Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 182) (1881 01 18)
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s. = pstetllall RM OW wWNoMa_®§H \\ ‘ YY TR SS = : A ais tinea! . OWR- Co Hs — —_—s ~ ’ : oe Acer 5D es - : : i} a) mo aot tea et ne ee en on So $2.50 a year, Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., dt Second Class Mail Rates. Copyrighted in 1881 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, _ Vol VII Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADA MS, Price, " * Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. Little Hurricane, The Boy Captain; or, The Dath of the Young Avengers. BY OLL COOMES, -AUTHOR OF “EAGLE KIT,” “SILVER STAR,” “SCAR-FACE SAUL,” “‘SURE SHOT SETH,” “ ROLLO, THE BOY RANGER,” ETC, 4 nT 4 LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF TO YOU AS LITTLE HURRICANE, CAPTAIN OF THE BOY AVENGERS, AND—D’YE SEE THAT, WILLIAM?”
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‘ 0 Little Hurricane, THE BOY CAPTAIN; OR, The Oath ofthe Young Avengers. BY OLL COOMES, ADTHOR oF ‘OLD SOLITARY,” “‘ LITTLE TEXAS,” “ HAGL# KIT,” ‘‘ SILVER STAR,” BTC. CHAPTER I. THE OATH. You and each of you do solemnly promise ward declare before the ever-living God that yeu will never cease, so long as life is spared ‘you, in the pursuit of my murderers and until ‘yeu have brought them all to justice, rescued way children and fathomed the mystery of last wight’s bloody aud cowardly crime?” “JT do!” was the solemn response that came promptly from each of seven pairs of white, syaivering lips. The sceae was a tragic one—ihe time, early aaora, The warm sun had just risen above the -sestern hills and shining through the ope door af the cabin fell, for the last time, upon the fave of the old ranchman, Isbmael Langdon, who was reclining upon a pallet of furs and blankets that was wet with his own life-blood. The palior of death was upon the old man’s ‘face. Ho was fast sinking, and when he had heard thas response from the lips of these to nvhom he had administered a solemn oath, he suuk back upon his couch with a smile upon his lips, and stretching forth hisarms as if to embrace aa angel spirit hovering near, he Gd oat in a clear, strong voice: ** Mather, thy will be done!” Vhen his arms fell limp at his side, he rattled im bis throat and Ishmael Langdon was dead— tying in the presence of— Philip Radley, aged twenty-one, and em- pleyee a n of the dead ranchman. Icit LP.uamer, aged twenty, and employee as herJsman ef the dead ranchman. Mize Ford, aged nineteen, a hunter and trapper. Asa Martin, aged seventeen, companion of Ford, Harry Reynolds, aged eighteen, ranger and Coyote Sam, about seventeen, a Sioux In- _divn, and prairie nomad. Diek Waters—better known as Vagabond Dick—perhaps sixteen or seventeen years of Type. These were the individuals to whom the sath was administered as they stood in line by Zshmael Langdow’s couch, each grasping the asuale of a rifle. They were rough and stal- wart young fellews—born on the frontier and reared amid its excitements, its dangers and its bhardships—perfect in physique—strong, wgefle and sinewy as panthers—brave and dar- . dag—skilifal hunters and horsemen—unerring shots with rifle or revolver. The most conspicuous character among them was Harry Reynolds, better known as Little Uurricane, the Boy Ranger. Few men on the pains had greater notoriety as a brave and dasuing scout than this boy. He was familiar with every river and mountain within a circuit »f five hundred miles. Many had been his daredevil feats with outlaws and Indians that had won him the name of Little Hurri- cane, Auother band of seven such characters could soarcely have been found in the West. By chance, however, had they been thrown to- ether. Five miles from Langdon’s cabin was a ‘*dug-out” wherein Phil Radley and Kit ifammer often slept of nights during bad weather when tending the herds of Langdon. ‘here had Little Hurricane, young Ford and Martin called, together, about sunset the pre- vious night. A little later Coyote Sam, the Jvdian boy, made bis appearance, and still eer the merry-hearted, rollicking Vagabond 7 Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. Dick came whistling across the pra‘rie to the ‘‘dug-out” with a saddle of venison on his shoulder. And so the ‘‘ cow-boys” did not go to the ranch for supper that night. They roasted Dick’s venison and made a royal feast thereon, A pack of greasy cards, story telling, sing- ing and dramatical performances by Coyote Sam and Vagabond Dick, kept the night around that dug-out hilarious with the shouts and laughter of a wild, iunocent carouse, Before it was fairly light Phil and Kit were off for the ranch. They were accompanied by the other boys who were always welcome visitors at Ishmael Langdon’s ranch, and who loved to tarry there in the sunlight of the ranchman’s lovely daughters, Edith and Mary. To these rude and uncultured youths the ranch was a sort of a paradise around which hung a mysterious power they could not resist—the power of woman’s magic and woman’s love. When the party reached the threshold of the Langdon ranch, they were almost stricken dumb with the horrible sight that met their eyes. The old ranchman lay upon a pallet bleeding to death from a bullet wound in the breast. His daughters were gone, and from the lips of the dying man they listened to this story: ‘We waited supper until late fer Phil and Kit. About ten o’clock a light-covered vehicle drove up to the door. A woman and three men alighted therefrom and entered the house. The men were in mask and wore long black coats and black, slouched hats. The woman wore a black cloak to which was attached a red-lined hood. The latter she removed when she entered the cabin. Her hair was black as jet and hung, loose, about her head, in strands that looked like writhing serpents. Her eyes were black as midnight, her complexion dark almost as a Spaniard’s, and her features angular and coarse. I spoke to the party who had intruded so boldly and unceremoniously, when the men drew revolvers and leveling them at me bade me be silent under penalty of death. Then the woman advanced to the terrified girls and taking each by the hand began talking to them in a low, mysterious tone—gazing steadily into the eyes of the first one then the other. I saw the girls were stricken speechless with the diabolical enchant- ment of that ogress’s eyes, and, resolved to thwart her designs, I rose and started toward her, but the click of three revolvers whose cold muzzles were pressed against my temples forced me to desist and I sunk back in my seat, ‘For several moments the demoness stood before those poor girls—gazing into their eyes —binding their souls in a web of magnetism that they could not resist; on the contrary, she actually compelled them to obey every volition of her will. Presently the woman released itheir hands, took their hats and shawls frem the wall where they hung and put them on them, and then said, ‘Come, girls, with me’ Taking them by the arm she led them to the door and out into the yard, and when I saw them entering the vehicle, I could stand it no longer. ‘Villains!’ I cried, ‘you shall not rob me of my children!’ But a blow on the head with the butt of a heavy re- volver sont me half-stunned to the floor. I struggled to my feet, when one of the men took a paper from his pocket and holding it out toward me, said: ‘ Ishmael Langdon, we have a request to make to you, and that is that you sign this paper. We will listen to no refusal—we will brook no delay— have no words about it.’ I took the paper and holding it to the light read: ‘I, Harrison Dalrymple, now upon my death-bed but being of sound mind, do, of my own free will give and bequeath unto my beloved friend ’—here was a blank—‘all my right and title in the Adam Dalrymple estate. Since I die inestate, Iam moved to this course out of my love and respect for my dear friend ’—here was another biank—‘ who for weeks has steed by my bed- side administering to my dying wants; and in \ ‘ | so much as I have spent years of toil and hard- | ships, a stranger from the fortune that was mine by inheritance, it is with a feeling of joy and satisfaction that I, in the last hour of my life—seeing I cannot avert the final end of all —consign that inheritance to my friend and companion who will honor it as he has honor- ed and loved me through years of companion- ship! ‘Gentlemen,’ I said with a feeling of re- lief, when I’d read the strange document, ‘you have struck the wrong man. Iam not Harrison Dalrymple, I assure you.’ To my disappointment he replied: ‘It makes no dif- ference who you are or who you are not, we want you to sign that document and that without further parley.’ ‘Sir,’ I replied, yeu mean to injure me and my children by some high-handed outrage, or wrong and defraud some one else.’ ‘That’s nothing to yeu,’ the villain retorted; ‘I want you to sign this pa- per, or die. I will give you just three mip- utes by the watch to do so—sign the name— Harrison Dalrymple.’ “T saw the villains intended to murder me if I still refused their wish, and in hopes of my daughters being released, I took the pen one of the mem held already inked aud wrete the name requested. ***Good! exclaimed one of the villains, glancing at the signature, then as he folded the paper, he said, ‘ The witnesses will sign at an- other time; and now, boys, cap the climax, and let’s be off.’ Instartly one of the villains raised a revolver and shet me through the breast aud I fell mortally wounded—dead as they believed. The villains then left the cabin and, theugh in the agonies of death, I heard the vehicle rell- ing away with Edith and Mary. I know not what there is in this mysterious work; I know nothing of Harrison Dalrymple—I never heard the name before. But, of one thing I am certain: those mea and that woman are the agents of some foul and desperate work. What part my daughters are to play, God only knows.” This was the strange story the beys listened to from the lips of the dying Ishmael Lang- don, and it was to avenge the cewardly mur- der of the old man, reseue his daughters avd fathom the mystery surrounding the whole that they had taken that solemn and sacred oath that made them hunters ef men—Aveu- gers. CHAPTER IL A RACE WITH ROAD-AGENTS. Tux sbarp report of firearms resounded in startling echoes through the foothills and rolied far out upon the plain. A few minutes later a stage-coach came fly- ing down the Wolt’s Mouth Canyon and dashed out into the valley of the Beaver with horses at a sweeping gallop. Sand and dust were ankle deep in the road. The spinning wheels. were encircled in a cloud of dust. Upright in his seat sat the driver, his lines in one hand and his whip in the other. His head was hat- less and rolled about upon his shoulders as. though in a beastly state of intoxication; but the noble fellow was net drunk. The bleod spurting from a wound in his breast from which he had torn his shirt, told that he had received a mortal wound from the rifle of a lurking assassin in the hills, But, true to his trust, the brave man stood to his post sent bis horses flying along the read he had traveled so often and which was now growing dimmer and dimmer to his eyes that were set in death. Inside the coach the wildest excitement pre- vailed, for there were four paseengers ab Three of these were men—one a young girl, the daughter of Calvin Stewart. The passengers knew the coach had beeD fired upon, but little did they dream that their” driver had been mortally wounded, for not & mass of complaint escaped the brave man’s ips. : Mr. Stewart and the other twe passengers
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. endeavored to cheer and encourage the almost frantic girl. Meanwhile, with revolvers in hand, they awaited the approach of the road-agents. They expected them to burst from the cloud of dust that hung along the trail at any moment, for, above the noise of the rattling wheels and ereaking springs, they could hear the yells of the outlaws that were in swift pursuit. All of a sudden, a single horseman was seen to spring like magic from the plain on the right, and a little before the coach, and come flying across the valley as if to head the team off. “‘ Ab! see that fellow, yonder!” cried Calvin Stewart; “he is riding to head us off, Mr. Blake.” Mr. Blake removed his gloves from his small, lily-white bands and for a moment looked steadily at the horseman, then drew his re- volver. ‘“You are a good shot, Mr. Stewart,” he said; ‘here, take my revolver and shoot the fellow when be comes up.” Mr. Stewart took the revolver, dropped the glass pauel in the door of the coach, and await- ed the approach of the horseman. He was now about fifty rods away and coming toward them rapidly. He was mounted upon a clean- limbed, long-bodied bay horse that showed evidence of remarkable speed; it was capari- soned with a light saddle and bridle. As the rider drew nearer, Mr. Stewart saw that. he was a young man, a mere boy who was dressed in the garb of a ranger, anda doubt at once rose in his mind as to his being a road-agent, A bend in the road suddenly revealed a dozen outlaws in pursuit. They were some four hundred yards behind. Stewart saw that the boy approaching glanced first at the coach and then at the road-agents as if measuring the distance between the two. And suddenly the youth raised his rifle and with his horse at full run, fired a shot at the road-agents. To his wonder and surprise he saw one of the outlaw’s horses plunge forward and fall, throw- ing its rider violently to the earth. ‘By heavens! that fellow is a friend!” cried Stewart removing his revolver from the windew. “Don’t be deceived, Mr. Stewart,” said Blake nervously. The next moment the boy dashed alongside the coach and looked in upon the passengers, witk face flushed with wild excitement and his eyes flashing like two orbs of fire, ‘«You are in danger, folks!” he cried. “Yes; can you assist us, boy?’ returned Stewart. “T can try, sir, but the odds are against us. I see you have a woman with—” ‘*My daughter, boy, and for God’s sake help us if you can!” “Do you know your driver lays dead in the boot?” the boy asked. ‘“What?? Stewart almost shrieked, ‘O. God! then we are in danger of being hurleu into a chasm and dashed to pieces at any mo- ment!” “Steady, strangers, and I’ll see if I can’t get onto the coach,” said the boy, riding closer to the spinning wheels, and handing his rifle and well-filled cartridge belt to Mr. Stewart. Then he drew up one foot and placed it under of the iron railing on the coach, then made a pring and landed in the boot, while his horse, now riderless, dashed on down the road ahead of him, ¢ ‘The boy had great difficulty in wresting the ‘lines from the iron grip of the dead driver, and when he bad accomplished this task, he found it necessary to drop the body of the faithful old man by the road-side—not only to lighten the coach but to give him ample room to manage the frantic horses. Fertunately the horses kept the road they had traveled so often, else the chase would no deubt have ended ere this by the coach be- ing dashed to pieces, : fee on the saddle, reached up and caught hold Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. Still on behind came the road-agents—gain- ing rapidly upon the coach. The boy saw that they would soon be overtaken that something must be done if capture would be averted, Leaning over the side of the coach he shouted to the passengers. ‘*Strangers, pass my rifle and belt up here, please.” : Mr. Stewart did as requested under protest of Mr. Blake who still doubted the charaeter of the boy. The young driver sat the heavy whip in the F whip-stock and fastened the lines around it, He then took a cartridge from bis belt and in- serted it in his rifle, and turning he placed one knees in the seat, rested his gun on the mail- bags on top of the coach, and, despite the roek- ing of the coach, he took aim and fired. True to the aim of the wonderful marksman the bullet went home and an outlaw fell to the earth. This checked the others and enabled the coach to gain some upon them, but the re- port of the rifle set the horses wilder than ever with affright and it became necessary for the boy to lay down his rifle and take up the lines. Suddenly one of the passengers called out: ‘Young man, do you want help up there?? “Yes, I do,” responded the youth—some one to handle the lines while I handle the rifle.” Quickly, and with remarkable ease and dex- terity Mr. Blake, swung himself out of the coach and climbed to the top and took a seat by the boy. As the youth placed the lines in the man’s small white hands he saw they were delicate as a woman's hands—tbat they had never worn the callous of labor. In fact, the man’s smooth-shaven face, his general appear- ance and his pleasing address were strong characteristics of a sedate gentleman whe, in the very face of danger, bore himself with a calm and deliberate coolne-s that was truly re- markable. “Can you manage themf’ the boy asked, for in those delicate hands it did not seem there could be the strength of a child. “T can try, my boy,” the man replied, The boy now turned, took up his rifle, in- serted a cartridge in it, and laying it upon the mail-bag was about to fire on the pursuers again when the wheels of the coach left the smooth, sandy track and began to jolt and bump over the uneven surface of the greund so that it was impossibie to take aim. Glancing back he saw the driver was pulling out of the road. ‘‘Keep them in the track, stranger,” cried the youth; “keep them in the track while I pick off a few road-agents.” At this instant a scream issued from the lips of the lady passenger. “ Heavens!” continued the boy. what that can mean?” The driver made no response, but, taking the lines in his left hand, he drew from bis breast-pocket a small, silver-mounted revolver and leveling it at the head of the boy, said: ‘Boy — vagabond! do you know who I am#? The look of a demon now sat upon the faeo of the passenger Blake, and those soft eyes gleamed with the ferocity of a tiger. A faco that could be so easily transformed from the mild-mannered gentleman to that of a demon told of a consummate villain and a murdereus heart. The boy was completely taken by sur- prise, and iv an instant it flashed through his mind that the man was a confederate ef the masked road-agents coming behind. “T am Blackhawk Bill, captain of read- agents!” was the startling announcement, “Oh, the devil you are!’ blurted the bey, although the very mention of that name sent a shiver through his frame; ‘‘then, sir, let me introduce myself to you as Little Hurrieane, captain of the Boy Avengers, and—d’ye see that, William ?” Quick, almost as the lightning’s flash, the boy’s left hand flew upward striking the muz- zle the outlaw’s pistol up, at the eame time he brought a derringer within an inch of the vil- lain’s tace with his right. “ T wonder 3 The outlaw’s pistol was discharged over tbe yyouth’s head. The villain was thunderstruck. The lily-handed desperado, Blackhawk Bik, whose crimes and daring robberies had maces him a terror throughout the lengtb and bread ts ef the Hills, had met bis match for once in tke person of Little Hurricane. The Boy Captaixs | had the drop on him. CHAPTER Iit. A BOYS’ DARING FEATS. ‘ For a brief moment the outlaw and the hy “Plared into each other’s eyes, Hurricau:s quick brain took in the situation at a g!ame. Fer months had he been endeavoring tox ture the notorious Blackhawk Bill. Five tho } Sand dollars were offered for him dead, ‘for % | one believed he would ever be taken wiit 'This reward was a fabulous sum tothe capt: of the Boy Brigade. He had only to press cit trigger of his revolver to make hiuself nit | But he tarried just a moment too long. ‘Tt | herses plunged down a steep bank into Beara | Oreck, almost pitching the two antagonists | from the coach, Obeying the first impulse of their minds each seized the right hand of tt» other in the left, thus preventing the use their revolvers. In this position they began » desperate struggle. They were well matched for strength, bor though Little Hurricane was. They rose to their feet and fought standiag in the boot. The horses plunged and floundered throug’ the water that was axl2 deep and flowed with a rapid current. Suddenly the fore-wheel of the vehicle strur& a stone when in the middle of the stream; t#a combatants lost their balance and, still locked in each other’s embrace, plunged headlong ini the creek and were swept away by the wil, rushing current. The horses, free of all restraint, rushed through the stream and began to scrambije ap the bauk on the opposite side. The ascent being steep the coach moved slowly, Taking advax tage of this moment the young lady passenger, who was wild with terror, torew open the dear of the vebicle and leaped out before her father could arrest her movement. She was imme diately followed by the other male passenger at the muzzle of whose revolver Mr. Stewart had sat motionless ever since Blackhawk Bm had climbed on top. He was a confederate of the road-agents, also, and no socner did he re meve his revolver than Mr. Stewart drew bi and essayed to follow him. But he was pre vented from doing so by the coach reaching the tep of the bank, and thethorses, cc oled ami | efreshed by their plunge ivto the water, dashed away at lightning speed. Meanwhile the pursuing road-agents were wae ever a hundred yards from the erck, and a | he saw the situation from the fiving coach | Stewart knew that he could do nothing against such cdds toward rescuing his child. He knew there was no one upon the coach. He had seam Little Hurricane and the outlaw fall into the stream, and, nerved to desperation, he climbo® to the top of the coach, gathered up the limes from the horses’ very heels, and began talking te the frantic beasts to quiet them down and husband their strength, for the race was siiil to eontinue. At this juncture, a scream burst vpon his ear from the rear of the coach. Stewart turned his head and, to his utter astonishment behe a nondescript rise up from among the mait- bags, baggage, and the rubber blankets spread everthem. It was human—it © as a female—- a wild-eyed girl of perhaps fourteen years af age with large lustrous cyes and a beautifal faee that was half hidden in a vealthof snarled and tangled hair. She was clad ina frock seme coarse material. Her feet und anines were clad in new shoes and stockings. “@ood God, child! where did you come frem?’ exclaimed Stewart. The girl shook back the hair from her face and eyes as she stood kneeling on the caack, and said: SS ee
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4. “From under this heap of blankets and truck. Hank Bond hid me there—where is ‘Bank? and what’s all this racket about?” “Child, Hank is dead! The road-agents killed him, and are after us) Who are youf— what’s your name?” “ Poor Hank!” the gir] said, her voice quiver- jug with emotion; then as a thought occurred to her, her eyes flashed as she continued: ‘ my name is Sybil—hav’n’t got any more name, ‘sept nicknames. I lived up to C——, but I hated ewerybody there because they knocked me azound, and called me Orphan Syb, and Beggar S&yvt and so I just thought I'd run away from there and go to where good people lived. Hank Bond was always kind to me and so I packed all my clothes, and that wasn’t many, in that eld carpet-sack of Hank’s, and then I hid under these things where Hank told me to stay till we were away from the town and until be called we. L almost died there, the coach bumped se, aud I just couldn’t stand it any longer, and se I got out. Poor old Hank! no wonder he didn’t call me. He was the best friend I ever bad since my father died.” “Cheer up, Sybil, and I will be a friend to you,” replied Stewart, deeply touched by the little girl’s sorrow; ‘‘my poor girl is in the power of the road-agents yonder, and others are after us.” “Oh, curse the road-agents!” the rude, ir- reverent girl exclaimed, her big dark eyes Hashing with a reverseful light as she snatched wp the derringer that Little Hurricane had dropped in ,the seat; ‘‘ they killed my father and Hank Bond, and I will avenge them! I ean shoot—shoot to kill!” She turned around, and, still kneeling, began firing at the nearest outlaw with a coelness thet told she was no novice in handling a re volver. The pursuers were now close upen them, and at the third shot the foremost fellow leaped straight up in his saddle and clutched trantically at the reins. He stopped bis horse, seeled in the saddle and finally sunk to the earth, “Oh, oh!” the desperate girl exclaimed, “I plugged one of the scamps, so I did, mister!” With the fall of this outlaw the pursuit of the coach ended, The road-agents all returned to the creek where Clara Stewart was held a. eaptive. They were discussing the situation— the almost complete failure of their attack on tha coach, when, suddenly, the figure of a man appeared above the bank of the creek, tho picture of forlorn wretchedness. It was the gallant captain of the road-agents, Black- bawk Bill. He was just out of the water, hat- less, dejected, and with a lacerated, bleeding face, “Hail, captain!” shouted one of the outlaws, ® where in heaven’s good name have you been?” “Tn the river,” was the reply; ‘curses on ii! didn’t you see me roll off the coach with teat fellow? Where were your eyes? why did you hang back like a pack of cowards? If you'd come to my assistance we'd killed that iwy. It was Little Hurricane!” An exclumation of surprise burst from the ip. of the road-agents, “Where is he now?” “Dead, 4 hope,” retorted the disgruntled chief; “we became separated while struggling ‘Ree a pair of water-rats under the water, and when I rose to the surface and got my eyes weared and my lungs emptied, he was nowhere t be seen. But we'll have him dead or alive, “Jet that coach go, men, and ride down the ee-k and find that boy dead or alive. His laerse turned off just before we came to the @ooxn and is down the stream somewhere, Viel secure it, too, for it’s the fastest animal &w. this country.” YVhere were ten of the road-agents, and all tet Blackhawk and another that had beem wounded wore black masks over their faces— %&<cos that in some community perhaps passed Yr those honest men. Blackhawk Bill led the search for Little Mecricane. Clara Stewart was left in charge ¢i.a wounded outlaw, and he who had been a Little —_ passenger on the coach, who at once placed her upon a horse and then mounting thei- selves, crossed the river and rode slowly back teward the hills. They had gone perhaps a mile when they heard a shout behind them, and looking back they saw one of their masked comrades riding swiftly toward them—swinging his white hat and yelling in triumph. ** By Je-rusalem!” exclaimed one of the out- laws, ‘‘that’s Grill and he’s got the prize— captured the horse of Little Hurricane!” and then the two shouted back their congratulations in lusty tones. They knew Grill by his white hat and velvet coat, A mile further down the valley came Black- hawk Bill and his other followers riding at a breakneck speed and yelling like infuriated demons, The man on the noble racer of Little Hur- rioane dashed alongside of Miss Stewart’s cap- ters. His mask was still over his face. His bread-brimmed hat replaced upon his head, was slouched around his head. His black velvet coat that was buttoned over his breast, was spattered with blood. His hands, too, had blood upon them, ‘¢ Hallo, friend Grill, you’ve drawn a prize,” said one of the outlaws, ‘Yes, two of them!” coolly replied the man addressed as Grill, and whipping outarevolver he thrust it \oward the outlaw and fired. With scarcely a moan the deluded wretch rolled lJife- less from his saddle, and before the wounded man could realize the situation he, too, fell dead—shot down by the supposed Grill, A cry of terror escaped Clara Stewart’s lips. ‘*¢ Courage, fair girl,” said the slayer, tear- ing the mask from his face and revealing the boyish yet triumphant features of Little Hurri- cane, “ courage, and ride, ride for your life.” Clara saw the face was that of the brave boy who had come to their assistance when in the coach, and taking courage she rode fear- lessly along at the side of the wild, daring young ranger. Little Hurricane now stripped himself of the coat and hat that he had taken from the out- law Grill down the creek, reiaining his revol- ver only. The fugitives turned northward and kept the Beaver valley close iv at the foot of the long range of foot-lills. Blackhawk Bill pressed on in pursuit. As they sped along they conversed freely. Clara made known to her rescuer all that had transpired on board the coach from the time they were first fired upon until they had crossed the river. “Then your father escaped in the coach?” Wurricane said. ‘¢ Yes, sir; the outlaws gave up the chase to go in search of you.” ‘¢May I inquire your name and where you are going, miss?” ve** My father’s name is Stewart—my name Clara Stewart. We were on our way to visit an old friend of father’s named Ishmael Lang- don who resides at his cattle-ranch on the Cheyenne.” ‘‘Tshmael Langdon!” exclaimed the boy, and he was about to tell her of the death of Lang- don and the abduction of his davghters, but his better judgment prevailed and he went on: *T know Mr. Langdon well; he has two fair girls, Edith and Mary, who I am afraid are exposed to constant dangers. In fact, no wo- man is safe in this country unless inside a military post, or surrounded by a body-guard of troops.” “Oh, what a dreadful journey to-day has been, young man, and—” ‘Please call me Harry Reynolds, or Little Hurricane.” : “You Little Hurricane, the Boy Ranger?” “Yes, ma’am, I’m that very ohap, and I know you're s’prised—you expected to see more of a man and less of a little prairie vaga- bond.” “You do yourself injustice, Hurricane; in- deed, Iam rejoiced to know you are Little : Hurricane, the Boy Captain. Hurricane,” replied the girl, with a lovk of ad- miration beaming in her bright, biue eyes, aud her pretty face glowing with couficdence end faith; ‘‘I am sure no ove but Little Hurri- ane could ever have performed such daring, reck- less feats as Little Hurricane has performed to- » “ Thanks, Miss Clara, for your compliment, I like adventure all the more when (kere isa pretiy girl in it; but dangers bave veen ’most too numerous to-day to make it healiby and romantic.” In the mean time, Blackhawk Bill and his followers were pressing on after the Loy and girl, and appeared to be gaining upon them. Little Hurricane had to hold ia his horse to keep pace with that of Clara, clihough the girl’s horse was exerting itself tu its uitmvst. Finally the boy said: “Pm afraid your horse will not hold out, Miss Clara, but mine will, so you need have no fears. If wecan keep cut of the road-agents’ hands until dark, I think we will strike the camp of the Boy Brigade—six of my com- rades—who are encamped somewhk re along tha Beaver above here.” But this hope was not to be realized, fur after two hours more of bard riding, Clara’s horse became quite lame and exbausted, The pursuers were gaining rapid/y upon them, “There, Clara, take my hor.« ,” said the boy, stopping both horses, “and keep right on np the Beaver till you strike the camp ot six boys who will—” “But you, Hurricane—” ‘Never mind me, Miss Clara; Ill dodge them outlaws in that canyon+conie, do mut hesitate—do not tarry—every moment is pre- cious—you must flee on my horse -il's your only hope this side of the grave!” Still Clara hesitated, fixing her eyes upon those of the brave boy. Her lips quivercd and she was about to speak when Hurricane went on: ‘*Do, Clara, do go for my sake.” This final appeal reached the girl’s heart, and leaping to the ground she allowed tbe boy to assist her to the back of his horse, then with a few tender words of parting she gal- loped away. Little Hurricane watched her a moment then turned and glided into the mouth of the canyon on his left. He ran on until he was out of sight of the road-agents when he stopped and crawled into a clump of bushes and tall, dead grass. It was a poor hiding-place, but this very fact, it occurred to him, might make it a secure one. The outlaws would not expect to find him in sucha place when the dark re- cesses of the canyon offered secure conceal- ment, but a few rods further on. And in this he was right, for, true enough, the pursuers came up and while Blackhawk Bill and another went on in pursuit of Clara Stewart, the others whirled te the left and, galioping within twenty feet of our hero, swept on up the canyon. Little Hurricane watched them with a smile upon his face; when they were out of sight he began speculating upon his chances of escape either by flight or by remaining there until the foe had come down out of the canyon and passed on. The cluster of bushes in which he lay was some thirty feet in length, by ten or fifteen in width. It was full of tall, dead grass, some of which stood erect and some was down and tangled. This suggested the idea of burrowing himself like a rabbit under it, and he was ip the act of doing so when the cold muzzle of a revolver touched his forehead and starting back he beheld, to his inmost borror, a human form already burrowed under the grass an vines before him, while along the deadly tube leveled at his brain he saw an orb of glittering fire set in a grizzled, hairy face! CHAPTER IV. DOOMED TO DIR, LitTLE HURRICANE could not have felt more horrified had he been transfixed by the en- chantment of a deadiy serpent’s eyes. Ho Se a <
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—_—_—————— ee gazed steadily into the orbs of the unknown while he busied his fertile brain trying to de- vise some way out of what seemed en emi- nently perilous position. The unknown seemed to have divined his very thoughts and in a low tone that seemed more like the hiss of a deadly serpent, he whispered: “Move a muscle or utter one yawp, young- ster, and by the sword o’ Dam-ocles, I’ll russel you into eternity quicker nor a hound pup can lick a skillet. S’Death!” By these words of caution the boy was re- lieved of his greatest fear. He knew the un- known was, at least, an enemy of the road- agents, “Who the furies are you, anyhow?’ asked Hurricane in a whisper. ‘Sh! don’t I tell you I'll shoot? don’t you see I mean to blow your head clear off if you don’t keep still?’ replied the human enigma. Old idiot, ar’n’t I keepin’ still?” was Hurri- cane’s response, “No; I see I’ve got to scatter your brains all over the canyon—say yer prayers, quick and—” At this juncture the report of a pistol came rolling down the canyon, The unknown’s words were cut short. He involuntarily turned his eyes up the valley, the muzzle of his re- volver falling out of line with the boy’s head as he did so; and when he again turned that blezing orb on the youth he found, to his horror, himself looking into the boy’s revol- ver! ‘“‘Dam-ocles!” burst in a hoarse, jerky tone from the man’s lips, as he discovered the lad had the drop on him; ‘‘easy there, lad—cir- cumstances alters cases, you know.. Who be you, anyhow?” ‘“‘T’m your match,” replied the boy, ‘ you can rest assured of that.” ‘¢ Dam-na-ocles! don’t I admit it? can’t you be reasonable? can’t you tell an old man your name?” ‘¢ Little Hurricane,” answered the boy. * Jumpin’ J’osaphat!” thrusting forward a thin, bony hand, “‘ put it there, Little Cyclone, and have the sublime honor o’ pressin’ the honest palm o’ Jack Drew, hunter and trapper, out e’ business for reasons too numerous to mention, God bless ye, boy, I’ve hearn 0’ you millions o’ times—please turn that barker to one side—that hole ’n it looks like etarnity’s darkness and ye might be narvous and let the p’izen thing flicker.” Little Hurricane took the proffered hand of the man he could not see—of a man he had never seen; but he knew by his warm friendly clasp that Jack Drew was not to be feared and so be lowered his revolver. ‘*There now,” continued the man with an air of relief, ‘that’s a deal healthier—more comformatical; but I say, Hurry Littlecane, you had a close call—dodged them bloody tallyhoopers with all the hu-gigrosity of an old campaigner; whose gal war that?’ Hurricane told the man all he felt it was safe to on such a short acquaintance, then he inquired after the hunter’s movements in that vicinity, and received this reply: “ve been operating up on the range, but the Injins have broke out worse nor the seven year itch in a nigger school and are mowin’ a wide swath o’ distruction. I knowed it would come, Sittin’ Bull’s been sp’ilin’ for a fight and scalps these many moons, and so you can just jot it down that we're goin’ to have a little the liveliest Injin fracas that’s been since the ark o’ old Noah swung over the hills o’ Asia Minor. Hundreds 0’ lives’ll be lost afore the govermental troops can polish up their buttons and shine their boots ready to begin a campaign. I’ve been layin’ in these parts a week or two—roostin’ up the creek—waitin’ to see what course the red devils "Il take. I war takin’ a little ramble down this way when I see’d you folks flyin’ north’ards like the wind, and’ not knowin’ edzactly what stand to take in the matter, I russeled myself into port here and lay to, and here I’m goin’ to stick tiil the storm blows over or till I’m forced to vacate. | \ Littie Hurricane, the Boy Captain. & Don’t give me away, Cyclone, if they should return and diskiver you. If, however, they do find you and don’t purpose to give you a fair shake, ’ll rise up here like a pestilence in an alligator swamp and paint distruction on the skies. You understand what I mean, boy? and you'll find I’m a holy snorter when I let myself loose —when I take the bits in my mouth and lay back on my pasterns. Why, sir, the roses and sweet williams bloom over the graves 0’ dozens o’ fellers that undertook to buck me. Yes, sir’ee—” “ Hark!” commanded Hurricane, ‘ they’re coming back!” The man drew back his hand, spread the grass over his face and relapsed into a dead si- lence. Down apast the thicket sped the road-agents, but as the last one passed he cast a glance to- ward it and reining in his horse, shouted to his comrades, ‘‘ Hold, boys, bere’s our kid in the brush!” Little Hurricane knew he had been discov- ered, and leaping to his feet with his course of action marked out, he opened fire on the out- law with his revolver. The first shot missed, | but it cut so close to the villain’s head that to save himself he slipped from his saddle to take refuge behind his horse. But scarcely had he quitted the stirrups ere the boy leaped for- ward, bounded into the saddle, dealt the out- law a blow on the head with his Colt that sent him to the earth, then digging his heels info the animal’s side dashed away. But at the same moment a volley of six shots were fired at him, one of which struck the horse in the head and killed it dead. Little Hurricane was thrown violently to the earth and half stunned. Before he could rise he was covered by seven revolvers, seized, disarmed and his hands bound behind his back, A short discussion as to what should be done with him ensued. Some were in favor of shooting him down then and there, but the majority favored taking him before the eap- tain alive, and upon this decision they pro- ceeded to act. Mounting their horses the boy was marched off on foot with half a dozen re- volvers covering him, and curses of vengeance falling upon his head. In all his eventful life Little Hurricane had never been in such a perilous predicament; nor he need not have been this time bu} for bis gal- lantry and self-sacrifice ix behalf of Clara Stewart. The youth was conducted north along the trail of Blackhawk Bill and his companion, and as night was fast approaching he was com- pelled to move at a double-quick. Darkness, however, finally overtook them, and as the captain was not to be found, their horses be- ing tired and hungry, and the captive an in- cumbrance, they concluded to bivouac on the open plain and while their animals were graz- ing, dispose of the boy. Having picketed their horses out to grass they proceeded to organize a mock court for the trial of Hurricane. Two hours at least were spent in this farce, for well enough the pris- oner knew what the result would be. Nor was he at all disappointed; the verdict was, guilty of having murdered three of their com- rades on that day in the valley of the Beaver, and the sentence was—death ! By this time the moon was up above the eastern hills making it almost as light as day, and so arrangements were made for the im- mediate execution of the condemned. The youth was to be shot. He was led out a ways into the valley and his hands and feet tied together. A blindfold was about to be placed over his eyes when he said: “Do not blindfold me; I am not afraid to look death in the face.” “Whew! but isn’t the little cuss game?” ex- claimed a road-agent; “I alers be’rd he war plucky and grit to the backbone.” Little Hurricane now felt that the sands of his young life were about run out, although it seemed impossible that he was to die. A feel- ing of sadness filled his breast as the fair face — of Clara Stewart came up before his mental vision, The hills, the prairies ancl the rivers that he had known and loved so long would know him no more. Would he be missed! Was there one in all the wide world that would wait and watch for his coming! He lagkeé around him. Back of him rose the long djrk line of ragged hills against the clear western sky. On his right the valley rolled away ints the mellow moonlight. Before him—perbape fifty yards away—were a few clumps of sage brush. Behind him and a little to the left were the outlaws’ horses. ‘‘ Oh, there is so much for me to live for, yet?’ the youth mused. The thought of escape had never for a moment left his mind, and to that end he tried his bonds, when he found himself standing alone; but they were firm— doubly secure. Six outlaws with revolvers now arranged themselves in line in front of and about fifteen feet from the youth. The hope the boy kiki entertained up to this moment now dicicont, He saw that he must die; but he never uttered a word. He would not beg for life at the hands of such men. **Ready!” suddenly shouted «the. outlaw master of ceremonies. The six executioners raised their revolvers. Little Hurricane closed his eyes, murmuring a prayer. With a downward sweep of the hand at each werd, the outlaw counted aloud: 2 “One, two—” The word three was drowned in the'crash of firearms that rolled in deep, thunderous echoe® through the hills and over the moonlit. plains. ; CHAPTER V. A DESERTED CAMP-FIRE AND RIDERLESS HORSE. Tae wrath of an avenging God seemed have fallen upon the would-be executioners wf Little Hurricane, for as that peal’ of firearms rung eut on the night four of the outlaws fd dead in their tracks, while the others, terror stricken, turned and fled from the scene of death as if upon the wings of abject fear. Then forth from behind the clumps of sage brush near—-their rifles gleaming in the’ moo light, their lips ringing with shouts of triumpk —came seven forms directly toward our berm Foremost among them Little Hurricane sax a tall, angular figure with a bearded face fram whose lips shout after shout of joy leaped fortit like claps of thunder. ‘Ho, Little Cyclone!” he yelled as he rushe® up to the boy, “by the sword o’ Dam-ociest ‘we made the thing tally and turned the tables ‘en them varlets. D’ye remember me, ‘bog? I’m that Sweet William that lay in the thicke® in the mouth o’ the canyon, and you may ji bet I've been russelin’ around to help you of like a bull alligator in a canebrake—struck tii squad o’ young cyclones who tells me theyt the brigade o’ Boy Avengers and that you¥? their captain. Come up now, boys, and com grat yer friend.” e As he spoke the old hunter cut the ‘boy bonds and he was once more a free, wild: spirth ef the plains. A little fellow—one of. the. brigade—ransmy and grasping his hand said: “Harry Reynolds — Little “Hurricane, I theught you war a goner once, by salt-peteri? ey we have the. fullest hand o’ trum” the’?” “‘ Ay, Vagabond Dick, my noble little frient,” replied Hurricane, ‘‘ you certainly beat thom eutlaws and saved my life.” One by one the brigade came up and shed hands with their gallant young leader. It wasa joyful meeting after the youttie. eventful day alone in the valley of the Bar ver. In as few words as possible he narrate his adventures to his comrades; and than <& Jack Drew he told the story of the mysteriowr murder of Ishmael Langdon, and the oath the brigade had taken to avenge his death and res- cue bis daughters. The old hunter. seems greatly agitated by this story. In fact, hi
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6 amotions engendered considerable strange curi- esity in the minds of the brigade, “Add one to your outfit, boys,” he finally maid, vehemently, as he appeared to start from a profound meditation, ‘‘ count me in as one 0’ your brigade; I’m not a boy in years, but by the holy eternals, I’m a hull magazine o’ fury! 2m wuss nor a speckled alligator in a cane- brake on a fight.” Jack Drew was admitted by a unanimous } y wote to the Boy Brigade, Little Hurricane being without weapons of acy kind, appropriated a fine rifle, a pair of revolvers and ea number of cartridges to his ese from among the effects of the dead out- hws. Seven horses and their caparisons were left tehind by the terror-stricken owners, and fhese the Brigade took into their possession, god then moved on up the creek. Little Hurri- eane and Jack Drew walked ona ways in the fead. They soon came to where a bend in Beaver creek int: rcepted their course. In hopes of finding soe trace of Clara Stewart they began carefu..y searching the sandy beach. While thus engaged, an exclamation tarst from the lips of the Boy Captain, and gointing downward to an impression in the send, he said: “ Moccasin tracks, Drew!” They are, by the holy sword o’ Dam-ocles! ngins have been here since dark—not less ’n @ score o’ them, In course they’re Settin’ ¥ull’s minions, and so we, the Boy Brigade, may look out for frisky times. We may ex- pweet Ingins at any time, and these, with Black- Quwk Bill’s followers o’ sin, may make it thun- derin’ miasmatical for uz; but for me, give me #ghiin’ every hour in the day, and I'll show yee good appetite and a smilin’ conscience.” ** Ah! I see a light yonder,” said the ever- xigilant Hurricane. *?Tis, by the Jumpin’ J‘osephat! but it can’t garely be red-skin:.” “*No,” replied the young ranger, ‘‘a red- gkiu on the war-path never publishes his loca- Min so conspicuously, I should say it were me one who knows little or nothing of the @urrounding dangers, and would suggest we Wok after him.” They moved on and soon found the light was that of acamp-fire that burned on the gaint of a little strip of land lying in asharp bend of the creek; but they could sce no one anound, and so they advanced to it and found % deserted. The fire, however, they knew kad been lighted within the past hour, and that. & white man had been there was evident from the boot-tracks found around the fire. Bup where,he had gone and why, they could net Stn. the:slightest idea. “% beats me holler,” said Old Jack Drew; “but Ireckon the Ingins have took the feller %; or elke the rooster ’s hearn us comin’ and walled up and russeled off to the shade.” Phe rest of the Brigade coming up with the qupéured horses, a short consultation was held, Ail were completely mystified by the deserted eamp-fire, and many and various were the woejectures as to the mysterious abandonment af the place, Ae . Bome of the Brigade expressed a fear that if was i trick of the enemy to entrap them, but Wurvieane and Jack Drew did not think so “FM tell ye, boys,” said Hurricane, ‘ we que»plant vurselves right bere till mornin’, and # the matter’s not solved before then, mebby | @ity Light will help us out.” “That’s the music for me,”. declared old! Sack Drew; “we can’t make anything by) Yarelin’ to-night, for those we seek may @puble on us in the darkness and we’d then be ‘ey a stucap.” Yielding to Hurricane’s suggestion the Bri- gsie went into cump. The fire, however, was eusinguished for fear of its attracting danger. faon Coycte Sam, the young Indien, and Asa Pkartin were placed on guard, when the othr, . spreading their blankets oa the grass laid down got not to sleep. he boys were all restless and uneasy, and : a none more so than Little Hurricane, The fate ef Clara Stewart preyed constantly upon his mind, for the face of the lovely girl had left a deep impression on his young heart. Old Jack Drew saw that the spirits of the youth must be depressed, and knowing how essential a buoyancy of spirit was to a fearless and un- daunted courage, he endeavored to cheer them up by a series of rollicking, side-splitting arns, The sudden bark of a coyote hard by sud- | denly started the party, for at first it was taken tor a human voice disguised. “Gol—dash the infuriated varmint!” ex- | claimed Drew, as he settled back into a posi- tion of ease, ‘I hate a coyote next to an In- gin; but speakin’ 0’ coyotes reminds me o’ an incident that occurred once down in Colorado. Four o’ us was on a big hunt, and wo had a | little old dried-up cuss with us named—well, we called him Jerky, ’ca’se he looked jist like a chunk o’ dried buffalo meat. He had a mouth on him lixe a bull alligator, and for new fangled notions he beat forty blue-bellied Yan- kees.. His likes for conceit hadn’t been seen since Nouh’s ark put into harbor on Ararat, “Wal, one night we war laying around camp jist as we are mow when a coyote come up and howled, and pranced, and cavorted around us as though it’d take us in boots and breeches, A lot of others soon come, and great penticost! sich a tearin’ racket I never beard. Jerky finally got wise and informed us he’d show us how to catch coyotes, and tyin’ a ceuple o’ long, strong lariats together he took a large, stout fish-hock from among his effects and fastened it to one eend o’ the rope, Then he baited the huok with a slice o’ fresh buffalo we'd killed that day and carried it out the full length o’ the rope and laid it dewn. Comin’ back he sot down, took the other eend .o’ the rope in his hand and waited for a bite, witha wise look upon his pinched-up countenance. It war darker than holy old Egypt out beyant the radius of our camp-light, so we couldn't see what war goin’ on, but we noticed the co- yotes didn’t yawp so much arter Jerky’d put out his baited hook. ‘* Wal, we sot thar, waited, and still set, and no bite. Jerky looked a little disapp’inted and shagrinned, and we fellers winked at each evher and laughed in our sleeve at his silly yet dogged perseverance. Finally we got tired o’ waitin’ for him to git a bite, and so we laid down to rest and told him if he heard from t’other end o’ his line to wake us up. I pulled my blanket over my face and watched Jerky eut 0’ one corner o’ my eye. Another hour went by and still no coyote. Jerky was grit, he wouldn’t give up although he war tired and sleepy. Finally an ijee struck him, He tied the end o’ the lariat ’round his body and laid down pulling his blanket over him, This I s’posed ended the matter, but Jerky had been down mor’n two minutes afore he jumped up exclaimin’: ‘I’ve got him, boys, got him foul!’ I looked and saw somethin’ was tuggin’ lively at the rope, and before Jerky could unfasten it from around his waist, he was jerked over and if ever you see’d a man’s heels go twinklin’ away into the darkness it war Jerky’s. The trapper’d been trapped—snatched off out 0’ sight quicker nor a hound pup could lick a skillet. We sprung to our feet for we knew the fellow was in danger o’ havin’ his life thumped out o’ him, Away over the plain*we could hear his voice trailing off further and turther into the night in wild and lusty cries ef “murder” and for “help.” We started in pursuit for we felt sure no animal was at tother eend o’ that rope. Thar war Injins in the country and we thought it barely possible that one nosin’ around might ’a’ hitched his pony on to the rope and snaked little Jerky from the bosom of hisfriends. But his cries soon died out, and there being nothin’ to guide us we war ferced to give up the hunt and re- turned te camp to me'rn eur les, We give Jerky up for a bold, dashimg, border angel— for dead—and we began to telk up the designs for a monument te be ereeted on the spot ae = - — = ae oes Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. ' | where we last saw the little giant. But in the midst of our deliberations who should appear in camp but Jerky; a wreck o’ his former self, | He was voraciously dismantled. He war bloody, braised and swollen. He looked as though he’d been through a quartz mill, and there had run the gantlet of four million mules’ heels, We questioned him "bout the t’ether eend o’ that lariat, but he war as ignorant o’ it as the comin’ gineration is 0’ heaven and the north pole. He war shaken up so lively that he never had time to think ’bout it, and to this day we don’t know who nor what it war that took that feller sky-larkin’ that night; but we do kuow that big little Jerkey never underteok to catch coyotes ’ith a hook and line again, and—” 7 The old hunter’s words were here cut short by the shrill neigh of a horse just across the creek. In a moment Little Hurricane was on his feet. “ll bet anything that was my horse!’ he exclaimed. Then the young ranger walked down to the water’s edge and listened. All was silent. He uttered a peculiar whistle. Again that neigh was heard, The boy continued whistling. Suddenly a horse plunged into the creek and | started across it. It went straight up to Little | Hurricane. In the bright moonlight the Boy Captain saw | it was his own horse—bridled and saddled, but it was riderless ! CHAPTER VI. VAGABOND DICK QUARRELS WITH A FAIRY. FINDING his horse riderless created a restless fear in the breast of Little Hurricane for the safety of Clara Stewart. She had either quit the saddle through fear or exhaustion, or else ‘ had fallen into the hands of foes who had failed to capture the sagacious horse. At any rate, the finding of the horse and the deserted camp- - fire, convinced the young ranger that there was enough in the mystery to warrant an im- mediate reconnoissance of the valley; and so he and Vagabond Dick, whom he knew to bea careful and expert scout, set off up the Beaver —Hurricane crossing the stream and going up the right side and Dick the left. The young scouts were not long in sight of each other after Hurricane crossed to the opposite side. Vagabond Dick crept along in the sha- dows as much as possible. Half a mile from camp the foot-hills pressed out so closely upen the creek that the valley broke into gentle un- dulations, and the yawning mouths of camyons and dark frowning cliffs appeared close on tho left, In the mouth of these canyons and, ec- casionally extending down to the waters’ edge, were clumps ef trees—stunted cedars or great cottonwoeds with huge, short trunks and gnarled, twisted and crooked branches that seemed almost a solid mass in their leafy eom- pactness. Vagabond Dick was approaching a cluster of these trees that stood in a depression run- ning back and deepening into a great canyon. He was moving in the shadows of a green slop- ing bank when suddenly he saw a figure ap- pear above him, outlined against the sky. It required no second glance to tell him it was that of a female—of a young girl scareely fourteen years of age—robed in mi C- tral white, ides The boy stopped speechless with amazement. He was not a coward by any means, yet pos- sessed some of that inborn superstition ef the borderman, and that he was gaaing upen a spirit form he had not a doubt. But it was fair to gaze upon. A lovely face set in a wealth of golden hair looked dewn upon him. Dick fixed his big, boyish eyes upon ker in a speechless admiration that was not unmixed | with fear. For full two minutes he steed thus transfixed, when the silence was broken by a | voice inquiring: | “ Whip are yout” | The werds came from the lips of the spec- tral figure. =~
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| “Great guns!’ said Dick to himself, ‘‘that’s | him, and he began to fee] as though he were no spirit—it’s a fairy or I’m u fool.” The last words involuntarily fell aloud from the boy’s lips. “Well, | guess you’re a fool,” was the un- fairy like response of the figure on the bank. Vagabond Dick was a rough, outspoken boy almost totally ignorant of the courtesies usually shown ths opposite sex. But for this he was not to blame. His life had been ome of vaga- bondage among the rude miners, cowboys, and bunters—knowing nothing of the refining in- fluence of women’s society. In fact, he re garded wevan as an inferior being, but this come of an education received in the Indian camp where the females are silent, patient and dumb slaves. The only female creature the Indian held in respect was the legendary spirit and fairy, hence Dick’s awesome admiration. But the reply he received from the one before him took a great deal of the saint-like poetry out of his ideal fairy, and his reply was in ac- cordaaee with his disappointment when he said: **Holy guns! you’re most darned saucy for a fairy.” Who are you that speaks to mo like a young ruffian? was the rebuke he promptly received. “See here, gal,” Dick replied in a rebellious tone, ‘‘if ’m a young ruffian and vagabond, TPve been told of it by every gasted galoot in this kentry. I’ve been kicked and cuffed by the rubbish of minin’ eamps; I’ve been abused by every old buck ‘njin, and made mouths at by every greusy old squaw out of Satan’s pit; and now I think it goin’ a little too fur when a fairy’ll stand up and call me wicked names. Dashed if V’ll stand it—I’ll fight or run ene afore [ will stand it.” A clear, merry peal of laughter burst from the girl’s lips. ‘You're a sensitive little soul,” replied the maiden with slight sarcasm in her voice, “‘ and if you'll come with me to the clouds [ll give you some ambrosia to driak and put—” “Thank ye, ma’am,’ blurted Dick. “I don’t drink—you can’t drug me on yer new- fangied ‘iquors and rob me—” ‘Reb yout rob you of what?’ and again the strange little nymph of the night burst into a peal of laughter. ' “Ort my life, that’s what,” he replied; “ but say ”—and he spoke in a more conciliatory tene, ‘‘ let’s shake and call it square; I’ve no time to stand here and quarrel with a fairy that’s got more lip than ‘‘ Orphan Sybil” over to Custer.” As he eoncluded he advanced toward the girl, but the latter retreated amd when he reached the top of the bank he saw, to his horror and surprise, the girl standing in mid- air under one of the great cottonwoods hard by. He ecould see her but faintly in the shadew ef the tree. She appeared to be sway- ing slightly to aud fro with no other means of support than the air surrounding her. A feel- ing of superstitious awe filled the breast of the boy. In speechless wonder he steod and gased upon the floating figure. He revolved the mystery over and over im his mind, but before he could arrive at any satisfactory conclusion, the girl dismppeared—faded away like mist before the morning sun. Vagabend Diek turned and walked toward the tree, and just as he reached its shadows his attention was attracted by a horrible ob- ject, moving along just beyond, that sent a shudder to his soul. The moon falling full upon the object revealed a white, ghastly look- ing thing with black hern-like arms reaching out as if to seize you, Under these arms were great lsaterless eyes, and still umder the eyes were black nostril cavities, Had this demon object net been possessed of life— meving along, Diek would have taken it for the whise skull of a buffalo with which the valley and plain lay strewn. Ib wes moving down the canyon. The body that carried it was Concealed bebind the baak. waited until it had passed, The mys- tories ef that valley were multiplying around treading witbin the precincts of spirits and ee bringing Little Hurrieane in dead or alive; and when the three Herned Heads entered., demons. But as soom as the mysterious object camp with Diek, a look of bitter disappoint. had passed eut of sight, he crept from the | shadows of the tree over the bank and followed in the direction it had gone. He soon came in sight of it when he saw that under that ghastly head and face was the form of a man. This cenvinced him that it was a foe, either a robber or Indian in mask, and the yeuth raised his rifle and was abeut to fire upon him when he disappeared; but be followed om in hopes of getting a shot. The ground became uneven amd somewhat broken and to his disappoint- ment the unknown dodged him among the shadows. Suddenly Dick was startled by the report of firearms eoming from the direction of the camp. That his friends were in trouble he had not a doubt. He quickened his footsteps. The sound of cenflict rolled up the valley clear and startling. Yells like thoss of Indians were mingled in the discharge of firearms, leaving no doubt in the mind of Vagabond Dick but that the Indians had found the Brigade, pounced upon them and perhaps murdered them all. Evon while revolving these terrible thoughts in his miad the sousud of conflict ended. The youth stopped to listen. He heard the rush of feet behind him, He turned quickly and saw three of those horrible-looking, horn- headed creatures rushing upon him from the black mouth of a “wash-out!” Before he ceuld raise an arm in his defense the yeuth re- ceived a blow from one of the demons that sent him half-unconscious to the earth. When he had fully recevered his senses he found he had been disarmed and his hands securely bound. One of his captors, speaking in the guttural Hnglish of an Indian, ordered him to rise. Dick sprung to his feet. One of his captors held a tomahawk over his head, and the brave boy expected it to go crashing into his whirl- ing brain any moment. In the moonlight he saw that his captors’ faces were covered with masks made of the skulls of buffalo, or at least the upper part of the skull to which the black horns still adhered. All the inside bones of the skull being remeved, nothing but a thin shell remained making a light, ingenious and horrible looking mask that sat upon the head and over the face, and was held in position by thongs of deerskin passing around the horns and down the side of the face to the shoulders where they were fastened to a sort of a harness passing under the arms and over the back. Vagabond Diek could not see the faces of his captors, but he knew by the blankets girded around their waists, and by their weapons, as well as their poor English, that they were In- dians; and so quiet submission would be his only salvation; and if the savages were not in league with the road-agents—if they were not urged on by Blackhawk Bill’s devilish ven- geance, he might stand a chance of escape in the distant if not in the near future. CHAPTER VIL A BOLD AND DESPERATE STRATAGEM. AFTER some parleying Vagabond Dick’s cap- tors set off with him up the creek. They jour- neyed about three miles along the stream then turned in among the foot-hills. Wntering a canyon they fellowed it until they came to where a dozen of their friends were eneamped awaiting their return, and where they were received with shouts of fiendish joy. A’ camp-fire was burning at the foot ofa great roek and in its glow Vagabend Dick saw a white captive sitting bound te a stake driven into the ground. Frem Little Hurrieane’s de- s¢ription of Oalvin Stewart he felt sure the eaptive was that gentleman. Nor was he the oaly white man in that Sioux camp. Anether, but not a captive, was there. It was the out- law chief Blackhawk Bill. The villain’s face sedi bore the livid marks of his eneouster with Little Hurricane. For hours had be been nurs- ing his wrath im anticipation of the Indians’ ment clouded his brow, and with an oath, he said: “That is not Little Hurricane,’ the Boy Devil!” “We find him all! alone,” said one of the Tx. dians in disappointment, “and bring him ‘te: camp—other Big Horns go en to pale-faew camp where white man there was captured, We hear guns—bang, baug—then yells war. . : riors come soou—bring white sealps—mebiy Hurricane. Wooh! then have big scalp date” The savages seemed highly delighted over this enthusiastic prediction. They s-emed to think their friends would have ne trouble fo fulfilling it. Dick was at enee seeureiy bount} to a stake, then all the savages in eamp ‘ionnedd. masks like those of Diek’s captors and began daneing like fiends around the fire, singwag, yelling, chanting in a frightful and disc .rcant. manner. Two fresh sealps—evidently those of women—were carried Om poles in the dance and: flaunted in the very face of the captives ia @ taunting, devilish manner. Blackhawk Bill stood with his arms folded across his breast and looked upon the dance» with a sullen frown upen his faee. In the dim, wavering glow of the light the revelers in their frightful masks stooping and posturing and writhing like serpents, look ed like grim, grotesque fiends in an infernal orgie. For an hour or more this eontinucd, and would have probably gene on had it nt been interrupted by the sudden appearance of a solemn, silent and yet horrible-looking praees sion that came filing out of the darizecis inte the dull glow of the waning eamp fire. [i wae. composed of six ferms wearing those Larned masks and the garbs of savages. Ou a hiter they carried two lifeless bedies from v ltinse dusky faces the masks had been removedi whi'e at the head of the procession—with bared bes}. and downcast eyes—his hands tied at bis tack —marched Little Hurrieans, the Boy Ca ian, a helpless captive, A groan burst from the lips of Vayabend. Dick and the other eaptive as their eyes blk upor the gallant young ranger. A fierce, triumphant and vindictive cathy burst from the lips of Blackhawk bill wed grasping a knife he started toward the a ifiovef all his ills and disasters. But the boys timer to die had not come just yet; an Indian «aver the outlaw eapiain baek im a manner ln dare not disobey. The savages uttered a yell mingled with jwy and sorrow—joy over tke capture of tii Lacale Hurricane, sorrow for their dead comraces, “Hullo, there, Hurrieane, you’re in fur Te. too, ar’n’t ye?” called out Dick. ‘Yes, Diek, Lam,” responded the Boy Cxn-- tain, ‘‘and | am afraid it has gene bard aprile), the other boys. -Mr. Stewart,” and Hurvamee, turned to the white man who was a cupsivr—- ‘T am sorry to find you bore.” ‘Toe much talk,” said a red-skin, slx ppiengy Hurricane in the face with a buman scul)) pcm which the blood was rot 3 et dry. “Yes, red-skins,” exelaimed the’ imyamteitat Blackhawk Bill, ‘‘turn skim over te mi) lester mercy and 1i’ll stop bis mouth with bis bh wet.” The Indians shook their heads. Wi..ie they gave the outlaw tie freedom of then ecanszy, they had no particular love fer tim. “The Horned Heads bad nes ihe success they expected,” said one of the Sioux it tir ciaweet? addressing his returning tiemde. ‘* No,” replied one ef them in a s+diess of, tone; “the pale-faces were on ther guerth— their guns are full of builess that shoe fast. , Two of our warriors fell, their pale-Iiere vitt like antelope and leave two of their dead trvemtla, behind, and in their bleed we made iedeonr bands,” and he held ou? bis bonds teateell might see they wers black almost v ith eae lated bloed, as were tense of Lis communge, . also, A silence rested upon the ligs-ef the defeathd’, ‘Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. Fu
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: i marta ary cee ~ Tierned Heads. They had gone out with such uuigh hepes—rigged out in a disguise which, «of itself, they believed would strike terror to tee hearts of the enemy. True, they had vented the Boy Brigade, but their failure to kill or capture all was regarded as a defeat since twe of their number had fallen. So they reported. “‘ Where are the scalps of the two pale- faces?’ asked a savage, seeing no scalps were fortheoming. There was a womentary silence; then the sgokesman of the defeated party, said: “We did not take them. The bullets of the pate-faces hidden away among the shadows uvere flying thick.” A ory of disappointment escaped the lips of ‘tue band. That a Sioux warrior should fail to take the scalp of a slain foe was indeed a hu- mibiaving defeat, “Turn this Little Hurricane over to me,” eo Blackhawk Bill, taking advantage of the wed-tkins’ momentary flush of anger, ‘‘and I switl show you how to take scalps from the head of a tiving enemy.” Phe savages were growing tired of the im- portunities of this outlaw who was really re- eponsible for the defeat of their party. He bed misrepresented the number of the Boy Brigade, and had objected to the whole band @eing out through fear that so large a party weald be discovered and the Brigade escape. And, furthermore, while the Indians were out tighting, he was lounging in safety in the In- dian camp; and now persistently sought the ‘hemor of Hurricane’s scalp after all danger «was over. But the idea of a Killkenny fight «vas suggested to the brains of the disgusted svorriors. They would turn their captive loose pon their honored guest and let them exter- zmaimate each other. A ring was at once formed and the outlaw and the captive placed therein, One of Hur- \ wieane’s eaptors removed his bonds and offered thins a knife, but he refused it. A fiendish blaze lit up the eyes of Black- ~-“nawk Bill, and a diabolical laugh escaped his ‘@ps as he drew a long, murderous-looking Jkwife and advanced toward the boy. Little Hurricane stood with his arms folded eross his breast. His six captors stood just behind him. A deep silence fell upon the scene, Blackhawk Bill walked half across the ring ~*eward the boy, but all of a sudden he stopped while his face became blanched with terror, Mer, quick as a flash had the boy jerked his and from his bosom and extended it toward ‘#he head of the outlaw with a derringer clasped herein—for, again the captain of the road- agent found himself looking into the revolver vet Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. CHAPTER VIII. A TRAP FOR THE TRAPPERS, BLACKHAWK BILL stood motionless glaring ‘inte the face of the boy ranger, the picture of “Sbaffied triumph. The savages stood silent, mute and dumb ‘vith horror and surprise. «A stillness, deep and profound, as that of the _ “yrave reigned over all. ‘The grim walls of the canyon; the blackness cat night above; the dull glow of the camp-fire; ‘the striking attitude of those human figures; “bhe grim smile of fearless courage upon the ‘@ace of Little Hurricane; the look of tear and @efeat upon the face of Blackhawk Bill who, »2lmtching his knife leaned slightly forward as ‘f to make a spring—all these presented as wild and tragic a scene as the human mind could ‘wonecive, ‘he elick, click, click of revolvers broke the “mementary silence and suspense. Bhe horned masks on the heads of Little _ “Hurricane’s six eaptors were thrown aside, nd le! the Boy Brigade of Young Avengers ete0d before the astonished red-skins with a wavelver in each hand, and each revolver cover- ing a savage. / ~ To! ho!” eroaked old Jack Drew, as he ‘ A} + a ee + ee Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. stood with both hands extended with leveled revolvers, ‘‘ by the sword o’ Dam-na-ocles! we played it on ye that time, red skins—so don’t budge a peg, nor raise a hand, nor breathe nor bat an eye, or by the holy darkness 0’ ole Egypt, we'll drap ye quicker nor a hound pup ean lick a skillet!” Meanwhile, one of the the Brigade released Vagabond Dick and Mr. Stewart and placed a revolver in their hands. The guns of the savages were lying on the ground arod away. Knives and temahawks were in their girdles but they knew that, not- withstanding their advantage in point of num- ber, one mevement to draw a weapon would be a signal for the Brigade to fire. Moreover, the warriors of Sitting Bull, like the chief himself had learned diplomatic policy of the white man, and seeing the boys did not fire they made signs of quiet submission, and at once asked for an armistice—in other words, a ‘*pow-wow.” But the young plainsmen had no faith in the word of the wily Sioux, and stood well upon their guard. Little Hurricane and Blackhawk Bill still stood glaring into each other’s eyes, but the outlaw’s courage began to fail him when he heard the warlike warriors suing for peace and compromise. ‘Let the pale-faces sit down in council with the Siouxs and make terms of peace,” insisted a warrior. “Oh, yes,” replied Old Jack, “you're a sweet mess 0’ peacemakers, you are, seein’ as what we've got the drop on you. You sent a dozen o’ yer peacemakers down to our camp to peaceafy us with bullets and tomahawks, but thanks to vigilance o’ that young rooster there whose scalp that white buzzard don’t lift so fast as he did, we got wind o’ their approach, and when they put in an appearance with their buffalo-borns poised so jauntily on their heads, we went through the hull pack like a school o’ alligators through a family o’ picaninnies; and their carcasses lay where they fell on the very threshold o’ our camp. We know that in comin’ here we run great risks, but trusting to Coyote Sam for Sioux gab, and these clothes and blankets and masks o’ yer friends, we sailed. You may know by our darin’ that we're rip-roarin’ russellers from Hagerstown.” Most of this delivery was lost on the Siouxs but they appeared to understand it all, and nodded assent in a grave and knowing manner. When Jack had concluded, one of them again asked: “Will the pale-faces sit down in council with the Sioux?” “Show your own sincerity—that you mean what you say—by setting down fust yerselfs,” said Drew, and that they might understand, Coyote Sam repeated Jack’s words in Sioux. The Indians glanced from one to the other with a significant look upon their faces, then made a movement as if to sit down, but as they did so they grasped the hafts of their tomahawks and uttered a frightful war-whoop. But before their weapons were unsheathed— while their yell still hung upon their lips—the revolvers of the ever vigilant Brigade rung out and over half that savage band went down in death’s eternal council. The war-whoop of the red-skins inspired the breast of Blackhawk Bill, and like a panther he leaped toward Little Hurricane; but the boy had been expecting this climax and pressing the trigger of his revolver, a bullet went crash- ing through the evil brain of the outlaw cap- tain and he fell lifeless at the boy’s feet. Terror-stricken the surviving red-skins turned and sought safety in flight into the shadows of the night. The victorious Brigade sent a few random bullets after them to encourage their speed, then gave utterance to a lusty shout of triumph. Little Hurricane turned and calmly walking up to Calvin Stewart took his hand and said in a voice full of grateful emotion: “Mr, Stewart, I am rejoiced to meet you again.” “God bless you, brave boy,” responded ———$_———_—. - Stewart, ‘‘T hope you can tell me something of my daughter from whom I was so ruthlessiy separated.” “*T can tell you nothin’ more than that I rescued her from the outlaws, gave her my horse and sent her away in hopes she might: escape to a place of safety. I since have found: my horse riderless and-—” “Oh, heavens!” groaned the distracted man, clutching his brow, ‘‘ this is too much for me: to bear!” “We live in hopes, Mr. Stewart, of not only finding your daughter, but also those of ishmael Langdon whose death we have sworn to avenge.” “Ishmael Langdon?’ cried the man, ‘do- you mean to say that Ishmael Langdon, the proprietor of Langdon’s cattle ranch, is dead?— murdered?’ “He is, Mr. Stewart; he was murdered in a mysterious manner a few nights ago.” “Oh, heavens! heavens!” groaned Stewart, “this is multiplying my sorrows and trou- bles!” “Then you knew Mr. Langdon?” “Knew him? inde d I did, and my daughter and I were on our way to visit him at his ranch—carrying to him the news of—well, it is no difference what, now. But, Hurricane, what do you know about his death which you say was so mysterious.” Little Hurricane narrated the dying confes- sion of Ishmael Langdon, as the reader has al- ready heard it, “Ah me!” sighed the man when the boy had concluded; ‘‘it was a mystery, indeed. [ knew not that but a single man in America, besides myself, knew aught of the secret of Ishmael Langdon’s life.” “ And who was that man, Mr. Stewart?’ asked Jack Drew who had manifested consider- able interest in the colloquy between Stewart and Little Hurricane. ‘A detective named Prosper—Zelotus Pros- per; but Ihave been under the impression he was dead. I read of one Zelotus Prosper be- ing killed in trying to arrest a man in Soutb- ern Texas. If he is living he may have turnea traitor and be at the head of Langdon’s mur- derers.” “Mr. Stewart,” said Drew looking the man tad in the eyes,” your name is not Stew- art. Mr. Stewart started and gazing into the eyes of the old hunter with a sharp, inquiring look, demanded: ‘Who are you, sir, that makes this asser- tion?” “Ho, ho, colonel!” laughed Drew, “your memory’s short as your confidence; but them I reckon your troubles are what—” “By heavens!"’ exclaimed Stewart, a light. of recognition beaming in his eyes, “sir, you are the detective, Zelotes Prosper!’ ‘“‘That’s who I be, colonel, though my true- name’s Jack Drew. I wer’n’t killed in Texas, you see, neither have I gone back on the werk you gave me to do a year ago. These whiskers are what disturbed your recognition. Sorry, indeed, am I, that now, in the very hour of success, we learn that the villainy of seme devils have been ahead of us. But the chil- dren of Langdon live.” “Yes,” said Little Hurricane, “while L know not what the mystery surrounding Lang- don’s murder is, I do know we are on the trail of the murderers and abductors of Edith and. Mary. They left the ranch in a light spring wagon which we tracked to the Beaver some ten miles below. There it disappeared, but. by careful search we found where the vehicle bad been burned and the irons thrown into the creek,” “They intend to make ’way with those girls, ” said Drew, “ and all I wonder at is that they did not kill them too, But perhaps they received a consideration from some one to take them alive—some devils that will lead them a life worse than death. But we, Boy Avengers, will ransack creation over but what we find ‘em gals dead or alive.”
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‘Well, I pray heavep your hopss may be fulfilled,” said Mr. Stewart, ‘“‘but now Iam reminded of another fact that causes me considerable uneasiness. To-day when, left alone on the coach, as I supposed, I had climbed into the boot and taken the lives, what should crawl out from under the luggage on top the coach but a girl—a child of fourteen with a lovely face and great, lustrous eyes, She told me her name was Sybil, and that she was running away, aided by the driver, from the wickedness of C——. She was greatly dis- tressed when she learned the driver was dead, but I consoled her the best I could—promising to be a friend to her. We went on a few miles and when I saw the outlaws were not following us we stopped, for one of the horses was so lame that he could scarcely go. I un- barpessed all the animals .and taking two of them and placing Sybil on one with her little bundle of effects, and mounting the other my- self, rode away. We did not follow the main road, but turned off and came up the creek, It was my intention to follow the stream to its junction with the Cheyenne, then down the river to Langdon’s ranch. Wewentinto camp about dark on this side of the creek, and while I was absent for wood, Sybil disappeared taking her bundle of things with her. Ten minutes afterward I was in the power of the Indians. And now, I’m not prepared to say whether she left of her own accord, or whether the Indians captured her.” “By guns!” exclaimed Vagabond Dick, ‘that reminds me that I had a quarrel to-night with a gal, but she’s a real fairy.” ‘“* What do you mean, Dick?” “What I say;I met a fairy—a real jolly little critter full o’ sass and frisky as an antelope. She spoke to me and I spoke to her; she called me a fool, and said she’d give me somethin’ to drink if ’d go with her to the clouds. I told her I didn’t drink, thank ye, and she made a mouth at me, I guess, and said some rascally, sassy words back, and when I started mad-like to’rds her as thoughI war jist goin’ to eat her up, she skipped out, and when I see’d her again she was standin’ in mid-air, like a bird on wing, and the fust thing I knowed she disappeared—vanished—cut dirt for nowhere,” The youth’s auditors could not repress an outburst of laughter. “Ye needn’t laugh,” he went on, “ I’llswear on a stack o’ Bibles higher than Pikes’ Peak that every word of it ’s true, and to-morry I’m goin’ to iavestigate the matter.” “Then the chances are that your fairy is my lost protegee, little Sybil,” said Calvin Stewart. “No, it can’t be, Mr. Stewart; I’ve hearn o’ Ragged Syb, and I know she’s no fairy, but a reg’lar little spit-fire that they say can shoot a pipe outen a man’s mouth every clatter.” ‘Well, at any rate,” said Little Hurricane, ‘we had better be getting away from here, Eight Indians got away, and they may return with friends and make this an unhealthy cam- i for us. Moreover, the death of that outlaw, Blackhawk Bill, will not end the road- agents’ work, for while Bill was the nominal captain of the band, his lieutenant, Montana Jack, is a far more daring leader and reckless desperado,.” ‘That’s so, and when Montana learns of the death of his leader, he'll rare back on his pasterns and make the air blue ‘ith profanity. We'd better pull back to our old camp where those horses and dead Ingins war left.” Se saying the Young Avengers destroyed all the eutlaws’ arms and ammunition they could not use themselves, then retraced their foot- steps to the camp that had been so fraught with startling adventure—from whence they had gone forth in disguise to beard the lion in his den, They found their horses as they had left them at grass, nnd the half-nude bodies of the In- dians that hsd fallen in the attack upon the Brigade lay in the grass and along the water’s edge where they had fallen. Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain, 9, A hundred coyotes were making the night | ful vital energy was greatly reduced throug!» hideous with their gibbering. Removing their Indian clothing the Brigade donned their own habits Philip Radley and Coyote Sam were to stand guard the rest of the night. The Iidian turned and walked down the creek. Twenty rods from camp he came upon the lifeless forms of seven Sioux Indians. was startled. Like an electric shock the truth flashed through his quick brain, and turning | he went back to camp, entering in a slow, careless manner not calculated to excite sus- picion. Going to where Little Hurricane lay, he threw himself down by the youth's side and placing his lips near his ear, whispered: “ Hurricane, I found seven dead Ingins down the creek. They are the ones we killed. Those half-naked bodies lying within two rods of us at this minute are those of living Indians. The cunning devils are no doubt those that es- caped us in the canyon, and are going to turn the tables on us. They moved the dead and put a living Indian in each one’s place, know- ing we would never dream of such a thing. We arein danger. They may attack at any moment. We must be ready.” “Yes, if this is true, Sam,” replied Hurri- cane, ‘‘we are in the jaws of a deadly trap that may besprung any moment. Let us warn the other boys in silence, and be ready for the worst.” The two boys, still lying upon the earth, rolled from one to the other of their comrades and in whispers warned them of the close proximity of living, bloodthirsty foes. In a few moments the Boy Brigade were lying upon their stomachs—waiting with cocked rifles and revolvers for the impending conflict. The moon seemed to stand still in the starry sky. The Coyotes ceased their gibbering. A silence—deep and death-like—reigned over all. Full ten minutes passed. Then a faint sound was heard. It was the snoring of Jack Drew. But Jack Drew was not asleep. In fact, he was never so wide awake. He was endeavor- ing to deceive the red-skins. Suddenly the watchers saw a tufted head rise slowly above the grass—saw an Indian face peer over toward them; but at the same moment a revolver in the hand of Little Hurri- cane rung out and a bullet crashed through the red-skin’s brain, CHAPTER IX. THE CUCK9O’S NEST. Tue Boy Brigade expected that Hurricane’s shot would precipitate the conflict. But to their surprise not another Indian appeared. The moments wore away into minutes. The wolves began to howl in the distance. An hour passed, still the Indians made no demonstration. The dawn of a new day began to streak the eastern sky. Still the brigade lay in momentary anticipa- tion of an attack, but the light of day finally revealed the fact that the savages were gone. The death of the one had warned them that the Brigade was on the alert, ““ Cock-a-doodle-doo-oo!” crowed Old Jack, in the early morn, as he rose to his feet and whip- ped his hands upon his thighs; ‘‘ another blood- less victory, by the sword o’ Damocles! Ho, ho, ho, the red-tallyhoopers crawfished out 0’ here nicely. The gay deceivers war deceived. They undertoek to play tricks like the Brigade, but they can’t come it—too old; they ain’t got that boy sagacity to blunder upon expedients, that "ll win every time, But of all the nights I ever experienced, the one just passed takes the rag off the bush. It war an ole bruiser.” So thought the whole of the Boy Brigade, although the experience and adventures of Little Hurricane had been far more dangerous and thrilling, and almost continuous fer twenty-four hours. So it was no more than might be expected that the Brigade’s wonder- The Friendly | hunger, loss of sleep and constant labor ani exc: tement, The first thing now was something to eat, and so Asa Martin and Coyote Sam went dow the creek in search of game. In about two hours they returned with the quarters of a fine young antelope. Having made their ablutions at the creci« | each of the party cut a slice of the meat, thrus) the end of an iron ramrod through it and held it over a bed of hot coals to broil. Thus a hearty breakfast was partaken of, and aftor the repast was over the captured horses were led to water and again picketed out to grass Little Hurricane’s horse ran loose, thoug!: never going beyond the reach of his maste:’s call, The Brigade was unanimously in favor of remaining in camp that day to recuperaie their exhausted strength and prepare for future work. So some lay down to sleep whi!» others kept watch. But Vagabond Dick could do neither; he was restless and uneasy. He could not forget that girl, that fairy he had seen the night before. Some mysterious power seemed to be persuading him to return to that enchanted spot. Nor could he shake off the spell that wrought so continuously upon bis. mind and boyish curiosity; and so he finally took up his rifle and set out for the place where he had met the girl. He soon reached the tree under which he had last seen her, but saw nothing. He looked up into the dense foliage. A pair of chatter- ing blackbirds was all he saw. Disappointed, Dick sat down under the tree and began whistling softly to himself, keeping a sharp watch around him all the while. Suddenly he was startled by the sound of subdued laughter. He quickly sprung to his. feet and looked up into the air above him. Again he heard the laughter. It seemed to come from a tree further up the valley. He walked along till he came to a monster cotton- wood whose trunk was not ever fifteen feet- high and from which great limbs put out at right angle in every direction, then shot up- ward again, leaving an open space in the cen- ter of the tree. The whole of this outer wall. of twisted and tangled boughs was overgrown. with wild grapevines and other parasites that- found root at the foot of the tree, making the- foliage so dense that the human eye ceuld scarcely penetrate it. But Dick was certain. that laugh had come from this tree so he be- gan a careful search. To his surprise be dis- covered what appeared to be a small cabin in: the crotch of the tree, A second glance con- vinced him this was the actual truth; there was a small log-cabin, built of cedar and cot- tonwood poles, with a thatched roof, standing in the crotch of the tree, its foundation resting firmly among the wide reaching limbs. “ So that’s the home of that fairy,” Vagabond. Dick mused, and the next moment he saw the vines parted and the smiling, roguish face of the fairy herself look down upon him. Not a little confused the boy stammered out: “You're a pretty fairy, now ar’n’'t yet }F didn’t know fairies lived in log huts with grass. roofs.” A clear, ringing peal of laughter burst frem the girl’s lips. “Tam glad to see you,” she replied; “I was so ’fraid the Ingins’d get you last night, L couldn’t rest.” “They did, but I got away; but see here, L want to know who you are and what you're roostin’ up there for.” ** Well, I don’t know as it’s any of your business, but since you are such an innecent. looking chap I'll tell you. My name is Sybil, and—” “What, Ragged Sybil of C——?’ inter. rupted the bey. “Tf you want me to tell you anything you want to keep your mouth shut,” the girl said, reprovingly; “my name is Sybil Hall, and when I lived at C—— the wicked men and Seow 8 es en ee : | 5 a SP OT aS ee Z Z -
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10 boys called me ‘Ragged Sybil,” but now I’m away from there and never expect to go back. I used to live here with my father in (bi: , cabin, He was a hunter, but two yeurs ago the road-agents kilied him and I was alone, so I wandered away from here aul some miners took me to camp «here i have lived ever since with Havok Bond and his mother. Poor Hanks | dead now,” and tears came into the girl’s eyes; “but Pll die before I go back there. We used | to call this cabin the Cuckoo’s Nest. When I found I was near my old home yesterday eve- ning I strolled off up here to see if it was standing, and when ! started back to camp I seen the Indians taking kind Mr. Stewart away acaptive, so I came back here to stay over night. Now who are you?” ‘Vagabond Dick,” promptly responded the boy. “You look like a vagabond,” was the out- spoken answer of the girl, “ but ar’n’t you afraid o’ the Ingins?’ “Tf Tam, I'm not in as much danger as you be bere all alone.” «Tm not alone; I’ve got a lady companion here named Ciara Stewart.” - Little Hurricane, the . ro _ wai - . ‘= si — T =s oY t Nest—bhe said the cuckoo always laid her eggs in some other bird’s nest. So well is the cabin concealed that one day a party of hunters camped near here for an hour and didn’t dis- | cover it; and once Blackhawk Bill and a troop | | of his men galloped right along ander here so ' close that I could have scalded them, No, I would rather live here alone than to live up at the mines where there’s so many wicked peo- ple. I’m not a bit afraid, Clara, for I can shoot like a read-agent. You see this little re- volver?—I found that yesterday upon the coach. Your father said it was called a derringer.” Thus the girls conversed for some time, then the coming of their friends. The day was quite warm yet a slight breeze stirred the foliage into a gentle murmur cre- ating a pleasant draught in aad around the little cabin. growing impatient, to see her father, rose and | walking to the door looked out. As she did so she staggered back, her eyes fixed in her head and her face blanched with horror. ‘Clara Stewart? great guns and daggers! thai’s tbe very gal Little Hurricane’s dyin’ about. Her father’s down the creek ’ith the boys nighly distractioned, too.” A glad ery of joy came from the bushes be- hind little Sybil, amd then the fair face of | Clara Stewart looked down upon him. Vagabond Dick greeted her with a soft whis- tle of surprise. “Did you say my father and Little Hurri- cane were down the creek?” Clara inquired. ‘Yes, ma’am, they are.” ‘Oh, thank the Lord!” cried the fair Clara clapping her hands with joy; ‘‘ Dick, will you do me a favor?” ‘*- Yon jist bet your boots, I will,” responded the flustrated boy. Sybil burst into a laugh. “i want you to go tell my father and Little Hurrieane that I am safe—that I escaped from Hurricane’s horse and took refuge here with little Sybil in the Cuckoo’s Nest. Tell them to come up here immediately for Sybil and I are getting very hungry.” ‘ll carry your words to them, miss, or die in the attempt. Your dad’s almost crazy *bout ye, as I said before, and Little Hurricaue —well, I guess he’s pretty sweet on you, Miss Clara, leastwise, he’s fussin’ *bout you like he was. ” Clara blushed crimson at the rude yet honest youth’s remarks, and yet his words sent a glad thrill to her young heart. “You're sure,” called out Sybil, ‘ that you’re nos’ a little, rascally road-agent, are you?’ ‘Oh, Sybil! don’t talk so,” expostulated Clara. ** No,” replied Dick, “‘’'m no more a road- agent tham you are an angel, and that I see in daylight lacks a dashed sight; but you can’t pick a quarrel with me, aud so I'll be off to camp, and run tke Brigade up.” The boy turned and hurried away with a light footstep and a happy heart. Sybil and Clara watched him through an an opening in the feliage until he was out of ‘sight. ‘* He is a brave little fellow, I dare say,” said Clara. ‘Yes; he’s the very little rat I talked with last night at the foot of the tree,” replied Sy bil. “And, bas come up here to-day to inquire into your strange disappearance; but, Sybil, Ishould thought you would have died living here.” “Oh no, Clara; I was very happy here when father was alive and lived with me, We lived here twe years, and it was real jolly. The birds would come and build their nests in the trees and sing, ok so merrily. I don’t know who built the Cuckoo's Nest; it was here when we came and so we took possession of it and for that reason papa called it the Cuekoo’s | “Look, Sybil! gasped. Little Sybil looked out. A bridge made of wire and sticks ran from the door of the cabin aloug throvgh the branches into the adjoining Ob, God, look there!” she tree, by means of which, and a rope-ladder | that was always kept concealed when not in | use, access to the cabin was had. Along this bridge, supporting himself upon the limbs, the maiden beheld a hideously painted Indian | crawling with the stealth of a panther toward the cabin, CHAPTER X. A FEARFUL LEAP FOR LISERTY. As her eyes fell upon the savage intruder of the Cuckoo's Nest, Sybil thrust her hand into her pocket and drew forth her little derringer, and with all the deliberate coolness of one ac- customed to such dangers raised it and fired at the head of the red-skin. As the report of the weapon rung out, a cry pealed from the lips of the intruder who, clutching frantically at the boughs, reeled, tottered and finally went crash- ing to the earth with a sickening thud. “There!” said the brave little heroine, “that Injin ’ll not fool around another Cuckoo Nest.” “Sybil, you are truly a wonderful girl,” | said Clara. Sybil accepted the compliment with a smile, and then walking to the door looked out, and the sight that met her gaze sent a shudder of terror to her brave young heart. A score of painted savages and several white men were under the tree preparing to invade the Nest. +5 Vm afraid we'll be captured!” she said, ‘‘oh, if Vagabond Dick and his friends — would only come now!” ‘** Let us hope for the best,” said Clara. But their bopes were in vain, The savages began climbing the tree by aid of the vines. Sybil emptied the Jast chamber of her revolver at them with good effect, but they swarmed up the tree furious with rage over the death of two of their friends, seized the girls and bound them. Then by means of ropes tied around their waists they were lowered to the earth where they were taken in custody by white men and placed upon the backs of horses. The Indians plundered the cabin, set it on fire, spruyg to the ground and beat a hasty re- treat into the hills. In Sybil, her captors found a refractory spirit. They ceuld overcome her physical re- sistance, but they could not subdue her defiant spirit, and the result was that while she af- forded her captors considerable amusement, she also caused them no little trouble. Clara Stewart was placed in charge of a white man whorn she recognized ss one of her captors of the previons day; and soon the fact was developed that he was the outlaw lieuten- apt, Montana Jack. they entered the cabim and sat down to await | In the course of ten minutes Clara, who was | After an hour's travel the Indians and eut- | laws separated, the latter taking the girls. Being on horseback the villains pushed rap- idly into the hills with their fair captives; and after hours of weary riding along black sinuous windings up dangerous acclivities and down steep descents, they entered the mouth ef a | black canyon which gradually grew narrower | and darker until it terminated in a gloomy ‘cavern. Into this the outlaws rode and dis- mounted with their captives who were at once conducted through the dark passage inte a brilliantly lighted apartment. Here they were given in charge of a tall, dark-faced woman who gazed upon them with the look of a smil- ing ogress. ‘*Charming little dearies,” she exclaimed, as her serpent-like eyes flashed like beads of fire, ‘‘ welcome, thrice welcome to the retreat of Blackhawk Bill—the crystal palace of Queen Ursula.” | Clara, sobbing as though her heart would break, permitted the ‘‘ queen” to remove her hat, and then she sat down upon an easy, cushioned chair; but little Sybil was still de- fiant and resentful and in a scornful tone ex- claimed: ““Keep away from me, old Ursula! I hate the looks of you—you are the queen of dark- | ness—the mother of ogres and witches, and Tll stick a dagger into your heart if you come near me!” and she snatched a dagger from a table at her side and thrust it at the woman im a threatening manner. Ursula screamed in a hoarse tone to the men who had gone out. Montana Jack came back, seized the girl and wrenched the blade from her little hand. Sybil flew into a dassion, darted out of the room into the main cavern where all was darkness. But she soon got enough of this gloom, and after groping around awhile re- turned to the lighted chamber. “Ha! ha!” Jaughed Ursula, ‘‘so you thought | you'd return to the palace, eh?’ “Yes, I wanted to see what an old blaek | witch—the mother of Satan—looks like,” re- sponded the girl; ‘‘ I’ve heard of such people as | you, before.” | Thus the badinage of words went on between | the woman and the girl with all the bitterness of their woman’s nature. Clara, in the mean time, had quieted her feelings the best she could. She carefully ex- | amined her surroundings. The chamber in which they sat was large and commodious with high ceiling from the depths of whose darkness twinkled the points of stalactites like ' tiny stars. The walls were relieved of their rocky barrenness by bangings of dressed deer- ' skins and fancifully wrought robes. | In one corner stood a number of rifles. Hard by lay « great heap of plunder, inelud- | ing saddles, blankets, valises, overcoats and even mail- There was also a large um- brella or sun-shade in the heap. It was cev- ered with heavy white canvas and mede strong and steut so as to stand the fierce winds of the plain—to shed either the beating rain or the burning sun. Upon it the maiden saw the ini- | tials, ‘U. 8. Ex. Co.,” printed with black ink, and it oocurred to ber that she had seen just such an umbrella before. A moment’s reflec- tion recalled the fact that it was but a few days previous that she and her father had met | a stage-coach on the road and that the driver and express messenger had just such an um- brella, or shade, over them— marked with the same initials. So the presence of the umbrella there told its own story—of the attack upon and robbery of the express. Sybil was as inquisitive as defiant. She wandered about the great chamber examining every thing with a childish curiosity. Nor could the frowning Ursula, by threats of every - thing direful, cause her to desist from tho: liberties. She feund a tin horn in her rambles queen off her royal feet with a fierce blast in her ear. Sybil burst into a ringing peal of laughter. A dezn eutlaws came hurrying and slipping up behind Ursula fairly raised the ° n> =“ 6cy hag —
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—— ce « Se re RS Rs Ce ES SS Se el ES ana que termeer ! | itover her, ‘I'm afraid it I get as black and mouaty as you J’!) turn to a witch, too.” the cavern; and taey came just in time to pre- vent Ursula wreasing sauwmary vengeance | upon the girl. | You litte tyrant, I want you to stop that | “Tf you don’t tio that she-brat up, I’ll | impureuce or I will strangle you!” the woman | smother her,” the ogress cried. | exclaimed. flying into a passion and turning | “Charm her, why don’t you?” cried one of | tp u the girt hke an infuriated tigress. the men. | Sybil retarning her look uttered a lew, “Charm a wild-cat, will you? there’s more tantalizing hiss. ‘The ‘ queen” started toward | animal magnetism in that little hyena than | her, her fingers working nervously. | forty timid heiresses.”’ ‘* Pil leap over this cliff if you come near | The woman spoke in riddles, but with great | me!” Sybil cried. earnestness. ‘Leap to your death, you little she-devil!” Sybil saw that she would be deprived of her | hissed the womar, advancing vpon her, freedom of the cavern unless she mended her ‘* Farewell, Clara,” called the desperate little ways, and so she promised the men and old | Sybil, and then wirning ard still clinging to Ursula that she would behave hervelf if they | the umbrella, deliberately leaped over the pre- would not tie her up. Upon this promise she | cipice. was permitted to go at liberty about the place. A scream burst ffom Clara’s lips. For the next hour she sat comparatively Ursula in the blindness of her fury attempted quiet, patting her feet and humming to her- | to seize the girl as she sprung from the ledge, self as she counted and recounted the flashing | but missing her aim she stagger i on the edge stalactites in the black dome overhead. Ursula | of the precipice—lost her balane- and falling saw that it was utterly impossible for the girl | over the ledge, went screaming duwaward to to keep perfectly still—to completely subdue | a horrible death below! her young, inapulsive spirit, andsothe ‘‘queen” | Little Sybil clinging to the handle of her resolved to adopt a more conciliatory course | umbrella with that intuitive desperation with toward her in order to gain complete control | which a drowning man clings to a straw, shot over her; and so finally, when occasion offered, | downward a few feet and then seemed to stop she suid: | almost still in mid-air, for the great umbrella, “Girls, if you'd like to take a walk with me, | filling with air, was tugging and swaying and I'll show the wonders of this great cavern.” | straining as if to break from the load dragging | “Tts greatest curiosity is the witch that | it down into the black abyss. lives in it,” retorted Sybil. The queen laughed sardonically and taking | friend, and was horrified to see her with wild, up a lamp in one hand, and Clara’s hand in the | excited face, and streaming hair swinging in other, said to Sybil: mid-air to the umbrella which, acting upon the ‘Come on now, if you want to go with us.” principle of a pxrachute, settled slowly under Ursula led the way out into the great dismal | the little human weight pulling it down, cavern and along its winding passages. Sybil Whether Sybil was aware of what the result strolied along bebind, whistling merrily as a | of ber wild leap with the umbrella would be boy, ever and anon laughing at the echoes that | or not, it was certainly a bold aud daring act repeated her sprightly lays. for the girl; yet one which delivered her in Presently the light of day appeared through | safety from the power of the road-agents, for, an opening before them. Ursula set her lamp | after a few moments swaying and swinging in down, and walking on they soon came to an | the air her feet touched the earth where the outlet to the cavern where the bright sun and | body of Ursula lay a broken bleeding mass of | | Clara looked down after her young, reckless free air of heaven kissed the cheeks of the cap- | flesh. The girl was, for a moment, half-delirious tive girls, and revealed more fully the cold, with her perilous ride from the dizzy hights; cruel and clammy face of Ursula. At the very threshold of the cavern Clara | but recovering her composure, sbe looked up, waved her little hand to Clara and then turn- started back with a little cry. She saw that another step would have hurled her off a! ing sped down the canyon—whither, she knew nob. precipice into a deep black gorge hundreds of feet below. She glanced upward and beheld When she had disappeared from view, Clara frowning cliffs hanging over them. Stewart felt a horrible sense of loneliness steal “This is a grand and picturesque view,” ex- | over her that almost paralyzed her poor aching claimed Ursula waving her hands out before | heart. Sbe was alone with the outlaws! her; ‘‘ but it is death, death to him who attempts to escape this way.” “Oh, it’s prodigious!” said Sybil, sarcasti- cally, and then placing her hands upon her knees she craned her neck and deliberately gazed down into the abyss below; ‘it makes my bead swim, Clara,” sbe went on, ‘‘ to look away down there. But oh, if I had wings now, like a bird, wouldn’t I sail out a whistling over this place? my!” ‘Tf you’d wings I’d clip them,” said Ursula with a bland smile; ‘* I don’t want you to think you will escape from here alive for you will not. There are several gay yeung men bslong- ing to our band who will be only too glad to make you their wives as soon as Captain Bill’s death has been avenged, and all gots settled down. You will like the wild free life of a mountaineer’s wife when once you become ac- customed to it. It is really charming—ro- mantic.” “T den't mean to stay here, old Jawhones!” said Sybil with a desperate flash of the eyes, and turning she glided beck into the cavern, took up the lamp aod retraced her steps to Ur- | sula’s chamber. In a few minutes she returned earrying the | large, white umbrella upon which Clara had | seen the initials ‘“‘ U. 8. Ex. Co.” marked. “Child, what are you going to do with that old sun-skade?” Ursula asked, beginning to lose her temper again. CHAPTER XI. LITTLE HURRICANE’S DARING RIDE, In a beautiful valley watered by the Beaver which here assumed almost the importance of a river, and flanked on either side by a range of ragged, seamed and worn bluffs was located the camp of Sitting Bull and his followers. Bat it was only a temporary camp, where they had stopped for a few weeks, preparatory to beginning an aggressive movement upon their white enemies. While here, scouting parties had been kept out in all directions to watch for the Government troops and white scouts. It was one of these parties that had met with such disastrous defeats at the hands of the Boy Brigade under Little Hurricane, whose name and deeds of daring had been dis- cussed mere than once in the council lodge. On the morning following the death of Black- hawk Bill and the terrible slaughter of the | Horned Heads, the sun rose upon a wild and excited village. The defeat ef their warriors by Lite Hurricane fired the breasts of the war-chiefs with a spirit of terrible vengeance, Counetls of war were called; wild war-dances were held in different parts of the village. The deeds of the dead warriors were recounted in wild weird songs, and every measure taken to inspire the living with a spirit of renewed desperation. Se ———— ne _ ~ or = — o 2 a - =— i me | ——-—— Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. Afier their ceremonies were all over, parties were sent out in force to destroy the Boy Brigade; but toward sunset they returned with | the bodies of their dead comrades slain the night before. They bad been unable to find iq » Wir a the Young Avengers. Tois second failure cast an additional gleom and disappointment over the camp of Sitting That night another council was called. All the war-chiefs were present, and he who had gone forth so hopefully at the head of fifty braves that day to aestroy the Boy Brigade, rose and said: “The followers of Little Hurricane bave the eyes and ears of the antelope. They sit eff on the hilis and watch like the eagles in the clouds, When danger is near they flee like the spirit of the wind. When they fight they come like the hurricane with death. And they never fight unless the evil spirit whispers to them that they can win. Their guns are long and have many builets in them. Their bands are steady and their eyes strong. The death-bullet comes even when the voice of the gun is heard off in the unknown distance like the faint voice of the rising storm.” Tous the story went round the circle. The speeches that followed were but repetitions of the first. Little Hurricane, and his followers, and their daring courage, were the sole theme of their eloquence. With all their savage cunnivg not one could suggest a plan by which it seemed possible to circumvent those daring boys. An hour went by. A profound silence reigned in the camp out- side, The chief's lodge was used as the council- chamber, Hard by stood a neat little struc- ture that was the private lodge of the ehiet’s fair little daughter, Dove-Eyes, who sat therein toying with her barbaric finery—listless and unconcerned, while her father and his war- chiefs wrestled with the great problems of War. Suddenly the councilors were startled by a ery outside the lodge. It was followed by a sound resembling the murmur of distant thun- der which quickly deepened into a wild, tumult- uous uproar. A runner dashed up to the door of the coun- cil-lodge and shouted: ‘*Pale-face warriors come!” toward the north. Io an instant the council adjourned without ceremony, and the war-chief dashed out of the lodge and away toward the point of greatest excitement, Sitting Bull walked out in front of bis lodge. His warriors were running northward yelling like demons. The camp had been attacked from that direction. A few rifle-shets were heard mingled with the frightful yells ef the warriors. The chief’s lodge stood on a little eminence near the creek and midway between the north and south lines of the encampment; amd im a fow moments nearly every warrior ef the south side had passed north to the scene of conflict. Dove Eyes sprung from her couch and ran outside. Amid the wild excitement of women and children that began to huddle areund the chief’s lodge, a horse that st first appeared riderless, dashed suddenly into camp from the south, Straight toward Sitting Eull’s lodge it ran, and when within a few rods of it, a rider rese, centaur-like, upon its back with a lasso im his hand That rider was Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain! With a “whirr” the coiled rope skot from the hand of the boy at the bead of the ebief, but the wary savage had time to take in the situation and he managed to elude the noose, but not the ferce ef the rope which strwek bin in the face with such violence that he was felled half unconscious to the earth, He pointed a
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12 The women and children set up a fearful scream, Little Hurricane drew rein and glanced quickly around him, His attempt to capture Sitting Bull had proven a failure. His eyes fell upem the gaudily decked figure of Dove- Eyes crouching in the shadows of her lodge with terror, and spurring forward he stopped at her side leaned over in his stirrups, threw his arm around her waist and lifted her bodily from tre earth. By this time a score of fran- tic squaws had rushed forward, seized the horse by the bits and even by the main and tail, and the boy by the legs, and endeavored to hold him; bat Hurricane spoke sharply to his horse. The noble animal seemed to understand the situation and with a snort it plunged forward— plowed its way through the circle of infuriated squaws and dashed away with its double bur- den—hotly pursued by a hundred warriors. As the Boy Captain sped away into the dark- ness with his little captive, the whole village, which a few moments before swept northward, now seemed to roll southward like a mighty wave. four men on a bluff overlooking the camp watched and listened in deep suspense. They were Calvin Stewart and three of the Boy Brigade. They were there awaiting the result of Little Hurricane’s proposed attempt to cap- ture Sitting Bull in his own stronghold. The situation of the Indian camp and the location of the chief’s lodge had been carefully noted during the day. Under cover of night Vagabond Dick and three of the Brigade were sent around to the north to make a bold dash into the camp on horseback and thereby draw the Indians away from the south side. Then Little Hurricane was to dash into camp, lasso Sitting Bull if possible and drag him to a cer- tain point where Jack Drew was to be in wait- ing to aid him. How well the daring youth succeeded the reader already knows. The yelling of the savages went trailing down the river wild and fierce. The smoldering embers of the Indian camp- fires were soon kindled into a glowing blaze, and in its light the watchers on the hill could see every movement of the frantic horde, Half an hour passed when two horsemen suddenly dashed up the hill from the south. It was Little Hurricane and old Jack Drew, the latter carrying Dove-Eyes. They were greeted with silent applause. “TI failed, boys,” said the daring young ranger, “in snailing the chief, but I did better by capturing his daughter.” The party hailed this news with joy. ‘‘ But she’s a young wild-catess, boys,” added old Jack; ‘‘she’s already clawed the beard all off my face, and one o’ my eye-balls are danglin’ en my cheek; but I’ll hang to her if she claws my tongue out.” “Not so bad as all that, I hope, Jack,” said Mr. Stewart. ‘Well, maybe not, but she’s a little blister —quiet now, though.” A short and hurried consultation ensued. The Brigade was well aware that it was not safe to remain there, and mounting their horses rode away. At a certain point pre- viously designated they were met by the rest of the Brigade. Some ten miies from the Indian camp the Young Avengers came to a halt for the night. Guards were posted, the horses with bridles and saddles on were hitched near that they might be ready in case of an emergency. Dove-Eyes was provided with a rude tent made ef poles and blankets; also with blankets for a eoueh. The pretty little princess’s wild, re- fractory spirit had become subdued, and by this time she was as meek and timid as a fawn. Coyete Sam conversed with her and found out that there were two white female captives in the Indian camp, but whether they were the daughters of Ishmael Langdon, or Clara Stew- art and little Sybil, they could not learn, for, all at ence, the little princess took the sulks and refused to answer all questions. Before laying down to rest the Brigade held a short consultation as to the morrow’s work. The first thing to be done was to open nego- tiations with Sitting Bull looking to the ex- change of captives, whoever those might be in the power of the Indians. But how this was to be brought about was the question. To ap- proach a savage now would be as risky as treading among rattlesnakes; but so far Little Hurricane felt that he and his followers had been equal to any emergency, and could see nothing in the matter before them to warrant a failure now, “Tf nothing else will do,” said Hurricane, *T will call on Sitting Bull in person, and Ill tell you how I propose to do it.” The youth made his plans known and as there was no opposition made, the matter was thus settled, and all lay down to rest and sleep. Early the next morning all were astir, and breakfasting on broiled antelope, broke camp at sunrise. The Brigade knew the Indians would be on their track early, and in order to keep out of their reach it would be necessary to keep on the move, but in the meantime they could keep in the valleys and about so far from the Indian camp until night again set in. Vagabond Dick and Coyote Sam were de- ployed as scouts for the day. They-saw sev- eral parties of Sioux, but managed their work so skillfully that the Brigade was not dis- covered. As the day wore away and night approached they headed toward the Indian village. Five miles from the place Little Hurricane and Coyote Sam left their friends in charge of Dove-Eyes and on foot started off on their perilous mission. Two miles from the village they separated, Coyote Sam going to the south and Hurricane to the north. Full well they knew the savages would guard every approach to the camp against another surprise, and the only way possible to reach the presence of Sitting Bull would be by some route that, to the Indians, would seem impracticable. Little Hurricane had his course marked out independent of that of Coyote Sam. He reached the creek above camp. Divesting himself of all his clothing but his pants, he en- tered the water and turning on his back swam silently down the stream. When near the up- per edge of the camp he hugged the shadowy side closely. He was an excellent swimmer, the water was a good depth and warm. The moon never seemed to shine so brightly, though this was not in his favor. The banks of the streams for miles along that lovely valley were scarcely a foot above the surface of the water—a peculiarity of western, prairie streams. Along these banks grew a fringe of long grass whose tops inclin- ing toward the creek, trailed their tips in the placid waters. Under this grass our hero was enabled to keep his face concealed most of the time. Within ten minutes after entering the water he was withim the sound of voices all the while. Once he heard some one talking within ten feet of him, and stopped to listen. He un- derstood the Sioux dialect better than he could speak it. The princess was the subject of what he heard. Her capture had thrown a gloom over the heart of every warrior. Moving on the boy soon drifted to a point he knew must be near Sitting Bull’s ledge. He stopped and listemed. He heard many foot- steps approaching. He pressed himself close against the bank with his face under some roots and grass. It was not a very comfort- able position. A frog leaped off the bank into the water near his face. <A little water-snake crawled out of the reots, wriggled across his face—it slimy touch almost forcing a cry from his lips. A moment later he heard voices directly over him, and suddenly something fell with a loud plash into the river causing wave after wave to break over the boy's face. This plash was fol- Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. lowed by a dozen others in rapid succession. Hurricane was not at a loss to know what it meant; a party of warriors had come there to bathe, and in a few moments they were floun- dering and plashing within half an arm’s length of him. The youth was in dreadful suspense for sev- eral minutes. The waves dashing against the bank rolled over in his face. He was liable to be discovered at any moment by an Indian coming in contact with him. For a time that seemed an age he was comi~ pelled to remain in that ene position; but finally the bathers began to leave the water— one and two at a time, just as it happened. They had dropped their clothes and their blankets on the bank close to the water, and when our hero discovered this fact, he resolved on a new and desperate course of action. He watched for his chance, and when he felt as- sured there was no one on the bank, and knew that those still in the water were out in the middle of the stream, he rose in the water, crawled out upon the bank, picked up a red, blanket and throwing it over his head and shoulders so that most ef his face was con- cealed, started off on a little dog-trot toward the interior of the camp. in imitation of the movements of those bathers that had quit the water just before he did.; Through the very heart of the village the young dare-devil made his way, though the boldness of the act itself, and the easy and natural manner in which it was performed, were all-sufficient disguises, and guaranties of safety. The youth passed the chief’s lodge a short distance then turned and walked back and pausing at the door of the ledge a moment, cast a quick glance around him. Seeing no one neur nor making the least movement that indicated suspicion, he pushed aside the cur- tain-door and entered unannounced. But the light of the spluttering fat-lamp that hung to the central pole of the lodge, told him that the place was deserted—the chief was not there. That he would seon be im, however, he had not a doubt, and dropping bis own blanket he picked up a gaudy and handsomely wrought one of the chief which lay In one corner, and ° throwing it over his head and shoulders, sat down to await Sitting Bull’s return. But the boy had scarcely waited a minute when the lithe figure of an Indian glided into the lodge and raising a tomahawk over Hurricane’s head, exclaimed in a subdued tone full of deadly meaning: “« Speak one word and you die!” CHAPTER XII. BURIED ALIVE! Tue Indian addressed Little Hurricane in the Sioux dialect as he held his tomahawk. suspended over the boy’s head, Little Hurricane glanced up and to his sur- prise saw that the Indian was the young friend- ly, Coyote Sam. Pushing back the gaudy blanket of the chief from his head se that the Indian could see his face he shook his head invoking silence. Coyote Sam lowered his tomahawk a look of surprise upon his face. He had taken his friend for the chief. A few words of conversation followed. Sam handed Hurricane a revolver then he sat down opposite him. A deep silence followed. Five minutes or more had passed when Sitting Bull came diving into his lodge uncon- scious of the presence of visitors. Little Hurricane rose and stepping in be- tween the chief and the door presented a cocked revolver at his head, while Coyote Sam said in a language he could well understand: ‘Great Sitting Bull, we are here as friends ne ta to call your warriors and you shall e. The chief was thunderstruck. He stood like a stag at bay looking as if he doubted the evidence of his own eyes. “ Who are you?” he finally asked. y ‘ » 4
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a> ee -—-——*-+~——- - _ ce e ———_—-—__ ——- ner [oe wee mee Sree \ _— bi Ma Sek RS bP, f Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. 13 “T am Little Hurricane,” responded the boy. XK look of vengeance flashed over the face of the chief. “You shall die!” he said. ‘(Then you die first—your child, Dove-Eyes, shall die a captive in the hands of my fol- lowers. We are here as friends—to council with Sitting Bull. We will return Dove-Eyes to her lodge upon certain conditions.” The chief’s countenance changed—relaxed its cold, fierce expression, “Let the pale-faces be seated,” he said. “Not until you assure us that no warrior shall enter our presence—that no harm shall befall us.” ‘‘My warriors seek the scalp of Little Hurricane; but my child is more to me than all the blood of my enemies. The pale-face and his friend shall not be harmed while in the camp of Sitting Bull.” The Young Avengers sat down and un- covered their faces. The chief was the first to speak. ‘Why did the pale-faces strike at the life of my child?” he asked. ‘* Because there are pale-face girls in the camp of Sitting Bull who has dug up the hatchet and are waging war against us.” At this juncture a war-chief entered the lodge, but with a quick sweep of the hand Sitting Bull waved him out. From this time on the boys were restless and uneasy. ‘* There are two white girls here, They are the captives of Horse-Face, but he did not cap- ture them, Pale-faces themselves brought them and sold them for ponies to ride away.” Hurricane and Coyote Sam exchanged looks. ‘Have those men gone away?” asked the Boy Captain. ‘They were here to-day,” replied the chief; “they come back here to-morrow then go away to the rising sun.” “Coyote, the Langdon girls are here,” said Hurricane, then to the chief he continued, ‘* Sitting Bull, if you will release those cap- tives your daughter shall be returned to you.” The chief smiled with bland savage mis- trust. “Release my child, and I will give up the captives,” was his proposition, One party was suspicious of the other, and each wanted to secure the advantage in the exchange. Sitting Bull was quite a savage diplomat. He had had much experience in negotiating treaties and exchanges of prisoners, and knew that he who secured the advantage in the beginning was sure to come out best in the end. The boys, however, knew that the chief was treacherous and often broke his word on the slightest pretext; and realizing the difficulty under which they were laboring, Little Hurricane, in hopes of getting safely away from the village, said: ‘*Chief, we cannot arrange to exchange cap- tives to-night. Let us meet when the sun is in the zenith to-morrow—away from the camp of the Sioux and the camp of the Boy Aven- ers.” . ‘‘ Where?” asked the chief, as an idea pre- sented itself to the cunning old rascal; “ will the Little Hurricane meet me on the Big Sand Hill over yonder?” “1 will meet you with two friends,” replied the boy, “at the place you name,” “Then Sitting Bull will meet you and two friends with two of his friends.” ‘‘ All right, chief, with these further condi- tions: that no other Indians come near us and that all who meet on the Sand Hill come un- armed and empty-handed. Will Sitting Bull agree to this?” The chief reflected a moment and then said: “Sitving Bull will do anything to save his child. Let the pale-faces meet the Sioux when the sun stands still.” The bour designated was noon. The boy rose to depart. “The pale-faces will keep faith with Sitting Bull?” “To be sure we will,” replied Hurricane; ‘the pale-faces will not break their promise; the Great Spirit has heard me speak. We will now return to our friends and prepare for the meeting to-morrow on Sand Hill. Good-night, chief.” Hurricane turned and stepped out the lodge followed by Coyote Sam. As they did so both started with an inward shudder of alarm. Around the door of the lodge and before them stood a hundred warriors with knives and tomahawks in hand, and fierce, murderous looks upon their faces. Involuntarily they swayed toward the boys as they came out— raising their weapons to strike. Sitting Bull came from the lodge and spoke sharply to his braves who immediately fell back, while the boys walked on past them with a firm, unfaltering step. The heads of the youths were bare, and the face of Little Hurricane filled the breasts of the savages with a tempest of fury that it seemed Sitting Bull himself would be unable to keep from breaking out into violence. How- ever, both of the youths moved on calm and fearless—betraying no emotion by either look or act. They passed under the wolfish glare of a hundred pairs of burning eyes. The fur- ther away from the chief they got the more bold and demonstrative the Indians became. On either side they could hear a low faint mur- mur like that which precedes the storm, They were in a critical situation indeed. At length they reached the outskirts of a growth of willows and vines. Witha breath of relief they plunged into the shadows. A faint yell rose behind them. There was a rush of feet and a wild crashing through the brush, The Indians were after them. The chief's command of a safe conduct for the young avengers had been almost totally disregarded. The boys separated. Coyote Sam kept south while Little Hurricane turned to the left and hurrying down to the creek, entered the wa- ter and swam to the opposite bang. Seeing that he had given the Indians the dodge—that they were) trailing off after Sam, he crawled on all fours across the moonlit valley and gain- ed the shadows of the bluffs. Here the youth sat down to rest a moment. When he resumed his journey he ascended the spur of a bluff to a sharp ridge. He walked briskly along this toward the east. The ridge grew narrower as he advanced, and the first thing he knew he found it necessary to move with extreme caution. The ridge was of clay and gravel, and the floods rushing down the deep gorges on each side bad been gradually eating away the earth at the foot—the dirt had kept sliding down from above, until a narrow edge resembling a sharp backbone, and fully fifty feet high, was left standing; and even this threatened to topple over under the boy’s weight and hurl him into the abyss below. Hurricane saw that he had made a mistake in taking this ridge. In places it was scarcely a foot wide, and while the sides were not en- tirely perpendicular the depth of the gorge on either side was unknown—lost in the shadows below. Should the narrow bank give way and precipitate him into the depth below, an ava- lanche of dirt might be started that would bury him alive, But there was no retracing his steps now and he carefully picked his way along. He could not look around him nor far in advance for he must watch where every foot was placed. In this way he was moving along when suddenly a shadow fell on the ridge be- foréhim. He quickly stopped and raised his eyes, A cry of surprise escaped his lips. Before him, and not five feet away, stood two men—one behind the other—confrouting him. One was a savage the other a white renegade or an outlaw. A look of surprise was upon the face of the latter as well as the Boy Captain’s, Involuntarily the hands of each sought their weapons, Little Hurricane still retained the revolver given him by Coyote Sam in Sitting, Bull’s lodge. The savage who was next te him, seized his tomahawk, and ere the boy eould draw his revolver raised the deadly weapon to bury it in the youth’s brain. Hurricane saw that he had no time to use his revolver, and that he must act with light- ning’s quickness. Instead of jumping back- ward to elude the tomahawk, he leaped quick- ly forward and as the hatchet descended it fell beyond the youth, and there being nothing to arrest its descent it flew from the band of the savage and went glancing down into the sha- dowy rift. As he leaped forward Little Hurricane threw his feet outward and dropped astride the nar- row ridge at the very feet of the savage. The latter, missing his aim with his tomahawk, was pitched forward by the momentum of his blow and fell upon the boy. A struggle ensued. A pistol rung out and the savage fell over lifeless and pitched head- long down the declivity. The outlaw, follow- ing Hurricane’s example, dropped astride the ridge, and reaching forward seized the youth’s right hand so as to prevent him using his re- volver with effect, and endeavored to hurl him over the bank. But Hurricane was not to be overcome by brute force, and with the agility of a panther he leaped forward and seized the man by the throat. Thus for a moment the two sat almost silent with their swelling, quiv- ering muscles strained to their utmost tension; then breaking their holds they clutched each other and a fierce struggle began between the man and the boy. The ridge began to crumble away under them and the dry dirt and gravel to rattle down the steep sides while a cleud of dust rose and enveloped the combatants. Fierce and desperate was the struggle, but suddenly it came to an abrupt termination. The ridge under them sunk down and they were hurled with a mighty mass of earth down into the gorge below. Our hero realized his new peril in an instant, but he was perfectly helpless for amid the ava- lanche of blinding, suffocating dust and dirt he was carried down with fearful rapidity. When his swift descent had ceased and he had time for a thought, he found himeelf in a fearful gloom with a heavy weight crushing the life out of his body. He tried to free him- self from the grasp of the demon holding him down, but he was unable to move a muscle and then it was that the terrible truth flashed across his mind with a dreadful horror that he was buried alive—ingulphed in a living tomb! CHAPTER XIII. A FORETASTE OF ETERNITY. Tue horrors of a living grave—the most dreadful of all horrors—chilled the very heart of Little Hurricane when he had realixed his situation. He had stood many times in the presence of death—at the muzzle of the deadly revolver which waited only for the word to send its leaden missile through his heart, but never before had he experienced the horrors of a living death. The My! blackness of eternity along with a sense of ying with suffocation was palsying his heart. He felt the weight upon him growing heavier. He gasped for breath—he struggled for liberty—he threw every energy into one powerful effort and at- tempted to throw off his crushing burden. He failed, yet the earth seemed to yield slightly around him. His head appeared to be free—he could move it. A hollow, rumbli sound seemed to hang around him as though in a cav- ernous depth. He moved his head up and down and soon he was enabled to move his shoulders. Little by little he worked and writhed away until he succeeded in getting one hand free. This he passed up over his head and found there was an open space beyond. His heart -gave a great bound, and by a mighty effort he succeeded in dragging himself out from under the dirt and gravel in a dark hole—blaek and dismal as the grave—yet, into which air, impure as it was, seemed to be admitted from some source or other. Hurricane had no idea of the kind of a place he was in, but he fell to speculating over it and finally came to the conclusion that he had rolled under a shelving rock or land, which had been completely overwheimed with the ee
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: 14 —_ Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. ! | avalanehe of earth that followed bim down. How deep ke was buried, and whether ho vould ever exbricate himself cr not, ke could not tell; but he was not the boy to give up without an effort. The first thing to be done, however, was to explore the hole he was in, and, upon rising to his feet, he found he could not stand straight vader the roof which ap ed to be of reck und te slope gradually downward. This left no doubt of bis being uuder a shelving rock. Whers his late antagonist was the boy knew not, nor did he care partienlarly, so taat he was beyond power of doing him harm. After groping around awhile Hurricane sat down te rest and eempose his throbbing brain and bruised body. He whistled softly to dispel the terrible gloom from his mind.. Ten min- utes had thus passed when the young ranger was startled by what appeared to be a sup- pressed sneezing. He listened, but as it was not repeated he concluded it was all imagination. True, the hole was filied wit fiue particles of floating dust which he was constantly inbaling inte his lungs, and he was, at times, himezsif forced to expel it ia fits of coughing and sneez- ing, and he thought it mo more than possible that an animal or even his late adversary might be there in the hole with him. At any rate he remained quiet and listened. Half an hour had passed aud he heard the sound again, There was no doubt of it this time; and now the next-thing for him to do was to find out *vho er what it was in there with him. He had ost kis revolver and was without weapons of any kind, still this did not deter him from his purposes. He uttered a low whistle, but re- ceived/no response. He repeated the whistle in a leuder tone. “ Tee-ehew | tee-chew !” were the lung explo- sions that answered him. “Hullo, there!” Hurrieane called, ‘‘ who be you? wolf or human? Ingin or outlaw?’ “Tt’s me,” was the faint and unsatisfactory reply mat eame to his ears. ‘ Well, then, who’s me?” The answer came in a female voice, ‘‘ It’s me —Wild Sybil.” ‘Good Lord, girl! how came you here?” ex- claimed the bey, moving nearer the little waif. ‘*T was hid here when some fools got to quar- relin’ and fightin’ up on the ridge and started an own over me. Are you Vagabond , I think, ** Yes, indeed, Sybil, but pray tell me what brougkt yeu here?” when I sailed off and she was just smashed all into puddin’. But poor Clara Stewart is there et! ‘‘Clara Stewart? Is she in the outlaws’ den?” “Yes, she is.” A nm escaped Hurricane’s li The fate of Clara had been uppermost in his mind ever since her disappearance from the Cuckoo’s Nest where she aay been seen last by Vagabond ck. Frem Sybil Hurricane learned enough of their situation to satisfy him that with some work he could tunnel out, and now siuce he had a charge upon his hands he felt morv resolute and determined in his purpose and at once went to work. Mis hands were all he had to dig with, but the dirt being loose and dry ielded readily to his efforts. For an hour he labored with but little headway. The dirt ran in upon him as fast almost as it was removed; but with dogged perseveranee and determination he scratched away until at last he was rewarded by a faint glimpee of the outer world. A few minutes more and he and his little protegee were out of what promised a living tomb—standing under the starry sky. The moon was still shining and in its light both bey and girl presented a sorry appearance, their faces and heads being covered with dust and dirt until they could scarcely be recog- n Hurrieane reconnoitered his surrounding and finding the coast clear, started with Sybil for camp where he arrived in the due course of time, three hours or mvure behind Coyote Sam. The escape of little Sybil from Bill’s den and the news she brought, and the in- terview of the boys with Sitting Bull left no doubt in the minds of the Brigade as to the whereabouts of the three captive girls whose rescue, Little Hurricane assured Calvin Stewart was a mere matter of time. The remainder of the night was passed in lis- tening to Sybil’s story of her adventures with the outlaws, and to Hurricane and Sam’s story of their forced interview with Sitting Bull, and the attending dangers. So eager and anxious were all for the time to come for the Sand Hill conference that no sleep came to a single eye that night. By sunrise the next morning the party had breakfested and were in the saddle moving across the plein. In a lovely little valley wa- tered by a small creek tributary to the Beaver they came upon an old, deserted cattle-ranch. The sod house ef the adventuresome ranchman | had crumbied to dust, but the stockade was still standing, and in the center of this upon a little knoll was a small stone defense or j closure which our friends took possession of .o2 called Fort Necessity. They turned their horses loose in the stockade, through one corner of which van the little creek. Their saddies, blankets, guns and ammunition they placed in- side the fort. A couple of antelope and a deer had been killed that morning by the scouts, so that the little party was pretty well supplied for a few days’ sicge which might not be alto- gether improbable. Righteen rifles, most of them taken from the dgad Sioux, were at their command with a good supply of ammunition. The Brigade, in- cluding Drew, was armed with Sharpe and Springdeld rifles, and every one of its members was an unerring shot with these long-range guns at from three to eight hundred yards; and should the proposed Sand-Hill meeting result in treachery or un attack on the Brigade, the lat- ter felt that nothing but starvation could ever force them from their defense. About ten o’clock sposperations for the meet- ing with Sitting Bull were and an hour later Little Hurrieane, Old Jack Drew and Co- yote Sam left the stockade with Dove-Eyes for the appointed place of conference. CHAPTER XIV. THH CONFERENCE. y was exceedingly warm, and upon the sand-bill designated by Sitting Bull as the lace of meeting, the sun t down fierce and ot. Not a spear of hoe grew on the hill which rose gradually above the plain white and shining as a snow-bank, and commanding a view of the country for miles around. When our friends arrived at the foot of this sand-hill they saw that the Indians were already there—at any rate, they saw three persons on the hill; but they had no women with them, and through fear that they might not be the three expected, Dove-Hyes was left bebind with Coyote Sam while Hurricane and Drew ad- vauced toward the party. As they neared the trio our friends saw that two of them were white men and one an In- dian. Sitting Bull was not there, and when he made this discovery Little Hurricane said, in a low tone: ; “Tf them fellows are here to meet us, look out for treachery, Jack.” Then they moved on anda hing the trio asked if they were from Sitting Bull’s camp, and upon receiving an affirmative reply, Hurri- cane asked: ‘Where is the chief, Sitting Bull?” “ He is sick; Rain-Face comes in his place,” replied the spokesman of the * party ; “we are here to effect a change of prisoners with you men, I suppose.” ‘“Where are the Langdon girls?’ Hurricane inquired. “Yonder,” replied the man pointing to a —— of female forms sitting under an um- brella at the edge of the sand-hill fifty rods away. Little Hurricane was bitterly disappointed. He did not like the looks of Sitting Bull's com- missioners. Rain-Face was a large, brutal-look- ing savage who had evidently very little human THe da | compassion in his breast. The two whites were very little better, True, they were dressed in garbs that belenged to civilization, and their address was that of men of some education and intelligence; but their furtive fisnces and their countenances belied them woefully if they were not villains of the first class. They were large powerful men and in most respects answered t ‘ Ishmael Langdon’s description of two cf the three men who had carried his daughters away, lackhawk | and then murdered him. *“T am sorry Sitting Bull did not come him- self,” said Hurricane. ““ You, I suppose, are Little Hurricane?” said one of the men. “Yes, and this man is Jack Drew, a noted detective.” The men shot a quick, nervous look at Drew. The name seemed to startle them; but quickly recovering their composure, one of them said: ‘“You could get no better terms of Sitting Bull than you can of us. We are here as his agents with full authority to act for him.” ‘Well, what we want is the two Langcon girls and immunity from danger until night, in exchange for Dove-Eyes,” said Hurricane. A smile passed over the faces of the two white men. Rain-Face was silent and dumb. He weet did not understand a word that was said. ‘‘Then you consider one little princess worth swo handsome white girls, and seme boot be- sides, do yeu?” observed ene of the men. “From an Indian stand-point, yes,” responded our hero, “But we want some satisfaction for the braves you have killed.” “You can get that by fighting forit,” prompt- ly retorted the boy. “Youre d—d impudent!” was the profane and cowardly response of Sitting Bull’s agent. “We are here to talk business, not to quarrel,” responded Hurricane, controlling his emotion s in a manly way. “ But if it’s quarreiin’ you want,” put in Old Jack, ‘“‘you can have that, too. I’d’ruther uarrel than eat huckleberries and cream, anc d ruther igbs any time than quarrel. . That's jist the kind o’ bull alligator I be, and I want ou to know our calabre afore you went oolin’ ’round the magazine.” “You speak, sir,” thundered the chief’s agent, “as though your confidence was backed by concealed weapons! Have youcome here armed in violation of your pledge of honor to the con- trary, determined to carry by force ana treachery what you fail to gain by argument?’ “ Sitting Bull bes kept little of bis word with us,” replied Hurricane evasively; ‘‘ he was to come himself—I have kept my word.” “Then you do not want to treat with us?’ observed the man. ‘* We will exchange the princess for the two Misses Langdons,” answered Little Hurricane, ‘‘and that is all we will do—nothing more nor nothing less will be accepted by us.’ “ That, then, settles the matter on your own terms. You waive your demand for immunity from future danger, we our claims for setiefac- tion for our dead braves. Let the captives be brought up aud turned over to their friends at ones.” One of the men turned and went after Edith and Mary gdon. He soon returned with them, and at sight of Little Hurricane the maidens uttered a cry of joy, and running forward greeted him with quivering lips and tearful a ‘*Oh, Hurricane! so it is you who have se- cured our release!” cried Mary; ‘‘and I do hope you can tell us something of our dear father.’ Hurricane was silent for a moment. He dreaded to break the awful news to the poor, suffering girls. “T saw your father, girls,” he said, ‘‘ shortly after day-light the morning after you were taken away. He lived long enough to tell—” “Oh, my God! then father is dead!” Hurricane was silent while moans of agony came from the lips of the fatherless maidens. Presently he said: “My dear young, girls, your father’s death will be avenged. e@ men who carried you away were his cowardly assassins.” As he spoke the youth swept his eyes across the faces of the two white friends of Sitting Bull who stood listening to the conversation with apparent indifference. “Then these men!” cried Edith, turning with wild, flashing eyes and pointing to the two whites, “‘are the murderers of our father!” The villains were startled by these words that seemed to pierce their ty hearts, and clench- ing their fists they glared upon the girl as though they would murder her with their looks. “Sword o’ Dam-ocles!” hissed old Jack Drew ““war we not here on the honor of men, gals, would avenge your father’s death here on this wos quicker nor a hound pup can lick a skil- et! The two men gave utterance to a low, sardon- nic laugh. | a ee ee ee ee
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= Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain, “ What a good thing honor is sometimes as | an excuse for cowardice,” replied one of the villains; If you want to avenge any one’s death, don’t let your honor stand in the way of your will, We think we can defend ourselves against a pair of such runts.” Jack Drew bit his lip to keep back the ra boiling up in his breast. He saw that the vil- lians. were endeavoring to provoke a quarrel, no doubt trusting in their superior physical strength to overpower and defeat them. At this juncture Cayote Sam came up with little Dove-Eyes. Rain-Face uttered an ex- clamation of savage joy and sprung forward to embrace the princess, but the girl leaped back as if from the blow of a serpent with a look of indignation and disgust upon her face. Our friends were surprised by this strange conduct of the girl. Rain-Face looked morti- fied and disappointed. From the few words that passed between them it was evident that the young war-chief was a lover of the princess, but hated and despised by the girl with such bitterness that even his presence there in her behalf was spurned with all that magnificent scorn so characteristic of the royal little savage. Cayote Sam had told Dove-Hyes of his and Hurricane’s interview with her father, and of the fair and honorable arrangements made for the exchange of captives, and she was moro disappointed when sho learned that her father had not come to the conference, than was Hur- ricane himsalf. So kindly had the girl been treated jby Hurri- cane and the Brigade that she preferred their protection to that of Rain-Face and his as- sociates, and skrinking back from their presence she stood at Little Hurricane’s side. A look of jealous scorn flashed in the eyes of the y war-chief, and pointing his finger toward the princess exclaimed, with all the savage bitterness and contempt of his nature: ‘“Waugh! the gh emg eg daughter of the great Sittimg Bull loves the pale-face boy who struck her father down and who carried her away a captive, and who has murdered her friends!” ‘‘ He is brave,” the girl replied; ‘he is kind— he is net a serpent like Rain-Face.” This unexpected conflict between the girl and the chief threatened to complicate affairs some- what, and in order to ® the exchange of prisonars before they grew any worse, Hurri- cane said; “Well, the exchange of captives may now be considered as made, and so each party can go its way.” ‘* Pevhaps,” said one of Sitting Bull’s agents, “vou would like to avenge some one’s death befere yeu depart.” “You'll hear from the Boy Brigade later,” retorted Old Jack. “Ah, hark!” exclaimed the renegade with a _—— smile, making an ear trumpet of his nd. The report of firearms mingled with savage yells came to their ears from the direction of Fort Neeessity. That the Brigade had been attacked there was not a doubt. ‘By heavens!” exclaimed the renegade, “ there’s a fight going on over there about that old steeckade. I’m of the opinion that the Boy Brigade *il be a thing of the past ere yonder sun crosses the meridian.” The Boy Brigade, sir, can take care of it- self,” replied Hurricane, not all frightened by what appeared to be schemes of treachery, on part of Sitting Bull, all around. “No, sir, 1 am afraid not,” the villain con- tinued, ‘‘and if you three are caught with those irls yeu will all be killed. The Indians are urious and will take no prisoners hereafter— nee =a female.” - : !, we can die in those girl’ ‘ense am sure,” declared Hurricane, a f : “It seems to me that it would be suicidal to place these girls under your care and protec- tion sinee, in the present state of affairs, you'll be unable to protect them. I think, therefore we will held them until we find you are able to take aly i$ he il “You will do no such a thing, sir!” Hurrieane with flashing eyes, = pecan “You are impertinent, boy—you may ambush and shoot Indians—you may handle a rifle well —you may ride well and dash into an Indian camp when none but squaws are near, and carry off little girls, but you can not thwart us—you have men to deal. with now. By your own words, honors in this interview has ceased, and we claim the right, and propose to enforce that right, to protect those girls from savage mas- sacre.” As the man concluded he and his two friends, 15 by some preconcerted signal, leaned over and The men sneered at this command, but it was: thrusting their hands into the sand drew there- | plainly evident that they were alarmed. trom three long, gleaming knives! Eut scarcely | had they straightened up ere three revolvers leaped trom their secret hiding places ou the persons of Little Hurricane and his friends and were leveled full upon the breasts of the turee treacherous villains. “This,” said Hurricane as he glanced along his revolver into the eyes of one of the rene- gades, ‘‘is no more than we expected, and we meet cowardly treachery with treachery justi- fied. Come, if thatis your game we are ready for you!” CHAPTER XV. THE MYSTERY OF ISHMAEL LANGDON’S MURDER. Tuat the Indians would practice some de- ception the Boy Brigade had not a doubt, and they believed it would be criminal negligence to go entirely unarmed to the Sand-Hill confer- ence; and the subsequent turn of affairs showed how near they were right and how well it was that each had carried a revolver with him. Had Sitting Bull been there a collision would have been averted, and that he was uot there was doubtless the work of deception with the chief on the part of Rain-Face, Dove Byes lover, and the two scoundrels that came with him; and it began to look after all—notwith- standing they were ready for the three com- missioners—as though they would be entrapped yet. Had Rain-Face and his friends, however, been confrouted by men who had sprung sud- denly out of the earth, they would not have been more startled and astounded than they were when they found themselves covered by three cocked revolvers in hands of unerring marksmen. The looks that overspread their faces betrayed their inward fear and cowar- dice. ““Come,” repeated Hurricane, ‘if that is your game we are ready.” ‘* Yes, ripe for a fight,” added Old Jack; “wade right in gentlemen and lets see which can get there first aud deepest—knives or re- volyers—big roosters or little runts. Forward, and balance on the corners—it’s blades and bul- lets.” Ten feet separated the enemies. Edith and Mary Langdon stood just behind our friends while Dove-Eyes still maintained her position at Little Hurricane’s side. Sitting Bull’s agents were speechless for full two minutes, then one of them managed to say: ‘You dare not shoot for it will only add to our torture when you are taken captives, as it as been arran that you will be by Rain- Face’s warriors.” “Sir, we fear no threat; this treachery of Rain-Face has not the sanction of Sitting Bull,” responded Hurricane; ‘but if you still wish, you can take the princess to her friends and we will go our way and take our chances.” “T will not go with Rain-Face!” indignantly cried Dove-Eyes; ‘‘I am no longer the captive of the pale-faces They have made their word and honor good and I am free, and now I shall return with them their guest. If Little Hurri- cane dies by the treachery of Rain-Face, Eyes dies with him. This you can tell my fa- ther, the chief.” This was a virtual acknowled regards for the Boy Captain. savage had learned, in the short time she had been with the whites, to love her handsome, daring and manly captor. “‘ Dove-Eyes,” exclaimed Rain-Face, “ would disgrace her tribe and bow the heart of her father with shame. Let her go with her friends to her people.” “T will not go with Rain-Face nor his white friends,” replied the girl; ‘“‘they have dis- ent of her Dove- | i : “* You fellows are proveking your own death,” said one of the villains, “look yonder and see that I speak the truth.’ Involuntarily our friends turned their heads: —permitted themselves to be thrown off their guard, when, with a yell the three villains sprung forward like demoms with upraised knives. The girls uttered a scream—the whites lea backwards eluding the murderous blades _— revolvers rung out as one, and the two renegades sunk to the earth while Rain-Foce staggered backward with a shattered, broken arm. “There,” calmly and coolly said Little Rurri- cane, ‘‘ the death of Ishmael Langdon has been avenged.” For a moment excitement and confusion reigned. Rain-Facs with a look of vengeance: pyre his face turned and walked away in terri- ble agony. One of the white mer had fallen face down- ward and lay motionless in death, his red blood staining the white sands; but the other who had been thrashiag about im agony suddenly | started up, his face wild and conterted, and reaching out clutched feeble at space and then sunk heavily back with a grean, crying out: ‘God forgive! God fergive me! Oh, Ishmael Langdon, you are here! have mercy, man! huve mercy |” His voice sunk toa whisper. All believed he was dead, but presently he rallied and raising mor his elbow loeked up at our friends with a wild, star- ing look in his eyes, and said: ‘I hope you will all forgive me as you wich for forgiveness of God. Feith and Mary Lany- don, come near me—let me tell you all—thet [ have sinned cruelly against you and yours—I want to unburden my soul before I die.” The girls advan to the dying villain’s side, and even while the crask of firearms and the din of battle rung out on the ears of our friends from the direction of the little fort, all listened to this dying confession: ‘Girls, your father was my cousin. My name is Allan Dresden, and year father’s true name was Harrison Dalrymple, though strange as it may seem he knew it not. We were both born ia England. When your father was a year old his father and mother both died of cholera, and he was adopted by a man named William Langdon who call bim Ishmvel Langdon. Your father also kad a brether who | beeams a waif in the wide world, and who e wild little | when young drifted to America. Here he grew to manhood uuder the name of Joe Hall. He married and a child—a girl—was the fruit of that union; but his wife soon died and with his | child he came into these western wilds and be- | came a hunter and trapper. Two years ago he was living down on the Beaver in a little cabin built in the forks of a great tree; I watched for | Lim and one day he was killed—killed by my | orders. His child isnowin C , and is known as Sybil, the Waif, Regged Syb, and—” “Ragged Sybil!” Little Hurricane cried, “ no, she is not there now—she is yonder with the Brigade at the old ranch.” ‘‘Be where she may,” continued the dying man, ‘‘she isan heiress to day; this I know to be true. She is the cousins of Edith and Mary who are also beirs to a fortune waiting them over the sea. This fortune descended to Wilbcr- | force Dalrymple who was the father of ycur | ’ honored my father’s name and the name of the | great Sioux. Go, Rain-Face, and tell m ther, I command you, that I am a guest o whites who have treated me kindly, and whom I shall not leave so leng as they are in danger of my people.” This was a great rebuke to the treacherous three. “And now, gentleman,” said old Jack, ad- | in hopes dressing the two renegades, “it is my time to speak, and since you two white roosters have seen fit to try to betray and murder us with the intentien, no doubt, of taking these girls back captives, when Dove-Hyes was rescued from our power, it beliooves me that the Bd thing for us to do is to take you in out of the wet for the murder of Ishmael Langdon, therefore eu'll drop those knives and throw up your ands.” fa- | interviewed e the | tion to his brother Ishmael. | : father and Sybil’s. I am satisfied your father, girls never knew but that he was the son of illiam Langdon. His foster parents had kept the secret of his birth from him. Wiliam Langdon was advertised for in the Lond: n Times and in the course of time word came from Calvin Langdon that his father, the man inquired for, was dead. A special rent came to America and ounger Langdon’ in rela- But he could ev no account of him. He had not heard from him in years; but he knew that Ishmael was only a foster-brother, his father, before he died, having told him of his adoption in England, Search was at once begun for the lost heirs wkom I fot would never be found in which case I would inherit the Dalrymple fortune. I kept watch of the movements of Calvin Langdon and found that he was upon the right trail, and the only way for me to thwart him was to put the Pee out of the way. So a few evenings ago I proceeded to his ranch accompanied by three male friends and a woman wamed aii 4 Blake whom I learned last night had fallen from a cliff and been killed. The woman was a powerful mesmerist and the first thing she did “ew weaker and weaker and finally \ 4 -
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16 ‘was to place you girls under her influenee and - then lead you silent captives away. Then your father was forced to sign the name of Harrison Dalrymple—his true name—to a decument pur- porting to be a will. Of course, it was made to appear that he had heard of his fortune while ‘apon his death-bed, and the will, while it would have been worthless as against the other heirs would have established the fact of his death and then the property would have reverted to me. In all this work I have been aided by the man lying dead at my side—a noted London detec- tive; also Blackhawk Bill and his men have ever been at my service. You girls we turned ‘over to the chief, War-Eagle, as a consideration for his services. Then we went to C—, to await results, and while there I icarned that Calvin Langdon, passing under the name of Calvin Stewart, and his daughter were in the ‘town, and would take the east-bound coach in a day or two for Langdon’s ranch. To make ‘matters still more secure I resolved to put ‘him out of the way, also, and so with the -assistance of Blackhawk Bill, who had become enamored of Miss Clara Langdon, and his men, we attacked the coach upon which Langdon ‘and bis daughter, as well as Blackhawk Bill cand a friend were passengers. Owing to con- siderable mismanagement and the interference of Little Hurricane, the whole affair was a miserable failure. So I am msible for the death of your father, girls, and the father of Sybil; but if Calvin Langdon is living he will see that you all get your rights. d this ‘morning—oh! how the devil has essed my heart and mind!—this morning when I learned ‘that Sitting Bull was determined to give up our girls to recover his own ese spel Dove- yes, Satam again tempted me, and I prevailed on the chief to let Rain-Face, my friend and myself, meet you here and effect the proposed -exchange. e@ deceived the chief as we in- tended to deceive you. We proposed to get Dove-Eyes away from A then refuse to give ‘up’ Edith and Mary. in-Face secretly sent warriors, unknown to Sitting Bull, number- ing about forty braves to attack your friends -and slay them while we were here. "Tis the sound of their firearms we can now hear. But, ol! the avenging hand of God has stricken me down, I can live but a few moments. A thous- * and demons are tearing at my heart-strings—I can scarcely breath—my eyes—I can’t see! it ig growing dark! Ob, God forgive! forgive!” He gave way to his emotions and was silent ffor several moments, then he put his hand into ‘a breast-pocket and taking out a paper—the will he had compelled Ishmael Langdon to sign, handed it to without saying a word. ‘Then he opened wide his eyes an sped a time or two as if trying to speak—clutched at his throat, fell back upon the sand and—was dead, And so the mystery of Ishmael Lang- don’s death was no longer a mystery, and the work of the Boy Avengers was nearly done— their oath almost fulfilled, friends accompanied by Dove-Eyes now started on their return to the fort, Fortunately the Indians had been beaten off by the long- ranged guns of the Brigade with hogy’ loss, and the little party succeeded in getting inside the stockade without further danger. And so the treacherous scheme of Allan Dresden to carry Edith and Mary back into captivity, and Rain- Face’s plan to capture the Boy Brigade, had proven a signal and lamentable failure at the cost of many lives, The defenders of Fort Necessity were greatly surprised te see Dove-Eyes re with the party; but Hurricane soon explained the out- -come of the Sand-Hill conference, the death of be two white men and the dying confession of esden. As soon as Dove-Eyes found that Rain-Face’s warriors had withdrawn she went to Little Hurricane and said. “Little Hurricane, I will go te m hee ° ove-Eyes loves the Little now, you safe. Hurr ¢, but he is a pale-face and there are many, — ce princesses in the wigwams of his peopiq,..He is brave and noble and will ever live @ the breast of Dove-Eyes.” This honest confession sent a pang of deep re- gret to the heart of Little H and it was ‘with some emotion he replied: “Dove-Hyes I shall never forget you, and my best wishes will ever be for your happiness and comfort h life.” A horse was caught, saddled and bridled and qe to the girl ride back to her friends, hen mounted u it she bid all good-by, then turned orse and half reluotantly rode away with the blessings of t Bri; ade and friends, wil rid Little Hurricane, the The next work for the Young Avengers now was to proceed to the hills and headquarters of the road-agents and rescue Clara don, or Stewart as we have known her. Little Sybil was to go with them and point out the way to the cavern, believing that she could follow the route taken by her captors. The work would doubtless be attended with great danger but the Brigade never hesitated on that account, and so far had been equal to every emergency presented. } They were to start as soon as night set in so that darkness Would cenceal their movements from the wary redskins, and in sore impatience they waited the hours away, Along about the middle of the afternoon two persons were discovered riding over the plain toward the stockade, and as they came nearer our friends saw they were females who, upon coming up te the fort, proved to be Dove-Eyes, the princess, and Clara Langdon! Shout upon shout rent the air, and for a while all were wild with excitement and }°Y: Happy indeed was the reunion of father and Pho: while Dove-Eyes was treated as a royal quest. om Clara it was learned that, after Sybil’s escape from the road-agents and the death of Ursula, the outlaws became greatly alarmed. They were afraid Sybil would bring her friends to the cavern, and since the death of Black- hawk Bill and half his band, they were in no condition to contend with a strong foe; and so Montana Jack resolved to seek refuge in Sitting Bull’s camp with his fair captive, and at once carried his resolution into effect. When Dove- Eyes returned from her captivity and found Clara a captive in her father’s camp, and learned that she was a friend of Little Hurri- cane’s, she assisted the captive to escape from the village thea taking her upon horseback con- ducted her to her friends in Fort Necessity. It was a remarkable case of gratitude on the part of the Indian girl, and one which will never be forgotten by the participants. Again Dove-Eyes returned to her friends, her love for Little Hurricane having restored to = the idol of his young heart, Clara Lang- on. Never was there greater rejoicing than that which follewed that reunion of friends in Fort eerarate But in the midst of their joy they did not forget op! were surrounded by danger, and about midnight the horses, bridled and sad- dled, were brought out, the women and the oldest men mounted thereon when the whole party set off for the land of safety and civiliza- tion where, in due course of time, they arrived. And now our story is about ended. We have only to add that Edith and Mary, as well as Little Sybil, the fairy with whom Vagabond Dick had quarreled, secured the inheritance of their fathers in the possession of which they are now living in and enjoyment. Sybil and Vagabond Dick, they say, keep up a regular correspondence with each other, though hundreds of miles apart; and in view of this fact, who knows what the future has in store for them? Little Hurricane and Clara were together several days after their escape from the land of Indians and outlaws, and in that time the love that had sprung up in their young hearts in the midst of perils, had been avowed, and when they parted it was with hopes of a bright and happy future, re after the close of the events just nar- rated, a new and paying gold mine was opened in the Black Hills and operated by a company of eight persons. The name of the mine was ‘The Little Hurricane.” The name of the presi- dent of the company was Jack Drew—that of the superintendent, Harry Reynolds. In fac the Brigade of Young Avengers had finishe their work as such, and changed to ‘‘ The Boy mda gg of these we may write in the near ‘uture, THH END. Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. 62 Taz Smapow Sur. By Col. P. Ingraheries be 63 Taz Rap BrorweRnoop. By W. J. Hamilton . 6c 64 Danpy Jack. By T. C. Harbe eS eres 65 Hurricane BILL. yy 06, E. Badger, Jr .. 66 Srncts Hanv. By W. GON. ...---+0-*- 73 Deapwoop Dick on Deck. 74 Haws-eve Harry. By Oll Coom Boy Captain. SETTS R 2233 3 y 43 3S ?5 Tae Boy Duetist. By Col. P. Ingraham...... 76 Ase Cour, tHE Crow Kimuer. By A. W. Aiken 77 Corpuroy CHARLIE. By cawerd L. Wheeler.. 78 Buur Dick. By Captain Mayne Reid..... . 79 Sot GincER, THE GIANT TRAPPER. A.W. Aiken. 80 Roszsup Ros. By Edward L, Wheeler......... 81 Ligutnine Joz. By Captain J. F.C. Adams.... Kir Hareroor. By T. C. Harbaugh........... 883 RoLLo, THE Boy KANGER. By Oll Coomes.. .. 84 InyL, THE Girt Mrver. By Ed. L. Wheeler .. 8 Buck Bucxram. B Rooorg J. F.C. Adams... 86 Danpy Rock. By G. Waldo Browne .... ... 87 Tue Lanp Pirates. By Capt. Mayne Reid... .. 88 PHorocrapa Pam. By Edward L. Wheeler.... 89 IsLanp Jim. By Brace ripge Hemyng.:....... 90 Toe Dreap Riper. By G. Waldo Browne. ... 91 Tae Carrarn or THE CLUB. By Bracebridge 5c 5c 5c 5c 5c 5c 5¢ 5e 5e 5e 5e 5c be 5c 5e 5e BE are eye eer eg ied rap ee 92 Gixapa ‘wer. By Edward L, Wheeler........ 5e 98 THe Boy Miners. By Edward S. Ellis... ..... 5c 94 Mipnicur Jack. By T.C. Harbaugh ...... 5¢ 95 Tue Rrvau Rovers. By Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 5c 96 Warcn-Eyz. By Edward L. Wheeler, 97 Tue OvurLaw Brorners. By J. J. Marshall... 98 Rosin Hoop. By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve.. . 99 Tux Tiger or Taos. By George W. Browne... 100 Deapwoop Dick rN LEADVILLE. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New YorK. y Brace- bridge Hemyng..... BLacle. Tiles. sas Males 102 Dick Deap-Hyr. By Col. Prentiss In m.. 103 THe LION oF THE Sara... 110 Tae Buack Streep or THE PRAIRIES. 111 Tue Sxa-Devi. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.. 5c 112 Tas Map Hunrer. By Burton Saxe.......... 5e 113 Jack Hoyts. By Edward L. Wheeler.... . . 5c 114 Tue Buack Scnoonrr. By Roger Starbuck... 5c 115 Tur Map Miner. By G. be 116 Tae Hussar Caprarn. By Col. P. ingrehem. de 117 Grur-Eperp Dick. By Edward L. eeler... 5c 118 Witt Somers, THE Boy DETECTIVE. : 119 Musranea Sam, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr......... 5c 20 Tue Branpep HAnp. By Frank Dument..,.. 5c 121 Crynamon Cure. By Edward L. Wheeler,,.... 50 122 Pam. Harpy, THe Boss Boy. By Chas, Morris, 5c 123 Kiowa Cuartey. B Gee . L, Wheeler. 133 Boss Bos. By Edward L. Wheeler ......... 134 Sure-Suor Sets. By Oll Coomes.....,...., . 68 185 Capra Paun.. By C.D. Olark.... .i0.......:. 5e 136 Nieut-Hawk Kir. By Jos. £. Badger, Jr..... 5c 137 THe Hewtpiess Hann. By Capt. ne Reid. 5c 188 Bionpe Brut. By Edward L. Wheeler....... 5c 139 Juper Lynon, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh... ... Be 140 Bivuze Buazes. By Frank Dumont... ........ 5e 141 Sotrp Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler ........ 5¢ 142 Hanpsome Harry. By Charles Morris....... 5c 143 Scar-Facr Savt. By Oll Coomes. ........... 5¢ 144 Darnty Lance, Tue Boy Sport, Badger, 5c 145 Caprarn Ferrer. 7 Edward L. Wheeler.... 5c 146 Sriver Star. By Oll Coomes................ 5c 147 Witt Witprire. By Charles Morris........... 5e 148 Smarp Sam. By J. Alexander Patten.... .. . 5c 149 A Game or Gop. By Edward L. Wheeler... 5c 150 LANCE AND Lasso. Capt. F. Whittaker,... 5c 151 Pantner Paut. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.... 5c 152 Buack Bess. By Charles Morris..... ........ 5e 153 Eaeier Kirt, tre Boy Demon. J 154 THe Sworp-Hunters. By Capt. F.Whittaker 5c 155 Gotp TriaceR. By_T. C. Harbaugh.... 156 Dgapwoop Dick or Dgapwoop. By 157 Mixe Merry. By Charles Morris. ..._... 158 Fancy Frank or Cororapo, By Buffalo Bill.. ! 159 Tax Lost Carrarn. By Fred. ittaker..... 160 Tm Buack Grant. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr... 161 New York Nett. By Edward L. Wheeler... 162 Wit WILDFIRE IN THE Woops. By C. Morris. 5c 163 Larrue Texas. By Oll Coomes.. *.... .... .. 164 Danpy Rock’s PLeper. By Geo. W. Browne. 165 Buty Bacaaer, THe Rarroap Boy. Morris.. > SIITSTS ISIS geeeerges 176 Tue Boy Runaway. Lieut. H. D. Perry. 177 Nogsy Nick or Nevada. By E. L. Wheeler. Sourrary. By Oll Coomes, . ...... -- 185 Evi. Eyes. By nk mont ea) are 186 Coon DesmMoNnD. By Col. Dele Sara ° . be FRep HALTARD. y Chas. Morris - BC all N , five ee) copy, Or sent on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE & ‘ADAMS Publishers, 98 William street, N. Y. BSSRERES TKSRE
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| THE DOCTOR ‘DETECTIVE; THE MYSTERY OF THE GOLDEN COFFIN. A STRANGE STORY OF HIDDEN, INNER LIFE OF NEW YORK’S GREAT CITY. BY GEORGE LEMUEL. “IN THE GOLDEN COFFIN YOU WIL? CE BURIED ALIVE THERE!” EXCLAIMED THE MASTER-SPIRIT, POINTING WITH OUTSTRETCHED FINGER INTO THE HORRIBLE VOID.
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ee The Doctor Detective. The Doctor-Detective: ‘The Mystery of the Golden Coffin. A Strange Story of Hidden, Inner Life of New York’s Great City. BY GEORGE LEMUEL, DOCTOR DIAMOND. ‘¢ PRISONER, turn and look upon your judges.” The command was sternly given, yet the voice was singularly flexible and pleasant. The doctor wheeled around and a strange sight indeed met his eyes. n the center of the vault were grouped three figures all robed in white shrouds, but the shrouds were so arranged that they covered the head as well as the body, but the part that went over the faces was in some peculiar way so arranged that it was part transparent and the contour of the face beneath could plainly be dis- cerned, and the faces were white and ghastly, like the features of the dead, The center figure was seated upon a long object covered with a black cloth, which, from its shape, was evidently a coffin; the other two were standing leaning upon great naked, cross- hilted swords, such as were used by the heads- men in the old feudal days. On each side of the two leaning upon the swords stood a grisly skeleton, one bony hand uplifted and bearing in its stony clutch a taner of track wax wnich aractUn burned with q quivering, uncertain light. it was a scene calculated to try the nerves of the strongest man, and yet in the face of the uoctor neither curiosity nor fear was percept- ible; it was as if he wore a fleshy mask. Strange things indeed had occurred to our hero, Alcenor Diamond, that night. He was a doctor, a young man with a limited practice, which was chiefly among the poor on the west side of New York, in what is commonly termed the Jefferson Market district. He had been summoned from his home early that even- ing by a ragged little newsboy, who answered to the name of tts age to attend a dying woman in a miserable court, usually calle Hell’s Kitchen, and on this sick-call, by the bedside of the sufferer, he had met his fate in the person of her daughter, the lovely Dura Eldon. Grim death claimed the aged woman for bis prey ; privation and toil had done their work, for the mother and daughter had evidently almost starved to death, yet, when the doctor had pro- nounced the case a critical one, the girl had produced a large roll of bills from her bosom, a hundred dollars at the least, and offered the money to Diamond, if he would only save her parent. Then, when he had said that all the old in this world would not preserve the suf- erer, the girl had cried out wildly that she had sold herself for naught, and fainted dead away. The doctor bad soon revived her, though; together they watched the dark angel claim its preys and then she had begged to be left alone with her dead. Diamond had departed, deter- mined, however, not to lose sight of the beauti- ful maid—the only woman whom he had ever seen that had touched his heart. He went straight to his home, and while meditating over the strange scene by the bedside of the sick wo- man, bis professional services were called for by a sailor-like chap who said that a mate of his was very ill in a vessel at anchor in the river. Diamond went with the man at once; at the foot of the street a boat was in waiting with an oarsman, but when the craft got out into the inky gloom which shadowed in the river, the doctor was suddenly assailed by the two men, bound and blindfolded; then, after quite a jour- ney, by a subterranean ge he was convey- ed into this great vault, evidently a charnel- house under some old church, in which he now stood. He had been given the use of bis eye- sight, but at first utter darkness had prevailed; slowly it had vanished, and then the voice had spoken as we have described: “Doctor Diamond, you are very near to death,” said the center figure. ** What crime have I committed?” ‘¢You know before whom you stand?” + 66 No.” “ And you “T do not.’ ‘‘- You stand before the Council of Three, the Head Centers of the White Band.” “T am still in the dark.” : “This pretended ignorance will not avail ou,” the man in the shroud exclaimed, impa- Genity. ** You know our secret.” do not know your crime?” ? I EO “Upon my honor I do not,” the doctor re- plied, earnestly, although he had an idea he would not be believed. ‘We know better,” cried the judge, sternly. “You attended the death-bed of a member of our band lately, and he, poor craven wretch horrified at the near approach of death, thought to make his peace with Heaven by betraying the secrets of his associates. He revealed all to you that you might communicate with the au- thorities, but we were on the watch. We knew that we had been betrayed in twenty minutes after the tale was told to Se and we took the proper measures at once; if you had attempted to warn the police a desperate hand would have stricken you dead in the street and the world would have had another mysterious murder at which to wonder. But you did not act prompt- ly—we did, and now you are so near death that if you do not feel the cold breath of the King of Terrors it is a wonder.” ‘*- Your information is not correct. I did at- tend a dying man this afternoon and he did con- fide a secret to me, but it hinted not at any secret organization, I swear to you that this is the truth.” “Give us proof that the story is true.” ‘* What proof can I give?’ ‘Repeat to us what the dying man did say.” The doctor hesitated for a few moments. ‘*T cannot,” he said, at last, slowly and firmly. “Tt is a secret and I am bound by oath not to disclose it.” A mocking laugh came from the lips of the leader of the band. “Oh, what a set of idiots you must take us for!” he exclaimed. ‘ Do you think for a single instant that we will believe this tale? Why, man, it is your life that is ai stake!” * And on the other hand my honor also.” ‘*Bah! lost honor can be regained, but a life never!” ‘‘ A man without honor mightas well be with- out life.” Al) three of the masked men shook their heads in evident disapproval of this sentiment. “You are either a very remarkable man or else you are trying to pay a huge game of bluff upon us,” the chief observed. ‘‘ But I tell you what it is, Doctor Diamond, take us how you will, at any game, or in any way, and you will find that we are a terrible hard gang to beat.” The man on the right hand of the seated chief now e. ‘Most worshipful Lord of the Light,” he said with a low obeisance to the man in the center, ‘‘might not the prisoner avail himself of the article in our charter which permits a eeehay under certain circumstances to save imse ‘He needs a second one; what say you, Sword Sapam will you join your brother in this ac ‘*T will,” responded the shrouded figure on the left hand with a most unmistakable Jewish accent, and as the doctor heard the voice he compressed his lips to avoid betraying himself, for he was sure that he recognized the speaker. The chief then addressed the prisoner: “As you have doubtless surmised, if you do not know our secret as you assert, and as you are surely aware if you are in possession of it, our society, which is known as the White Band because when we meet in council we resemble, ‘A band of spirits bright, all robedin spotless white, ‘ And conquering palms we bear,’ is, essentially a benevolent organization, and formed, primarily, to right the wrongs under which the world at large really suffers. As you are eke age aware, being a student, the state of things at present is radically wrong. One man has an income of a thousand dollars a day and another man has absolutely nothing, now as far as the members of our society are con- cerned we intend to right this really gigantic wrong. Our process is an extremely siiuple one. We find out some man who has a great deal more money than he is entitled to and we relieve him of some of his surplus funds, dis- tributing the money among the members of our brotherhood. You will perceive that we strike at the very root of the evil without any foolish flummery, no noise, no publicity.” ‘But some trouble sometimes,” observed the doctor, very dryly. ‘Oh, yes; that is the history of all attempts to radically change the course of existing af- fairs; individuals must suffer so that the public at large may be benefited. And, now that you know about our organization, you will be pre- red to decide about this matter suggested y my esteemed friends here. They think that a man like yourself would bea desirable addi- tion to our ranks, and that is my opinion, too, for in your capacity as a medical man you will be able to obtain information which will be of great value tous. Not as you are situated at present though; you must come out of your ob- scure quarters and take a residence i ated where you can obtain patients worth having. It will require money, of course, to set you up in the proper style, but we will attend to that. How does the idea strike you?” “In plain words you wish me to join your band, which, I take it, is an organization of robbers, felons and, possibly, murderers.” __ “We never use violence if we can help it, but if we happen to be so unfortunate as to be cor- nered, why then, of course, self-preservation is the first law of nature,” the chief replied, coolly. “Tam afraid that I'shall have to decline, I am not of a covetous nature; I am content with my present position and the income which it produces, and I donot care to become connected with your scheme which, to my mind, offers more chances for the State prison and the halter than anything else.” . “Do not decide rashly,” continued the other; ‘it is life that you are refusing.” “Tam a fatalist,” “ee the doctor with cold disdain. ‘‘ What is to be will be. If I am fated to die by your hands, why, it is my destiny and T cannot avoid it,” “Two chances for lifé you have; make us certain that yoti do not know our secret by re- vealing the one which you say was intrusted to you, or join our band.” ‘* Neither the one nor the other.” “Then death waits for you—a horrid, linger- ing death, ten times worse than the rope or the hangman can give.” The chief arose from his seat and plucked off the black cloth which covered the object upon which he had sat, and, as the doctor had sus- pected, it was a coflin—but such a coffin, it was safe to say, as the eye of man had never looked upon before. It was no common stuff, no rose- wood casket, but made of solid gold and _ richly ornamented with precious stones. In itself it represented a fortune, and even the calm and impassible doctor stared as the cloth was pulled aside and the wonderful thing revealed in all its richness. ‘“Well, how does this strike you?” questioned the shrouded chief. ‘‘ You see in one respect we intend to usher you into the other world ina first-class manner. Your funeral won’t amount to much, but when it comes to the coffin, we challenge the world to produce its equal; no Egyptian king, no monarch of golden-bearing Africa or jewel-laden Asia ever had its like, even counting back to the days of Prester John with all its fabulous wealth. And your tomb, too, will be on the same magnificent scale, Oh! we are going to plant you splendidly. Be- hold!” The speaker stamped his foot and right in front of the spot where the coffin stood in the dark, damp ground, a circular cavity, about ten feet in diameter appeared. It seemed like a gigantic well-hole. ‘In the golden coffin you will be buried alive there!” exclaimed the master-spirit of this secret ck with outstretched finger into the horrible void that seemed like the en- trance to another world where Satan reigns supreme, * And you will doom me, a stranger to you, aman who never harmed you in the least to this awful death?” the doctor asked, signs of strong emotion appearing on his countenance. ‘Yes, and our vengeance will pursue you be- yond the grave, for, after you are dead, we will sell your body to the surgeons to be hacked with sharp knives, as you doubtless have hacked others’ bodies many a time.” * Will you grant me one last request?’ “Yes, so long as you do not ask for life or for us not to sell your body after the life is out of it. See New York Saturday Journal, No. 576, (Now Ready) for the continuation of this mar- velous and impressive story. This paper, characterized in the trade as “The Star of the Weeklies,” is published by Beadle and Adams, 98 William street, N. Y. “It is sold by all News- dealers (price six cents) or is sent, postpaid, to any address on receipt of price. It is the acknowledged Brst FAMILY AND FIRESIDE WEFEKLY in America. To regular subscribers $3.00 per year: $1.50 for six months; $1.00 for four months. Test it.
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Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker. Buffalo Billy, THE BOY BULLWHACKER; R, THE DOOMED THIRTEEN. A Strange Story of the Silver Trail. BY CAPT. A. B. TAYLOR, U. 8. A. CHAPTER I. FOR LIFZ OR DEATH. ‘On hokey! 1’m gone up, for there’s In- juns behind the buffaloes!”’ The speaker was a youth of fifteen, tall of his age, wiry, and possessing a face that was frank, fearless, and handsome enough for an artist’s study. Dressed in buckskin, even to the moccasins, handsomely beaded, that incased his small feet, he wore upon his head a dove-colored slouch hat with broad brim, turned up on the left side and fastened with a gold pin represent- ing a miniature bullwhacker's whip. At his back slung a Colt’s repeating rifle, with carved stock, and silver mounted, as were also his long bowie-knife and a pair of reyol- vers in his belt. When he uttered the words that open this story, he was standing upon the stout limb of a solitary tree, that stood like a sentinel in the middle of a vast prairie. With one hand he clung to a branch for sup- port, and with the other he shaded his eyes and glanced out over the plain, while a certain look of anxiety rested upon his fine face. And, as he looked, his cheeks flushed with ex- citement, his large, black eyes full of fire and determination, and his long, dark-brown hair floating back behind him, fanned by the stiff breeze that was blowing, there came to his ears a sound like the low rumble of distant thun- der. Louder and louder it grew, and nearer and nearer came the cause—an immense herd of buffaloes flying like the wind over the prairie. It was the thundering sound of their thou- sands of hoofs that had at first warned him of danger, as he was trudging on foot along the weary prairie trail, and at once his eye had fallen upon the solitary tree, standing grim, yet inviting in the midst of the plain. ‘‘T guess ’twas made to order, for just such an occasion,” he said gayly, as he took refuge amid its branches, feeling no concern in such a haven; but one glance over the waste, and he had discovered that the herd of buffaloes, fly- ing at top speed, numbered thousands, and that bebind them, only a short distance away, and in full chase came a band of Indians, fully a hundred in number. ‘‘ Whew!” and the boy gave a long whistle, and uttered the words that head this chapter. ‘‘T wish, now lve climbed this tree, that I could pull it up after me,” he said lugubriously, at the same time looking with instinctive caution at his arms. ‘‘If my poor mother and sisters could only see me now, I guess they’d wave me a long farewell, for if some old iron-headed buffalo bull don’t knook this tree up by the roots, the Injuns will fill me full of holes. Ugh! I kinder feel as though arrows were sticking in me now; but’”’—and his eyes flashed, as he spoke:—“‘ I’ve got six shots in my rifle for long range, and twelve in my revolvers for close quarters, and if Billy Cody goes under, he leaves wailing in the red-skin camp.” On came the buffaloes, and behind them the savage Sioux, and all were heading directly for the lone tree and its daring but youthful occu- ant. ‘‘By the Rockies! I’ve got a thought,” he suddenly exclaimed. ‘‘ The buffaloes are head- ing directly for our camp, and Ill try it, andif I go in all right, I guess I'll astonish Wild Bill and the boys. If I don’t, why, they’ll astonish the red-skins, “Tf L stay here the reds will kill me, that’s | certain, and the chances are against me the | - other way; so it’s ‘nip and tuck’ either way, but I guess I'll take ‘ tuck.’” As if having made up his mind to some des- perate purpose, he drew his belt more tightly around his waist, made his rifle more secure, pulled his hat down hard on his head, and sat down on the limb upon which he had been standing. His face was now pale, yet still fearless and determined, and his lips were set firmly, like one who knew he had to grapple with Death, and the chances wholly in favor of his antago- nist. Not a hundred yards away came the huge herd of flying buffalo, the earth fairly shaking beneath their thundering hoofs. Behind therm, only a few hundred feet, came the mounted warriors, urging their ponies bard to overtake the game they had started. With his keen eyes the boy swept the herd over, and his glance fell upon one huge buffalo bull that was heading directly for the tree. “That’s my racer, and I’m _ thinking he won’t need spurs. Now, Billy Cody, if you don’t mount right there’ll be mourning in your Kansas home, and you won’t need burying, for those buffaloes will trample you into dust; but, come what may, here goes!” As he spoke he swung bimself down under the limb, holding by his hands, and, just as the huge buffalo bull dashed beneath him, he let go his hold and dropped astride of his ‘‘ racer,” as he had called the animal. A wild, startled bellow, a snort, a bound in the air, and the bull led the herd; but Billy Cody had not been unseated, and in the exuber- ance of his boyish spirits ho gave a loud, ring- ing war-whoop, which was heard by the In- dians and savagely answered, for at a glance they saw the desperate deed was done to escape them. A few hundred yards of flight, and the boy felt perfectly at home on the back of his hairy steed, for he was a superb rider, and said, grimly: “‘T guess I can try my luck on a red-skin now.” As he spoke he unslung his rifle, and, with remarkable agility sprung to his feet, and balancing himself, turned half round, and fired, and down from his pony to the ground drop- ped the leading warrior, while a shower of ar- rows flow over the head of the daring boy. But, delighted at his success, and his fright- ened buffalo leading the herd, he seemed tos feel no fear, and again and again his rifle flashed, and off to the Happy Hunting-grounds sped the spirit of a savage warrior with each rifle crack. CHAPTER II. THE BOY BULLWHACKER. ‘“ WELL, boys, who comes here?” The speaker was a man who will go down to history as one of the greatest of border heroes, for it was none other than Wild Bill, though why called Bill, when his name was James B. Hikok, is one of those things, which in the mysteries of frontier nomenclature is past find- ing out. A young man at that time, for I write of twenty or more years ago, Wild Bill was one of the most powerful men on the plains, and was admitted to be the ‘best man” physically in the employ of Russell, Majors and Waddell, who then ran the supply trains to all the im- portant Western ports. The train, of which Wild Bill was wagon- master, had encamped for the night on the South Platte, and was en route to Salt Lake with supplies. But, while all were busy preparing for the night encampment, the keen eye of Wild Bill had discovered several horsemen approaching, whom he knew at a glance did not belong to his train. At his words, all who heard them looked up, and soon after five horsemen rode into eamp. They were all of: them fearless, hardy-look- ing fellows, with swarthy faces, long hair, and well mounted and armed. ‘Who is the boss of this bull outfit?” asked one, glancing over the crowd of teamsters, and bullwhackers who bad gathered around. ‘“‘T am, pard; how can I serve you?” an- swered Wild Bill, stepping forward. ‘‘ We are in bad luck, for one of our guides was killed in a scrimmage with Indians, and the other took sick and died, and we’ll pay well for a man to put us through.” ‘‘ Which way going, pard?” “East; back to the States,- with ‘a wagon load o’ silver dust,” was the honest reply. “‘Wouldn’t tell that to every crowd, pard; but we profess to be honest in this bull train.” ““T know who you are, for our guide told us one o’ Russell, Majors and Waddells bull- trains would be along soon, and that Wild Bill was boss of it; are you Wild Bill?” ‘‘That’s what men call me. How many in your party?” ** Thirteen.” “ Ah!” “What is it, pard?’ asked the stranger as Wild Bill said no more. “Ob! I’m a little gone on superstition, and thirteen is an unlucky number; but you want a guide bacx to Kansas City, or Leavenworth, you say?” ‘* That’s it, exactly.” ‘One wagon, or more?” “Two, one with silver chest, t’other with traps; we’ve been digging ore in Colorado and struck it rich, and are going East to see the old folks, and then come back and work out our lead. “We drive six mules to the team are all well mounted and thoroughly heeled with shoot- ing irons, and you can’t scare up thirteen bet- ter pards on the border than we are, if I say it myself.” “You look square, and I guess I can ac- commodate you witha guide, if you are willing to pay well,” said Wild Bill. ‘* We'll give him a cool hundred apiece to run us into Leavenworth.” “Done! get down and take supper with us, and J’ll look the boy up.” “The boy ?” asked the miner, who had be- fore spoken. ‘Yes, the boy; Billy Cody, and the boss bullwhacker with this train.” “But we don’t want a bullwhacker, for we drive mules.” “Don’t make any difference. Bill knows a . mule from his ears to his business end.” “ How old is this Boy Bullwhacker?” “Tm not his father or mother, and can’t exactly say; but I’m his friend unto death, and the man who says he isn’t as good as any one in this train, quarrels with me, He’s about fourteen, though, to answer your question.” ‘Oh, we want a man!” “Bosh! why won’ta wonian do, if she’s as good asa man? and Billy Cody is every time equal to a man, whether it’s on the trail, in a fight, bullwhacking, or riding a mustang, and he can out-shoot anybody in this outfit.” “ But he’s a boy!” ‘And I tell you he’s a boss boy. Where is the youngster?” and Wild Bill glanced over the crowd of bullwhackers and teamsters. ‘* He’s off ona hunt; dropped back this morn- ing to bring in some game for supper,” answered one of the men who belonged to the boy’s mess. An anxious look covered the face of Wild Bill, and he said: “The boy’s generally on time, and should be here; but, hullo! here comes game, pards, and right into camp.” " All eyes were turned across the prairie, and over a rise came a surging, flying mass of buf- faloes, heading almost directly for the camp. The continuation of this story can be found in No. 191 of Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. Can be had of any newsdealer, price five cents, or sent by mail direct from the publishers, Beadle and Adams, 98 William st., N. Y., on receipt of six cents. See full list of Half-Dime Library on other page.
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plntelnfalalnlala| SF met WE NC 4g ee Lit lallalalalallallallal J RX 4 - x S . ? WON WER” EAA, LANGA NRE, put PSS GLE To (aa ™. = et el ccoeclelloeececcecececccll haee TIN $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyrighted In 1881 by BEADLE AND ADAMs, March 22, 1881, Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS Price Vol. VIII. 8 ° No. 191 Number. No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. . ° BUFFALO BILLY, The Boy Bullwhacker: or, The Doomed Thitteen, A STRANGE STORY OF THE SILVER TRAIL. BY CAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLOR, U.S. A. aS ~ I at —7 = 3 = = * =< % =. = = < , \\Y/ 7 Uf Ly WAR TS ae Za ‘x { \ Vy i £7 hea HE UNSLUNG HIS RIFLE, AND, WITH REMARKABLE AGILITY, SPRUNG TO HIS FEET, AND BALANCING HIMSELF, TURNED HALF ROUND, ’
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qi ER 7k it _= 44 EE a COPYRIGHTED I~ ENTERED AT THE Post OFFICE AT NEW York, N. Y., aT SECOxD ) Ont Ass s Mam Rares. Vol X. Published Every “Be eadle ¢& Adams, Publishers, Ten Cents a ‘ater No. 126 ‘ ‘ Week, 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. ¥., March 29, 1831. $5.00 a Year. , The Demon non Duelist: or, The he League of ‘Steel. _BY COL, THOMAS ‘HOYER ‘R_MONSTERY. } nS Tl = — ] Mh ] > WSESSEVS KAPP’S SWORD FLEW INTO THE AIR WHILE THE POINT OF THE DEMON DUELIST PIERCED HIS HEART.
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The Demon Duelist: OR, THE LEAGUE OF STEEL. A Story of German Student Life. BY COL. THOMAS HOYER MONSTERY. Champion-at-arms of North and South America. “AUTHOR OF ‘‘ IRON WRIST, THE SWORDMASTER.” CHAPTER I. THE RATHSKELLER. A VAST hall had been hewn underground from the solid rock, with piers and arches that seemed the work of giants. Swinging lamps cast a yellow glare on the sanded floor, and the whole hall was full of a ‘thin bluish haze of tobacco-smoke. Little round tables were scattered irregularly among the arches, and crowds of young men sat at them and blew rings of smoke with great precision and satisfaction to themselves, as they puffed at their huge meerschaum pipes. Between the times of blowing rings they ‘drank beer, and between both they all talked i, ae or sung songs. Such was the Raths- keller of the town of Heidelberg, in 1816, and such it stands to-day, nearly unaltered. Handsome young fellows they were, who affected long curls of yellow hair, velvet coats, white breeches and long boots of shining leather. the whole topped by the caps of the different ** corps” with their hanging tassels, The White Caps mete kept to themselves, apart from Green, Red, Blue and Yellow Caps with whom their only intercourse was held at the point of the sword on the dueling ground of the University. But on the evening of June 15th, 1816, the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo, the mational exultation of all the German students had set them to drinking toasts, singing songs and fraternizing for a single night, even to the vextent that a Red Cap might say “ Gut heil” to sa White Cap, for that occasion only, as he ee off his beer. ' The buzz of animated talk mingled with the clink of glasses, when one of the Red Caps began to sing a very patriotic song about Blucher the Prussian general, whom he praised for having: **Beat old Boney out of his boots, And showed the French how a Prussian shoots, And kicked Macdonald, and Ney, and Soult, Till they squealed for very fear.” Just as he was finishing the most vainglorious of these verses, a young man of singular grace mand beauty of appearance entered the Raths- keller and sauntered into the midst of the groups of students, with a smile and a bow for all. The handsome young man came up to the ‘table at last and surveyed it coolly, while the talk was hushed around them. The Red Caps ‘ceased to sing, all but one, and even he finally sto , as if confused. hen the clear voice of the dark stranger cut the silence like a knife, as he said, addressing Red Cap in French: ‘*Monsieur is probably not aware that his pf is offensive to me. Of course monsieur will apologize at once for insulting the memory of men who helped to give a name to the bridge of Jena.” German students generally talk French well ‘and Red Cap understood him, for he answere rat once: * Leipsic and Waterloo have wiped out Jena, rand no Prussian begs pardon of a Frenchman.” He was rather pale as he spoke, ‘Then of course monsieur knows the conse- quence,” was the icy reply, with a cold glitter of tho black eyes. “I am the Count of St, ie) a ‘And Tam plain Karl Kapp,” was the retort. “* Name your time.” _Karl Kapp was a robust, florid young Prus- ‘sian, bigger every way than his antagonist, and ‘ 2yet his voice shook a little as he looked at St. -‘George. There seemed to be something in the slender, dark-eyed stranger that had an appall- ing effect on every one. 6 other Red Caps had sat in silence durin the short ey , and St. George looked a re in a swift, comprehensive glance, as he said: ** My seconds are Messieurs De Lisle and Lou- ‘vet; weapons, small-swords; time, dawn, to- “morrow; place, the Court of Death. I shall ex- pect you.” As he spoke, he removed from his dark curls © black velvet cap with a gold tassel and bowed The Demon Duelist. ——s a ER RN ETT es TS gracefully, a courtesy returned by the Prus- sian. Then St. George continued, looking round the table with the same smile which he had worn all the time: ‘* As for these gentlemen, they are of course aware that I keep this table for my friends only, and they will at once apologize and re- tire There were three men besides Kapp at the table, and all were on their feet in a moment, staring at the stranger as if they thought him crazy. His smile grew evil and sneering, with a sardonic malice, that was positively satanic, as he said: “Aha! The gentlemen are about to beg my pardon. They are right. 1 accord it, for I re- member Jena.” ‘“ Waterloo!” answered one of the Red Caps, his face turning purple with anger. ‘‘ Blucher beat he man, and I'll beat you, accursed Frenchman!” Again St. George smiled in his most deadly fashion, as he replied: ‘What! Is the gentleman afraid then, as well as a dummer jungen?’”* In a moment the choleric student had hurled his beer glass at the head of the coolly insolent stranger, who only laughed as he jerked his head to one side, thus avoiding the flying glass. Then he said quietly to the Prussian: “I will fill another glass as large as that with your blood in the morning, if you come with your friend Kapp.” “T will be there,” was the defiant reply, and then St. George continued: “Come, gentlemen, we waste time. Do you apologize for your intrusion on my table?” Not a man answered. ‘* Very well, then. I shall expect you in the Death Court at sunrise. You can cast lots who shall be killed first. Au revoir, messieurs.” He lifted his cap with his uliar haughty grace and the four red-capped Prussians saluted with stiff precision, when the stranger turned on his heel and sauntered away to a table full of White Caps, who received him with a singular gla of pride, admiration and fear in their ooks. CHAPTER IL. THE DEMON DUELIST. THE castle of Heidelberg with its long lines of once magnificent, now ruined buildings, covers several acres of ground, and one may easily lose oneself among its numerous courts and galleries even to-day, when houses are thick around it. But at the period of our story the neighbor- hood was wild and scantily peopled and few tourists visited the ruins, whilo the students used it for their dueling ground on account of its immunity from disturbance by police or others. Moreover, it was but a few miles, by a wild forestroad, to the frontiers of Hesse Darmstadt, in case of a fatal termination to any “ affair,” and Hesse was another State with a distinct government, “‘ Affairs” at Heidelberg were of two kinds, “regular,” and “ a Voutrance.” In “regular” duels the men wore armor on body and limbs, leaving only the head exposed, and used the “schlager” (literally ‘‘ beater”) —a cutting sword sharp as a razor, with a basket hilt of iron. Affairs a loutrance were fought in shirt and trowsers, with saber or small-sword. “Regular” affairs rarely resulted in worse than a horribly gashed face; but affairs a V’ou- trance were in many cases fatal. Here, then, in the Court of Death, on the morning of the 16th of July, 1816, the dam vapors still hung, while the rays of the half- risen sun cast a red glow on the summits of the turrets of Heidelberg, when a party of seven students, all wearing the Cap, picked their rey through the ruins and entered the Death urt. [The result of the duel was the successive slaughter of the four German students, one after the other, by the Count of St. George, using the celebrated ‘St, George parry and thrust.” At the close of the affair, after he and his seconds had left the court, Berger, one of the Red Caps, said to the others:] * Dummer jungen [blockhead] is a straight fighting word among German students. They will stand _al- most anything else except ‘hundsfulz”’ (literally, dog’s foot] or coward. “‘ That man must be killed !” ‘*Easy enough said,” muttered his fellow; ** but who shall do it.” ‘*T know of only one, and that is Steinmark,” returned Berger.” They call him Devilshead, and I believe he could beat the devil himself.” The other’s face cleared up. “True. Devilshead is the man, Let us go to him.” ‘« Where is he?” asked Berger. “In Schneider’s garden where he has two regular affairs now,” was the reply. ‘‘Let us go there.” z CHAPTER III. THE FRAULEIN EMILIA. THE Fraulein Emilia von Steinmark, sister to the renowned ‘‘ Devilshead,” was drivin through the forest on the frontier of Baden an Hesse Darmstadt accompanied by Frau Stock, when they were stopped by a party of men under the lead of the notorious brigand, Schin- derhannes. He roughly demanded their money and jewelry. But the spirited girl utterly refused the rob- bers’ demand until he became insolent and threatened violence, whereupon she threw the booty from the carriage out on the ground, But this did not satisfy the brigand, for he now insisted upon the young woman’s descent from the carriage. q Sharp words followed until at length he cried: ‘“Come, get out! Your princess airs do not frighten me, fraulein. ou must come out while my men search the carriage.” “Then fall back, and do not touch me,” was her response, her eyes gleaming as she spoke. Schinderhannes laughed and stepped back, and Emilia descended from the carriage with the air of a princess among slaves. 3 At that moment one of the robbers cried out: “Garea nous! Gendarmes !”* In an instant every robber was on the alert looking up and down the road, when they hear the rapid gallop of horses, a crackling of branches, and into the road out of the forest dashed three horsemen, who bore a _ perfect arsenal of pistols in belts over velvet coats, and carried double-barreled carbines in their hands. All wore their hair long in the student fashion, and one of them was the handsomest youth Emilia had ever seen in her life. Even amid all her terror and indignation at the coarse insults of the brigands, she could not help a thrill of admiration as'she saw this youth gallop into the midst of the robbers, and shout: s Ne bas vos armes! Sacre cochons, que faites vous ici?’ Schinderhannes grumbled some indistinct pi of excuse, but the stranger waved it aside. ‘Put everything back into the carriage at once—everything, mind. . And be quick. will te}l you when to strike and where.’ Without another word of grumbling, Schin- derhannes went back to the carriage and re- placed in a heap on the cushions the stolen prop- erty, while the stranger threw his reins to a robber, sprung off his horse, and advanced to Emilia with a bow that was to her thinking the very impersonation of grace and polite- ness, | ‘* Fraulein, I regret deeply that these men should have troubled you. Permit me to apolo- gizo and to lead you to your carriage.” Emilia, who had hitherto been as cool and collected as a man, now on a sudden began to flush and pale, as she faltered: ** And is it possible that you—you—are con- nected with these wretches? He smiled faintly, and then answered in a tone of ee sadness: “Yes, they are wretches now. It is true. And yet, only a year ago they were the proud- est men in Europe. Fraulein, seek to know no more, but permit me to lead Ar to your car- i res ask you to forget all this forever.” ~ at was it made Emilia turn scarlet as he took her hand, and murmur: ‘*‘ That is not so easy, monsieur.” _ The continuation of this story can be found in No. 126 of Beadle’s Dime Library. For sale by all Newsdealers, price ten cents, or sent by mail direct from the publishers, Beadle and Adams, 98 William street, N. Y., on receipt of twelve cents, See list of Dime Library on other page. * Look outh Police! + Down with your arms! Accursed pigs, what are you doing here? —?
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—— - ~ 4 | ih %, Patent 1) 42 The . 49 Omaha ~~ 1 Deadwood Dick, tHe PRINCE oF THE ROAD. By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack, By 3 Kansas King; or, THe By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe, THE YOUNG WANDERING JEW; or, PLOTTING FoR A LeGacy. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper. By E. 5S. Ellis. 7 The Fiying Yankee; or, THE OcEAN OvuT- cast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 8 Seth Jones. By Edward S$. Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen,. 10 Nat Todd. By E.5. Ellis. 11 The Two Detectives; or, Taz Forrunss oF A Bowery Giri. By Albert W. Aiken. 12 Gulliver’s Travels. By Dean Swift. 13 The Dumb Spy. By Oli Coomes. 3 Aladdiny or, THe WonperFvt Lamp. 16 1 Jos. E. Badger, Jr. GHT HAND. The Sea-Cat. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. Robinson Crusoe, (27 Illustrations.) 4 Ralph Boy, tHe Boy Buccaneer; or, THE Fuaittve Yacut. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. 19 The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, DeApwoop Dicx’s Deriance. By Edward L. eeler. 21 Whe Frontier Angel. By Edward §. Ellis, 22 The Sea Serpent; or, THe Boy Rosinson Crusoe. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o° the Night; or, Tar Boy Spy or "76. Rv T. C, Harbaugh, 24 Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. 25 Whe Boy Captain. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, THe BurraLco Demon; or, THE Borpger Voutures. By Edward L. Wheeler, 27 Antelope Abe, THE Boy Guipz. Oll Coomes, 28 Buffalo Ben, THE PRINCE OF THE PisTOL; or, DeEApwoop Dick oy Diseuise. FE. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THE REcK- LESS RANGER. By Harry St. Mme =H 31 Keen-Knife, PRINCE OF THE IRIES. By Oll Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, tHe BorpER Rvrrian; or, THE GirL Deap-SHot. By Edward L. Wheeler. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, Taz Rep PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEES. By &. W. Pierce. 84 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wuirr.es’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 35 Wild Ivan, THE Boy CiaupE DovaL; or, THE BROTHERHOOD OF DeatH. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 386 The Boy Clown. By Frank S. Finn. 37 The Hidden Lodge. By T. C. Harbaugh. 88 Ned Ww yiges THE Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 89 Death- '@, THE DETECTIVE; or, LIFE AND Love IN NEw York. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A Srory or a Younc AMERI- cAN WHo WANTED TO SEE THE WortD. Marshall. 41 Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes. Phantom Miner; or, Drapwoop Dick’s Bonanza. By Edward L. Wheeler. 43 Dick Darling, tHe Pony Express Rmer. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 44 Rattling Rube. By Harry St. George. 45 Old Avalanche, THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR; or, WiLp EpNA, THE GIRL Bricanp. FE. L. Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, THE GREAT SHOT OF THE WEsT. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 47 Nightingale Nat. By T. C. Harbaugh. 48 Black John, THE RoaD-AGENT; or, THE OvuT- LAWws’ Retreat. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. THE MASKED TERROR: or, DEap- woop Dick IN DANGER. By Edward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, THE Trapper. C. FE. le. 51 The Boy Rifles. By Archie C. Irons. 52 Khe White Buffalo. By C. E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., tHe Boy PHenrx; or, Turoves To Deare. By Edward L. Wheeler. 54 Ned Hazel, THE Boy Trapper; or, Toe PHAN- tom Princess. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 55 Deadly - Eye, THE UNKNowN Scour; or, THE BRANDED BROTHERHOOD. By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whiffles’ Pet. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, Taz Parps oF Fioop Bar. By Edward L. Wheeler. 58 The Border King. By Oll Coomes. 59 Old erg & By Harry St. George. 60 The White Indian. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 61 Buckhorn Bill; or, Taz Rep Rirte TEAM. By Edward L. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship. By Col. P. Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood. W. J. Hamilton. 64 a! Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Murricane Bill, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 Single Hand. B Ww. J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe. By Philip 8. Warne. 68 Border Robin Hood, By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle, THz SHARPsHOOTER; or, Tar Boy DETECTIVE OF THE BLACK RANncH. By Wheeler, 70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, Toe GREENHORN IN THE Woops. os J. F.C. Adams. 71 Delaware Dick. By Oll Coomes. 72 Mad Tom Western, THE TEXAN RANGER; or, THE QUEEN OF THE PRAIRIE. By Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, CaLamity JANE, THE HEROINE OF WHOoP-Up. By Wheeler. 74 Mawk-eye Marry. By Oll Coomes. 75 The Boy Duelist; or, Tae Cruise or THE Sra-WoLF. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 76 Abe Colt, tae Crow-KIL_er; or, THE GREAT FIGHTING MAN or tne WesT. By A. W. Aiken. 77 Corduroy Charlie, THE Boy Bravo; or, Deapwoop Dick’s Last Act. By E. L. Wheeler. Blue Dick. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, Giant TRAPPER. By A.W. Aiken. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nucerr Neb, True Knicut OF THE GuLCH. By Edward L. Wheeler. 81 Lightning Jo. By Captain J. F.C. Adams. a ~ | 117 Gilt-Ed | 125 | 126 | 145 82 Kit Maretoot, tHe Woop-Hawk; or, OLD PowpEr-Face AND His Demons. By Harbaugh. 83 Rollo, the Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes. 84 Idyl, the Girl Mimer; or, Rosesup Ros on Hanp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Buckramy; or, Bess, THE FEMALE TRAPPER. By Captain J. F. C. Adams. 86 Dandy Bock. By G. Waldo Browne. 87 'The Land Pirates, By Capt. Mayne Reid. | 88 Photograph Phii, THe Boy Sieur; or, Rosesud Ros’s REAPPEARANCE. By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim. By “peg Hemyng. 90 The Dread Rider. By G. Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain ofthe Clubs; or, THe Youne RivaL ATHuETEs. By Bracebridge Hemyng. | 92 Canada Chet; or, OLD ANACONDA IN SITTING | Butu’s Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners. By Edward §. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, THE Roap-AGEnNT; THE Boy TRAPPER. By T. C. Harbaugh. 95 The Rival Rovers. Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch-Eye, THE SHADOW; or, ARABS AND ANGELS OF A GREAT City. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers, By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, THE OvTLAWED EArt; or, THE Merry Men or Greenwoop. Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos; or, Witp Kats, Danpy Rock’s ANGEL. By George Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A STRANGE STROKE FOR Liperty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York, By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, THe Boy Smvaater; or, THE CRUISE OF THE Vixen. By Col. Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device; or, THe Sien or THE Dovus_Le Cross. By E. L. Wheeler. 105 Old Rube, THe Hunter. Capt. H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, THE Guive. By T. C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim. By James L. Bowen. 108 Daring Davy, THE YounG BEAR-KILLER; or, Tue TRAIL OF THE BORDER WoLF. H. St. George. or, 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies. A Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. 111 The Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingraham. 112 The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe. 113 Jack Hoyle, tHe Younc Sprcunator; or, THe Roap To Fortune. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 114 The Black Schooner. Roger Starbuck. 115 The Wad Miner; or, Danpy Rock’s Doom. By George Waldo Browne. 116 The Hussar Captain; or, THE HERMIT or Hett-Gate. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. ed Dick, THE Sport DETECTIVE; or, THE AD-AGENT’Ss DAUGHTER. Wheeler. Will Somers, tHe Boy Derective. Morris. Mustang Sam, THE KinG oF THE PLAINS. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. The Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont. Cinnamon Chip, THE Giri Sport; or, Tue GoLpEN Ino or Mr. Rosa. Ed. L. Wheeler. Phil Hardy, Tue Boss Boy; or, THE Mys- TERY OF THE STRONGBOW. By Charles Morris. Kiowa Charley, THE WuiTe Mustancer. By T. C. Harbaugh. Tippy, THE Texan, By George Gleason. Bonanza Bill, Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Picayune Pete; or, Nicopremus, THE Doa Detective. By Charles Morris. Wild-Fire, Boss or rhe Roap. By Dumont. The Young Privateer. By H. Cavendish. Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, Tar Guost or Goraeon’s GutcH. Ed. L. Wheeler, 130 Detective Dick. By Charles Morris. 131 The Goiden Hand} or, Danny Rock To THE Rescur. By George W. Browne. The Munted Hunter, By Ed. §S. Ellis. Boss Bob, tHe Kine or tHe Boorsuacks: or, THE PAWNBROKER’s Por. Ed, L. Wheeler. Sure Shot Seth, Tue Boy Rirteman; or THE Youne Patriots oF THE Nortu. By Oll Coomes. Captain Paul, THe Kenrucky MoonsHinsr; or, THE Boy Spy or THE Mounrams. By Clark. Night-Hawk Kit. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. The Helpless Mand. Capt. Mayne Reid. Blonde Bill; or, Deapwoop Dicxk’s Home Base. By Edward L. Wheeler. 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 127 128 129 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 Judge Lynch, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh. 140 Blue Blazes; or, THE Break o’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. Solid Sam, THe Boy Roap-Acent: or, THE BRANDED Brows. By Edward L. Wheeler. Handsome Harry, THe Boorsuack DeE- TECTIVE. By Charles Morris. Scar-Face Saul. By Olli Coomes. Dainty Lance, THe Boy Sport; or, THE Bank-BREAKERS’ Decoy Duck. J, E. Badger. Captain Ferret, tHe New York Dersc- TIVE; or, Boss Box’s Boss Jos. By Wheeler. Silver Star, Ter Boy Knyienr. A Prairie Romance, By Oll Coomes. 141 142 143 144 146 147 148 Will Wildfire, THz THoxovGsBRED; on, THE WiyninG Hanp. By Charles Morris. Sharp Samy; or, THE ADVENTURES OF A FRIENDLEssS Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. A Game of Gold3 or, Deapwoop Dick’s Bic STRIKE. By Edward L. Wheeler. Lance and Lasso, By Capt. F.Whittaker. Panther Paul), Tue Prarie Prrate; or, Dainty LANCE To THE Rescur. J. E. Badger. Black Bess, WixL Wiprime’s Racer; or, WIinninG AGAINsT Opps. By Charles Morris. 149 150 151 152 | 153 Eagle Kit, THe Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes.f 154 The Swerd Hunters. By F. Whittaker. Gold Trigger, Tur Sport. T. C. Harbaugh. Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, Tue Pickep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. Mike Merry, tae Harzor Porice Boy; or, THE NiGHT-HAWKS OF PHILADELPHIA. Morris, Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, THE TRAPPER’S Trust. By Buffalo Bill. The Lost Captain; or, THE OPEN POLAR, Sea. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. The Black Giant; or, Damvry LANCE i JEOPARDY. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. New York Nel), THe Boy-Gmt DETEcTIVE: or, OLD BLAKESLY’S Money. By E. L. Wheeler. Will Wildfire in the Woods} or, Came LIFE IN THE ALLEGHANIES, By Charles Morris, Little Texas, THe Youne MusTancer. A Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes. Dandy Rock’s Pledge; or, HUNTED TO DeatH. By G. Waldo Browne. Billy Baggage, Tse RamRoap Boy; or, Run To Earts. By Charles Morris. Hickory Harry. By Harry St. George. Asa Scott, THe STEAMBOAT Boy; or, THE LAND PIRATES OF THE Mississippi. By Ed. Willett. Deadly Dash. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 169 Tornado Tom; or, INson Jack From Rep Corr. T. C. Harbaugh. 170 A Trump Card}; or, Wm. WILDFIRE Wins AnD Loses. By Charles Morris. 171 Ebony Dan. By Frank Dumont. 172 Thunderbolt Tom; or, Tur Wo.r-HerDeR OF THE Rockies. By Harry St. George. Dandy Rock's Rival. By G.W. Browne. Bob Rockett, Tat Boy DonGEr; or, Mys- TERIES OF NEw YORK. By Charles Morris. Captain Arizona, THE Kine Pin or Roap AGEnTs; or, Patent Leather Joe’s Big Game, By Philip 8. Warne. The Boy Runaway; or, THE BuCCANEER OF THE Bay. Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S.N. Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, Tsar Scamp OF THE Sierras. By Edward L. Wheeler. Old Solitary, THe Hermit Traprrer; or, THE DRAGON OF SILVER LAKE. By Oll Coomes, Bob Rockett, tHe Bank RvunNER; or, THE Roap To Rui. By Charles Morris. The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow WELL Kepr. By Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S. N. Wild Frank, te Bvckskin_Bravyo; or, Lapy Lity’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler, 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 s 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 Little Hurricane, ter Boy Captain; or, THE OATH OF THE YOUNG AVENGERS. By ork Coomes. The Hidden Hand; or, Wm WILprire’s REVENGE. By Chas. Morris. The Boy Trailers; or, Damyry LANCE oN THE Wark-Pats. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Evil Eye, Kine or Carrie THieves; or, THE VULTURES OF THE Rio GRANDE. By F. Dumont, Cool Desmond; or, THE GAMBLER’s Bie Game. By Col. Delle Sara. Fred Halyard, tae Lire THE SMUGGLERS OF THE INLET. Ned Temple, tHe Borpver Boy; or, Tar Map Hunter oF Powprr River. By Harbaugh. Bob Rockett, THE CracksMAnN; or, DRIVEN TO THE WALL By Charles Morris, ogee | Darke; or, THE TiceRs or Hick Prre. By Wm. R. Eyster. Buffalo Billy, tHe Boy BuLLWHACKER; or, Tse Doomep THIRTEEN. Capt. A. B. Taylor, U.S.A. Captain Kit, THe Wi1-0'-1THeE-Wisp; or, THe Mystery oF Montauk Pornt. By Lieut, Harry Dennies Perry, U.S. N. March 29th. The Lady Road-Agent; or, PATENT- LEATHER JOE’s DEFEAT. By Philip S. Warne. Ready April 5th, or, THE GAWVBLER Taylor, U.S. A. Ready April 12th. Deadwood Dick’s Dreams; or, Tur RIvALs OF THE Roap. A Mining Tale of “ Tomb. stone.”” By Edward L. Wheeler. April 19th. A new issue every week. The Walf-Dime Library is for sale by al Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE « ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. 183 184 185 186 187 188 Boat Boy; or, By C. Morris. 189 190 191 192 193 194 Buffalo Bill's meg! GuIpE. By Capt. Alfred
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filled ee BEADLE'S| 82 Large Three-Column Pages, 1.A Hard Crowd ; on, Sam’s Sister. By Philip 8S. Warne. 2. The Dare-Devil; orn, Tue WINGED Wircn or THe Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 2, Kit Carson, dr., THE CRACK SHOT OF THe West. By Buckskin Sam. 4. The Kidnapper; or, THe Great SHANGHAI OF THE NorTHwesT. By Philip 8S. Warne. &. The Fire-Fiends; or, HERCULES, THE Hencupeack. By A. P. Morris. 6. Wildcat Bob, Tue Boss Brvixer ; or, THE BoRDER BLoopuounbs. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 7%. Death-Notch, THE DESTROYER; OR, Tus Sprrr LAke Avencers. By Oll Coomes, 8. The Headless Horseman. A strange story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. 10. Vidocg, THe FRENCH POLICE Spy. Written by himself. 11. Midshipman Easy. ryat. 12. The Death-Shot; or, TRACKED TO DeatH. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 13. Pathaway; or, Nick WHIFFLEs, THE Oup TRAPPER OF THE NORTHWEST. By Robinson. 14. Thayendanegea, THe Scource; og, THE WAR-EAGLE OF THE Monawss. Ned Buntline. | 15. The Tiger-Slayer; or, EaG.e- Heap To THE Rescue. By Gustave Aimard. 16. The White Wizard; or, THe Great Prorger or THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline. 1%. Nightshade, THe Rosser PRINCE or Hovunstow Heatu. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 18. The Sea Bandit; or, THE QUEEN | oF ite Isux, 8 Ned Buntline. 193. Red Cedar, THE Prairie OvutTLaw. B; ‘tustave Aimard, 2). The Bandit at Bay; or, Tae Pr- R.°US OF THE Prairies. By Gustave Aimard, 2i. The Trapper’s Daughter ; Tse Ovriaw’s Fare. By Gustave Aimard, 2. Whitelaw; or, Natrig oF THE LAKE Suore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 23. The Red Warrior; DeLorME’s CoMANCHE Lover. By Ned Buntline, 24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai- mard, author of * Tiger-Slayer,”* ete. 25. The Gold-Guide; on, Sree Ary, THe ReeuLtaror. By Francis Johnson. 28. Vhe Death-Track; or, Tor OvrT- LAWS OF THE Mounrarn. By Francis Johnson, 27. The Spotter-Detective; or, THz Grats or New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 23. Three-Fingered Jack, Tur Roap- AcEntT ov THE Rockirs. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 29. Tiger Dick, Tue Faro Kine; or, Tre Casnizr’s Crime. By Philip S. Warne. 30. Gospel George; or, Fizry FRep, Tus Ovrtaw. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 31. The New York ‘Sharp;’ or, THE Fiuass or Ligurnina. By Albert W. Aiken, 32. B’hoys of Yale; or, THe Scrapes or 4 Harp Ser or Cotuearans. By John D. Vose. 33. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken. 84. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Aiken. 35. Kentuck, the Sport... By Aiken. 36. Injun Dick. 27. Girl, the Hunchback: or, THE SwoRDMAKER OF THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 838. Velvet Hand; or, THe [ron Grip or Ingun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 39. The Russian Spy; or, Tue Broru- or THE Starry Cross. By Frederick Whittaker. 40. The Longe Haired ‘Pards;’ or, Teo TarTAaRs of THe PLarms. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 41. Gold Dan; or, THE Wuite SavaGE rag Great Sau’ Lake. By Albert W. Aiken. 42. The Californian Detoctive; or, Tue WitcHEs oF New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 43. Dakota Dan, THe REcKLess RANGER; or, Taz Ber-Hunters’ Excursion. By Oll Coomes. 44, Old Dan Rackback, Tue Great ExtarminAtTor. By Oll Coomes. £5. Old Bull’s Eye, Tur Licurnine Sor or THE Puaiws. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 43. Bowie-Knife Ben, THe LItTLr Hunter or tae Nor’-west. By Oll Coomes. 4", Pacific Pete, THE PRINCE OF THE Revo.vir, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 48. Idaho Tom, Tur Young OvuTrLaw Or SILVERLAND, By Oll Coomes. ; 49. The Wolf Demon; or, THE QUEEN or THE KANAWHA. By Albert W. Aiken. | 59. Jack Rabbit, THe Pramm Srorr; By Jos. FE, Badger, Jr. ER or FENTLEMAN | | By Ol Coomes., By Capt. Mar- | THe OR, | | SHARK OF THE MISSISSIPPI. | OR, STELLA | FEATHER, THE BuccaNnrer’s DavGHTER. By Grainger. | By Albert W. Aiken. | | By Major Dangerfield Burr. | Wair or rHe WavE. ' 51. Read Rob, Tur Boy Roap-AGEnTt. | $3. Death Trailer, THE CHIEF oF Secours. By ton. Win. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.) | 53, Silver Sam; or. Tue MystTERY OF Dea lwoop City. By Col, Delle Sara. < 54. Always on Hand; or, THE Sportive Srorr or Tes Foor Hitis, By Philip 8. Warne. 62. The Scalp Munters. A ROMANCE OF THE PLatns. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 56. "ho Indian Mazeppa; or, THE Map Man or THE Puss. By Albert W. Aiken. 57. The Silent Hunter ; or, THE SCOWL | Haut Mystery. By Percy B. St. John. 58. Silver Knife; Rocky Mountars Ranger. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. | 59. The Man From Texas; or, THE | OvurLaw or Arkansas. By Albert W. Aiken. 60. Wide Awake; or, THE iDIOT ft or, WICKLIFFE, THE | Buack Hitts. By Frank Dumont. 61. Captain Scawaif, THE PRIVATEER, By Ned Buntline. 62. Loyal Heart; or, Toe TRAPPERS OF ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard. 63. The took se Whale. By Aiken. 64. Doubie-Sight, the Death Shot. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 65. -he Red Rajah; or, THe ScourcE or THE INpDIcs. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 66. The Specter Barque. A TALE or tHe Pactric. By Captain Mayne Reid. 67. The Boy deckey; or, Honesty versus CrookepNEss. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 68. The Fighting Trapper; or, Kir | CARSON TO THE Rescue. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 69. The Irish Captain; A Tare or Fontenoy. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 70. Hyd:a-cad, THE STRANGLER; or, | ALETHE, THE CHILD OF THE CorD. By Robinson, 71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, Taz Man By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 72. The Phantem Hand. A Srory or | New York HeartHs AND Homes. By A. W. Aiken. 73. The Knight of the Red Cross; or, THe MaciciaAn of Granapa. Dr. J. H. Robinson. 74, Captain of the Rifles. A RoMANCE OF THE Mexican VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid. 75. Gentleman George, or, PARLOR, Peison, StaGe anp Srreet. By Albert W. Aiken. 76. Ths Queen’s Musketeer; or, TrIsBE, THE Princess PALMIsT. By George Albony. | 797. The Fresh of Frisco; or, THE | Hermess of Burnaventora. By Albert W. Aiken. | 78. The Mysterious Spy; or, GOLDEN | 29. Joe Phenix, Tar Potice Spy. By Albert W. Aiken. 80. A Man of Nerve; Tar Dwarr. By Philip 8. Warne. 81, The Human Tiger; or Fire. By Albert W..Aiken. 82, Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery. 83. Gold Bullet Sport: or, THE KNIGHTS or THE OVERLAND. By Buffalo Bill. 84. Hunted Down; or, Wrrcn. By Albert W. Aiken. 85, The Cretan Rover: or, ZULEIKAH, THE BeavtiruL, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 86. The Bie Hunter: or. THE QUEEN or THE Woovs. By the author of “ Silent Hunter.” 847. The Scarlet Captain; or, THE PRISONER OF THE TowER. By Col. Delle Sara. or, CALIBAN, or, A HEART THE WHITE 88, Bie George, THE GIANT OF THE Guicu; or, THE Frve OvrLaAw Brotuers. By Badger. 89. The Pirate Prince; or, Pretty Newiy, THe Queen or THEIstE. By Col. Ingraham, 90. Wild Will, Tne Map RANcHERO; or, THe Terrie Texan. By Buckskin Sam. 91. The Winning Oar; or, THE INN KEEPER’s DaveuTerR. By Albert W. Aiken. 92. Buffalo Bill, Tee Buckskin KING; 93. Captain Dick Talbot, KinG or | Tur Roap. By Albert W. Aiken. G4, Freeleneca. THE BUCCANEER; or, The By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, | the Texan Plains. Each Number Complete, Price 10 cts. 95. Azhort, Tor AxMAN; or, THE SECRETS | OF THE DucaL Pauace. By Anthony P. Morris. £6. Deuble-Death; or, THE Spy QUEEN or Wyomine. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 97. Bronze dack, THE CALIFORNIA THOROUGHERED. By A. W. Aiken. 98. The Nock Rider; or, Tur Sprit OF THE Srerra. By Capt. Frederi '- Whittaker. 99. The Giant Rifler..1; or, Wi~p Lire IN THE LuMBER ReGIons. By Oll Coomes. 100, The Frerch £-y:; or, THE Brive oF Paris, A Story of tLe Con..une, By A. P. Morris. 101. The Man from New York; or, TuE ROMANCE OF A Rich YounG Woman. By Albert W. Aiken, 102. The Masked Band; or, THz Man ieorge L. Aiken. WrrnHovut A NAME. By 103. Merle, the Mutineer; or, THE By Col. P. Ingraham. BRAND OF THE RED ANCHOR. 104. Montezuma, the Merciless; or, THe EaGLe AND THE SERPENT. By Col. P. Ingraham. 105. Dan Brown of Denver, THE Rocky Mountain Detective. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 106. Shamus O’Brien, Tur BouLp Boy or GLINGAL; or, IrtsH Hearts AND Irish Homes. By Colonel Delle Sara. 107. Richard Talbot of Cinnabar; or, THe BROTHERS OF THE RED Hanp. By A.W. Aiken. 108. The Duke of Diamonds; or, THz | Frower or CatcutTta. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 109. Captain Eyd, Tur Kine or THE Buack Fiac. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 110. The Silent Rifleman. A Tale of By Henry W. Herbert. 111. The Smuggler Captain; or, THE Sxiprer’s Crime. By Ned Buntline, 112. Joe Phenix, Private DrErective; or, THe LEAGUE OF THE SKELETON Keys. By Aiken, 113. The Sea Slipper; or, THz Ama- TEUR FrREEBOOTERS. By Prof. J. H. Ingraham, 114. The Gentleman from Pike; or, Tue GHost oF THE Canyon. By Philip 8. Warne. 115. The Severed Head; or, THe Secret or CastTLe Covucy. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 116, Black Plume, Tue DEVIL or THE | Sea; or, THE SoncERESS OF HELL-GaTE. By Colonel | Prentiss Ingraham, 117. Dashing Dandy, Tue Hotspur or THE HILus; or, THE Pony PrRiIncE’s STRANGE Parp. By Major Dangerfield Burr. 118. The Burglar Captain; or, Tux FALLEN Star. By Prof. J. H. Ingraham, 119. Alabama doe; or, THE Yazoo Man-Hunters. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 120. The Texan Spy; or, THE Prairie GuipE. By Newton M. Curtis. 121. The Sea Cadet; or, Tue Rover oF THE RigoLerts. By Col. P. Ingraham. 122. Saul Sabberday, Tux Ipior Spy; or, LuLior’A, THE SEMINOLE. By Ned Buntline. 123. Alapaha, the Squaw; or, THE RENEGADES OF THE BorpER. By Francis Johnson. 124. Assowaum, the Avenger; or, Tue Doom or THe Destroyers. By Francis Johnson. 125. The Blacksmith Outlaw; or, Merry Eneuanp. By Harrison Ainsworth. 126. The Demon Duelist; or, Tue LeaGvugE OF STEEL. By Colonel Thos. H, Monstery. 127. Sol Scott, THe Maskep Miner; or, Dan Brown’s Dovusie. By Joseph E. Badger. Ready March 30th. 128. The Chevalier Corsair ; or, Tax HeritacGe or Hatrep. By the author of “ Merle, the Mutineer.”’ Ready April 6th. 129. Buckskin Sam,THE TEXAN TRAILER; or, THe Banprrs oF THE Bravo. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Ready April 13th. 130. Captain Volcano; or, THe Man or THE Rep Revotvers. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready April 20th. A new tssue every week. Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. eS,