pincers was laid on the table. “That is meant for you, young feller,” said Jacob | ““ Are you ready to write your name on | Bumstead. that bit of rt ‘What if 1 won't do it?” asked Sproule, ‘Then we allow to burn them tender hands and feet of yourn. If that don’t fetch you to time, we mean to pull out your finger-nails.” The boy asked and obtained time to reflect on this alternative. He had a considerable sum concealed | in his stockings, and that would be discovered if his feet should be stripped. There wasa chance to save it if he should submit. He was also decidedly of the opinion that he might as well Ye himself the pro- posed and mutilation. few weeks ago he would have been willi suffering for the sake of three thousand dollars; but his ideas had changed since he had come into his unexpected fortune. That sum would hardly be no- ticed among his many thousands, and he knew that his finger-nails would be sorely missed. It was plain | to him that this was an instance in which discretion | would be the better of valor. a I indorse the draft,’ he said, ‘‘ will you let me go ‘** As soon as we git the money,” replied Bumstead. “ Not till then.” “When you let me ge, will Pow give me money enough to take me back to St. Louis?” “Ya-as—we'll do it.” “Tf you promise me that, and if you will treat me pny pa you keep me here, I will indorse the raft. * All right—it’s a bargain.” The boy’s hands were untied, and he was allowed to sit at the table and write his name across the back of the draft, He could not help sighing as he did so, but he was convinced that one sigh was bet- ter than many groans. Then his hands were again tied, but not so uncomfortably as before. At noon the Honest Traders ate their dinner, and Sproule was again untied while he joined them. After dinner “ Captain ’’ Madden was rowed across the river in the ekiff by Nat Bumstead. ‘Where has he gone to?” asked Sproule, when he saw Nat returning alone. “Who gone to?” replied the old man. “ ahe capes in mh “He has gone across the river, to take the keers to St. Louis, to git that rg i Suppose he should put it into his own pocket, and never come back?" y He won't do that, young feller. He wouldn't dar to treat Deacon Jacob Bumstead that way. I've got a hold onto that man, such as keeps him in his place.”’ Evidently the explosion of the War le had brought to the Honest Traders a congenial com- panion. It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good, ‘Are you not afraid,” asked Sproule, after a while, “ that this kind of a business transaction may bring you into trouble’” As t is there to be afraid of?” answered the old sinner. “ e Ras “T allow that thar ain’t much law lyin’ around loose in this bend of the river.” Asa Sproule passed the afternoon comfortably though by no means pleasantly. He was permitted to sit by the little window and read an old comic al- | manac and a tattered volume in which were record- ed the loits of John A. Murrell and his of river and land pirates; but he was onl left. alone once, and that was when Nat Bumstead had gone ashore to cut wood, and the old man had gone on deck for a few minutes—if the roof of the flatboat could be called a deck. Then he was not quite alone, his companion being the boy, Tom Brackett. That boy struck Asa Sproule as being the most uiet and apathetic young chap he had ever met. € spent most of his time seated in a corner, or on what was called the bow of the flathoat. He list- lessly did the little that he was told to do, and spoke very seldom. But Sproule perceived that he bad bright black eyes, and also noticed that those eyes were occasionally bent upon him with an expression He was uncomfort- || to undergo considerable | 5 of admiration, if rot of envy. He believed that there . might be some spring in the boy’s nature that could be touched, and he tried to touch it as soon as he ) was alone with him. “Do you want to get away from here, bub, and 9 be . ch?’ he asked. “Ii you do, just me joose.’ 4 | “T don’t dar’ to,” whispered the boy, as he wrig- gled on his bench. | > “You shall have a big lot of money if you will do | it,’ persisted Sproule. “*T don’t dar’ to.” The approach of Jacob Bumstead put a stop to this attempt at bribery; but Sproule noticed that the ' boy did not report it, and he considered this a good | Darkness closed in upon the flatboat, and supper- | time came. After supper the two Bumsteads en- | joyed their pipes and a bottle in moody silence, aud | ‘Asa Sproule was left to his own thoughts, He had | arrived at the conclusion that he was not uncom- | fortable, but that a week’s imprisonment on that | flatboat would be quite insupportable, when he was | startled by a violent pounding at what may be call- ed the stern of the Honest Trader. | “What's that?” exclaimed Jacob Bumstead. ; “I'l go and see,’ said Nat, | He went out at the forward door, and shortly his | heavy steps were heard on the roof of the boat. | Then his stentorian tones were heard yet more | plainly, as he shouted at the top of bis voice: **Pap! come out here quick! The boat's afire!" Jacob Bumstead jumped =p with a savage oath, ’ seized a water-pail and dashed out. ; The boy, Tom Brackett, roused into unusual ani- mation by such a startling announcement, uncoiled | himself, left his corner, and shambled out after the | two Honest Traders. Asa Sproule found himself alone. CHAPTER VI. A BOY'S SHARP MANEUVER—DODGING IN THE Bayot. Axnovt thirty yards below the Honest Trader a bayou put out from the river—or emptied into it, according tothe stage of water in the river, theslug- gish contents of the bayou seeming to have no will | of their own in the matter. On the upper, or north- ern, side of the pegeu the land was low, swampy, and frequently overflowed, the Honest Trader being moored against a low bank, just at the termination of the solid ground. When Snakeroot jum from the flatboat into the river, he had calculated on becoming a mark for a possible istol-shot, and therefore he swam under water as long as he could hold his breath, the swift current of the Mississippi aiding him in his endeavor to get well out of the way. When he came to the surface he heard Nat Bumstead’s inquiry abont shooting, and went under agvin as soon as Le cou'd catch his breath—not because he considered bis he: d a good object to aim atin the uncertain light anc :t that distance, but because he was unwilling to take er” chances. : @ was up, however, long enough for his qui: !< eye to take in the situation and tell him that he wis at the mouth of the bayou. Therefore he bLeac+ da into the bayou when he started on his second svi under water. ) When he eame to the surface the second time, } 2 found himself well inside of the bayou, and qi vie | safe from Nat Bumstead’s pistol-practice. He v 4s | also out of danger from pursuit, unless they show id | follow him in a skiff, as the point of land between him and the Honest Trader was covered with wat: r. | 80 he swam leisurely up the bayou until he reach: d a | solid ground, when he landed and sat down to re t. | Asa Scott had had but one idea in escaping fr ra the clutches of the Honest Traders, and that was tle | a, of assisting his comrade to escape. To ' this object all his thoughts and movements wee now directed. | He was on the edge of a forest of oak and syca- | more trees. Before him was the dark and q:.’et bayou, about a hundred yards wide at that poii t, reaching off into the country indefini'ely, with no habitation or sign of occupancy Visible on eit} er | side. It was possible, of course, that one of tie Honest Traders miglit steal around on the « y ground and attack him from the rear; but he bh d , no fear of that. They had secured the rich Ara, ard would not be likely to molest the poor one. Besic«s, | he kept his eyes oper, and was not likely to be tai~ unawares. ' ! He took off his clothes, wrung the water out of them, and put them on again. Then he set his shes in the sun to dry, and took his poses agains: a tree with the view cf giving his clothes a chance to dry. At the same time he held himself in readin: gs | torun into the forest if an enemy should approe ch on the water side, or to dive into the bayou if tis approach was on the land side. eitber friend nor foe came in sight, on the lend side or on the water side. When the boy's clothes were sufficiently dried, be struck into the forest in a | norther!y direction, and, after walking a short 6i.;- | tance, turned to the westward, aiming to reach the Miesignipp! near where the Honest Trader was moor- | ed. In this he was successful, and he found ase- | eluded position, from which he could watch that de- | testable craft without being observed. The tion of the sun, and the cravings of h's appetite both told him when it was noon-time. Ee / was hungry, but he was obliged to remain bungr+, | because there was no chance to get a dinner in that | locality, and because he had resolved to keep an eye ; on the Honest Trader as long as there was any hope | of assisting his friend. He formed a strong li «- | ing for Asa Sproule as soon as he saw him, a likii¢ , that was confirmed when he watched Sproule ’s movements on the War Eagle; they had tien
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strangely united in a common disaster by the explo- sion, end subsequent events had drawn them more closely together, until Asa Scott felt. that it would be the extremity of basenéss to desert his comrade, He pee hat Madden was rowed across the river in a skiff by Nat Bumstead, anil saw Natreturn slone. From these facts he arrived at the conclu- ; ston that Sproule had been induced to sign the draft, end that Madden had been sent to collect it. But Sproule surely did not remain on the flatboat of his own free will, and why was he kept there? On this point, also, Snakeroot a rightly, in- ferring that the Honest Traders feared thatthe boy, if he should be let loose, ht find some means to ba < the payment of the draft by telegraph. The great necessity, therefore, was to secure the release of Asa Sproule, and this matter Snakeroot pondered deeply, without coming to any satisfacto- ry conclusion, except that he could do nothing in thet direction while daylight lasted. He saw Nat Bumstead come ashore and cut an emnful of firewood and carry it to the flatboat, Then au idea struck him. This idea he proceeded at once to actupon, It led him back into the forest, where he searched until he found an old clearing, overgrown with broom se ; which was as dry as straw. With his pocket knife, of which tie Honest Traders had not cared to de- prive him, he cut a quantity of this dry stuff, bound if in two bundles, and conveyed it to his hiding-place neerthe river bank. He then examined the patent raetal match-box, which he kept in an inner pocket of his vest, and satisfied himself that its contents had not been injured by the water. Evidently an act of incendiarism was intended, and the Honest Trader was the intended victim. The sun went down. Twilight followed, and was succeeded by darkness. Snakeroot was now very luungry. In years past he bad often felt the pangs of hunger, but during his steamboating experience he had at least been plentifully fed. unger came to him asa new thing, and he found it to be a very unpleasant fact. But be had an engrossing object in view, and could endure a great deal of discomfort, There was a little window in the forward part of the flatboat, composed of a single pane of glass, through which a light was shining from within. Snakerootcreptas near to the boat as he dared, and saw Asa Sproule seated near the window, and he ap- eared to be bound. Snakeroot’s plan was com- pleted immediately. He slid softly down the bank, and made sure that the skiff was in its usual place, fastened at the “bow” of the flatboat, and with the oars in their stationary rowlocks, as was the custom with skiffs on the Western rivers. Then he returned to his hiding-place, and brouvht his two bundles of broom- sedge down to the bank. His point of attack was the space at the ‘‘ stern” of the Honest Trader, back of the box-like house that was built upon the flat. Here he deposited his bundles of straw, and softly followed them. A match was taken from the patent match-box, lighted, and .9 to the broom sedge. As soon as the straw began to blaze, he kicked vigorously against the resounding wood of the house. Clearly it was not his object to commit the crime of arson, as he gave the Honest Traders fair warn- ing of the danger that threatened them. As soon ashe had sounded the alarm, he quietly dropped overboard, and Jet the current take him, dowu to the forward part of the boat, where he caught hold of the guuwale of the skiff, and was pretty well sereened from observation, although able to see much of what was going on. i) saw Nat Bumstead go out on the roof, followed at brief intervals by his father and Tom Brackett. Then Snakeroot drew himself quickly up on the flatboat, and stepped into the interior, opening his knife as he went, and holding up a Anger to enjoin silence upon Asa Sproule, whom he instantly re- ere by cutting the cord with which his hands were tied. “Come, Ace,” he said, ‘and be as quiet as a cat.” Both boys passed out of the house, and Asa Sproule, following his comrade’s whispered direc- tions, stepped down into the skiff, and seated him- self in the stern. Asa pews oes in after him, east off the painter, and sea himself at the oars. With a dextrous pull he headed the skiff away from the flatboat, and then with along and strong sweep of the oars sent it flying down-stream into the dark- ness. So quickly had this maneuver been accomplished. that the fire at the stern of the flatboat was not yet quite extinguished, although it was an easy matter to kick overboard the burning straw and throw wa- ter on the deck. The Honest Traders were so amazed and indignant that their attention was not immediately attracted by the sound of the oars; but Nat Bumstead’s quick ear soon caught it, and he eo, upon the roof and ran forward. ~ P ‘ he skiff’s gone, pap!” he shouted. “Somebody init!” ‘*Shoot ’em!"? answered the old man, and the re- port of Nat's pistol instantly followed, as he fired in the direction of the sound. The bullet hit nothing, and he had no more sound to guide his aim, as Snakeroot had ce rowing relying on the swift current to take the skiff out of reach, and on the darkness to conceal it. At the mouth of the mayen he again pig up the oars, and pulled the skiff away from the river into the dark and sluggish water of the bayou. To make sure that there should be no effe pursuit from the Honest Trader across the land, though he had little fear of that, he putin his best work as an oars- man for a few minutes, and was careful to keep close to the southern shore of the bayou. NG teenies Asa Scott, tho Steamboat Boy. In a littlo while, feeling quite safe from pursuit, he pulled along more leisurely, and the Loys began to talk and compare notes. “T suppose you thought I had run off and left you in the lureh,”’ said the young water-rat. “IT thought that you had sense enough to save yourself,’’ replied Asa Sproule; ‘but I never would have thought that you could get me out of the scrape by such a sharp trick as this.” “Won't that old sinner howl when he finds you missing, Ace? Won't they both wonder how it was done and who did it?’ “T would give a pretty to see and hear them for a few minutes. Butt know who did it, and I consider you a first-rate fellow, a regular trump.” ** Did you sign that paper?” asked Snakeroot. “Yes; I thought it was cheaper to give in than to have my finger-nails ary out.” ‘“*‘Jimminy! Was that theirgame? Hangin’ would be too Rove for’em, And thatgambler was sent off to get the money on it?” ‘ es ” **You can block that game now, I He nll “T would block it pretty quick,” replied Sproule, “if Icould get to a telegraph station. Where are you taking us to now?”’ “Don't know. This is a bayou, and I can’t say how far it runsinto the land. I thought it gave us the best chance to get out of the way. We ought to strike a plantation in here somewhere, and I wish we could do it right soon, for I am powerful a; Al “Have you had nothing to eat since morning?” asked Sproule, “Not a bite.”’ “Poor fellow! Thatis hard lines for you. ButI doubt if you are worse off than I am.”’ “* What's the matter, Ace?"’ “Tam burning with fever. I had felt it coming on all the afternoon, and it struck me just as I stepped into the skiff. My head is all in a whirl pee ae afraid you will have me helpless on your ‘hands be- fore long.” “Then I must hurry up and try to get some- where,’’ said Suakeroot, as he began to ply his oars vigorously. hey were now at a considerable distance from the mouth of the bayou, and were approaching a oint where it made a bend to the southward. Asa roule, who was reclining in the stern, and was the only one who could look ahead, suddenly start- ed Mp. na See alight!’ he exclaimed. ‘‘ There is a light yonder!” Asa Scott turned and looked. A short distance ahead of the boat was a low point of land, pagent out into the bayou, and near its extremity a sma but bright fire was ‘burning. He settled back to his oars, and pulled briskly for a few moments; then he turned and looked again. “There must be somebody not far from that fire,” he said, and again he rowed straight at it. CHAPTER VIH. ““NOBODY IN PARTICULAR.” Tue bow of the skiff glided up on the sandy shore, and Asa Scott rose to his feet and looked around. His companion was reclining in the stern, and seemed to be incapable of further exertion. Nobody was in sight, and there was nothing to be seen on the sandy point but the fire; but that was so bright and fresh that it had evidently been lately fed, and the person who had fed it could not be far away. Snakeroot mopeet ashore, pulled the skiff up so that it could not slide off, and started to explore the locality. He had not taken three a when he jumped back in amazement, if not in affright. Suddenly, as if he had risen from the ground there appeared before him a young man, tall an handsome, with fair hair, a blue eyes, and a fresh, healthy complexion. He was dressed in a acket of gray jeans, with trowsers of the same, a lue flannel shirt, and a black felt hat. In his right hand he held a short rifle, or carbine. As he stood beyond the fire, his form and features were well de- ed, and Snakeroot at once perceived that there was no occasion for alarm. “There's nothing tv be afraid of,” announced the stranger. ‘‘Come on if you want to.” “You startled me,” said Snakeroot. ‘“‘ You looked asif you had come out of the ground.” “So I did—out of a hole in the sand, which I had dug to hide me while I watch for deer.” “Do you shoot deer here?” asked Snakeroot, with “ sudden interest in the sport. “They are scarce, but ectnetinana the light draws them. t who are you, and where are you from?” “We are two of the survivors of the War le.”’ “Survivors of the War Eagle!” exclaimed the faetee bak “What do you mean? What is the mat- ter with the War le?” “She blew up last night, a few miles above here.” “Qracious Heaven! ere ey lives lost?” “T suppose so, but I know very little about it, ex- cept that we were saved.” ‘Was there an old gentleman, a passenger on the boat, named Thomassieu?”’ “T don’t know, sir.” “You say that there are two of yeu,” continued the stranger. ‘Where is the other?” Tn the skiff. He is Mo sick with a fever, which came on him to-day, and I want to get him to some house as soon as possible, where he can have a doé- tor and be taken care of.’ és) am something of a doctor, myself. I will look at him. The stranger stepped into the skiff, and felt Asa Sproule’s face and forehead. The fever was now burning hot Ss e+. cal and when the boy was spoken to he an- swered incoherently. ‘*He is in a bad way,”’ confessed the stranger, as he stepped back on the shore. ‘As you Sey, he must got to some house as soon as ible. I have a little cabin near here, but that won’t do. He must be taken to the plantation.” ‘‘Where is that, sir?’’ asked Snakeroot. “About a mile up the by evs lied the stran- ger. ‘*Where did you get that ?’ he added, iu a tone of suspicion. “That is a long story, sir, and Iam in a hurry, The explosion of the War Eagle is not the only trou. ble we have had.” : “Very well. Get into the skiff, and support your friend. I will row you to the plantation, and you shall tell me the story as we go along.” Snakeroot seated himself in the stern to take care of his suffering friend, and the stranger shoved off the little c and pulled it up the bayou like o practicea carsman. e drew from the boy without any effort the story of the explosion of the War Eagle and of the adventure on the Honest Trader. “Tl ted that there was something the matter with that flatboat,’’ said the stranger. ‘I believed that she was therefor no good. So you came by the skiff honestly, although it is not yours.” “We came honestly by everything,” declared Snakeroot. ‘* We can pay for the s if we ought to, and we could buy lots of such skiffs if we wanted to. Thatis, my friend could.” “He is a young gentleman of property, then, I presume? How is he getting on?” Asa Sproule’s fever was getting worse, and he was apparently unconscious of what was going on about him, and Snakeroot so reported. “We must get him to the plantation as soon as possible.”’ 2 “Do — own the plantation, sir?’ Snakeroot ventured to ask. “T? Lown nothing. The plantation we are going to belongs to Col. Thomassieu, and that reminds me that I must ask you to say nothing at the house about the explosion. Col], Thomassieu_was expect ing to come down the river on the War Eagle, and if he is lost, his two daughters—God help them!~—are —s. I wish you could tell me something aboui Asa Sproule could have told something about Col. Thomassieu, if he had been in a condition to do so; but it was useless to appeal to him when he was de- voured by fever. “What shall I say to the people if they ask me where we came from?’ queried Snakeroot. “I will attend to that,’’ replied the stranger. “The young ladies must be kept in orance of the explosion as long as possible, or until I can get some definite news for them. Their father may not have taken passage on the War Eagle, or he may have been saved. I will arrange a story to fit the case. By the way, when you asked me if I owned the plantation we are going to, your question seem- o contain an inquiry as to who I am, and I ought to tell you, lest you might suppose me to be Se ne same stripe with your friends of the flat- 2 Aas “I would never have supposed that, sir,” said Snakeroot. Indeed, the stranger’s speech end manner were sufficient to stamp him as quite a different being from the Bumsteads. “T must confess," he continued, ‘‘that_I am no- body in particular. My name is Arthur Westleigh, and I inhabit a little cabin near where you saw my The few people hereabout consider me of no account, because r devote my time to nothing but a om sorts of game, from deer down to mus- etoes. “Hunting musketoes!” exclaimed Asa Scott. “Yes, and other insects. I Suppose I may call my self a naturalist for lack of another name. It is be cause of my uncertainty of occupation that Co! Thomassieu not encour: me as a visitor at his house; but Iam sure that he would not objecy to my appearance there on such an errand as this, Here we are at the plantation.” Snakeroot looked, but he saw no house, nor any- th to indicate the vicinity of a plantation. The night was ~ dark, and nothing was visible but e ve of tall trees, until Arthur Westleigh beached poat on a low and grassy shore. Then the boy looked up through an avenue of trees, and saw some lights that evidently shone through the windows of a house. Westleigh hailed the house with a voice that was very sonorous and musical, and soon several black people, grown folks and children, of both sexes, came rumning down to the shore. Evidently an ar- neh at night was an unusual occurrence at that , “Dat you, Massa Westleigh? What's de mattah} Who's dese folks?” were some of the questions thei were distinguishable amid a Babel of voices. “Don’t stand here chattering,” said Westleigh, “ There is a boy in the. skiff who sick and weak to walk. Some of you run to the house and bring something to carry him on, Better get one of we settees on the porch, and be ina hurry about t. , Part of the black people ran off at the top of their speed, and soon_ returned, bringing a light cane set- tee, a heavy quilt and a pillow. After them came, at a somewhat slower rate of speed, but with suf- ficient rapidity to show that they were not unin- terested, two young ladies, to whom young West- leigh raised his hat respectfully. th were brunettes, and one was a beauty. She seemed to be about seventeen, and her most no- ticeable personal charms were a pair of large dark eyes, masses of raven black fel a peachy com- | A
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_- « 2 re Fo os j yexu 4s, Semper ruoy wos “tnd . cost enchanting «milo & 3rendsr sister, ~ Whose ze ts ——— a oe pow) 0 gu was by no neax.; olain. excep as Sout red with he beauty, and was * the Steamboat Boy. self as ‘Captain Gerald Madden, late of the Con- federate army.” “T hold some paper of yours,’’he said, “ whic cals for three thousand dollars.” ‘* What sort of paper?” mildly asked the broker. “ A certificate of deposit, drawn in faver of Asa. Sproule, and by him duly indorsed to me, Captain. erald Madden, late of the Confederate army.' “Allow me to see it.” Madden produced the paper, and handed it to the broker, who turned it over and examined the in-~ dorsement. ‘Is that right?” asked Madden, “Tt seems to be.” “The money, then, if you please.” “Don’t be in such a hurry, Captain Gerald Mad- den, late of the Confederate army,” ied the. broker, with provoking coolness. “As I have not the honor of your acquaintance, you must be iden- tified as the person named in the indorsement.” ** Tdentified 1’’ ly exclaimed the gambler... “They don’t do business that way in New Orleans. bay 4 never question a gentleman's word.”’ “But St. Louis is not New Orleans, and this busi- ness has nothing to do with any gentleman's word. You must bring somebody here who knows you, and with whom Lam uainted,”’ “know plenty of people here, but perhaps they don’t know you.’ ‘Quite likely,” replied the broker. “Yon are a cool hand,I must say. Can yeu name some respectable man with whom you are acquaint- ed?” insolenty asked Madden. “For instance, Captain McDonough, the chief of police. Don’t you know him?” ‘““‘What do you mean?’ replied Madden, as his coarse face suddenly flushed, ‘‘Do you want to in- sult me?” “Insult you? Why, Captain McDonoughis a very fine man, and I am proud of his acquaintance.” ‘‘But you mean to insinuate something.” “Dol? You must know more about it, then, tham Ido. But Idon’t want to waste words. You must bring some one to identify you, and that is all there is to be said about it.”’ Madden left the office in a huff, but returmed a little before the close of business with a well-known river-man who was willing to certify to the fact that he wes called Captain Gerald Madden. “That is well enough so far,’’ said the broker; ‘but Iam not prepared to pay that certificate just now, and you will have to call again in the morn- ing.’ ° Do you mean to nr that you haven't got the. money?” angrily asked Madden. ‘*T mean to say exactly what I have said.” Pn ds don’t pay it now, I will go and have it pro- tested.” “Go along if 7 want to. That won't do me any harm, and will only make more delay fer you, Come in the morning, and the matter ly settled.”’ Madden began to be abusive; but discovered that. he was steering on the wrong tack, and sailed off. In the morning he was again on hand, deman fe Lar of the certificate, and Mr. Brashear eard nothing more from Asa Scott. } ** Let me look at the poy again,” said the broker, and Madden handed it him, and he compared See autograph with that on his signature- ook. be proper- “What has that to do with the payment of my certificate?’ Madden demanded. “A great deal. As I am a sort of a guardian to the young fellow, I naturally want to know if he is safe, and allabout him. And that isn't all.” ‘* What more?” “This signature, though I don't doubt that the boy made it, is not a natural one, and shows that he was in trouble of some kind. I want to know what that ns was, and how you came by this cer- tificate.”’ “TI came by it honestly, of course. What do you: take me for?” “* For a thief I’ It was not Mr. Brashear who uttered this short and es Aa for he showed as much sur- prise as den did, when the three words were — by a rough-looking boy who stepped in from. e street. Madden’s face flushed redder than ever as he rec~ ognized Snakeroot, and then it turned ashy pale, ‘What do you mean?” he gas “Mean! You just wait till I call a policeman, and you will see what I mean.” But Madden did not wait fora policeman, Leay- ing the certificate in the broker’s hands, he dashed out at the open doorway, roughly aside Snakeroot, who stood in way. The boy was about to pursue him, when a wo: from Sn Recnhone tuneed hie to se stop. u CHAPTER IX. i SNAKEROOT IN CLOVER—SNAKEROOT IN A CELI. bs “Ang you Mr. Richard Brashear?” asked Snake- f-’ root, walking up to the counter as he reluctantly ©: abandoned Madden. e pursuit of the fugitive ** Yes; and you are Asa Scott?” “That's my name, sir.” “Come inte my back room. I want to have a talk. with you.” The — was given a seat in Mr. Brashear’s snug- SSEYou Jook pretay rough and halfaped ap,” he pretty rough an - Ove you had your breakfast?” _ oe va ‘
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A tu a en rn ee ne ie Pay imme Sec ee te en ee ER Lee + a es nigger * 8 Asa “That's right; but you seem to be pretty badly worried, and doubiless you need rest. Now I want to know who you are?” “My namo is Asa Scott, as I told you, and I was & pantry-boy on the War Eagle before she blew up. “* Were you on her when she exploded?” ** Yes, sir, and Asa Sproule and I got ashore to- rether. Ihad seen him when he went aboard, and find noticed him on the boat.”’ ** Where is he now, and how is he?”’ *“At Col. Thomassieu’s plantation. It is down_in Louisiana or Arkansas somewhere, I believe. He is very sick with a fever, andI hated to leave him though he is with Peppa who will take good care of lim. But he wanted me to come up here and stop the payment of that money. Here is a note that he told me to give to you.”’ Mr. Brashear read the paper carefully. “Tam afraid thatthe boy was very sick when he wrote this,” he said. ‘‘Now tell me all about the wexplosion and everything that happened.” nakeroot’s narrative made the broker open his eyes, and drew from him some expressions that oo have shocked his good wife if she had heard em. “Thisis a strange story,’ he said, when the boy had finished his recital. ** Almost too strange to be true,” replied Snake- woot. “Butit is a fact, for all that. Asa Sproule ‘tells you that you may believe what I say; but if you have any doubts about me; I can refer you to some good men who know me.’ “T have no doubts about you. I may not be a “wery good judge of men, but I claim to be a good cee of boys. You are sure that the man you saw my, office was the same man you met on the Llat- “bo.t? * No doubt of that,sir. I wish re had let me call ; @ policeman and have him jugged.” It would hardly have paid,” said the_ broker. “J might easily have had him arrested, but the «rime was committed beyond our jurisdiction, and it would have been too much trouble to prosecute tim. Lam satisfied with getting hold of the paper. Did those folks get all of Asa’s money?” ‘ “No, sir. He had tucked most of it into his stock- nes, ard he got away with it.” ** Bat he will need some more, I suppose?” *“T don’t know about that, sir, but the last word ‘he said to me was that I must get some clothes for th of us. Ihave money enough of my own to get what I need, but Asa lost his baggage, and you must “send him a new outfit,” **You shall not spend your money, my boy,” said “the broker. ‘' You have fairly earned an outfit, and “much more than that. I will give you an order on a “house that will supply you with every ening you noed, and will charge the cost to Sproule, who will “be lad to pay it.” ~Rtre Braskcar wrote an order, and handed it to “Bnakeroot. ‘I suppose you know the place,” he said. “Go “there and fit yourself out, and don’t mind the ex- ‘pense, Then come back to me, andI will take you ‘Lo dinner.” Snakeroot was not naturally an extravagant lad, -and his life of poverty and hard labor had taught thir the value of money. He availed himself of the order that had been given him, but in such an «economical manner that the bill which be brought to Mr. Brashear’s office was so smallas to cause that ‘worthy gentleman to — his eyes. ¥en tiave touched it véry lightly, my lad,” said ‘the broker. ‘I think you might as well have dipped into the order a little deeper, but you ought to be the best judge of what you want. Anyhow, I am now satisfied, if I wasn’t satisied before, that you are the right sort, and that I can trust you with the “money which I want to send to Sproule.” The broker clused his office at an early hour, and + took Snakeroot to his house, where he was warmly ‘welcomed by Mrs. Brashear.’ When that good lady ~received from her husband the outlines of the boy’s ‘adventures, and learned how Snakeroot had rescued his friend from the clutches of the Honest Traders, he took a lively interest in the lad; and fairly over- ‘~whelmed him with motherly attentions. en he had eaten an excellent dintier, and had almost -rorged himself for the sake of complying with Mrs. Brashear’s solicitations, she drew out of him every detail of his story, to which shé listened with the most intense interest. His account of the attack of fever by which Asa Sproule had been prostrated, and of his recapsion at tho Thomassieu mansion affected her to tears, though she soon recove sufficiently to inquire with great particularity con- cerning thie personal appearance of the ladies. head! & 4 the poor boy had not been got off of that “horrid “trading boat,” she said, ‘the would surel dave died, and I am afraid that he is not much be “ter off —_ in that swampy | ty, and with no ood physician near. ‘! Saskeroot protested that in his opinion .Asa Sproule was very well situated; that the Thomas- arr was not revere gf that the ladies seemed totako a interest in him; that he would have the best of nursing and-every possible comfort, and ‘Ahat A. services of @ physician would probably be secu . “There can be no doubt of that,” said Mr. Brashear. ‘*'The nsas ‘believe, and there are some very good people in tut region. That is, when they aro good they are ver ‘ood, and when they are bad they are hateful. Rose old time’planters can be sndedon for hos- pitality, anyhow, The name of Thomassieu is fa- miliar to me. I wonder if it can be the same man. Did yor s2y that he was called Colonel Thomassieu, oy my how?) place is in southern Arkansas, I } “Yen, oi “There are so many colonels, I suppose that I would be known as Colouel Dick Brashear, if I lived in a country town, But Thomassieu is an unusual name, and the <e was supposed to be a pas- senger on the War Eagle. There was a Colonel Thomassieu in St. Louis a little while ago, and be- came acquainted with him in a businessway. He wanted to raise some mouey on bis land, but was not able to show a good enough title. It seems that he had failed in business some time aG0, and was heavily in debt. To save the property from being seized for his debts, his father by will left it to his eldest son, giving him only a life estate. But that son mysteriously disappeared while he was quite a small boy, and is supposed to be dead. Therefore, Col. Thomassieu claimed that the estate reverted to him, and that he had a good title, as he had gone through bankruptcy. Perhaps he had, but I couldn’t see my way clear to raising any money for him. This Col. Thomassieu was an oldish man, get- ting along in years, as I may say, and none too level-headed, rather too flighty for a business man.” Asa Scott could not say whether the Col, Thomas- sieu of Mr. Brashear’s acquaintance was identical with the one who was presumed to be a passenger on the War Eagle; but of one thing he was certain, and that was that he was anxious to return to his friend, and intended to take the first train South for that purpose. As this was a laudable resolve, no objection was made to it, and, after an early tea, Snakeroot set out for the depot, carrying a large sachel. He was also provided with a pocket-book, containing a sum 2 money which Mr, Brasuear wished to send to Asa roule, e had covered the ater part of the distance between Mr. Brashear’s house and the depdt, when he was overtaken by twe men, one of whom was a liceman, and the otber was “‘ Captain Gerald Mad- n, late of the Confederate army.” ‘That is the boy,” said Madden. “You are my prisoner,” said the policeman, as he laid his hand on Snakeroot’s shoulder. ‘What is the matter?’ indignantly asked Snake- root. ‘‘What are you arresting me for?” “This gentleman va be that you stole his pocket- book,”’ replied the policeman. “That gentleman? Heisno gentleman. Heisa thief and a swindler. He robbed a friend of mine down the river, and he tried to swindle a broker on Third street out of three thousand dollars. I want you to arrest him, and I will prove what I have said." “You've got the cheek of a mule, young chap,” said the officer, ‘‘ but you can’t get out of it in that way. This gentleman has sworn out a warrant against you, and all I've got to do is te take you in.” ‘Then he has sworn toa lie, and I can prove it,” protested Snakeroot. “Suppose you search him,’ said Madden. “‘ He is trying to get out of town, and perhaps my property is in his pocket.” A brief search brought out the pocket-book that contained Asa Sproule’s money. “That’sit!’? exclaimed Madden. ‘‘ That's the very pocket-book he stole from me, Now, you young rascal, we've got you dead to rights. Give me my ket-book, officer.” To this the policeman demurred, saying that the property must be taken to the station with the pri- soner, and produced in the Police Court in the morning. * All right,” said Madden, ‘so long as it’s safe. I will be on hand in the morning, to prove my proper- ty and claim it,” Asa Scott begged that he might be taken back to Mr. Brashear’s, to establish his gerry 4 and his in- nocence; but the policeman said that he had noth- ing to do with the matter but to obey orders and ar- rest him, and marched him off accordingly. Madden walked off in another direction, after as- suring the officer that he would ap at the police court in the morning to prove his ¢ 2. When Snakeroot was eoene and searched at the police station, he told his story, and requested that Mr. Brashear might be sent for, and a messen- er was dispatched for that gentleman. Then the oy was introduced to a prison cell for the first time in the course of his yaried and rough experience; but he had not been there long when he was brought out to meet Mr. Brashear. That gentleman corroborated the boy’s story in every particular, and offered to give bail for his ap- pearance at court; but the officer in charge was not authorized to ny fe bail, and could not release a risoner who was held under a warrant that had been duly sworn out. As nothing else could be done at that hour, Snakeroot was obliged to spend the nightin.a cell; but he said that that would not worry him much, as he was innocent of any crime. In the morning all the- ies in interest appear- ed in the police court, with the exception of Cap- tain Gerald Madden, late of the Confederate army, who did not come forward to sustain his charge, Asa Scott, having been vouched for by Mr. Brashear, was taken home by that gentleman, to receive the sympathy and consolation of his wife. “Tve lost a day,” said Snakeroot, ‘*and it worries me to be away from my sick friend; but it’s a fact that Tam more puzzled than mad about this busi- ness.’ “Just so with me,” said Mr, Brashear. ‘ What can have been the motive of that_ scoundrel in mak- ing a false charge arainst you? It may have been a piece of spite work.” * Yes, sir, and it may have been something more than that. He may have wanted to have me locked up for the night, so that he could get a day’s start of me, though I can’t guess why he should want it. ButI am sure of one thing—if lever come across Scott, the Steamboat Boy. had telegraphed to Mr. Brashear, and engaged a harm they can do to Ace now, and when he gets that red-headed thief and swindler again, I mean to H try, my best to get even with him.” | ‘Take care of F hecge my boy,” warned the | broker, ‘and don’t run into any scrapes that you can keep out of.”’ ‘That reminds me, Mr. Brashear, of something that Asa Sproule and I may need. We ought to i have a pistol apiece.” ; . ‘You shall have them, my boy, but you must not show them in this Pre gh Asa Scott again bid his friends good-by, and was accompanied to the depot by Mr. Brashear, when ke took the evening train southward. His baggage was increased by the addition of two revolvers and a good supply of cartridges. CHAPTER X. BULLETS ON THE BAYOU—THE GOOD SAMARITANS, Asa Scorr’s trip southward by rail was unevent- ful. It worried him considerably to feel that his re- turn to his friend had been delayed an entire day, and he wondered for what purpose the man who styled himself Captain Madden had caused him to be arrested and imprisoned. It seemed quite un- likely that he would commit the crime of perjury merely for the sake of such a little piece of spite; but what other and stronger motive could he have had? The more Snakeroot thought of that affair, the more it puzzled him, No motive developed itself during his jonrney by rail. He safely reached the station from which he conveyance to take him to the river. Before start- ing he took one of the revolvers from his sachel, loaded it carefully, and placed it in his hip pocket. At the river he engaged a man to set him across in a skiff and take him to Col. Thomassieu’s place, The sun was setting when he entered the skiff, and when he reached the other side it was near dusk. He noticed that the Honest Trader had not been moved from the place she occupied when he last saw her, but perceived nothing about her to in- dicate that she was still inhabited. He directed the oarsman to row up the bayou, qeeping pretty well to the south side, and he sat up in t the craft. The skiff had reached a position opposite to the point of firm ground on which Snakeroot had landc@ afterghis swim, when the crack of a rifle was heard from the north side of the bayou, and the bay was aware of a builet that whizzed by his head, and struck the water at a little distance from the skiff. He turned his head in the direction from which the shot had come, and saw a little wreath of smoke rising on the north shore. Tle next moment there was the crack of a rifle from the south shore, fol- lowed by a cry of pets or anger, and i the noise of a person breaking his way through the bushes. Theu there came the hail of a manly and musical voice from the left: “Hallo-o! Is that you, Asa Scott?” Me: 4y, ay! Is that you, Mr. Westleigh?” “Yes, Come ashore and take me in.” The skiff was brought to the shore, where Arthur Westleigh was seen in the act of putting another cartri?~9 in his rifle. He stepped into the skiff, which was again headed up the bayou. “ “How is Asa Sproule?” was Snakeroot’s first ques- on, “He is very sick,’’ answered Westleigh, ‘but not dangerously so, as I hope and believe. Dr. Deshler, of Bucksport, has been called in, and he speaks very encouragingly of the case. Did you know that you were shot at?’ * Bet eg tweet life that I did. It seemed as if that bullet didn’t miss my head by more than au inch. The second shot came from you, I reckon?” “Yes. I am not in the habit of hunting my fellow- men, but I had to enter a protest against the huni- ing of my friends. I happened to be down this way and saw a skiff crossing the river. I guessed that you were in the skiff, and when it entered the bayou saw that my guess had been a good one. When the bullet struck the water, I knew that it was intended for you, and, on the <r of the moment, I raised my rifle, and fired at the spot from which the shot had come. I don’t know whether I hit the fellow or not, but am sure that I scattered him. The ques- tion is, now, why did that scoundrel shoot at you?” By way of answer to this conundrum, Snakeroot related his adventures in St. Louis, closing with an explanation of the manner in which he was delayed by being arrested on a false charge. “There can be no doubt,” suggested Westleigh, y Ma 8 e stern to pilot “that the shot was fired either dden, or | one of the Honest Traders. “ 1% sir, and it now looks to me asif that ras- cally Madden had wanted to hold me over in St. Louis @ day, so that be could get down here ahead of me and arrange for this bit of business. But why did he want to have me shot? That is what puzzles e. ; “The most reasonable sup’ ion is that he and the Honest Traders have a plot of some sort against your friend Sproule, and that they thought it neces- to put you out of the ways to keep = from in- terfering with their plans. ey had a taste of your quality when you got Sproule away from them, and when you stopped the payment of that money in St, Louis, and they hate you, if they do not fear you.” “They will have better cause to hate me if they keep on!” said Snakeroot. “But I don’t see what well they had better steer clear of us.”’ Mr. Westleigh warned Snakeroot that he would find the ple at the Thomassieu mansion in dir- tress, News of the loss of the War Eagle had reach- ed that secluded Fah and an anxious inquiry had ensued. The ladies were not certain that Col. Thomassieu had been a passenger on the boat, but
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~~ inform his = knew that he had the explosion, coupled with the non-arriv: convinced them that he was lost. ‘They h: ed their mail from Bucksport, inclu some news- that contained full accounts of the disaster, with lists of those who were known to be lost and those who were known to be saved. In neither list did they find the name of Col. Thomassieu, nor was he mentioned in any of the accounts. Westleigh had been compelled to confess the well intended de- ception he had practiced, and to inform the ladies that the two boys whom he had brought to the house were survivors of the War Eagle r. He told their story as he had received it from Snakeroot, but only ‘succeeded in increasing the prevailing anxiety. Tt was impossible to extract any informa- tion from Asa Sproule, as he was scarcely conscious, and the physician had ordered that he should neither talk or be talked to. Snakeroot was told how anxious the ladies were to see him and Jearn from his own lips the particu- lars of the explosion, and he discovered, as soon as he reached the house, that their anxiety had not been overrated. acat could hardly wait to answer his inquiries concerning Asa Sproule before they eagerly began to question him about the explosion, and to ask him whether Col. Thomassieu had been a passenger on the War Eagle. The boy told his story, with all the details that had come under his observation; but it amounted to little more than an account of the individual experi- ences of himself and Asa Sproule, and he was obliged to admit that he knew nothing about Col. Thomassieu, and very little about any of the other passengers, His friend, who had been a cabin pas- senger, would probably know more about the mat- ter thun he knew; but he was just then in no con- dition to answer questions, ted to be, and the news of almost receiv- ” “Tell all you know, my boy,” urged Arthur Westleigh. ‘Anything would be preferable to this suspense.”’ **Tf the ladies will tell me what sort of a lookin man he was,” said Snakeroot, “I can say whether have seen him.” A description of Col. Thomassieu was furnished by the joint efforts of his two daughters, and his otograph was shown to the boy, who admitted Prat he had seen on the War Eagle, previous to the explosion, a gentleman who answered to the de- scription and the photograph. “Tt was my poor, dear father!"’ exclaimed Emma, “He is dead. 6 will never see him again, and now we are orphans and helpless.”’ “Tam sure that we are not helpless while Z live,” stoutly replied Laura. “My abilities, such as barf are, are entirely at our service,” said Arthur estlelgh, “and I will only too glad to prove the sincerity of my devo- Snakeroot recalled the conversation he had had St. Louis with Mr. Brashear concerni Col, Thomassieu, and repeated, as well as he could, what said about him, is news to us, and it is very interesting,” said Laura Thomassieu. ‘‘I know that father has htely spoken to us about economy, though he néver to practiee it, poor dear; but neither of us had any reason to suppose that he was embarrassed to the extent of needing to borrow money; nor did either of us imagine that there was any doubt of his title to this property. The son of whom Mr. Brashear spoke was our little brother, Martin, who was lost some twelve years ago. We only knew that he was missing, and no sign or trace of him could be found, after the most thorough segrch. We eould only suppose that he had fallen into the wa- ter and was ae and oar his body had been earried awa e current.” “Since iittle’ Martin is dead,” said Emma, “and pape is dead, to whom does this property now be- ngz?’? “IT am no lawyer,” answered Westleigh, ‘but 1 suppose it belongs to Miss Laura and Miss Emma —homassieu, as the natural heirs of both their fa- cher and their brother—that is, if Col. Thomassieu is dead.”’ , Snakeroot stoutly contended that the old tle- man might yet be in the land of the living. He and Asa Sproule had escaped, and they knew of another who had got ashore as they did. e pr a gave the names of a num of the sav and neither his name, nor Asa Sproule's, nor Mad- yea in any of the lists). Why might not et omassieu have escaped with his life, as they . “You were young and active,” replied Laura. po! father, alt ous he a not consi e himself an old man, was getting on in years, and was grow feeble. _ Besides, if he was alive, hé would hace A ome.’ ‘He may have been hurt, so that he can't travel.” — a gents nakeroot. n that event, Laura insisted, he would have writ- ten, or employed some person to write for him. The es could not be comforted, and the boy felt that he had little faith in his own pa Saye After supper he went to visit his sick friend. Al- though he stole into the room on tip-toe, and Asa Sproule seemed to be sleeping, the latter opened his eyes and smiled. He rae out his hand when Asa Scott seated himself by the bed, and feebly pressed the hand that was given. “Itis all right,” whispered Snakeroot, wishing to end of the result of his trip to St. Louis, and Sproule closed his eyes, and no more con- versation was permitted. Asa Scott wished to sit up with his friend, but was told that he had the best of attendance, and that he ad better consult his own health and comfort by going to bed. He slept soundly. and in the morning o Asa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. 9 felt fresh and vigorous eno concerning which he and Arthur Westleigh had al ready consulted. CHAPTER XI. A REFUGEE FROM THE ‘‘ HONEST TRADER '—LAURA THOMASSIZU’S NEW CHARGE. THE expedition concerning which Arthur West- leigh and Asa Scott had consulted was one of’ obser- vation. They had d that the piratical craft known as the Honest Trader must be cleared away from the vicinage, although it might not be possible to punish her rascally crew as they deserved, and Westleigh proposed to procure some sort of a egal process from Bueksport, or to enlist the neighboring lanters in a crusade against the Bumsteads. But it was determined, in the first place, to make a re- connoissance, in order to fix the exact location of the flatboat, and to ascertain, if possible, the number of its occupants. With this purpose Westleigh and his young ally set forth directly after breakfast. The former was armed with the short gun already mentioned, which h for an expedition | ’ | | apes: to be a seven-chambered repeating rifle, and | nakeroot was provided with a hunting rifle from Col. Thomassieu’s stock of weapons. A new ac- large and handsome dog, a cross of wolf-hound and mastiff, the property ot Westleigh. This animal, which answered to the name of Bismarck, was a formidable addition to the party, and Snakeroot re- garded him with great respect and admiration. North of the Thomassieu mansion, after crossing a large cotton-field, the ground was heavily timber- ed, and rose gradually, until the rise culminated in what was there called a ridge, though in a hilly country it would be considered a mere swell of the land. estleigh, whose pursuits had made him ac- quainted with every inch of the region, said that the ridge trended toward the river, terminating at the point where he supposed the flatboat to be located. The reconnoitering party followed this ridge in a westerly direction, until they came in sight of the river, when they A slowly and cautiously, keeping a bright Jook-out for the flatboat and the Bumsteads. At last it became evident that their caution was uncalled for. They reached the river, but the flat- boat was not visible. They looked up and down the bank, but could see nothing of the “ Honest Trader.”’ Yet it was easy to decide that she had been moored there, and the adjoining ground and timber bore plentiful evidence of the recent presence of the Bum- steads. “They have taken the hint that your shot gave them, Mr. Westleigh,”’ said Snakeroot, “‘and have pulled up stakes.” - ‘*T suppose you are right. That shot taught them that you have frieuds about here, and t st have thought it best to decamp. But I am inclined to be- lieve that they are not far away.” hic “If we should go down the river and look for Pon peers we might find them.” « ps we might,” replied Westleigh, ‘‘but I am not disposed to hunt them. If they ave us alone hereafter, we can afford to leave them alone.”’ The fact of the departure of the “ Honest Trader” being settled, the mission of the reconnoitering oe was ended, and they set-out to return. ‘They not gone far when they heard the deep barking of vaedacad who was trotting ahead, followed by a rror, estleigh called the bg one he and Asa Scott ran in the direction from which the sound proceed- ed, Bismarck, who came back to them, ledthem to a large tree, from behind which step none other than the pale-faced and hurt me!” he implored, as he stepped out from behind the tree. “Nothing shall hurt you, my boy,’ said West- : o “Who are you, and what are you doing ere?’ “I am Tom Brackett—that boy knows me—and I've run away.” Asa Scott told Westleigh in a few words the fittle that he knew about the boy, and Westleigh asked him what had become of the flatboat, and why he fore she left,” replied the boy; sidling up to Snake- root as he ex protection and friendship from him. ‘I hid in the woods, and heard them estleigh. pe re Neng house- e sympa- the story that sed ad- fine features nished a sub- ample justice, he w. concerning himself, inquisitive portion of pe Eenyemca, but from Arthur Westleigh and Asa ott. His story, condensed from the questions and an- swers, was brief and somewhat unsatisfactory, His | } name was Tom Brackett. He had no father or mother that he knew of. Itsometimes seemed to him that he had once had a father and a mother; but when he tried to remember them he got nothing from the effort. He had an uncle who was known as Major Brackett, and whom he supposed to be a rich man— at least, he always seemed to have plenty of money. Tom had spent the greater of his life, as far as he knew, in Ind where uncle had sent him to school, boarding with some people who fed him poorly and treated him badly. It was then about three years since he had been taken from school by Jacob Bumstead, who had thereafter kept ossession of him, most of the time on trading ts, und part of the time on shore at one place and another. He had been badly treated by the Bumsteads, who compelled him todo menial work, and were in the habit of beating and kicking him. On the evening of Snakeroot’s return, Madden was on board of the “* Honest Trader,” having arrived the previous night, and he and Nat Bumstead went down to the bayou, the latter carrying his rifle. In the course of an hour or so Jato Bu who was on the roof, listening, said that he he two shots, and expressed his surprise. After a while ; | Nat Bumstead and Madden came back to the boat, quaintance made his appearance in the form of a | the former with a handkerchief tied around his leg, where he had received a slight flesh-wound. The three men talked loudly and cursed, and then had a consultation in connection with a bottle of whisky. Jacob Bumstead said that it might soon be too hot for them there, and they had. better move away. Madden objected, but the two Bumsteads outvoted him. Tom said that he then overheard them talking about himself, and disputing whether it would not be best to “‘put him out of the way.” As he was frightened by this expression, whose meaning he had reason to know, he quietly sige ashore, and ran away and hid in the woods. He heard the Bum- steads searching for him, and climbed a tree, believ- ing that they would not look for him in that direc- tion. When he no longer heard them, and when he was quite tired and sleepy, he came down and stole to the bank of the river. Perceiving that the ‘“‘ Hon- est Trader *’ was no longer there, he stretched him- self on the ground and went to sleep. After he awoke he wandered about, feeling hungry and lone- some and lost, until he was found by Bismarck. Such was the boy’s story. Meager as were its de- tails, it deeply interested the ladies, but there was a doubtful look on Arthur Westleigh’s face. “Tt seems to me,” said that gentleman, “that the ties which bind us to that rascally flatboat are being ~ drawn closer. I i that this last development may bring no bad luck.” ““How could it bring bad luck?” asked Laura Te Buppoee that th rascals had purposely lef “Suppose ose eft this boy behind when they went vay. ex Bothiig that he would be received in this house and me be useful to their plans?” ‘Tears in the boy’s eyes as he listened to this harsh suspicion, and Laura Thomassieu became on, Sa *You bave no right to make such Mr. Westleigh,” she said. “This r boy is a waif and a y. He has been sent to us by God, and, as we deal with him, so will our Father do unto u “TI sincerely hope that. you may be right,” said Westleigh, earnestly. ‘“*T hope I may never fear that I am wrong,” she answered, ‘* when [am doing a deed of mercy.” Laura took of the young refugee, and, with the assistance of a colored seamstress, fashion: ed for him some decent clothes from one of Col. Thomassieu’s suits. Under the redeeming influences of rest, kind treatment, and proper and plentiful food, the color soon began to come into his cheeks, and when he was neatly d. he was seen to be a really handsome a fellow. moved from the evil influences of the and from their rude talk, his natural rie, spec and the effects of bis early education began manifest themselves, and none of his new friends had cause to be ashamed of him. Affectionate and obliging, and deeply grateful for what was done for him, he won the favor of all on the place, white and black. The day after Snakeroot’s arrival from St. Louis Asa Sproule’s fever “took a turn,” as his colored nurse expressed it, and from that time his health improv Gomes Asa Scott wrote to Mr. Brashear, informing of this favorable change, and Sproule followed up that letter with one of his own in a few days, when he was able to sit up and even to walk about the house. His convalescence p at such a rate that he and Snakeroot were already m calculations on continuing their journey to New eans, when an event occurred Which changed the current of their thoughts. a cruel charge, CHAPTER XII. AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE—A NEW FOE, Onz sunny afternoon Asa Sproule was seated itt the pleasant parlor, where the family, as the Themessions ena their guests may be styled, were collected. ura was busily employed with her sew- ing. Emma was seated at the piano, and Arthur nelicie®. who then had a room in the house and 4 was ma himself useful to the ladies in the man- agement of the plantation, was near her, Asa Scott was conversing with Asa Sproule; while Tom Brack- ett, who had come to be known as Tommy, was poring over a book in a corner. A buggy, in which was one man, approached the house on the north side, coming through the lance between the cotton-fields re en. Asa Sproule, who was at a window on that side of the house, no sooner caught sight of the occupant of 4
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Thomassieu,’’ he said, ‘ please request Tommy to goto his room immediately, and tell him that he must not stir from there until he iscalled. I have a good reason fer this.” “Do as Mr. Sproule says, Tommy,”’ ordered Laura. ‘Go to your room at once, and remain there,”’ The boy arose and left the pation. Laura Thomas- sieu’s lightest word was law to him, ‘*Thave told you,” said Sproule, “that I met on the War le a man who was known as Major Brackett. en I saw Tommy Brackett on the flat- boat his name recalled that of the other. We have since learned that he has an uncle named Major Brackett. The Major Brackett whom I met on the War Eagle is now coming to this house. As he may be Tommy’s uncle, I thought it best that the boy should be out of sight until we learn what he wants." “That is quite right,’ declared Laura, ‘‘and I am glad to see you so thoughtful.” The buggy was driven around to the front of the house, an nounced Major Brackett, who wished to see the Misses Thomassieu. n a few minutes the colored servant an- | | | | Ip “ Bring him in,” and the visitor was ushered into | the parlor. nized him at a distance, as he was a noticeable man —tall, handsome, and of a really distinguished ap- | pearance, His age might have been forty-five, al- ough he looked younger, and there were uo gray | lines in his black hair or mustache. As he entered the room his demeanor was gentlemanly and re- | spectful, with a tinge of sadness in his expression. Laura rose as he entered, and motioned him to a chair, “IT perceive that I am not entirely unacquainted here,’ he said, as heseated himself, ‘‘I see a young | mr of it.”’ {t was not soxprising that Asa Sproule had recog-; “If that should Asa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. Sametare of their father. It was dul ed, sealed, essed, acknowledged, and recorded the county in which the land was located. “T am no lawyer,” said Westleigh, as he handed the paper back to its owner; “but that mortgage seems to me to be correct, cult as it is to leve that Col. Thomassieu would involve his estate so deeply without consulting or informing his family. Butit is ruinous, If it should be enforced now, at this time of depression, it would sweep away the en- tire property, although the plantation is fairly worth more than the amount of the mortg: y ‘I am not disposed,’ said Major Brackett, “to give anybody any trouble that can ly be avoid- ed, The mortgage has five years to run, Miss Tho- massieu, and the interest, at ten per cent., is pay- able quarterly. As long as you can meet the aoe bey there is no danger that you will be discom- m ¥ , “That would be simply impossible,’ calmly re- lied Laura, ‘“ We could not pay one-fourth of four thousand dollars a year, and keep up the plantation. If it could not be made to pay a profit under my father’s control, what better could be looked for un- der the management of my sister and myself? You need not expect, sir, that we will pay the interest or peore to be the case, Miss Tho- massieu, I will be obliged to foreclose the mortgage ond thos the property must be sold for whati will etch,” ‘“Very well, sir. It is nothing but ruin in any event, and the sooner my sister and I know the worst, the better it will be for us,” “For my part,” spoke up Asa Sproule, ‘‘I am con- vinced that there is something wrong about this | business, and I mean to employ a lawyer to look entieman whom [ had the honor of meeting on the | ill-fated steamer War Eagle. I was rejoiced to learn that he had escaped, and hope that he has re- covered from his illness,”’ “Tam getting quite strong, I thank you,” politely replied Sproule, ‘My errand here is a sad one,’’ continued Major Brackett, ad himself to Laura, ‘I presume that you have heard, Miss Thomassieu, of the death of your father.” “We know that he was a passenger on the War Eagle, and that ho is missing, * replied Laura. “We have mourned him as dead. Can you give us any | positive information of his fate?”’ “Tt grieves me that Lamable to do so,” said the visitor, with a ye. eed ti “T was with Col, Thomassieu at the time of the ex- piosion, and escaped from the cabin a little in ad- | vance of him. Soon afterward I saw him near me at the bow of the boat, when the fire was rapidly ining headway. He was about to ong, Ment rd, and I restrained him, begging him wait , -goods box that untill could launch an emp’ scalded, and happened to bethere, But He had nge of sadness in his tone. / { | ! i | | an the pain of his wounds, added to the terror of the | flames, drove him frantic. He broke from me, and lunged into the water, on the wrong side of the at. The current immediately sucked him under the hull, and Isaw him no more, There can be no sort of doubt that he was drowned at that moment; but I qaot the satisfaction of knowing that I tried to gave him.”* Laura Thomassieu put her handkerchief to her | eyes, and Eutmma buried her face in her hands, This final confirmation of their fears renewed their grief, | and they could not restrain their tears. ‘My errand is not finished,” said Major Brackett ufter waiting a little while for the emotion to sub- side. ‘Iam obliged to call your attention to a mat- ter of bi which I am afraid will prove an nrpleasant subject to you. Ihave been acquainted ita your f Miss Thomassieu, during a num- Ler of years, and have had business transactions with yr Doubtless you have often heard him of me, “*To the best of my knowledge and recollection he has never mentioned your name,” answered Laura. “Indeed! He must have been very reticent in his a ee concerning his business affairs. You must have known that for some time this plantation has not been ing a profit, and that he has been embar money matters.”’ “ That is news to me,’’ answered Laura. ‘ye seemed to make no secret of his embarrass- ments, Miss Thomassieu. I have loaned him mon-y at various times, and thesum of those loans amount- | joined Major Brackett, into it. ‘You need not be trou led, Miss Thomassieu. If this property is ever sold at auction, I will buy it in for you.”’ Asa Sproule, who could scarcely have called forty cents his own a month ago, spoke of spending forty thousand dollars as if it were a mere trifle. ‘*Such a wise and wealthy young gentleman,” said Major Brackett, *‘who can treat so lightly the pur- chase of such a property as this, must be a person- age of great importance on the plantation. But erha a C) 7 not quite as important as he imagines mself to be."’ The sneer that accompanied this remark was pro- voking erat but Sproule took no notice of it, only saying t he was able to make his words “There is another matter which I must bring to our attention, Miss Thomassieu,’’ said Major rackett. ‘“‘You have harbored here a runaway nephew of mine, a boy named Tom Brackett?” How do you know that?’ demanded Laura, spiritedly. “That is neither here nor there. News travels faster in such a neighborhood as this than some sup- It is enough that I know he is here, and I must request you to give him up to me.” “That I cannot do. He fled from some vile men who were ill-treating him and leading him to de- struction, and he shall have a home here as long as I ean give it to him.” “He was ef gh himself toa r but worthy man, who has boun ref to care for him until he is twenty-one.” P 7 prenticed to what?” indigren asked Snake- root. ‘To robbery and murder. ose river rate a t- gated rom at. nog else.” : “As I was not spea that yo rson,”’ re- at will eget: ice his im- vertinent at poy You must be aware, Miss omassieu, that Iam the natural guardian of my nephew. and that the law will compel you to give him up to me.” “Perhaps so, but I will not give him up until I am compelled to.”’ : The unwelcome visitor arose, took his hat, and _ moved toward the door. ed, up to a recent date, to about thirty thousand dol- ars. “Thirty thousand dollars!’ exclaimed Laura. It | ‘was then her turn to be surprised, and she did not ettempt to conceal her astonishment. “That was about the figure when I met him in St. Louis a short time ago,’ continued Major Brackett. “ He then told me that he had been endeavoring to raise money.on bia plantation, but had rot succeed- ec, and he applied 1o me for another loan. promising me a mortg on his landed property for the fu amount of my advances. I hesitated, but finally consented to accommodate hun, I Iet him have about ten thousand dollars, nnd he rave me a mort- gage «> this place fer forty thonsand.” “A mortgage on our home!’ exclaimed Laura. **\ mortgage for mich thousand dollars, and we by: ve known nothing of it! This is incredible.” “Nevertheless it is strictly true. Here is the document, and any one present who wishes to see it may do so.” Major Brackett took from his pock’t a folded pa- ver, and handed it to Arthur Westleigh, who ex- pressed a desire to see it. It was evidently a valid mortgage for the amornt mentioned. The sienature xvas nronoineed be hot ve and Fmraa to be the “Tt seems that you are resolved upon war,” he said. “I prefer peace, and am sorry that you do not with me. I wish you all good-day, and hope find you hereafter in a more reasonable frame of mind.” He bowed politely, left the house, entered his buggy, and drove away. hen he had gone every one appeared to breathe inom freely, with the exception of Arthur West- eizh. *‘As I have already remarked,” said that gentle- rman, ‘‘the ties which bind us to that pascally flat boat are drawing closer.” CHAPTER XII. FASCINATING FLORA, Arren the departure of Major Brackett there was a long and earnest consultation at the Thomassieu ie in which all the members of ‘‘ the family ” n It was unanimously that there could no longer be the least doubt of the death of Col. Thom- assicu. It was also agreed that Tommy Brackett should not be given up, except upon compulsion, as he strenuously objected to being surrendered to his uncle, who, as he believed, would na return him to the custody of the Bumsteads. It was also agreed, in consideration of the statements made by Mr. Brashear to Asa Scott, that 7, Brackett's account of his transactions with Col, Thomassieu was probably true, and that his mo € Was genu- ine and valid. From this last conclusion Asa Sproule dissented, although he could give no substantial rea- son in support of his dissent, and proposed the em- pore of all possible legal efforts to defeat the claim. Laura Thomassieu was of the opinion that she had better have some further advice, and to send to Judge Dalby, whose plantation joined the hay enh , and who had been a par- ticular friend of her father's, 3 saspgge A him to call and consult with her on the matter. Accordingly a messenger was sent to him, and he pacers 9 he call the next day. Judge Dalby had once been a county judge, from which office he had ed his title; but he made no pretensions to legal knowledge, and wasaccustomed to say that he was a judge of poring but good liquor, He was a hearty and jolly middle-aged gen- tleman, the main object of whose existence seemed to be to take his ease and enjoy life. With him came his Gangniee, Flora Dalby, a hand- some, merry, black-eyed hoyden of sixteen, full of life and fond of motion, who immediately developed a high degrec ef sympathy for that interesting con- valescent, Asa Baxi She had hardly been in the house half an hour when she had convinced that young gentleman that he only needed air and exer- cise to give him strength aa bring the color to_ his cheeks, and had proposed that she should give him a row on the bayou in a skiff. To this papoeae he Brey! assented, and Asa Scott got the cold shoulder when he offered to accompany them and do the rowing, Flora declaring that she did not need a bit of help to manage a skiff. The excursion must have been a pleasant and in- vigorating one, as Sproule brought back bright eyes and a hightened color. The young lady then walk- ed him over the grounds until Laura Thomassieu was compelled to enter a protest against the pro- ceedin fearing that her convalescent wo be wearied and worn out. “That’s always the way with you, Flora,” said Judge Dalby. “There is no such thing as breaking oe in tothe manners of quiet people. You seem to ave taken possession of this young gentleman; but you mustn’t be too fresh on short acquaint- ance. Just put that away in your memory-box.”’ Flora pouted, and said that she couldn’t see the use of being cooped -up in the house when it was so pleasant out of doors. The visit of Judge Dalby afforded little or no con- solation to Laura Thomassieu. With the aid of a bottle of wine, and fortified by the opinion of Ar- thur Westleigh, that gentleman oracularly delivered himself thus: ‘“*If that mortgage is such as it has been described to me, and I presume that it is, I don’t see how it can be defeated. It seems to all correct and legal. Both of you ladies recognized your father’s signature. It could not have n acknowl unless it had been properly ed, and it could not have been recorded unless it been properly ac- knowledged. It is incredible that one could down the river he was pridi brilliant stroke of done a usiness by putting a ya mo on his eee See was p’ : © you girls a good time su ou Ww prenty of t money. Now the lastor v! money pe him, and the mortgagé remains. good youn gow hae peeee is willing to pay the amount, or to bid in property. Iam sure t his money will come back fo him when times get better.” “Were you ee with that Major Brackett?” asked Asa Sproule. “ Never saw the mae! lied the “Never heard of him before th suppose 6 is one of the friends the colonel pene up in New Orleans, where he mt ee = bong i a i “Tn rf) on he isa p’ onal gambler, and that is also the opinion of mar friend Asa Scott.” oat He might be , and have plenty of money end. ‘Ts it not singular, Judge Dalby, that Col. * assieu should have had such la: 7 ee with that man, without ever mentio: the matter to his family or friends?” “Rather singular, but the colonel was a si man. Henever allowed his business to bother him, and I suppose he did not want it to bother his fam- Judge Dalby consented, at Sproule’s request, te lay the matter before a lawyer at Tckegrees and employ him to examine the record of the mortgage and inquire into the character and antecedents of Major Brackett. As soon as the conference was ended, Sproule slipped cut for a stroll with Flora Dalby, and they did not return until the judge was ht eg home, a performance which procured for both of re- proofs which they did not seem to mind. “Fell you what it is,’ said Sproule to Asa Scot when the two boys had retired to their room ,. night, ‘ we will have to make a change in our plans. These ladies have been very kind to us, ially to me, and we mustn’t leave them in the lurch, now that they are in trouble, We will have to put off our reg to New Orleans.”’ “ All right, Ace, if you say 80,” replied Snakeroot, “You are young yet, and have plenty of time before you to visit New Orleans. That was a pretty girl who was here to-day.” “Pretty is no name for her, my boy. She is as as honey,” bright as a dollar and as sweet
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Asa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. **And you are fond of Sa al “ “T hope you don’t suppose fallen in love with such a little thing as that.” “Little? She is as much of a woman as you are of a man, if not more 80. No,I don’t suppose you have fallen in love with her yet, but there is time enough for that.” **When I do fall in love, I will let you know.” “Perhaps you will, Ace, and perhaps you won't. Thatisa game in which a fellow don’t care for a tner. Go'it while you’re young, old chap, but be sure that you don’t bet on two aces again.’ There was one matter that bothered Snakeroot’s sharp wits. He spoke to Sproule about it that night and to Laura Thomassien the nextday. He wante to know how it was that Major Brackett had become aware of the presence of Asa Sproule and Tomm Brackett at the Thomassieu mansion, aud of the ill- ness of the former, and he s-outed the suggestion that the knowledge was derived from mere rumor or hearsay. That unwelcome visitor, he said, scem- ed to be as well informed of what was going on at the house as any of the inmates, and he asked Miss ‘Thomassieu if she could be sure that none of the ser- vants or laborers on the plantation were in collusion with him. She said that she believed she could trust implicitly every person on the plantation, with the exception of a mulatto named Jim Veazil, who hed lately been employed, mainly for the purpose of taking care of the horses and the stable. Snakeroot said that in his opinion Jim Veazil had better be watched, and it was soon proved that his judgment was not at fault, There was a superannuated servant on the place who took an unaccountable interest in Tommy Brackett. This was a negress known as Aunt Han- ’ heney, I recken. Well, I | , Asa Seott, that I have | | hair and mustache; | out the least vulgar eh ype ie “lapel of his black his | not made me an absolutely unwelcome v hah, who was believed to be over eighty years old, who frequently followed the boy about, always spoke to him lovingly, and appeared to be anxions to win his confidence and affection. Jim Veazil also endeavored to ingratiate himself into Tommy's favor, and, as the boy was very fond of horses, the suspected mulatto had a fair chance to work into his good graces. But Snakeroot kept his eyes open for the benefit both of Jim Veazil and Aunt Hannah, as his ee cious nature feared a plot that might cause the appearance of Tommy Brackett. ne day Jim Veazil mounted Tommy on a pony, as ho was in the habit of doing, and set out with him, walking by the side of the pony. On this occasion they went out of sight of the house for the first time, leaving the lane beyond the cotton flelds, and hoe | a bridte-path that led into the woods, They h gone about half a mile into the woods, when Tom- my declared that he would go no further. The mu- latvo endeavored to persuade him to keep on, but ihe boy was obstinate, and was about to turn the pony’s head in the direction of home, when Veazil seized the bridle and swore that he must ae on whether he wanted to or not. Tommy pped out of the saddle, and the mulatto caught him by the collar, vowing that he-would kill him unless he mounted the horse and submitted to his will. At this juncture Aunt Hannah came running out of the bushes, panting and trembling. “Qn't dat!” she exclaimed. “ You jess luff dat boy £0, Jim Veazil, you mean, thievin’ yaller nig- r! rer ! BVeazil tightened his hold on the boy's collar, and the old negress 1 bg at him like a fury. He dropped the bridle, and raised his hand to strike her, when Asa Scott suddenly appeared upon the scene, with his cocked revolver pointed at the head of the mulatto, who at once let the boy loose, und took to his heels. Tonumy was remounted on his pony, and was es- eorted to the house by Aunt Hannah and Snakeroot, the latter congratulating himself upon spin Sa covered which one of the two he been watching was faithful, and which was false. The attempted abduction of Tommy Brackett caused much excitement on the plantation. Arthur Westleigh took occasion to say that his friends were not yet free from the influence of that rascally flat- ‘oat. Aunt Hannah developed a deeper interest in the young refugee, and insisted that he should be guarded by day and bynight. Hoe had been sleeping alone, as the two Asaa preferred to room together, and now Aunt Hannah placed a cot in his room, an called Ly And of her grandsons, a tall and strapping oung fellow. ace: , Jeff’son Davis,” said she, ‘do you see dat cot? Jess you dror dat cot upa;’in’ dat door ebery night, and lay down.on dat cot, and stay dar till de mawnin’ breaks, You heah me?” Thus Tommy Brackett was duly guarded. As for Jim Veazil, he disappeared from the neighborhood. CHAPTER XIV. MATRIMONIAL ADVANCES, Tommy’s adventure with Jim Veazil naturally call- edatiention to Major Brackett, who was ch with having instigated the mulatto’s attempt, and that gentlemanly person was discuss d with ro- newed interest in the family circle at the Thomas- sieu mansion. Y “Talk of the devil, and you are sure to see him,” said Asa feott, one morning, as he stood looking out at one of the windows of the yarter, in which Laura and Emma Thomassieu were seated. When he Wher Ma ve rackett was driving to the explain at Major baie ab , as he had done on the occasion of his previous Soon the buggy was driven yertinence of that remark, around to the front | door, and a servant announced Major Brackett, who | particularly desired an interview with the ladies. “*T suppose he wants to see us alone,” said Laura, tna he ghrl! hove afairchance, Asa, you May re- : tire, and see that Tommy is kept out of his sight. | Show the frentloman in, ah, When Major Brackett entered the parlor it was apparent that he was “cot up ”’ for an extraordi occasion. Nota gray hair was visible in his blac a@ rosebud adorned the coat; hands were incased in loves, and he carried a light cane. Evidently he desired that his fascinations should not be unre- garded, and that he should be considered a gentle- man of the period. Heseated himself, smiling blandly, and spoke with &@ pleasant air of assurance, notwithstanding the fact that he was coldly received by both the ladies, **T hope,’’ he said, ‘‘that the unpleasant intelli- gence which I was lately obliged to bring yes has sitor at this house. I have also hoped that the business dif- ficulty of which I informed you may be, I will not say compromised, but arranged in such a manner that the result will inconvenience no one, but will be mutually agreeable.” As there was no reply to this speech, he smiled | again, and continued his ex parte remarks, “Tf you have taken advice, or have applied to any person capable of examining the matter, you have doubtless discovered that the mortgage which I recently exhibited to you is genuine and valid, and that it can be enforced against this propertv.”’ ‘IT am not prepared to dispute your claim,” re- plied Laura, “or to question its legality, or even its | ustice.’’ “That being the case, Miss Thomassieu, the ex- | AS | planation of my errand to-day becomes easy. you profess your inability even to pay the iuterest as it acerues, and say that you will nut endeavor to | make the payments, it will naturally become my duty before long, as anact of justice to myself, to enforce by lezal measures payment of both prin- cipal and interest. In that event the property would have to be sold at auction, and, as you are well aware, in the present condition of the country. it would not bring the amount of the mortgage, an I would be obliged to buy it in. You will perceive that I make no account of the declaration made by a young friend of yours when I was here before, to the effect that he stood ready to buy in the prop- erty for you. Roppoding him to be able to do so, you know that you would be unable to repay him either principal or interest, and I cannot suppose that you would be willing to accept a gift of such an amount from such a source.” ‘| had never sal ps A considered the proposition to which you refer," coldly replied Laura. “Supposing this property to be sold at auction,” continued Major Brackett, ‘‘you and your sister would be left without any resources, and I would be left with a piece of property on my hancs for which I would have no use whatever. I desire to scepe an arrangement by which these serious difficulties may be entirely obviated. It is what I may calla y arrangement.” He smiled as he glanced at both the ladies; but Laura merely ra her eyebrows, while a red spot ap in each of her sister's cheeks. “TI must go further,’ he continued, ‘‘and speak of it as a matrimonial arrangement. To be brief, Miss Thomassieu, I greatly admire your sister, and am anxious that she should become my wife. In the event of her consent to the alliance, I would buy in the property, and would settle Lalf of it upon you, and the other half upon my wife. As a business proposition, nothing could be more liberal than this. As a social proposition, you will permit me to re- mark that I come of a aoe family; that I am mod- erately wealthy; that I have a reputation of which I am not ashamed, and that my disposition is such thatI believe I would be a good husband toa good wife. Ido not ask an immediate decision upon this offer, but would prefer that you cousider it in all its bearings, and if Miss Emma Thomassieu will accept me asa suitor for her hand, I trust that in — she may be willing to accept me as her bus- e red spots deepened on Emma’s cheeks, but her sister was pale and cool. “This is my sister's affair,” said Laura. ‘I would not presume to dictate to her; but, if sheshould ask advice from me as the present head of the family, I would say to her that she ought not to consider this offer from a business point of view, but solely with regard to her own feelings. and that she should not allow her decision to be affected in the slightest de- gree - any thought of her circumstances or mine.” “TIT do not need a moment's time for censidera- tion,"’ said Emma. You shall have my auswer at once, Mr. Brackett. Iregard your offer as disgust- ing, if not actually disgraceful. If my sister and I were houseless and starving, and you were a mil- lionaire, I would not marry you, you should re- peat your offer 4 hundred mes, my answer would still be no, no, xo!” ‘*T have tried to treat both of you fairly, and liber- ally,” said Major Brackett, rising, with his hat in his | hand, ‘‘but you have not responded in the same | spirit. As Miss Ernmais so very positivein herreply, I am compelled to presume that her affections are young Bohemian whom I met here the other da st | respectfully advise her to look before ith this ing shot he bowed politely, left the house, and drove epee 4 Major Brackett's evident allusion to Arthur West- leigh as a ‘‘ young Bohemian” caused Laura Thom- assieu to seriously consider her sister's relations to that gentleman. As Emma'srefusalhad been given with unnecessary warmth and vehemence, there was force in the remark that her affections might be already encared, ard Laura easily called to niind e was finely dressed, but with- | | sister concerning this im | quirements of air and exercise did y engaged. Ifshe has fixed them upon that | y,1| she | 11 many circumstances which indicated that she had fixed them on Westleigh. His preference had been manifest when his visits were discourage by Col. | Thomassieu, and since he had become an inmate of | the house the two had been much t ether, mani- festing a decided inclination for each other’s society. Laura determined that before speaking to her riaut matter she would first interrogate Arthur Westleigh, and she did so at the first opportunity. He was entirely frank and open in his replies, and was both willing and anxious to give her ail possible satisfaction with regard to his posiiivu in life and his relations to Emma, He was a naturalist by profession, he said, but from choice, rather than from necessity. He had not agopted the pursuit as a money-makiny busi- ness, although he believed that there were rewards for naturalists, as well as for others. His father was a physician in large practice, residing in Ohio, where he owned some valuable wonery, and Arthur and his sister were the only chidren. Dr. Westleigh sympathized with his son's desire to become a naturalist, and had assured him that money should not be lacking to enable him to presceuie his studies. For nearly a year Arthur had been en- gaged in collecting specimens of the fauna and flora of the country for himself and for the Smith- sonian Institute at Washington. He did not claim that this was a lucritive business, b: t it pleased him, and was a part of his education, aud he did not require a lucrative business. This occupation, Westleigh said, had brought him to the neighborhood of the Thomassieu place, and he had made his abode ina cabin in the w ods, be- c.use he desired to be surrounded by the objects to which his attention was devoted, and because he wished to accustom himself to that manner of life. He was free to confess that Emma Thomassieu wes the attraction which had eee him in that locality longer than he had intended to remain, and declared that he loved her with a devoted and unswerving af- fection. He could easily satisfy Miss Thomassieu ot the truth of the statements he had made concerning his position in life, and she had known him long ea- ough to be able to form an opinion of his personal character and disposition. ‘*What you have told me is fair and proper end uite satisfactory,” said Laura; ‘‘ but what coes my ster say aboutit? Does she love you?” **T have reason to believe that she is not indiffer-. ent to me,’’ replied Westleigh, “ but have never ask- ed her the question. IfI should ask it, I flatter myself that the answer would be favorable to me. My sition here has been a delicate one. Col. Thom objected to me, harry d because he could not con- nect my pursuits with a stable income. Since his death, and while I have beem an inmate of this house, it has seemed to me that it would be proper to make haste to press my suit. But would be glad to have your permission to do go.” “Such being your sentiments, it is nothing but right that the affair should _be being Jot toac and we ought to know what Emma's feelings are. will ascertain, if you wish; but perbaps you would prefer to make the discovery yourself.” “By all means,”’ eagerly replied Westleigh. t! am not afraid to 'g my fortune to the test.’ He went to look for Emma, and soon brought her in to her sister, blushing and smiling. “Tt is all rigbt,” he said. ‘‘We Tes are agreed upon this matter, and only need your consent to make us happy. F “Tt is true, Laura,” added Emma, ‘TI love Arthur truly and with my whole heart, and if I cannot be- come his wife I shall never be a wife. For some time I have believed that he loved me, and have waited patiently until he should see fit to tell me 80 ” **You seem to be well suited to each other,” said Laura, “and I can see no objection to a conditional engagement. But, if yon will take my acvice—and -ou should remember that I ami now the head of the amily—it will be only a conditional engagement for the present, until 1 make such inquiries os 5 Westleigh allows me to make. If theresult of those inquiries is satisfactory, and I have nut the least doubt that it will be, your engagement will have my entire approbation. As the head of the fainily, I deem it my duty to make those inquiries.” Laura's sey 7 and authority as the head of the family being fully conceded by Westleigh and her sister, it was unanimously agreed that the affair should stand upon the basis which she had pro- CHAPTER XV. A STARTLING MOVE. Wauenx Major Brackett was making his matrimo- nial proposition to Emma Thomassieu, Asa Sproule was not on the plantation, having mounted a horse and gone to Judge Dalby’s place. He made these excursions quite warms Crear that during his convalescence he requi plenty of air and exer- cise. They were, however, not regarded with favor by Asa Scott, who was of the opinion that the re- not compel the lad to sways abe his course in the direction of Judge Dalby’s He also observed that his friend had recently assumed a more manly style of manner and conversation, and had become more particular about his dress, circumstances which clearly indicated the presence of a young lady in the case. Snakeroot took his friend to task concern these points, and charged him with the serious of- fense of ‘‘ throwing off on his partner.” “Not a bit of it, old boy,” replied Sproule. “Yon and I were partners in the water, and ve eam ywri- ners on land, and so we always shall be, as long as J
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. #pproached Sproule. posse, leavi 12 have my will. [fit had not been for you, I would not be here iow, and I don't forget that.” - “There are some things, Ace, in which neither men nor boys can be partners,” suggested Snake- root, ‘*and one of those things is girls. . “* Girls?” responded Sproule. “What has either of us to do with girls? Time enough to worry about them ina few years from now.” “It seems to me, Ace, that you are —— the worry tol'able early in life, to judge by the way you fo) — eee Dalby’s to see that pretty daugh- re : ** Don’t go and be a goose now, Snakeroot. You know that I am not fond of rowing, as you are, and so I have to take to riding. I must go somewhere when I ride, and Judge Dalby’s is the only house at which I am gf em As for Flora, there is no harm in it if a fellow chooses to pass the time with a peey girl and she has no objection. She is real jolly, and I like her.” “She wouldn't bo likely to make any objection, Ace, nor would any other sensible girl. There are plenty of them who would be glad enough of your company, because you have the looks and the ways and the money. You belong to the upper crust, you see, and Ito theunder crust.” * ‘*For my part,’’ replied Sproule, ‘“‘I don’t feel a bit upper crusty, and I don’t know why you should speak of yourself as undercrust. But you may if ros choose to, and what’s the odds, as long as there 8 plenty of pie between us? Now, Snakeroot, please don’t be jealous of that jolly, nice girl. Ican like her without falling in love with her, and I promise you that I don’t mean to go back on my partner. Whenever you want me to do anything or go any- where, aJl you have to do isto say the word.’ Snakeroot was convinced that there must be at least a flirtation on hand, especially as he saw his friend ride off shortly after this conversation, taking the road that led to Judge Dalby’s. The morning was about half-spent when he rode away, and the developments that followed his de- parture were as sudden as they were unexpected. Early in the afternoon who should come galloping down to the Thomassieu place but Flora Dalby? She was mounted on her gray mare, which had evi- dently been pushed to the top of her speed, and the ee lady herself was nearly exhausted, but more y excitement than by her exertions. Asa Scott, who was moping about the place in that state of restlessness which arises from havin nothing to do and not caring to do it, was the firs to ew her approach, and he helped her to dis- mount. With trembling lips and in agitated tones she told her story, the gist of which was that Asa Sproule had been arrested, charged with horse-stealing, and . taken to the jail at Bucksport! After seem awhile on the veranda at Judge Dalby’s, he had gone to take a stroll with Flora, and they had not got out of sight of the house when half a dozen men rode up, one of whom dismounted and You are my prisoner,"’ said this man, as he laid his hand on the lad’s shoulder. Flora’s scream obey to the spot her father whor ized one of the men asa constable an deputy sheriff, but the others were strangers to him, “He asked what was the matter, and was told that Asa Sproule had been arrested on a charge of horse-stealing. “ Horse-stealing!”’ exclaimed Judge Dalby. ‘ That is absurd. I am well acquainted with him, and he would no niore steal a horse than would I or my daughter.” ‘That may be true,” replied the deputy; “but the charge has been made and sworn to, and I have the warrant, and can do nothing but arrest “Why did you bring such a crowd? You could vasily take him alone, if he ia to be taken at all.” “I was told that he was a desperate character, and you know what horse-thieves are.” i I oer like to know who made the charge,” said @ judge. ' “Major Lewis Brackett.” “A stranger, aman nobody knows anything about, ern b that he is a professional gambler. This is too ' “That is none of my business,” replied the deputy. “T have the warrant, and must execute it.”’ “There is nothing to do but to submit,” said the judge to Sproule. “I will go with you to Bucks- port, and we will soon get you clear of this diffi- Cc , Judge Dalby ordered a servant to saddle two horses and bring them out, and he and Asa Sproule mounted and rode away with the sheriff and his Flora bathed in tears, But the plucky little hoyden was good for some- js J besides crying, and they were hardly out of ' sight when she was on the back of her gray mare, riding at full She told t to the Thomassieu place story in the presence of all “the family,” except Asa Sproule If, and her audi- tors were simply astounded. “What does it mean?” asked Arthur Westleigh. t “Of course the boy has been guilty of no crime. Nothing can be proved against him, and we can posi- tively rove any such charge as this. But what is the meaning of his arrest?” ‘What was the meaning of my arrestin St. Louis?” replied Snakeroot. ‘‘I was falsely accused of steal- ing a et-book, and was locked up overnight. I don’t know what that was for, unless it was meant to hold me back until those scamps could get a chance to shoot ne down. Perhaps that man Brackett wants to ast Ace out of the way, because he said that he wouid buy in this place if it was sold under his mortgage. “Since his last visit here,” said Laura Thomassteu, while to take such a step for that purpose. : ** As I have had occasion to remark,’’ said Arthur Westleigh, ‘‘the ties that bind us to that rascally flatboat are being drawn closer, We know that Ma- jor Brackett, as he calls himself, is connected with the Bumsteads, and we know what means they em- plored to get possession of Asa Sproule’s draft .on t. Louis. As they believe that he can control a large amount of property, am strongly inclined to suspect them of making another attempt, with the aid of Brackett, to extort movey from him.” “That is likely enough,’ replied Snakeroot, “though I don’t know how they would manage to get it out of Mr. Brashear. Anyhow, we must fol- low the thing up at once, and help Judge Dalby to get Ace out of their hands.” Horses were ordered to be saddled immediately. It was arranged that Flora Dalby shouldremain with | the Thomassieu sisters for the present, and that Tommy Brackett should be carefully watched and arded, as it was possible that the development of ajor Brackett’s plot might include his capture. Arthur Westleigh and Asa Scott then mounted and ° rode to Bucksport, reaching that place about dusk. Bucksport, although the county seat, was a ham- let which could not even ire to the dignity of a village. It was composed of a few houses that sorely needed painting, two general stores, a tavern, which was mainly supported byits bar, a blacksmith shop and some other little shops, a rickety court- house, and a log jail. Bucksport had probably seen better days; certainly it could not have seen any worse. Judge Dalby was found in the bar-room of the tav- ern, where he had just been refreshing himself with some of the home-made whisky of the country. He said that he had been to see the lawyer with whom he had consulted concerning Major Brackett and his mortgage. ‘The result of his inquiries was that nothing could be done in Asa Sproule’s case un- til the next day, The magistrate, who had issued the warrant for his arrest, was not authorized to ac- cept bail, and it would be neces: to apply to the circuit judge, who lived thirty miles from Bucks- port. An application for a writ of habeas corpus would be made the next day, with the view of pro- curing the release of the prisoner on bail. This pro- **T believe that he can hardly have thought it worth | but a series of unpleasant dreams, in which he and Asa Sproule were continually yp. through peril- ous scenes, wherewith the faces of or Brackett and the Bumsteads were strangely mingled, and every now and then he awoke with a start from a vivid and painful sense of danger. At last he was fairly by hurried steps on the stairway and in the narrow hall, followed by a loud knocking at the door of his room. ‘** Who's there?’’ he asked, starting up in bed. "It’s me,’ was the answer. “Who is me?” ’ ‘ “Jim Biggs the boss of this here hotel, Open the door quick! I’ve got news fur you.” Snakeroot jumped out of bed, hastily lighted his candle, and opened the door, admitting the land- lord, who was @ large man, hatless and coatless, his | face beaming with excitement aud whisk “That friend of yourn is gone,’’ was Biggs’s terse and blunt explanation of the alarm. ‘Friend of mine—gone—what do you mean?” ask- ed Snakeroot, who was dazed by his surroundings and by the landlord’s abrupt manner. “That friend of yourn who was put in jail—the hoss-thief who was fetched in yesterday. He’s gone. ‘* What do you mean by gone ?"’ asked the still be- wildered Gnateront. rc “‘Toted off—carried away by lynchers, ‘Spect he is strung up to a tree somewhar afore now.”’ At first Snakeroot had but a vague idea of the meaning of this terrible intelligence, and further gaplemetons were required before he could compre- end it. According to the landlord’s account. some twelve or fifteen men had ridden into Bucksport after mid- night, when the inhabitants were wrapped in their soundest slumbers. All were masked, and all were heavily armed. They went direct to the jail, woke up the jailer, and compelled him, under threat of instant death, to give up the keys of the jail. Then they opened the cell in which Asa Sproule was con- fined, bound and gagged him, placed him on a horse, and rode away rapidly. All their movements were characterized by silence and secrecy, and the jailer, who was the only person who saw or heard them, | had not the slightest clew to their identity. ceeding would require time, and in the meanwhile | Asa Sproule would be compelled to remain in the | Bucksport jail. Unpleasant as this condition of af- fairs was, there was no help for it. The magistrate was seen, but no consolation could be drawn from the interview. It might be true, he said, that Asa Sproule wasa young person of pro- perty, who could not be guilty of the crime of horse- Sealing, and that his time since he had been in that vicinity could be fully accounted for. In that case it would be easy to show his innocence. The magis- trate could only say for himself that he was obliged to issue the warrant, as the c a gentleman of highly respectable appearance, al- though a stranger. “There is nothing more to be done here at pre- sent,’’ said rr Dalby, after he had again refresh- ed himself. ‘Mr, Westleigh will be needed at Miss Thomassieu’s place to-night, and I will be needed at my house. As wecan be of no use here, we had bet- ter go home, and return early in the mo i? Snakeroot assented to this proposition, but an- nounced his intention of remaining in Bucksport and staying with his friend until the trouble was over. en he was told that he ceuld be of no use to him, he said that he could at least be near him, and adhered to his determination. When Judge Dalby and Westleigh had left Bucks- port, he went to the jail, and ed permission to see Asa Sproule. The r, who was no other than the at y-sheriff who had made the arrest, de- murred to this request, but finally permitted him to interview the prisoner in his presence and through the a in his cell door. This interview was quite unsatisfactory to both the lads, and Snakeroot could only assure Sproule that his friends meant to secure his release as soon as possible, and that he meant to stay right there, so that he might be near him. **Don’t worry about me too much, old boy," re- pent Sproule. “It doesn’t fret me to be shut u ere for awhile, and I shall make the best of it. It is a new experience in life—that’s all.”’ * But it’s a confounded shame,’ said Snakeroot, ‘that such a fellow as you, who never in his life thought of committing a crime, and who is able to at up all the horses in this wretched county, should be imprisoned here weer a false charge.” * Yes, it is a shame, and it is a disgrace to the laws we live under, and when I get out of here I have a strong notion that I will try hard to make tae apts, A for this. I only hope that there may not be something behind my arrest—some sort of a blow that none of us may be able to ward off. As this remark expressed the fear that had taken possession of his own mind, Snakeroot made no re ply in the presence of the jailer, but appealed to hat official for permission to occupy the cell with his friend during the night. This request was resolutely refused by the jailer, upon whom the arguments and entreaties of the two friends had not the least effect, and Asa Scott ver finally obliged to say good-night and leave the He returned to the tavern, where he ate his sup- per, secured a room, and went to bed, filled with sad forebodings for which there was no visible cause, ' CHAPTER XVI. THE SEQUEL TO THE ARREST. A noy’s sleep is usually sweet and deep, but Asa Scott was troubled and restless after he went to bed in the Bucksport tavern, His slumber was nothing was cece senen fh ‘‘ As soon as they had left the jail,’ continued the landlord, completing his story of the affair, ‘‘ Bill Trainor, the jailer, came over here and roused me up, and he is down in the bar-room now, drinkin’ with some men.” ‘““Has no alarm been given}’’ asked the boy, ‘* Has no one thought of following tl ,.zn and trying to save the r fellow?” ‘*What’s the use?” replied “The lynchers were out of mebs of town by the time Bill noz got me up. . Even if we could have got to- on men enough to whip them, they would be out of the way before we could begin to move.” “Do you: 1« se they meant to hang him?” asked Snakeroot, t...; 4 the question sent a deadly chill to his heart. , “Of course they did. That’s what they allers Dee ‘But he was innocent of any crime.” ‘““Mebbe he was, and mebbe he wasn’t. They must ha’ been sure that he was the right chap, or they wouldn’t ha’ gone fur him. I never knowed a crowd of that kind to make a mistake yet. Least- ways, they never owned to it.” Asa Scott, who had dressed himself by this time, followed the landlord down to the bar-room, where he found half a dozen men, one of whom was the jailer, discussing the occurrence, and enlivening the discussion with frequent s of whisky. He could easily perceive that they were decidedly of the landlord's opinion, that the prisoner must have been a known horse-thief, or he would not have been made the subject of that nocturnal visitation. Could it be that they were right in that opinion? was the thought that forced itself upon him against his will. Was it ble that Asa Sproule, his fresh and free-h friend, was really 2 scoundrel] and a criminal; that the romantic story he had told con- cerning himself weave false; that the kind and apparently honest 0 an, Richard Brashear, was in collusion with him? root hated him- self for entertaining, even momentarily, so infa- mous but almost reasonable a suggestion. “You had better let me give you a good drink of whisky, yo seen said the landlord. ‘Seems wg BE th ain eh gr pel As eroot was alf stunmed, and his nerves were all in a flutter, he felt as if he needed some- t to “pull him together." So he accepted the whisky that was poured out for him, anu drank it down at once. The flery liquor seemed to wake him up immediately, putting new life in his veins and — urpose heart. He turned and accosted © jailer. “Could you do nothing to save him!” he asked. r J ied sone lor any at ge ao pet such a. row t?’’ contemptueusly re rainor. “ Did ie? say that they meant te him?’’ _ “They ‘dnt say so, but anybody with a bit cf Sense knows Shek they meant to do, and what they’ve done afore this. A stout rope and a hand tree is what a hoss-thief is bound to get when he caught in this part of the country. “But he is no horse-thief. He is 4 young gentle- man from St. Louis, where he has a large property, and he could buy all the horses in thiscounty. Since. he came to this neighborhood he has not been away from Col. Thomassieu’s’ place, except to visit at. Judge Dalby’s.”’ jl “T don’t care where he came from,” sneeringly re- plied Trainor, ‘‘and I don’t er nothin’ about his prope y. Don’t believe nothif’ aboutit, neither, T do know that the gentleman who swore to the charge was as nice a gentleman as ever tred in shoe-
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leather, and you may bet your head ag’inst a vm gourd that the men who took that chap out of the jail knew just what they were after, and made no mistake inthe matter, Ain’t that so, gentlemen?” A murmur of assent answered this in tory. “I wonld advise you, young feller,’’ continued Trainor, *‘to keep a still tongue in your h be- cause it is al y roe omar = that you were that chap’s pardner in the hoss-thievin’ business, and I half be ieve it inyself,” ** You half believe that, do you?”’ exclaimed Snake- root, as he stepped toward the jailer, his eyes blaz- ing with excitement and indignation. ‘‘ Now I will tell you what I wholly believe. I believe that my friend—and I am proud to call him so—has not been lynched. I believe that the men who took him out of the jail had no idea of lynching him. T believe that this whole business is some cursed plot to get money from him, and I believe that you have been hired to take part in that plot.” It was a sudden inspiration that forced this accu- sation from Snakeroot, and the change in Trainor’s demeanor told him that the shot had counted. The jailer vurned =e and dropped his eyes. When he cone up, indignation seemed to require an ‘ort. “What do you mean by that, you young scoun- drel?”’ he asked. E ene dee. ‘**Tam no scoundrel,’ replied the boy. “I mean exactly what I said, and I will prove my words true before Iam done with you.” p Take it back this minute, or I will cut your ears off!"’ *‘{ take nothing back, and I am not afraid of your cutting.” Trainor drew a knife, but Snakeroot already had his revolver cocked in hishand. The landlord step- ped between the belligerents, and his example was followed by others. The jailer was easily ified, and the boy was not at all anxious to continue the quarrel. ‘Let the young fool go,” said Trainor, as he put up his knife. ‘I won't hurt him. The whisky Pas got into his head, [reckon.” “T wish that you would have my horse saddled and brought around, Mr. Biggs,’’ said Asa Scott. = What for? What do you want o’ your hoss, now?’ “IT want to follow those men, and find out what has become of my friend.” The landlord led the boy to the door, and pointed out at the night. ‘* Jest look thar,” said he, “It’s as dark as a stack of black cats. You can't sca’cely see your hand afore your face. You could never find that trail, nor foller it if you found it. Ilike your grit, young feller. I am proud to see Ne stick up for your friend, right or wrong, and I mean that you shall have afair show. Jest you keep quiet till mh, and as soon as it is light pepe to see, you shall have your hoss, and I will go with you. Thar’ll be prs more on the trail, when they know it ain’t angerous.”’ Snakeroot followed this advice, as he was unable to do otherwise, and waited restlessly until streaks of dawn appeared in the eastern sky, and the gray morning twilight 2 ne owe = the approach of sun- rise. en Jim Bizgs kept his promise, promptly. Asa Scott’s horse and another were saddled, and he and the landlord rode away, followed by four of the meninthe bar-room, among whom was the jailer, Bill Trainor. The road by which the masked men had entered and@left Bucksport was soon found, and then it was easy to follow their trail. Asa Scott closely scruti- nized, as did the rest of the party, the trees that grew near the road, fearing to find, what he a and believed he would not find, the dead body of his friend dangling by a rope from some stout limb. But they traveled the distance of fully a mile from the village; passing many trees that were eminently available for lynching parposes but seeing no sub- ject upon whom lynchers had operated, and per- ceiving that the horses, whose tracks they were fol- lowing, had still been kept going at a rapid gait. “This is a queer piece of business,"’ seid the land- lord of the Bucksport hotel. “I’ve knowed men to be taken out and hung, time and again, from one place and another, but never knowed the lynch- ers ~e more’n half a mile without finishing their work. The others agreed that it was a queer piece of business, with the exception of Bill Trainor, who had not _—— to say, and Asa Scott’s spirits rose as they rode along and saw nothing to induce the belief that his friend had been foully dealt with. When the had reached a point about two miles from the vil- lage, the party came to a halt, as if by common con- sent. “We needn't foller the trail any furder,” said the Jandlord. |“ There ain't no subject fur a coroner in this business. Those men are far away from here by this time, and we couldn’t begin to overhaul ‘em, whatever it is that they mean to do. We must turn about and go back to Bucksport.” Asa Scott was anxious to keep on, but Jina B: rsuaded him to return with the party, assurin im that he could do nothing by himself, and that his only chance to find his friend would be to await the arrival of Judge Dalby and Arthur Westleigh. who had promised to be in Bucksport early th mo ‘ “Tell you what it is, young feller,” said the land- lord, taking Snakeroot* aside when they had reach- ed the tavern, “I believe you were right about this iece of business, that those men didn’t take your Friend out tohang him, and that there’s some cuss- ed mischief a-goin’. You ae count Jim Biggs on your side now, and if Bill Trainor tries to interfere with you he will git me cbeand of bisa.” boats CHAPTER XVII. JASON’S ISLAND. Jopee Daisy and Arthur Westleigh came ri into Bucksport 7, in the morning, as they ha promised to do, and were greatly astonished and alarmed by the story that was tol duction of Asa Sproule. They agreed with Asa Scott that he had not been carried away to be lynch- ed, but for the p se of extorting inp A “As I have said before,” remarked Westleigh, “the ties that bind us to those rascally flatboat eople are being drawn closer, and I believe that ajor Brackett is connected with them in this game, But it is my opinion, Asa, that you ought not to have quarreled with anybody, as we will need Asa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. them of the ab- | | | ; / the good will, if not the assistance, of the people of : these parts,” “T haven't quarreled with anybody but that jail- er,”’ said Snakeroot, ‘‘and I feel sure that he has been hired to play a part in the game, Mr. Biggs, the landlord here, is on our side, and I believe that none of the honest people will be against us.”’ In fact, when the landlord learned that Asa Scott and his friends were going to follow the trail of the masked men, he offered to accompany them as a ide; but his services were respectfully declined by rthur Westleigh, who said that they were merely going out to take observations, and would not re- quire any assistance at that time, as he was well ac- quainted with the country. “The fact is,” said Me to his companions as they were riding out of Buckspo I can take you direct to the place where those men have coucealed Sproule; but I am afraid that we will then be in the fix of the farmer who found his kettle. He knew that it was at the bottom of the well, but he also knew that he could not get it.’’ J “ty 4 Dalby was anxious to know Westleigh’s rea- sons for his belief that he could so easily find the retreat of the abductors; but the young gentleman preferred to be silent on that subject. “ Wait till we reach the point at which I'am aim- | ing,” he said. “If I am mistaken in my belief, it will not be necessary to say anything more about it. If Iam not mistaken, I will tell you all I know about the matter.” Although there was apparently some mystery connec with Westleigh’s expressions, his com- nions forbore to press him further, and conteuted hemselves with pushing their horses. Tbey found it easy enough to follow the trailin the main road, as it was made ss H number of horses going at a good rate of speed. About five miles from Bucks- port the trail diverged from the main road, and en- tered a bridle-path that led into the woods. Here the investigators halted for the purpose of ascer- taining whether the party they were following had divided at that point; but it was soon made evident that they had all taken the bridle-path. ‘Just as I supposed,” said Arthur Westleigh, as he led the a into the woods. The party followed the bridle-path without halt- ing, and without beter | any indications of a halt on the part ef those who had preceded them, until they were, as Westleigh said, some ten miles from Bucksport. Then he requested them to dis- mount and tether their horses, allowing him to go in advance as ascout. As poy Hayongnd see the glimmer of water through the trees, their curiosity and anx- i were painfully excited. n a few minutes Westleigh beckoned to them, and they crept cautiously, as he had done, to a clump of bushes behind which he was concealed, and found themselves on the border of a large lake. Looking through the bushes, they saw an island some three or four acres in extent, in the middle of the lake, and about two hundred yards from the shore. No persons were visible on the island, but a sure sign of Occupation was seen in a faint column of smoke that rose above the tops of the trees with which the island was covered. “That is the place,” said Westleigh. taken Asa Sproule to that island. Don’t show your- self, my boy. This point is settled, and we can do nothing more at present but go back.” “Go back!’ exclaimed Snakeroot. “Go back without dein Se eee) to let Ace know that his friends have found him and mean to help him?” “Yes. It may seem a hard thing to do, but it is “They have the best thing. We would only succeed in letting his enemies know that we are here, and it is impor- tant that they should not suspect that we have dis- covered their hiding-place.” The three searchers crept cautiously back to their horses, mounted, and rode off in the direction from which they had come. “* Now that my suspicions have been proved true,” said Westleigh, when they were fairly out of sight of the lake, “I will tell you the reasons upon which Ihad based them. The island which you have seen, as Judge Dalby knows, is called Jason's Island. The lake in which it standsis not now what it used to be. There was oncea cut-off which took from the bayou below here a large portion of its surplus water, and in those days the lake was merely aswamp when the river was low. A corduroy road was built from the mainland to the island by an ececentric old man who had settled there, which was under water only when the Mississippi was at flood hight. Since the cut-off has been closed, owing to natural causes, the water in the bayou, having no longer an outlet, has been backed ned the river, and the swamp has be- come a lake. e old corduroy road makes an easy ford at low water, and when the river is at a me- dium are, it is about girth-deep for a horse. When the river is high, the island can only be reached by ieee Am I correct in these particulars, Judge dew ba ery if you are sure about the condition rt, ‘‘I believe that | 13 “*T know of the ford from experience," said West- leigh. ‘‘And now I must let you into a little secret, With my occupation as a naturalist in this part of the country Ihave combined some detective work for the United States Government. The oe af col- lector for this district, Capt. Roberts, who is a ticular friend of mine, has special instructions to unake a clearance of the moonshine distillers, who are more numerous in these parts than you may suppose. As my pursuits take me into the most re- mote and unfrequented localities, he has requested me te keep my eyes open for indications of secret + stills, and thus lam on his pay-rollin the capaci y © of a detective—a fact which might render some of the people unfriendly to me if they knew it. I have had good reason to suspect that Jason's Island is the head-quarters, not only of illicit distillers, but-of a ang of thieves, and I was inclined to believe that the were in some way connected with Bumstead’s flatboat, the Honest Trader. The loss of the War Eagle, and the complications that followed that di- saster, checked my investigations, but now I am convinced that my suspicions were well founded.”’ “That is all very interesting,” said Judge Dalby, “but Iam anxious to know to what it leads. e still seem to be in the fix of the farmer whose kettle was at the bottom of the well.” “Phe point lam coming tois this: We can have lenty of help, and help of the best and most reliable Find, to make a raid on Jason’s Island, to capture those scoundrels, and to release Asa Sproule. I wiil send a message to Capt. Roberts at once, telling him to meet me at Judge Dalby’s house, and you may rely upon it that the work will be speedily and thoroughly done, But we must keep our purpose and our preparations secret, as I have no doubt that there are menin the neighborhood who would gladly give information to the rascals.’ Arthur Westleigh stopped at Bucksport to write a note, and employed a boy to take it to its destina- tion, promising him extra pay for speed. In re- sponse to the inquiries of Jim Biggs he said that he believed he was on the track of the men who had abducted Asa Sproule, but preferred to say nothing more about the matter just then. He would soon be able to give definite information, and he and his | friends would then be glad of the assistance of Mr. Biggs. The three searchers returned to Judge Dalby’s house, and Arthur Westleigh rode on to the Thomas- sieu place to et progress and attend to the wel- fare of the ladies, while Asa Scott remained to write a letter to Mr. Brashear at St. Louis, relating the arrest of Asa Sproule and all the subsequent de- velopments. It was late in the afternoon when Westleigh got back, and shortly after his return Capt. Roberts ar- ° rived. He wasaman of about thirty-five, as dark as the most pronounced Southerner, alert and de- . cided in his movements, and with an appearance of enterprise and determination that favorably im- pressed them with whom he was to be associated in a dangerous paecehepee: 2D “I started as soon as I got your note, Westleigh,” he said, ‘‘and have made good time to this place, Give me ali the particulars now, as briefly as you can, so that we may get to work with as little delay as possible.” Arthur Westleigh ran over, concisely and clearly. his knowledge of the flatboat “Honest Trader ” an Jason's Island, together with all the points in con- nection with the arrival of the two Asas and subse- quent. complications, including the arrest of Asa roule, his abduction, and the result of following the trail of the ware ge said Capt, Roberts “You are right, as ‘a “in supposing that your friend Sproule is alive and on that nd. Whether he is safe there is quite an- other question. If the object of the rascals is to ex- tort money from him, they will hesitate at nothing to carry their scheme into effect.” ‘*But how are they going to get the money?” ask- ed Asa Scott, “Mr. Brashear would refuse to pay a draft on him, even if Sproule should sign it, un- ay he knew that there was nothing wrong about 7A “There are more ways than one, young man, to wring money from a person who has it. Perha they may try the plan of the Italian brigands, who threaten their captives with death, and treat them barbarously unless the ransom money is paid. Such men as Mr. Westleigh describes those Bumsteads to: be are capable of anything. It is clear that we must get your friend out of their clutches if we ean, and I assure you, Westleigh, that I will be glad of the chance to raid that island, as I have no doubt that moonshining is carried on there. The capture of Sproule will afford a sufficient excuse for the work, and thus I shall avoid incurring the enmity of the people hereabout, who are not at all averse to that style of evading the tax on whisky.”’ “That's a fact,” said Judge Dalby. ‘I claim to be a law-abiding man, m , but am not ashamed to get hold of a pure cle of liquor at a low price. I would never stira foot to rene a! arrest moor- shiners, nor would I wink an eye to give information concerning them, But this is another sort of an af- “ Of course it is, and the only question is of they best way to go towork. I suppose, Westleigh, tlat the island is as good asa fortification to the men PH es km sn, . s €w men, well armed, hold the ford so that it would be impossible Nippon ha on the sunken a “Then we must rate on the water. We must make a naval attack.’ * How will you do that?” ‘*You will see before long. I will now go and get my men ready, together with such tools and mate- ~~
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ee ~ .cout nis compsny. But he was accustomed tu keep his clay moistened, and the use of stimulating fluids had be- come a part of his nature. The period of his captivity on Jason’s Island was necessarily a non-particular period, so to ee ana bis habits were doubtless well known Major Brackett, if not to others of his custodians. It is certain that they were extremely liberal in supply- ing him with that product of the still which pe no duty to the United States, and that he drank it as if he liked it, In his enforced seclusion he turned to the whisky jug as if it were the only friend left to him, and communed with it freely. Apparently Col. Thomassieu was not & man of | t strength of mind. Apparently, » Major * rackett had an object of his own in thus ; viding his prisoner with that ‘“‘enemy in the brain.” ‘ That object was soon made clear, even to the ob- fuscated intellect of Col. Thomassieu. Major Brackett entered his apartment one after- noon, bringing two bottles of champagne. ‘I want to make you as comfortable as possible while you are here,” said the visitor, ‘‘and hope that 50% will give me credit for trying to do so. Our ason’s Island whisky is not the finest beverage in the world, but it is the best we have had until now when I have fortunately been able to get bold of some champagne. I have brought you a supply for immediate use, and hope you ‘will be pleased with A bottle was opened, and Col. Thomassieu tasted it by caine out a giassful and emptying it at a draught, ‘*] would be a chur!,”’ he remarked, as he refilled his glass, “if I were not to admit that I am thankful for your endeavors to make my captivity endurable; but the question keeps recurring, why am I a cap- tive? What right have you to shut me up here and keep me from my family, who doubtless believe that I am dead?” “That is just the point,’ replied Brackett. ‘‘They believe you to be dead, and I have taken pains to confirm them in that belief.” f ‘You? What have you to do with my family?” “Much, but more with your property. I will tell you freely what I have done and what I propose to do. It will give me pleasure to impart this infor- mation to you over your wine, and I want you to know just where you stand. You will remember that you got aloan of four thousand dollars from mein St. Louis, and gave mea mortgage on your plantation to secure it.’ “By a little skillful manipulation I raised the amount of that mortgage to $40,000, and I have placed it on record, my object being, as you will easily perceive, to get possession of the prepa. I visited your ey paring told them such a story as convinced them of your death—”’ “What a good Samaritan you are, to be sure!” sneered Col. Thomassieu. “Just so. Llike to smooth matters over and make as little trouble as possible. I then exhibited my mortgage, and explained it to the ladies. They were considerably astonished, as I expected them to be, and your eldest daughter—a fine, firm and ca- pable lady—assured me that she and her sister would never be able to pay even the interest of the mortgage. LIinformed them that I would be under the painful necessity of foreclosing, to which the assented, but another person present spoke up pret- ty sharply. Do you remember a boy—a wealthy young greenhorn, as he appeared to who was playing cards with us on the War Eagle just before the explosion?”’ ‘*Oh, yes—a fine young fellow, in whom I took a lively interest.” ‘*That was the person who ke. He had been saved from the explosion, and had brought up at your house. He said that he believed the mortgage to be a fraud, and that he meant to have the matter looked into. He also assured your daughters that if the property should be sold under the mortgage, he would buy it in for the family,” “Good boy!’ remarked Col. Thomassieu, as he poured out another glass of wine. ‘*A young fool is what I consider him. He will not be allowed to interfere with my plans. My next move was te negotiate for an agreeable compro- mise, by which the property could be kept in the family. Your youngest daughter, colonel, is a re- markably sweet poecinen of young womanhood.” “Take care what you say, sir,” growled the old Bently.” My daughter is not to be spoken of ‘Lhave neither ken nor thought of her pote 5 My intentions in that quarter have been strictly honorable. I visited the ladies again, and made an offer of marriage to Miss Emma Thomassieu in the presence of her sister, promising that if my offer should be accepted I would buy in the property un- der the foreclosure of the mortgage, and would set- tle it upon the two sisters. It es me, colonel, that that was a very honorable and liberal offer. *You are a Samaritan, indeed!” replied the old gentleman. “And yet I grieve to say that my liberal offer was promptl declined b both of those misguided ladies —not only declined, but repu : “Perhaps they were relying vow. the offer of as- sistance made by the young fellow you spoke of,” su ted Col. Thomassieu. “think not. They gave me_to understand that they would not accept such an offer, and your daugh- ter Emma was very spirited, not to say spiteful, in her refusal of my mgt sonatey a telling me plainly that she would rather starve than marry me.” “ girl! Those daughters of mine are girls of grit. You can kill them, but you can’t scare them,
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» creased until it became a torture. A linge ‘You know my object,” said Brackett, after he had acceded to this request. ‘‘I intend to own that plantation.” “Of course my opportunity is derived from your death. You are d to the world, and yet you are sufficiently alive for my present purpose. you, colonel, to assign to me all a right, tille and nterest, actual and ble, in the plantation which you have mortgaged to me.” “That is a cool request,” said the old gentleman, & little huskily. ‘‘ Are Ate afraid, then, that your forged mortgage will not be sufficient for you?” ‘Well—I want to cover the whole ground.” “*T should nes that you do, like the genuine good Samaritan that youeare. But, how can a document executed by me after I am dead, be of any account?” sy Ob, I shall have it dated previous to your de- ‘* And sealed, acknowledged, and officially certified to, and all that?” * Certainly.” * And all that business to be a series of forgeries?” “T suppose you would go style it,”’ eicet Major Brackett—if you are, or ever was, & major—’ “I was a major in the Confederate army, sir.” “Then, Major Brackett, as you are so skillful at forgery, you may as well forge my name to yous document, as you may one upon it that I will sign nothing of the sort, I wonder what you take me for, anyhow?” “T take you for a fine old Arkansas gentleman one of the olden time, who is fond of his ease an anxious to avoid bother. The signature I ask for will save you a great deal of bother.”’ “You seem to forget that I am an old soldier, and that I have a character for courage and for honor. Iam not s0 weak as you suppose me to be, but have quite as much gritas my girls. J am in your power, and you can kill 180 pounds of me, but you can’t scare one ounce.” Major Brackett rese and bowed with his usual po- liteness. ‘“*T will give you until noon, to-morrow, to reflect upon the matter,” he said, ‘‘and hope that by that time you will think better of it. Ileave the rest of the wine with you.” Col. Thomassieu easily finished the remainder of the wine, and went to bed that night with his head in a whirl, and slept until morning like a log, if so disrespectful an expression may be applied te such a fine old Arkansas gentleman, The morning showed such a state of affairs as Ma- jor Brackett had calculated upon and brought into view the style of coercion which he had intended to apply to his captive. early two bottles of champegne, added to the * moonshine”’ ey with which be was thorough- ly soaked, had completely upset the old gentleman’s system and produced a craving which could only be satisfied by a hair, or several hairs, of ‘‘ the dog that bit him.” Never in his remembrance had he so se- verely felt the need of some stimulus to ‘‘set him up.’’ Never had he discovered such an utter desti- tution of the refreshment he required. The wine-bottles were empty, and there was nota drop of Jason’s Island whisky to be found in the room. The colenel was so tremulous that he could scarcely dress himself. He. tried the door, and found it locked. He looked out of the window, and saw an armed sentry standing there. Then he dis- covered that he was really a prisoner, and a percep- tion of Brackett’s ‘little game” began to dawn upon his confused senses. e beat upon the door, and it was opened by an armed man, who asked him what he wanted. “*T want to get out of here.” “You can’t do it.” “* Bring me something to drink, then.”’ 4 a Nothin’ but water, without Major Brackett’s or- ers, ‘* Ask Major Brackett to please come here.” The sentry promised to do so, and closed and fastened the door. After a brief interval, which seemed an age to the old gentleman, Brackett made his appearance, and listened with a smile to the cap- tive’s statement of his deplorable condition and the absolute necessity that he should have some stimu- lus myn his gee aymom. en you are ready to sign the paper I spoke of,”’ said Brackett, ‘‘ you shall haveall you want: wee — er v5 on e colonel indignantly repudiated this conditi and the interview terminated, and he waa opt shut in. His condition grew worse, and his craving in- n- timent of respect for the representative of pod old stock prevents a description of his suff : He was disgusted with himself, but it does not fol. low that the readers of this narrative need to be dis- ted with him. He was getting along in years s constitution was shaky, and his system late- ly been so saturated with Jason's Island whisky that the withdrawal of his customary stimulant seemed to be more than he could endure. In short, he was en the verge of that fearful complaint, with which ell-regulated mind can have the least sym- that enabled him to endure his pangs until within an hour of noon. Then he called the sentry, and sent for Ma- jor Brackett, who came forw with a smiling face e sight of which made and two bottles of wine, th Shes Were guaced the captive’s eyes water. The I want | on the table, and Brackett produced a folded paper and pen and ink. ‘*T have sympathized deeply with you, my dear colonel,’ he said. ** Your unfortunate condition has grieved me sorely, but business has compelled me to harden my heart. Now, if you will put your signature to this paper, I will take pleasure in sup- plying your wants.’ ; “Give me some wine first,’’ said the colonel, “I could make no signature now. Don't you see how shaky lam? Let mesettle my nerves, and then I will Co what you wish.” “Can I depend upon that?” asked Brackett, “Of course youcan. Whatever I may have done, I have never been known to go back on my word.” It required several glasses of cham 6 to Batis’ Col. Thomassieu concerning the condition of his nerves, and between the doses he read the document which or Brackett had prepared. At the close of the reading he signed his name where he was di- rected to sign it. “The deed is done,” he said; ‘‘ but I give you fair warning that you will get little by it, if anything, as Ihave no right to transfer more than my life inter- est in that property, and if I live I will of course im- peach this document.” “ Am I to consider, then,” asked Brackett, “that your mortgage to me was a planto obtain money on ‘alse pre i “Notatall. I believed my Kfe interest to be suf- ficient to secure that small loan. But I have good reason to believe that my daughters are the heirs of — brother, and that the plantation belongs to em.’ “That may be ard belief, colonel, but it is not mine. Anyhow, I am satisfied with what I have gained, and when I once get possession of that prop- erty under my mortgage, ked by this assign- ment, it will be no easy matter to oust me.”’ ‘Suppose that young fellow should buy it in?” “T don’t think he will get the chance. He will soon be as completely in my power as you are.” CHAPTER XX. © THE NIGHTHAWKES’ LITTLE GAME—A CORNER IN ROGUES. AvrsHouGga Major Brackett intimated to Col, Thom- assieu that he intended to get possession of the per- son of Asa Sproule for the purpose of furthering his designs upon the Thomassieu nag ws , the arrest of the boy and his abduction from the Bucksport jail a mainly due to the influence of the Bum- steads. ; The “ Honest Traders” were interested in the il- licit distilling that was carried on at Jason’s Island, and their flatboat had been brought to that vicinity for the purpose of carrying away a portion of the products of the surreptitious still. hen the boat was moved from the point where the two boys found it, it was only dropped a short distance down the ri- ver, and was nearer to the island than it had been at the former location. They had not abandoned their designs upon Asa Sproule, but had become more eager in pursuit of h prosamet wealth when they learned through Ma- jor Brackett that he was a guest at the Thomassieu mansion. They were indi t, also, because of the manner in which he had slipped out of their hands, and because of their failure to obtain money on the draft which they had compelled him to indorse, and they naturally felt a consuming desire to “get even,” both with him and with Snakeroot. It is due to Major Brackett to sey that the plan for Sproule’s abduction wasinvented by ‘‘ Deacon’’ Bumstead and “Captain '’ Madden, and that he opposed it; but he was overruled by the Honest Traders and a number of the moonshiners who wanted a “ lark,” When they had got Asa Sproule securely in their possession, they at once Reacmoded to put into ex- ecution the remainder of their plan, He sent to St. Louis a letter written by Major Brackett, its gen- eral style being suggested by ‘‘Deacon Bumstead.”’ The following copy of that epistle will serve to show that its authors were not unacquainted with the method employed by Italian brigands for extorting money from their captives: “Mr. RicHARD BRASHEAR: “We have in our power a youth named Asa rs for whom you areguardianoragent. Weare the same parties who got hold of him a while ago, and this time we mean to make a sure thing of the business. Wedon’t want to hurt him, as it is only money we are after, and we will take good care of him if you come to time. If you don’t you will never see him again. We want you to deposit the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars ($25, imme- diately, with —— _—— of No. —— Chestnut ’ *9, street, St. Louis, He has nothing to do with us in any shape, but has been instructed how to commu- nicate with us, and for the sakeof humanitg he will undertake the job. If we do not hear from him within a week—which will give plenty of time—that you have deposited the money, Asa Sproule will lose one of his ears. Atthe end of ten days he will lose another, and at the end of two weeks his nose will be shaved off. We need not say what we will do after that time. There is nothing for you to do, and noth- ing you can do, but to pay over the money at once, as you cannot save him on any otherterms, and you would only make the case worse for him by trying to take any other measures, “Yours for the sake of humanity, “Tux NIGHTHAWES." The expression, ‘‘for the sake of humanity,’ was the invention of Jacob Bumstead, and he prided himself uponit. The signature, ‘‘The Nighthawks,” was the brilliant suggestion of Madden. Otherwise the letter was the Production of Major Brackett, who put the ideas of the confederates into his own language, 15 The reception of this letter at St. Louis threw good old Richard Brashear into a stave of consterna- tion. He was unquestionably a biave man, but this was @ danger which did not concern himseif, cad at such a distance that he could not faceit. He kuevw from Snakeroot’s account that the ‘‘ Honest Ti. - ders ” were a Villainous and d rate set of Lech, and he did not doubt that they would put their threats in execution, if Asa Sproule was reully in their power. Of this — had given no proot, but the question was soon settled by the arrival of Asa Scott’s letter, which told of the abduction of hij friend and the measures that were being taken to effect his rescue. Richard Brashear was not a man who would suffer himself to be imposed upon, if imposition could be prevented, and his indignation was strongly ex- cited against the ‘‘Honest Traders.’ Insteud of drawing a check on Asa Sproule’s account, and rushing frantically in search of the man with whom he was directed to deposit the money, he hastened to consult the Chief of Police, Captain McDonough, in whose cool head and long experience he had great confidence. Tie chief read the letters that had been written by Major Braczett and Asa Scott, and his eyes glis- tened when he saw the name of the mav with whoru Mr. Brashear had been directed to deposit the suis of $25,000. ‘*Had you thought of paying that money?’’ he asked. “T had not thought of doing anything until I could get your advice,” replied the broker. ‘* Leave the matter with me,then. Itis out of our a a range, but we can connect ourselves with it. We have that man,"’—pointin to the name in Major Brackett’s letter—‘‘just where we want him. He bas been going crooked, lately, and we have a hold on him which we can use as a lever for moving him in this matter of yours. Wait a few moments, and it shall be attended to at once. ’ A shrewd and trusted detective officer received his instructions, and accompanied Mr. Brashear © the number on Chestnut street named in Major Brack- ett’s letter. The person designated was a Jawyer of dubious antecedents and unsavory reputation, who had on more than one occasion received the attentions of the police. He exhibited some trepidation at the visit of the officer, with whom he was well acquaint- ed, and who proceeded to make known his business with the utmost frankness and plainness. “Read these letters, Mr. Boomer,” he said, ‘‘ and then tell me exactly the nature of your connection with this affair. The best thing you can do, in your own interest, is to make a clean breast of the whole business, and nothing less will satisfy me.” Mr. Boomer stoutly protested that he had no con- nection, whatever, with the parties who had cap- tured Asa Sproule; that he did not know who they were, nor could he recognize the handwriting of the letter received by Mr. Brashear. He presumed that he must have had some previous acquaintance with them, as they evidently knew him, and he had received a letter, in asimilar handwriting, instruct- ing him as to what he was expected todo. He had merely been directed to receive the sum of $25,000 from Mr. Brashear, and to take it to an obscure vil- lage in Arkansas, where he would pay it to a person whom he knew, the name of the person not being given, and he was assured that he would be well re- warded for thatservice. “That is quite satisfactory,’ said the officer. ‘You will go as soon as possible to that place for the purpose named in the letter you received, and I and a few other men will accompany you. in the meantime I will have to take 7? in custody under a warrant issued in that bond forgery business, to make sure that you don’t communicate with the par- ties who call themselves Nighthawks.”’ Thelawyer was assured, however, thatif he should do what was right in Mr. Brashear’s affair, the charge, upon which he was arrested would not be resse P 8 “It is very fortunate,” said the detective to Mr. Brashear afterward, “ that your affair has come up just at this time, when we can bring a heavy pres- sure to bear on Boomer. Ifit had not been for that, I doubt whether we could have touched him.”’ Mr. Brashear hastened home to inform his wife of the bad news he had received concerni Asa Sproule, and to acquaint her with his intention of going at once to the assistance of his young friend. he was deeply afflicted by both of these items of in- formation, but did not endeavor to dissuade him, and he took the morning train southward, accom- panied by lawyer Boomer and an officer in charge of a detachment of reliable men who had the ap- pearance of commercial travelers, workmen and railroad hands. But before this relief y could reach its desti- nation, events had culm at Jason’s Island. CHAPTER XXL THOMASSIEU'S RESURRECTION—THE PIRATES IN A COR- RAL. Asa SpROULE was versed in the literature of lynch- ings, and when he was taken out of the Bucksport jail at night, by a band of masked men, he fully ex- pected that he would be summarily put to death. When he was mounted on a horse, and compelled to ride mile after mile in the midst of the band, this apprehension was guacusly dissipated. There was no evidence of an intention to stop and string him up to a tree, and he justly concludes that if the band had such a pu in view, it would be carried into effect without a His doubts on this subject were finally put at rest by the discovery of az acquaintance among his cap- tors. The riders began to remove their masks when
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they were a mile or so from Bucksport; but the night was so dark that Sproule could not easily dis- faces. He soon recognized, however, the tones of a voice which he had good reason toremem- ber, and a close inspection assured him that the owner of the voice was no other than Jacob Bum- mon Wie predatory proprietor of the flatboat ‘‘ Hon- es er.” ***Pears like you ought to know me, my son,” said that worthy representative of the river rat frater- nity. ‘“‘Ilam good old Deacon Bumstead, who saved you from a watery grave, and who was goin’ to do suthin’ good for you when you runoff in that scan- dalous way.” “Do you callit something good,” asked Sproule, “to rob a fellow and threaten to murder him?”’ ‘“‘Dearme! Is that the way youlook at it? Some folks never seem to know who their friends are. Mebbe you would blame me fur goin’ and takin’ you out of that orful jail, where you mought have been hung fur hoss-stealin'? This isthe second time good old Deacon Bumstead has saved your life, sonny.” “For something worse, I am afraid,’’ remarked Sproule. ‘‘What do you mean to do with me now?” “To put you where you will be safe, my son; to keep you out of badcompany. Evilkimmunications corrup’ good manners. We don’t mean to let you slip away from us so easy ag’in. I only wish I could git hold of that other boy.”’ ““You had better be careful,” answered Sproule, “or he will get hold of you, and when he does he will snatch you bald-headed. But you haven't told me why you want to shut me up.”’ “ Have Retienee, my son, and you will l’arn all about it. e don’t want to hurt you, if your friends will come down with the cash.”’ Jacob Bumstead vouchsaf.d no further informa- tion; but Asa Sproule had heard enough to satisfy him of the quality and intentions of his captors, and he was not surprised when he was placed in a log- cabin on Jason’s Island, and the dvor was locked be- hind him. Finding a pile of blankets on the floor, he made a couch of them, and was soon sleeping as soundly as if he were in no sort of danger. In the morning he hada stormy interview with Jacob Bumstead, who brought to him the letter which was afterward sent to Richard Brashear, and insisted upon reading it to him. This task he per- formed with some difficulty, dwelling with special unction upon the tortures and mutilations which were to be inflicted upon the boy in case Mr. Brashear should fail to *‘come down.’’ He closed this solemn duty by pamewing Sproule to write a note, to go with the letter, assuring Mr. Brashear that he had really been captured, and uesting that gentleman to procure his liberation in the man- ner propoued by his captors. “Go to Texas!’’ promptly replied Asa. ‘TI will do nothing of tae sort if I should die for it; but I would ladly write him a letter if I could to advise him not foaive you the money. I would rather be burned are than waste one cent on such a set of scoun- After the ‘Honest Trader” left him Asa heard a sound of picking and hammering on one side of the apartment in which he was confined, and soon a portion of the ‘tchinking”’ which closed the aper- tures between the logs fell out on his side, and he received that some person in the other apartment Soired to communicate with him. ‘“*Who is that in there?’ was asked in a voice which Asa fancied he could recognize. “My name is Asa Sproule.” “Are you the boy who was playing cards on the we Eagle just before the explosion?” ‘ am,’ “Who bet on two aces?” “Yes, and I am betting on them yet. Who are ou, sir? Your voice is familiar to me, but it can’t ” “Col. Thomassieu."’ “Ts it possible?” exclaimed Asa. ‘I thought you ber dead, and all your friends believe you to be “So I am told by that fellow who calls himself Major Brackett; but Iam not sure, since you have come here, that I am quite dead. I may come to life and surprise some of them yet.” “I don’t understand you, sir. Please tell me what you mean.” ‘Place your ear close to the crevice, and I will tell you all about it. This is inconvenient, I know, but what I have to say is quite important.” Col. Thomassieu told the boy his entire story, in- clu the information which Major Brackett had t usly and frankly imparted to him concern- the plans of that polite person for getting pos- session of the Thomassieu estate, and Asa told of the escape of himself and Snakeroot after the ex- losion, their adventures on the flatboat Honest er, and the subsequent occurrences at the Thomassieu mansion and elsewhere. It was a notable circumstance that previous to this conversation, Col. Thomassieu, owing to the pecul- iar effect of the Jason’s Island ‘‘ moonshine’ upon ‘his brain, or to his natural idiosyncrasies, had not been able to connect his personality with his own af- fairs. He had actually seemed.to regard himself as a dead person, and to consider the plot so freely ex- Jained by Major Brackett, as a game in which he no further interest than was derived from the amusement of watching the players. But the ar- rival of Asa Sproule, and the news which the boy gave him, brought him back to life, or at least con- nected him with his a and human inter- ests. He perceived that he had been stupefied b the mixture of raw liquor and champagne, wit which he had been so freely supplied, and deter- mined that he would touch the Ceapeneerig fluids very sparingly thereafter. ‘Then he began to take sa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. 7 new views of life, to have clearer notions of his de- sires and duties, and to seriously consider the possi- bility of ey 7 his escape. “*T have been dazed since that explosion,” he said, toSproule. ‘“ head hasn't been right. But Iam getting hold of t ain, and know what I ought to do. Isuppose that Brackett will never let me loose if he can meee as the succes of his plans de- pence upon the ef that Iam dead; but you will likely to get away ate tong wl “T don’t know about that,’ replied Asa. ‘They say that unless my agent in St. Louis pays a big sum as ransom money, they will begin by cutting off my ears, and will finally make an end of me.” “They will hardly dare to do that,” said the old gentleman, ‘‘or your friend in St. Louis will pay the money, or something will happen to save you. Don’t you think so?” “Tonly know thatI am not a bit frightened. I have friends who will do what they can for me, but I have more confidence in the boy who came ashore from the War on with me than anybody else. I wouldn’t be surprised at anything Asa Scott might try to do to help me.” ‘When you get away,” persisted Col. Thomassieu —‘thatis, if you ever do get away—you must re- member what I have told you about the fraud in that mortgage, and about the paper which I was forced tosign. I want it distinctly understood that Brackett could never have forced me to sign that document, though I was emia hard pressed, un- less Lhad believed that it would be of no effect. 1 want you to keep these facts in your mind, so that when you get away you can make them known and defeat the plans of that rascal.” “It seems to me,” replied Sproule, “ that you stand a better chance to get away thanIdo. You can leave this house, I understand, when you choose to do so, but [am a close prisoner in my room.” “Thatis true. I can go outside, but they are care- ful that I shall have no chance to leave the island. Yet, there may be a chance, and I mean to keep my eyes open for both of us.” Following the old gentleman’s advice, Asa Sproule carefully restored the piece of “chinking”’ to its lace between the logs after their conversations, as it was evident that they ought not to allow the fact that they were communicating with each other to be discovered. Thus passed the first day of Asa Sproule’s o- tivity, and he checked it off at night as one of the seven that remained to him before the threatened operation upon his ears should begin. The next morning he was called to the wall, and when he reached the aperture he perceived that Col. Thomassieu was considerably excited. ‘*T have taken the first step toward an escape,” said the old gentleman. “I have got a gun.” ‘*How did you get it?’”’ asked Sproule. “Picked it up where one of the rascals had laid it down, and brought it in here without being noticed. It is a repeating rifle and fully loaded. I have taken up a plank in my room and hid it under the flooring. Perhaps { may have a chance to use it before t day is done.” * Be careful what you do,” warned Sproule. ‘*Of course I must be careful, but I feel it in my bones that something is going to happen.” Something did happen. Asa Sproule had hardly finished his dinner when Col. Thomassieu, more ex- cited than ever, called him to the wall, and hastily informed him that an attack was being made, or was about to be made, upon the island. “It is some sort of a boat or raft,’ he explained, “with which the attack is made. ese rascals are getting ready fora fight. There! it has already be- gun. Don’t you hear the firing? Iam going out to see the sport.”’ Sproule besought him, for the sake of his daugh- ters, to be careful of himself. “Of course I must be careful, but I feel as if I am about to be brought back to life. Tf Ishould be mis- taken in orcs terge png my boy, be sure to remem- ber all I have told you.” Col. Thomassieu went out to watch the expected fight, and took the rifle which he had *‘found.” He could not havesaid that he had any definite intention in his mind in sodoing, further than a desire to take artin the battle if he could do so effectively; but ie knew that his head was cool and his nerves were steady, and he was careful to keep out of sight of the defenders of the island. As he drew near the point at which the attack was being made, he saw a he float bearing down upon the island from the inain land. No men were visible on that strange contrivance, although it was moved by sweeps, and this fact seemed to annoy and dis- concert the moonshiners and their allies, who saw that they were using their ammunition without harming their enemies. At last one of them climbed a tree, and his rifle was handed to him from below. Ascending yet naer: he soon placed himself in a position that suited him, took a careful aim, and fired. The shot was followed by a cry from the float. “Good for you, Jerry !” shouted the leader of the moonshiners. “Give "em some more of the same sort!’ Before Sag f could take aim again, Col. Thomas- sieu brought his rifle to hisshoulder and fired, The man erent from his perch, and fell heavily to the ground. At this moment Major Brackett came fee | to where the old gentleman was standing and waiting the effect of his shot. “*Ourse you!” he exclaimed. ‘‘Take that for your meddling!” “That” was a pistol-shot, and the bullet struck ee Thomassieu in the breast, and he staggered and fell. CHAPTER XXII. A NAVAL ATTACK. Earty in the morning Arthur Westleigh met his friend Capt. Roberts at the point on the shore of the lake which the latter had designated. Although it was not yet sunrise when he arrived, he found Roberts already there, and learned that he had been on the ground for some time, The point selected by the Government official was on an arm of the lake which ran some distance into the land, and was concealed by trees from the ob- servation of those on the island. To this place he had caused to be carted during the night some heavy planks, with a supply of tools, spikes and other implements, and his men were busily at work, getting out logs, cutting them into lengths of twenty feet, and rolling them intv the water. “T must confessed Westleigh, ‘‘I had not expected to see such a display or energy as this.”’ “IT mean business,” replied. Roberts. ‘You ma be sure of that. Iwant to do such a piece of wor here as would secure my promotion, if the revenue service were like the army service, and advance- ment could be secured asit ought to be.” “What are you going todo? I am anxious to un- derstand your plan.” “Tt issimple enough. I told you that it would be necessary to make a naval attack, and I am building a floating-battery. It will be readyin a few hours and then we will move on the enemy’s works. I shall want you and your friends to co‘perate with me from the other side of the lake and to guard the sunken road that leads totheisland. But you must keep yourselves concealed until the time for action comes, and I will fire one shot for a signal when we are ready to start. That will be sufficient for you, and the enemy may not notice it. My only fear is that you will be too anxious to join the fight, and I now warn you that you must not attempt to cross to the island until you have reason to believe that we are landing, or at least until the attention of the enemy is entirely drawn to us.” These instructions were plain enough, and West- leigh proceeded to obey them at once. He rode rap- idly around the lake, being well acquainted with the route, to the head of the sunken road. Then he kept on, up the bridle-path, until ne met a party coming from the direction of Bucksport. This — was headed by Judge Dalby and Asa Scott. Snakeroot had satisfactorily performed the duty that had been assigned to him, easily securing the services of Jim Biggs, the Bucksport tavern- keeper, who had enlisted four other men for whom he could vouch as thoroughly reliable. Judge Dalby reached Bucksport in time to com- plete the negotiations, promising to pay the men well for their services, and it was understood that they were to endeavor to effect the release of Asa Sproule, in connection with an unknown force on the other side of the lake. y common consent Judge Dalby was made the commander of this force, as he had served in the Southern army during the civil war, and three of the men engaged for this expedition had served 1»- der him. rthur Westleigh repeated to him Capt. Roberts’s instructions, and he led the party to the lake, halting at a sufficient distance from the shore to be secure against the observation of those on the island, and sending Westleigh forward as a pickct to watch the lake. Thus the force on that side of the lake was com- posed of eight men, including Snakeroot, who had not the least doubt that he ought to be counted as a man. On the other side Capt. Roberts’s operations pro- ceeded ark He was accustomed to put energy and method into his work; and thus it was always speedily and correctly done. When the logs were puténto the water they were securely spiked together, forming a_ strong and serviceable raft, which was nartly planked over. At the end which was intended to face the island a stout bulkhead of heavy plank was built, about four feet high, and well braced. It was not loop-holed, as it was intended for defensive purposes alone, and it was thought best to reserve the fire of the force until it could be used effectually at close range. ‘There was, however, a “peep-hole” for Capt. Roberts, to enable him to direct the course of the fleet. This contrivance was to be propelled by two large oars, or sweeps, with tholepinsset in blocks at the edge of the raft. Each oar was worked by two men, who sat with their backs against the bulk- head, close to which the remainder of the force crouched. To partly counterbalance the weight at this end, a heavy log was laid upon the other end and fastened there, When all the details were completed, the men stepped on the raft and took their places, each arm- ed with a repeating rifle and a revolver, Capt. Roberts fired a shot in the air, as the signal to West- leigh, and the float was poled down the “branch ” and out into the lake. The movement of this clumsy craft was slow, but silent, andit had advanced a considerable distance from the shore before its pre ence was discovered by those on the island. The discovery caused a great excitement, and soon allthe moonshiners and their allies were co). lected on the shore of the island, watching the un- gainly float, and wondering what it could mean, They hailed it, but got no reply, though it was eyi- dent that there were men upon it, and that invisible hands were working the sweeps. There could be no question that the intentions of the float were hostile, and the moonshiners soon he- gan to make their bullets rattle around it, but with- out piercing the thick bulkhead, and without elicit~ Bug —-— ve you credit for being a business man,” ’ < ~ ae
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ET ro a ~ EN ing aug reply. Capt. Roberts directed the machine tow: a sort of a he the island, to save his men from being subjec to a flanking fire from the shore on either side, and the bulkhead was believed to be a sufficient protection against a front attack. ‘We are safe enough,” he said, as the float ap- roached the island, ‘unless they should rake us trom the tops of the trees. Ah! there is one going up now!” : e firing on shore stopped for a few minutes, and then a shot came from the tree which Capt. Roberts had noticed, and the bullet struck the leg of one of the men on the raft, eliciting a cry of sur- \ prise and pain. But the next moment another shot was ares, and the man in the tree fell to the und, ‘Pull with all your might, boys!” commanded Capt. Roberts. ‘if we can run her in now, we will have them where we want them.” The moonshiners soon recovered from the con- sternation caused by the fall of the marksman from the tree, and turned their attention to the float; but they had fired only a few a shots when it was grounded at the distance of about twenty yards from the shore. Capt. Roberts and his men, who had been waiting for this moment, rose to their feet as soon as the float stopped, and delivered a well-directed volley at the moonshiners, Then they jumped into the water, which was hardly more than knee deep, and made the best of their way to the shore, firing as they went, and spreading out so as to weaken the fire of their antagonists. Capt. Roberts's signal shot had been heard and understood by Judge Dalby’s force on the other side of the lake, though the men on the island, if they noticed it all, probably supposed it to have been fired by some solitary hunter. After the sig- nal they waited impatiently for further develop- ments, ene tea close to their horses, ready to mount and ride over the sunken road as soon as the com- mand should be given. Judge Dalby went down to where Westleigh was stationed, that he might better be able to judge when he ought to bring his force into action. After the lapse of half an hour, though the time seemed much longer to the anxious watchers, occa- sional shots were heard on théisland, and the young naturalist became excited. “The fight has begun,” he said. “Let us go over.” **Don’t be in too much of a hu my young friend,” cautioned the judge, who had heard firi on many battle-fields. ‘‘ Only one side is enga as yet, and that Ma? Slightly. They are tying to draw the fire of our friends, but without success. If we should cross over there too soon, we would be likely to make a mess of it. If Capt. Roberts and his men should by any accident fail to make a land- ing, the islanders would turn on us and wipe us out easily. We must strike as soon as possible after Roberts strikes, but must wait for him to give the first blow.” The firing soon became more rapid, but Judge Dalby’s practiced ear enabled him to decide that the moment for an advance had not yet arrived. “*The time will soon come,” he said. ‘ We will go back to our horses and get ready to start.” In a few moments the party were mounted, and waiting on the shore, at the head of the sunken road. As the moonshiners were all collected on the oppo- site side of the island, it was not supposed that the would observe the enemy that had come up in their rear. There was a lull in the firing, then a rattle of shots, and then a close and heavy age “That means business,’ cried Judge Dalby. *Now’s our time, men. Forward!” The party pushed their horses as rapidly as pos- sible over the sunken road, led by Arthur Westleigh as the one best acquainted with the ford, who was closely followed by Judge Dalby and Asa Scott, Reaching the island, they tethered their horses to the bushes, and hastened forward on foot to the as- sistance of their friends. CHAPTER XXIIL THE MOONSHINERS IN ECLIPSE—A HARD CROWD. THE moonshiners presented a bold front to their assailants, when they discovered their character and numbers, and fought desperately and well. They had no thought of retreating, and, doubtless, did not pause to consider whether the ford was available for that purpose or not, as they hated the Government men with a mortal hatred, and. desired nothing but to fight them to the death. Capt. Roberts’s men had the advantage in the uality of their weapons, but the moonshiners had the advantage of es as they could shelver themselves behind the trees on the ‘shore, and pick off their assailants as they advanced through the water. But the latter soon reached the trees, and availed themselves of the shelter they afforded, The forces were then nearly equal, and it was doubtful with which side the victory would finally rest, when Judge Dalby’s command appeared in the rear of the moonshiners, and dashed forward with a yell. By a previous arrangement with Capt. Rob- erts, the men of both bodies of the yeah force had tied strips of white muslin around their hats as a distinguishing mark, and Judge Dalby was careful to direct the fire of his party so that it would not in- jure their friends. Finding themselves between two fires, and not knowing the strength of the enemy in their rear, the moonshiners were seized with a pec, and the fight was soon converted into a defeat. Most of the men who had not been placed hors du combct, threw up their hands and surrendered, and those who still en- deavored to resist were captured or shot down. Asa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. One of the last to give up the fight was old Jacob Bumstead, who was in the act o pening a charge into his muzzle-loading rifle, when he was confront- ed by Asa Scott. “* Drop that gun, you old scalawag!"’ said the boy, as he brought his rifle to his shoulder. ‘‘ Drop it as if it was red-hot, or over you tumble.” Bumstead dropped the weapon at once, and an ex- pression of intense gratification overspread his coarse features as his eyes rested on Snakeroot. “TIsit really you, my son?” he exclaimed. ‘‘One of the boys I saved from a watery grave! The - le who live here told me that they were attacked y robbers, and I was fighting for my life; but I must be safe, now, as I am sure that sucha fine young feller as you wouldn’t be mixed up with robbers.” “Wish I may drop dead this minute,” said Snake- root, “if you ain’t the cheekiest old sinner I ever struck. Afraid of robbers, are you? Well, yeu ought to know what a robber is, if any man knows. Saved me from a watery grave, did you? Now I want you to walk square off and take me to that other chap you saved from a watery grave and wanted to burn the life out of.” The Honest Trader scratched his head as if he were considering a difficult problem. Then he look- ed hep with what he intended for a benignant sinile. “You mean the young gen’leman who was took up fur hoss-stealin’,” he said. ‘‘ His friend, Major Brackett, got him out of jail, and brought him here fur safe keepin’, out of the way of his inimies. We've took the best kind o’ keer of that dear young feller, and you'll find him safe and well.”’ ‘Lead me to him, then,” insisted Snakeroot. ‘I don’t believe a word you say, but I do kvow that if you have harmed a hair of his head ec will have to suffer for it, Don’t be looking at that gun on the ground, but trot right along, and be sure ‘you go straight, or I will let you know that this rifle shoots Jacob Bumstead led the way, without any more words, to the cabin in which Asa Sproule was+con- fined, Snakeroot following him with his rifle held ready for use. “T've got the key,” said the old hypocrite, in an apologetic way, as he stopped at the door. ‘That's because I have been feedin’ the dear young feller and tendin’ to him mighty close.” ““No doubt of that,” said Snakeroot, ‘‘and it’s time for somebody to attend to you mighty close. Don’t give me any more of your gab, but open that door and walk right in.” Bumstea'! obeyed, and Asa Sproule, who had been anxiously awaiting news of theissue of the conflict, uttered a cry of joy as he saw his friend in the door- way, and ran to grasp his hand. Hold on, Ace!’ was the warning of Snakeroot, who was not yet ready to take hiseye off of Bum- stead. ‘‘ The first —- for you to dois to take your handkerchief and tie that old sinner’s hands behind his back so tight that he can’t use them. He is as dangerous as a copperhead snake.”’ Sproule willingly applied himself to this task, and * Bumstead’s hands so tightly as to make him nce. ““Whatdo you think, Ace?’’said Snakeroot. “This old rascal says that _he saved you and me from a watery grave, and claims to be your best friend.” “‘T will have something to say about that,” replied Sproule, ‘“‘but have no time to attend to his case just now. Where is Col. Thomassieu? Have you seen him?” ‘“*Col. Thomassieu? I thought he was dead.” **He is alive, or was alive this morning, and has been confined on this island. He went out to see the fight, and I am afraid that he has got into trou- ble, or he would have come back to me.” ‘“We will go and look for him. You go first, you supreme old scalawag!”’ nthe meantime a scene of a different character was being acted in another part of the island. When the fight was over, and the moonsbiners had surrendered, Major Brackett was found stand- ing with his back to a tree, smoking a cigar, There was no weapon visible on his person or near him, and he had the appearance of having taken no part in the contest, and of feeling no interest in the com- batants. But ata little distance from where he stood lay Col. Themassieu, stretched upon the ground, and ap ntly wounded. ‘ o this point the captive moonshiners were brought, all of them stare’ f bound, except such as were toe severely wounded to attempt to escape. Among them was Nat Bumstead, whose right arm had been shattered by a rifle-ball. With Capt. Roberts came Arthur Westleigh, the only man of the party who could claim any medical knowledge, to do what he could for the wounded of both sides. Before he pega his inspection of the moonshiners he perceived the prostrate form of Col. Thomas- sieu, and ran and knelt at the old gentleman’s side. mS My God, Roberts!’ he exclaimed. “Here is a mes surprise. This is Col. Thomassieu, and he is “Not dead, but dying,” feebly muttered the colo- nel, and Westleigh partly raised him and gave him some stimulus to revive him. «+, How did you come here?” asked the naturalist. How did this happen?” «,,Long story,” answered the old_ gentleman. Mo e a fraud, Ask Sproule. He knows all | about it. Shot a man out ofa tree, and Brackett shot me,” Westleigh looked up at Major Brackett, who was smoking as placidly as if he had no concern in what was ‘folng on about him. ure that man, Capt. Roberts,’’ said the natu- —— -. SS eee 17 ralist. ‘‘He shot Col. Thomassieu, and I believe that he is the leader of the gang.” “It is false,” replied Brackett. ‘“‘I have not fired a shot to-day. Iam here on private business, and have no connection with these people.” “*You are the worst of the batch !"’ exclaimed Nat Bumstead. “I saw you shoot that old gen’leman arter he’d knocked Jerry outen the tree. We've stuck to you through thick and thin, and now you want to w off on us.” “TItis false,” said Brackett again. “‘I am a gen- tleman, and can prove my character. I have noth- ing to do with such cattle as you.” at Bumstead’s indignation, combined with the pain of his wound, turned his face livid. “Go back on us, will you?” he exclaimed. ‘Then we'll go back on ira you mean dog, and will let people know whether you had an n’ to do with us ornot. Iwantto say a word tothe old gen’leman thar afore he crops off. Thar’s a boy who goes by the name of Tom Brackett—”’ The sentence was never finished. As quick as Hey nd Major Brackett drew a pistol and it at Nat Bumstead, at the distance of a few steps. The ball must have pierced his heart, as he fell backward at once, and never spoke again. or Brackett threw away his pistol when he saw the effect of his shot, and was at once seized and se- curely bound. Col. Thomassicu started convulsively at the sound of the I-shot, and then sunk and died in Arthur Westleigh’s arms. As Nat Bumstead was speaking, his father had come up in the rearof the group. ‘When the young man dro} under Major Brackett’s shot, the father scaniiled orward, fell on his knees at the side of his son, and actually burst into tears. His grief was so genuine and intense that Asa Sproule and Asa Scott took compassion on him. Snakeroot wi away his tears with a handker- chief, and both the boys assisted him to his feet and led him away from thescene of death. ‘It’s no use, old man,’’ said Snakeroot. ‘He is as dead as Julius Cesar, and grieving won't bring him back.” ‘“*My boy!” moaned Jacob Bumstead, as he con- tinued to sob. “M ome boy! It was a cowardly, sneakin’ shot that him, I wish I could cut that man to pieces.” “Your son v.as saying something about Tommy Brackett when he was shot,’ saidSproule. “Do you know what he was going to say?”’ “Yes, I do, and I will tell it arter awhile, but not now. I will do all I kin to git even with chat—that murderer; but I must git away from whar he is. Take me to Tommy Brackett, and I'll tell suthin’ that'll make you open your eyes.” ae Sproule and Westleigh bad a consultation with Capt. Roberts concerning Jacob Bumstead. They told bim that in their belief the old man had an tm- — revelation to make, and asked that he might taken to the Thomassieu place. “That can be done, of course,” replied Roberts. “Tf I can get permission from Judge Dalby I will take all my prisoners to his place for the present, as some of the men have relatives about here, and it jan not be safe to put them in the Bucksport The permission of Judge Dalby was easily obtain- ed, and B ee aoe eee were made for leav the . The illicit still was destroyed, and all the re- ceptacles that held ‘‘ mash” and ‘“‘ moonshine ” were demolished. It was evident that large quantities of illicit whisky had been manufactured on the island, and Capt. Roberts plumed himself upon the im- portance of his capture. The work of destruction was hurried up, as the afternoon was passing away, and as soon as sible all the living were carried on horses to the main land, including the wounded of both sides, and ex- cepting a guard that was left in charge of the dead, until their bodies could be removed for burial. Two of Capt. Roberts’s men were numbered with the dead, and three of the moonshiners, including Nat Bumstead. Col. Thomassieu was the sixth who was thus accounted for, and Capt. Roberts was ob! to confess that the seizure of the island had a hard and bloody battle, CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION. Tue cavalcade under the command of Capt. Rob- erts moved so slowly that it was not until r dark that it reached Judge Dalby’s place. Then the re- sources of his establishment were strained to furnish food for the party, and medical assistance for the wounded was secured. These were properly cared for and made comfortable, and the unwounded pris- oners were lod in a commodious outbuilding, and a strong guard was set over them. All were thus disposed of but Major Brackett, and he was assign- ed other quarters at the special request of Jacob Bumstead, who exhibited a not unreasonable de- gree of fear of the man who had killed his son. Asa Sproule, after receiving the joyful greeti of Flora Dalby, rode off with Arthur Westlei h to the Thomassieu place, to inform the ladies of the events of the day, and to break to them as gently as le the news of the death of their father. Although the hour was late, Laura and Emma Thomassieu had not retired, but were anxious! awaiting intelligence of the expedition, which West- — = told them they might expect to receive hat night. Their joy at the safe return of Arthur Westleigh and the recovery of Asa Sproule was great; but a cloud followed this bit of sunshine when they listen- ed to the account of the captivity and death of Col. Thomassieu. Yet there was fully as much rise as sorrow in their reception of this sad pews. They > « a re
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‘ ae ee ee 185. Asa = ee had fully believed, some time previously, that their father was dead. Their grief had then grieved it- self out, and its freshness was not to be renewed by ph cei of what might be called his second eath, In fact, there was such an appearance of romance and unreality in the story of Col. Thomassieu’s es- cape from the ee oy his subsequent captivity on Jason’s Island, the fraudulent mortgage, and Major Brackett's pancenats $3 in general, that the ladies. could not fairly realize what was told to them, and it was evident that time would be re- quizes. £4 enable the entire truth to sink into their minds. But they appreciated the results, although they did not readily assimilate the details. “Ts it clear, then,’ asked Laura, ‘‘that that very polite rascal has no hold whatever upon the planta- ote and that it belongs to us since poor pa is really ? ‘‘There is no doubt of that,” replied Westleigh, *unless—"’ “Unless what?” ‘Why, Miss Thomassieu, one of those two flat- boatmen was shot by Major Brackett, just as he was Sour to say Sousatbine he wished your father to ear,”’ “What can it have been?, You know something more. Don’t excite our curiosity without satisfying “T can only say,” replied Westleigh, “ that it was someting about the boy who escaped from the flat- boat, and for whom you have cared so kindly.” The female mind is prone to jump at conalusions, and Laura jumped at once. “About Tommy!" exclaimed Laura. ‘‘Is it pos- sible that he is our lost little brother? I have been loving him ever since he came here.” — t will be so nice!”’ said Emma, jumping a lit- tle further than her sister. ‘I only w t poor pa could have lived to see his boy.’ * You arogoing entirely too fast, ladies,’’ protest- ed Arthur Westleigh. ‘‘ You have no right to con- vert ate ee OMAEDNS certainties, and I ought not to have said as much as I have, as it has given you hopes that may have no foundation atall. But the revelation, whatever it is, is about Tommy, and the old flatboatman, who has promised to complete the statement which his son began, says that it will make us open our eyes.”’ Both the ladies declared that their eyes were opened already, and that such a mixture of sad and doprul news was enough to upset them entirely. arly the next morning they rode to Judge Dal- by’s, escorted by Westleigh and Sproule, and accom- panied by Tommy Brackett, upon whom they lav- shed as much tenderness as if he had already been declared the heir of their house. That declaration was soon made, At Judge Dal- by’s houseJacob Bumstead was brought into a room in which the ladies were seated with Tommy Brack- ett, Capt. Roberts, Arthur Westleigh, and Asa Sproule and Asa Scott. Tommy manifested consid- erable trepidation atthe appearance of the Honest Trader, and carefully kept out of his reach during the interview, although assured that he was in no sort of danger. The eagerness of the ladies to hear the promised revelation caused Bumsteac to hesitate, and he be- gan to gain confidence and to negotiate, insisting that he should be *' let off,’ if he madea clean breast of everything. Finally, in consideration of the death of his son, and of his promise to. disclose the hiding- place of a quantity of ‘‘ moonshine ” whisky, Capt. Roberts agreed to his terms. The story he told concerning Tommy Brackett met the expectations of Laura and Emma Thomassieu. The boy was Col. Thomassieu’s son Martin, who had been stolen from the plantation, years ago, by Jacob Bumstead himself, acting under the instructions of Major Brackett, who had paid well for the job. The old man said that he bad kept, and still had in his ropa xm a fine and handsome garment which the ittle fellow had worn when he was ie me Was it an embroidered sack?” eagerly asked ura. : Yes, that was what it might be called, and Bum- stead described the article as wellas he could. His description was clumsy, but sufficient for Laura, who recognized the garment as one which her loving fingers had worked for her baby brother. he rest of Bumstead’s narrative tallied with the account which Tommy Brackett had given of him- self, and. the boy was duly recognized as Martin Thomassieu, the heir of the Thomassieu estate un- der his grandfather's will. It may be added that Aunt Hannah, the old ne- gress who had taken such a fancy to the boy, de- clared that she had suspected him of being “ young massa Martin’’ since the first time she had seen him after his escape from the Honest Traders, Before the prisoners were removed from Jud Dalby’s place, Major Brackett was brought into the eect ot Laura and Emma Thomassieu and their ends, and was informed of the revelations con- cerning him that had been made by Col. Thomassieu and Jacob Bumstead. He received the information with an air of uncon- cern. He had lost his ‘‘stake,’’ and took no further interest in the game. “Tt was all the fault of that old fool of a flatboat- man,” he said. ‘‘When he insisted upon getting hold of young Sproule, for the purpose of forcing money out of him, I told him that he would bring usinto trouble. Ihad the game in my own hands, but he broke itup.” | ‘You perceive,” said Westleigh, ‘‘that we have discovered that your mortgage was fraudulently raised to ten times its real aniount, and that the furg. ry has made it void,” “So you tell me. I havo nothing to say about it.” ‘You must elso acknowledge that even if there had been no forgery, it could not be good in law, as young Martin Thomassieu was the real owner of the Saal nn “Have it yourown way. Ihave nothing to say about it.” “Perhaps you may be willing to tell us, Major Brackett, why it is that you have so vindictively pursued Col. Thomassieu and his family, beginning the pursuit so long ago. There are many estates against which you might have echo more suc- cessfully, if your only object had been to get posses- sion of the property.” “That is true,” replied Brackett. “I had a Fore reason, and I don’t object to telling it. When Iwas quite a young man, old Martin Thomassieu, the randfather of that boy, denounced me on a steam- Boat as a cheat, and subjected me to the degrada- tion ofa ctr Sag I swore to be revenged, and I don’t know but [have good cause to be satis- fled. My plans have not succeeded as well as I meant they should; but I stole his favorite grand- child, and now I have sent his son to meet him in the other world.” 7 “For that crime you will have to hang!”’ indig- nantly exclaimed Laura. ‘“‘ Bet you five to two that I don’t.” It may be stated here that — Brackett did not hang for that or any other crime. Capt. Roberts caused his prisoners to be confined in the safest county jail in that section of country; but they had not been there long when Brackett, with Madden and another, broke out and made their escape, and were not recaptured. The body of Col. Thomassieu was buried at the liontestend, and the grief of his daughters was tem- pered by their joy at the discovery of their lost bro- ther, for whom Laura was appointed guardian. The cloud upon young Martin Thomassieu’s title to the plantation was removed by process of law, the forgery in Brackett’s mortgage g& visible on a close inspection of that document. Richard Brashear received the news of the capture of Jason's Island before he reached his destination. He sent back the police force which he had brought from St. Louis, and made his way to the Thomas- sieu plantation, where he was rapturously received by Asa Sproule and Asa Scott, and co y wel- comed by the rest of ‘“‘the family.” After resting himself and enjoying the hospitalities of the ladies, he accompanied the two boys on the trip to New Or- leans which had been so rudely interrupted. When Asa Sproule had satisfied himself with see- ing the sights in New Orleans, he admitted that he had had enough of “life” for the present, and pro- — to his companions that the should stop at he Thomassieu place on their way back to St. Louis roposition to which they giadly assented. ile they were taking their ease on the planta- tion Arthur Westleigh was married to Emma Tho- massieu, and after his marriage he veges to agitate for a change of residence. Martin’s health, which had been poor when he escaped from the Honest Trader, showed no material improvement, and West- leigh urged that he needed a Northern climate for sanitary reasons, as well as educational purposes. As Westleigh was anxious to establish his home in the North, Laura yielded to his arguments, and ac- cepted in the boy’s behalf an offer that was made by Mr. Brashear on the part of Asa Sproule for the purchase of the estate, So Laura and Martin went to Ohio with their sister and ber husband, and Asa Sproule settled down as owner of a fine plantation, with Snakeroot as his assistant and factotum. As soon as Sproule reached his twenty-first birthday he married pretty Flora Dalby, and in the course of time the two plantations will become one. Asa Scott might become a landed proprietor if he desired to; but he is a very popular young man in that region, and expects to enter public life. —a THE END. The Saturday Journal, “The Model Family Paper —AND— Most Charming of the Weeklies.” A pure paper; good in every thing; bright, brilliant ard attractive. ip ge Serials, Tales, Romances, Sketches, Adventures, Biographies, Pungent Essays, Poetry, Notes and Answers to Correspondents, Wit and Fun— All are features in every number, from such celebrated writers as no paper in America can boast of. The SatukDAY JouRNAL is sold everywhere by newsdealers; price sia cents per number; or to subscribers, post-paid, at the following cheap rates, V1z.: Four months, one dollar; one year, three dollars ; or, two copies, five dollars, Address BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. : SSS se Se Scott, the Steamboat Buy. | _ ——s Se a eT ate BEADLE & ADAMS’ STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS. Speakers. BEADLE AND ADAMS have now on their lists the fol- lowing highly desirable 29d attractive text-books, prepared expressly for scnoois, families, ete. 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32 Large Three-Column Pages. ' 1.4 Hard Crowd ; on, GeNTLEMAN §am’s Sister, By Philip 8. Warne. 2. The Dare-Devil; orn, THE WINGED Wircn oy THE Sea, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, _8. Kit Carson, Jd ee THe Crack SHOT oF ‘ae West, Py Buckskin Sam. 4. The Kidnapper; or, THe Great SHANGHAI or THE NORTHWEST. By Philip 8S. Warne, &. The Fire-Fiends; or, HERCULES, THE (lounempace. By A. P. Morris, 6. Wildeat Bob, Tur Boss Bruiszr ; or, Taz Borper BLoopnounns. By Ed. L. Wheeler, ¥, Death-Notch, THz Destroyer; OR, Tur fpmir Lakc AveNncreRS. By Oll Coomes. 8. Tho Headless Horseman. A strange story oi Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover, 10. Vidoe ca, THe Frence Pouice Spy, Written by hir By Capt. Mar- il, Midshipman Easy. ‘yat. 12. The Death-Shot; or, TRACKED 70 (buat. By Capt. Mayne Reid. i3. Pathawa; Oud Trarrer or rae Nortawesr, By Robinson, 14. Thayendanegea, THE Scouraz ; on, THE WArR-EaGie oF THE Monawks. Ned Buntline. 15. The Tiger-Slayer; or, EaGuz- Heap To THe Rescun. By Gustave Aimard. 16. The White Wizard; or, THE Great PropHet oF THE SEMINOLES. By ‘Ned’ Buntline. 17. Nightshade, Tor Rosser PRINCE or Hounstow Hrats. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 18. The Sea Bandit; on, Taz QurEEn or THE Istr. By Ned Buntline, 19. Red Cedar, Tur Praraim OvuTLaw. By Gustave Aimard, 20. The Bandit at Bay; or, Tux Pi- RATES OF THE Prarrizs. By Gustave Aimard, 21. The Trapper’s Daughter; or THe OuTLAWw’s Fite by Gustav S tae, ; : 22. Whitelaw; or, NaTITE OF THE LAKE Saore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 23. The Red Warrior: or, SreLtia Dr.orMeE’s ComancugE Lover. By Nod Buntline, 24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai- mard, author of “ Tiger-Slayer,”’ ete, 25. The Gold-Guide; cr, STmEL Arm, saz Recunator. . By Francis Johnsor. 26. ‘he Death-Track; on, Tae Our LAWS or THe Mountain. By Francis Johnson, 27. The Spotter-Detective; on, Tas Cimis or New Yorre. By Albert W. Aiken, 28. Three-Fingered dack, THz RoaD- AGENT oF THE Rockies. By Joseph E. Badger, dr BOs Tiger Dick, THE Faro aaa or, E Casuier’s Camm. By Philip S. Warne 80, Gospel George}; or, Foy ‘HE OvTLaw. By Joseph E. E — + 31. The New York ‘S * on, TaL *LASH OF LiGHTNING, By Albert W. en. 82. B’hoys of Yale; or, Tue Scrarn OP A Harp Ser or Cotueauns, By John D. Yous, 33. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken, 34. Rocky Mountain Reb. By Aikxis 35. Kentuck, the Sport. By Aiken. $6. Injum Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 8%. Hirl, the Hunchback; or, THU UWORDMAKER OF THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson, 38. Velvet Hand ; on, Te [ron Grip oF ‘jigun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken, 239. The Russiaa Spy; or, Tax Brorn- URS OF THE STARRY Cross. By ‘rederick Whittaker, 40. The Lo Haired ‘ Pards;’ ive TARTARS OF vine BLL. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr 41. Gold Dan; on, THE WurTe Savace RED, ’ OF THe Great Sar Lake, By: Albert W. Aiken. 42. The California Detective; or, Tee Wrrenrs or New Yors. By Albert W. Aiken, 43. Dakota Dan, Tue Recxiess RANGER; or, Tae Bez-Hunrers’ Excursion. By Oll Coomes, 3 oR, Niok WHIFFLES, THD ! = | 44. Old Dan Rackback, Tux Great ExtTarmmator. By Oll Coomes. 45. Old Bull’s Eye, Tse Licaryine Syor oF THE Puiams. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 46. Bowie-Knife Ben, THe Lm TLE Hunter or THE Nor’-west. By Oll Coomes, 47. "Pacific Pete, THz PRINcE oF THE Revotver. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 48. Idaho Tom, THE YounG Ovutrtaw oF SILVERLAND. By Oll Coomes, 49. The Wolf Demon; or, THE QUEEN or THE KANAWHA. By Albert W. Aiken 50. Jack Rebbit, THE PRArm Sport; By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 51. Red Rob, Tut Boy Roap-Aaent. By Oll Coomes. 52. Death Trailer, THz Cumr or Scours. By Hon. Wm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.) 53. Silver Sams or, THE MysTEeRY oF Deadwoop Ciry. By Col. Delle Sara. 54, Always on Hand; or, Tat Sportive Sport oF THE Foor Hus. By Philip S. Warne, 55. The Scalp Hunters. A Romanceor THE PLAINS. By Cant. Mayne Reid. 56. The Indian Maze Map Man oF THE Piams. By Oe ion KIT CARSON, JR.—No. 3, 87. The Silent Hunter; or, Taz Scow. Hau. Mysrery. By Percy B. St. John. 58. Silver Knife; or, WICKLIFFE, THE Rocky Mountarmy RANGER. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 59. The Man "rom Texas; or, THE Ovrntaw oF ARKANSAS. By Albert W. Aiken. 80. Wide Awake; or, Tue Ipior or Ge Buack Hints. By Frark Dumont. 31. Captain Seawzif, THe PRIVATEER. cy Ned Buntline, $2. Loyal Heart; «vr. Tae TRAPPERS OF ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard. 52. The Winged Whale, By Aiken. &!. Double- Sigh:, the Death Shot. By Joseph E. Badger, 65. The Red Raja; or, Tux Scocurr OF THE InDres. By Captain [ rederick Whittaker. 66. The Spect oF THE Paciric. By Captain Mayne Reid. 67. The Boy Jockey; or, Honsstry versus CROOKEDNESS. By Joseph E. ’ Badger, Jr. 68. The Fighting Trapper; or, whey Carson To THE RescvE. By Capt. J. F. C. Adam: 69. The Irish Captain; A Taz or Fontenoy. By Captain Freieriek Whittaker. 70. Hydrabad, THE SrranGLeR; or, , THE CHILD OF THE CorD. By Robinson. 71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, Taz Man SHARK OF THE Miséissirr1. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. er Barque. A TALE Each Number Complete, Price 10 cts. 72. The Phantom Hand, A Srory or New York Heartus anp Homes, By A. W. Aiken, 73. The Knight of the Red Cress; or, THE MAGIciAn of GRANADA. Dr. J. H. Rebinson. 74. Captain of the Rifles. A Romance OF THE MEXICAN VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid 75. Gentleman George, or, PaRLor, Prison, STAGE AND STREET. By ‘Albert W. Aiken. 76. The Queen’s Musketeer, or, TuIssE, THE Princess Patmist. By George Albony. 77. The Fresh of Frisco, or, Tux Hxrress of BUENAVENTURA. By Albert W. Aiken. 78. The Mysterious Spy; or, GoLpEen FEATHER, THE BUCCANEER’S DAUGHTER. By Grainger. 79. Joe Phenix, tHE Potice Sry. By Albert W. Aiken, 80. A Man of Nerve; or, Carian, TRE Dwarr. By Philip 8. Warne. : 81. The Human Tiger; or, A Heart or Fire. By Albert W. Aiken, 82. Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery. 83. Gold Bullet Sport; , THE KNIGHT? OF THE OVERLAND. By Buffalo Bil 84. Hunted Down; or, THz Warr Wrrceu. By Albert W. Aiken, 85. 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—__———_| BEADLE’S | HALF-DIME | LIBRARY. | i Deadwood Dick, THe Privcs or THE Roan; or, THe Buack RmeER oF THE Black Huts. By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack; or, TRAPPERS OF THE EncHantrep Ground. By Jos. E. Badger, 7 3 Kansas King; or, Tae Rep Ricur Hanp. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain I'rederick Whittaker. & Vagabond Joe, THE Youna WANDERING JEW; or, PLortmne For A Leeacy. . By Oll Coomes. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Lire IN THE Norrawest, By Edward 8. Ellis, 7 The Flying Yankee; or, Tam Ockan Ovr cast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 8 Seth Jones; or, Tar Caprives oF TEE FRon- TIER. By Edward 5S. Ellis. > Adventures of Baron Munchausen. 10 Nat Toddj; or, Tar Fate or THE Sioux Cap- mivEs. A. Sequel to Bill Biddon, ‘frapper. By Edward 8. Ellis. 11 The Two Detectives; or, Tar Fortunes or A Bowmry Girt... By Albert W, Aiken. 12 Gulliver’s Travels, A Vorage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. By Dean Swift. 33 The Dumb Spy- By Oli Coomes, author ef “Vagabond Joe,” ete. 14 Aladdin or, Tut Wonverrct Lame. 15 The Sea-Cat; or, Tue Wrren’or Darien, By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His “Life and. Surpris- Adventures, (27 Illustrations.) By Defoe. 17 Ralph Boy, tHe Boy Buccanrer; or, THE Fuaitive ' YAcuT. a Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 19 Sindbad te Sailor. His Seven Voyages: From the Arabian Nights. i.) The Phantom Spy o Tur PILoT oF THE Prairie. By Buffalo Bil 20 The Double Daggers; or, Deapwoop Dicx’s Drrrance.. By Edward L. Wheeler. 21 Whe Frontier Angel. A Romance or Kxn- Tucky Rancer’s Lire. By Edward §. Ellis. 22 Whe Sea Sérpént; or, Tae Boy Rosmson Crusor. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o° the Night; or, Taz Boy Spy or ’76. = T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond 7, or, Toe MYSTERY OF THE YeLLowstonx. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 25 Tie Boy Capt ins or, THe Prrate’s Daveuter. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Moof, THe Burrato Demon; or, TRE Borper Voutores. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, Tur Boy Guiwe. Oll Coomes. 28 Buffalo Ben, THE Prince oF THE_ PISTOL; or, Drapwoop Dick in Diseuise. FE. L. Wheeler. @9 The Dumb Page; or, Ter Docr’s DaucH- TER. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 80 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, rum Recx- Less Rancer. By Harry St. my 81 Keen-Knife, Provcr or tHe Pramres, By Oll Coomes. 82 Bob Woolf, rxHz Borprr_ RvrFiAn; or, THE Girt Deap-SHor.. By Edward L. Wheeler. 83 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THe Rep PIRATES OF THE CARIFBEES. By &. W. Pierce. 34 Orexon S13 or, Nick Wuirries’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F. GC. Adams, 85 Wiid ivan, tHe Boy Cravpe Dvuvat; or, Tae Broruernoop or Dratu.. By Ed, L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN oF THE AreNA. By Frank 8S. Finn. 87 The Hidden Lodge; or, Taz Lirrts Hen- TeR OF THe AprronDACKS. By T. C. Harbaugh. 838 Ned Wylde, Tu= Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, Tae Derecrive; or, Lire snp Love In New York. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A Sroryor s Youna A Err- cAN Wuo WANTED To Sze THE Word. Marshall. 41 Lasso Jack, tax Youna Mustanenr. By Oll Coomes. 42 Khe Phantom Miner; or, Drspwoop Dicx’s Bonanza. By Edward L. Wheeler. 43 Bick Darling, THe Pony Express Rimcr. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 44 Rattling Rube; or, Tae Niaur Hawks or Kentucky. By Harry St. George. 45 Old Avalanche, tHe Great ANNIBILATOR; or, WILD EDNA, THE Girt Bricanp. E. L: Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, THe Great SHoT oF THE West. ‘ Aa J, F.C, Adams, xf B arbaugh. 48 Black John, tre Roap-Acent; or, Tak Ovr- tAws’ Retreat. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 49 Omaha Ol, rue Maskep Terror: or, Drap- 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 ifies; or, Taz Unprrarovnp Camp. By Archie C. Irons. 62 The ite Buffalo. A Tale of Strange Adventure in the Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle. ¢> Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THE y PHenrx; or, TuHrovuGcH To Deatn. By Edward L. Wheeler. $4 Ned Mazel, tue Boy Trapper; or, Tae PHAn- Tom Princess. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 54 Deadly - Eye, tHe Unknown Scovrt; or, Tae Branpep BrotuHernoop. By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whifiles’ Pet; or, In Tax VALLEY or Dreatu, By Capt. J. F. é. Adams. 67 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, Taz Parps or FLoop Bar. nae 4 Wheeler. 68 The Border King; or, Taz Secrer For. yy Ol Coomes. 69 Old Hickory; or, Panpy Ex.is’s Scaur. By Harry St. pag, 60 The White Indian; or, Tur Scouts or THE YeLLowstong. By Capt. J. RCA 8. $1 Buckhorn Bill jor Taz Rep Team. By Edward L. Wheeler, « fF alugale Nat; or, Tar Forest Caprarns. | 62 The Shadow Ship; or, Tar Rrvau Lirv- TENANTS. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood; or, Tar Twrtve Avrncens.. By W. J. Hamilton, : 64 Dandy Jack; or, THE OvuTLAw of THE OREGON Tram By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustane Sam and His “Parp.”’ By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 Single Hand; or, A Lire For A Lirz. By W. J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe; or, OLD Rarriesnaxe, THE CHARMER. By Philip 5. Warne. 68 The Border BKobin Hoodj3 or, Tat | Prairntz Rover. By Buffalo Bill. 69.Gold Rifle, Tan SHArpsHooTer; or, Tar Boy DETECTIVE OF THE BLACK Rancw. By Edward | L. Wheeler, 70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, Toe GrEennORN IN THE Woops. By J. F. C. Adams. | 71, Delaware. Dick, THe Youna RaxGer Spy; . or, BRorHer aGAinst BroTHer. By Oll Coomes, 72 Mad Tom Western, THe TExan RanGER; | or, Tae Quern OF THE PRAIRIE. By Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, C JANE, THE Herome or WHoop-Up. - By Wheeler. 74 Hawk-cye Harry, THE Youna TRAPPER RanGer. By Oll Coomes. 75 Khe Boy Duelist; or, Tue Crursz oF THE Sea-Wour.. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 76 Abe Colt, THe Crow-Kmer; or, Tur Great FighTInG MAN or THE West. By A. W. Aiken. "7 Ourduroy. ChariHe, Tar Y Bravo; or, Deapwoop Dick’s Lasr Act. By E. lL. Wheeler. 78 Bluse Dick; or, Tae YELLow Curer's VEn- GEANCE. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Seb Ginger, THE Giant TrRApprR; or, THE FLOWER OF THE BLACKFEET. By A. W, Aiken. 80 Rosebud Rob} or, Nuaaer Nep, Trae Kyieur oF THE Guice. By Edward L. Wheeler. 81 Lightning J», THE TERROR OF THE PRaIRIE. By Captain J. I’. ©. Adams. 82 Kit Haretoot, tam Woop-Hawk; or, OLp P -rEr-Fack AND His Demons. Pyarbengh. 83 Kk. eo the Boy Ranger; or, HEIREs# OF 1h. ‘“°TpEN Horn, Coomes. 84 Idy!l,t. Gir. Mimers; or, Rosenvp Ros on Hanp. .. “dward L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Buc... m3_or, Bess, THe Femate TRAPPER, By Cay .r J. F.C. Adams. 86 Dawd ocKk, ine MAN FRoM Texas. By G. Waldo Browne. 87 The Land Pirates; or, Tee Leaavur or Derviu’s IsLaAnp. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 Photograph Phil, rue Boy Sievrs; or, RosEgpup Ros’s REAPPEARANCE. By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Isiand Jims; or, THe Per or true Famry. By the author of “ Jack Harkaway.” 90 The Dread Rider; or, Tur Dvuruist. By George Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club; or, Tae Younc Riva ATHLETES. By Bracebridge Hemyng, | (Jack Harkaway.) 92 Canada Chet, THE CoUNTERFEITER CHIEF; | or, OLD ANACONDA IN SrtTine Buu's Camp. By | Edward L. Wheeler. / 93 The Boy Miners; or, Tae ENcuHaAntren | Isanp. By Edward 8. Bilis. 94 Midnight Jack, THE RoAD-AGENT; or, GopHER Gin, THE Buy TRAPPER OF THE CHEYENNE. By T. C. Harbaugh, 95 The Rival Rovers oF THE Mississippi. B 96 Watch-Eye, THE Smapow; or, ARABS AND ANGFLS oF A GREAT Cry. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outitaw Brothers; or, Toe Captive of THE Haapses. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, tHe OvTLAwep Ear; or, THE Merry MEN or Greenwoop. By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos; or, Witp Kater, Danpy Rock’s ANGEL; By George Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Bick in Leadville; or, A STRANGE STROKE FoR Lizrrty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack HMarkaway in New York; or, THE ADVENTURES OF THE TRAVELERS’ CLus, oF Bracebridge Hemyng. ick: Dead-Eye, THe Boy SMuGGLER; or, THE CRUISE OF THE VIXEN. By Col. Ingraham. The Lion of the Seas or, THE VAILED Lapy or San Tropez. By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Devire; or, THE Stan or THe DovsiE Cross. By E. t. Wheeler 105 Old Rube, tHe Hunver; or, THE Crow Cap- tIvr.. By Capt. H. Holmes. 166 Old Frosty, THe Guive; or, NIOKANA, THE WHITE QUEEN OF THE BLACKFEET. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim; or, THE ABANDONED For- Est Home. By J. 4 Bowen. 108 Daring Davy, THE Younc Brar-Kiier; or, Tue Tram or THE BorpER Wor. By Harry St. George. 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 110 Khe Black Steed of the Prairies. A Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure. By James L. Bowen. 111 The Sea-Devil; or, Tae Mipsurpman’s Leaacy. . By Col. P. Ingraham. Miunter; or, Tae Cave or Deatu. By Burton Saxe. 113 Jack Hoyle, rue Youne SPecULATOR; or, THe Roan To Fortune By Ed. L. Wheeler. 114 The Black Schooner; or, Jip Junk, THE Oup Tar. By Roger Starbuck. 115 The Mad Miner; or, Danvy Recx's Doom. By George Waldo Browne. 116 The Hussar Captain; or, Taz Heawr or Heti-Garr. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 117 ag a Dick, tre Srert DEerectivE; or. THe Roap-Acent’s Davantrer. Wheeler. ; or, THE FreEesoorrers uieut. Col. Hazeltine. 102 103 | 129 118 Will Somers, Taz Boy Deructivz. By Charles Morris. 119 Mustang Sam; or, Toe Kia oF THE Puains. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 120 Phe Branded Hand; or, Tuz Man or Mystery. By Frank Dumont. 121 Cinnamon Chip, tae Gm. Sport; or, THE GOLDEN IpoL or Mr. Rosa. Ed. L. Wheeler. 122 Phil Hardy, Tux Boss Boy; or, Tae Mys TERY OF THE STRONGBOW. B Charles Morris. 123 Kiowa Charley, THE WHITE MustTanGeR; or, Rocky Mountain Kit’s Last Scatp Hunt. By T. C. Harbaugh. 124 IpPY, THE TEXAN; or, THE Youne Cuampton. By George Gleason. 125 Bonanza Bill, Mrver; or, MADAME Mys- TERY, THE FEMALE FORGER. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 126 Picayune Pete; or, NicopEmus, THE Doc Derrctive. By Charles Morris. 127 Wild-VFire, Tue Boss or THE Road; or, THE Wotves oF SaTan’s Gap. By Frank Dumont. 128 The Young Privateer ; or, THE Pimares’ STRONGHOLD. By H. Cavendish. Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, THu ob nd es Peraon eracn, Ed. L. Wheeler. etective c or, Taz Hero Raas. By Charles Morris, 5 ™ The Golden Han@j3 or, Danny Rock To THE Rescue. By George W. Browne. The Hunted Hunter; or, Toe Strange HORSEMAN OF THE PRAIRIE. By Ed. 8. Ellis. Boss Bob, THE Kine or THE BooTs.acks; or, THE PAWNBROKER’s PLor. Ed. L. Wheeler. Sure Shot Seth, Tar Boy Ririeman; or, TH: Youne Parriots oF THE Nortu. By Oll Coomes. Captain Paul, THE rm ig as any By C. 130 131 132 133 134 135 or, Tae Boy. Spy or THE Mountars. D. Clark. Night-Hawk Kit; or, Taz Davcnrer or THE RANcH. By Jose h E, Badger, Jr. The Helpless Hand3 or, Backwoops RetrisuTion. By Capt. Mayne Reid. Blonde Bilis; or, Deapwoop Dick’s Home Base. By. Edward L. Wheeler. fr : Judge Lynch, Jr.3 or, THe Boy Vier LANTE. By T. C. Harbaugh. 140 Blue Blazes; or, THe Breax o’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. 141 Selid Sam, THe Boy Roap-AGceEnt; or, THE BranDEeD Brows. By Edward L. Wheeler. 142 Handsome WHarry, THE Boorsiack Ds- Tective. By Charles Morris. 143 Sear-Face saul, THE Srtent Hunter; or, Tue Mystery or Fort Rane. By Oll Coomes. 144 Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport; or, 18 145 146 136 137 138 139 Bank-Breakers’ Decoy Duck. J. E. Badger. Captais MWKerret, tHe New York Derec- TIVE; or, Boss Bos’s Boss Jos. By Wheeler. Silver Star, THE Boy Knicut. A Prairie Romance.. By Oll Coomes. Will Wildfire, Taz THorovcHpReD; or, THE Wrynina Hanp. By Charles Morris. 148 Sharp Samy} ocr, THE ADVENTURES OF A FriznpDiess Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. A Game of Goldy or, DeEapwoop Drcr's Bie Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler. Lance and Lass; or, THe CHILDREN or THe CHaco. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. Panther Pau!, Tyr Pramm Prrare; or, Dainty Lance To THE Rescug. J. E. Badger. Black Bess, Wr. Wirprime’s Racer; or, Winninc AGaAmst Opps. By Charles Morris. Eagle Kit, tHe Boy Demon; or, Tae Ovr- LAWs OF THE GoLtp Hits. By Oll Coomes. The Swerd Hiunters; or, Tae Lanp or THE ELEPHANT Rivers. By Fred. Whittaker. Gold Trigger, Tr Sport; or, Taz Giri AVENGER. By T. é. Harbaugh. Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, THe Pickep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. Mike Merry, THE Harsor Porice Boy; or, Tue NicHt-Hawks OF ELPHIA. By Charles Morris. Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, Tue TrarPen’s Trust. By Buffalo Bil.) °” 159 The Lost Captain; or, Sxrmprr Janz Corrin’s CRUISE TO THE OPEN PoLaR SEA. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 160 The Black Giant; or, Damry Lance m JEOPARDY. By Joseph KE. Badger, Jr. 161 New York Nell, rae Boy-Giru Derecrrye; or, OLD BLAKESLY’s Money. By E. L. Wheeler. 162 Wil! Wildfire in the Woods; or, Car LIFE IN THE ALLEGHANIES. By Charles Morris. 163 Little Texas, roe Youna Moustanemr. A Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes. 164 Dandy Rock’s Pledge; or, Hunrep Te Deatu. By G. Waldo Browne. 165 Billy Baggage, THe Ramroap Boy; or, Ron To EarTH. Charles Morris. Sept. 21 166 Hickory Marry ; or, Tue Trar or Fire. By Harry St. George. Ready September 28th. 167 Asa Scott, Taz Sreamsoat Boy; or, Tux Lanp Pirates of THE MississirpPl, By Ed- ward Willett, Ready October bth. 168 Deadly Dash; or, Fientine Fre wrru Fire. Ey. Jon: E. er, Ready Octeber 12. A new issue every week, The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Pub! 98 William Street, New York. 147 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158