Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 188) (1881 03 01)
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2 os = LSE Ht § =~ S if AY \ f\ . ; \\ \ ’ “\) SA SAN RY NT AONNNNA Wanner aS VEX SS I MOD” YY = | | | | | | 2 Dei eo eee LiLIYZ N \\ ANN \ lA AW | fs ———— DS \ a SEEN OS : [st Va) al Dl lt AIS See YS $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mai! Rates. Copyrighted In 1881 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, oe March 1, 188. i S3LISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE A} AMS i Vol. VIII. ses, Pt PUBLIS VEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, No. 188. BY T. C. HARBAUGH, AUTHOR OF “NICK O’ THE NIGHT,” ‘‘ HIDDEN LODGE,” “‘ NIGHTINGALE NAT,” “OLD FROSTY,” “ DANDY JACK,” “KIT HAREFOOT,” ETO. \ is, | as (1) i _ Rot tu Hj aA > Se mM cet a > 4 e Ze [aS Z ———— “YOU HER PERTECTOR?’ HE RETORTED, ‘WHY, I COULD ORUSH YOU WITH MY LITTLE FINGER. YOU DON’T KNOW ME. YM SAM WILDCA.”
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Border Boy THE BORDER BOY; ? The Mad Hunter of Powder River. A Romance of Montana. BY T. C. HARBAUGH, awrHor or “NICK 0’ THE NIGHT,” ** HIDDEN LODGE,” “NIGHTINGALE NAT,” ‘ DANDY JACK,” ‘* KiT HARB woot,” “MIDNIGHT JACK,” ‘“ KIOWAY CHARLEY,”’ “‘ oLD FRrosTy,’’ ‘‘GOLD TRIGGER,’ ‘‘ TORNADO TOM,” ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I. ABANDONED. A wLoNnG and delightful summer day was tak- ‘ing its departure when two horses emerged from the waters of Powder River in Montana a short “distance below the site of Fort Reno. The animals showed signs of fatigue, and when they struck the firm earth of the river bank they would have stopped if their riders had not urged them forward. “The next minute will tell the tale, Cyrille,” said one of the riders addressing his companion. “T cannot think that Uncle Sam has authorized this. cowardly abandonment of his outposts, Wo! I am certain that to-night we will sleep be- neath the stars and stripes of Fort Reno.” “Tho I trust so,” was the answer. ‘I gy Heaven that we have not been abandoned this death-land of Sioux and Crow.” “Tf we have been may the vengeance of Heaven overtake the man who did it.” ) The lips of the speaker, a boy of seventeen, elosed behind the last word, and, enraged at the thought,he struck his horse with the spurs and dashed away. His companion, a young girl as beautiful as the flowers of the plains, followed him closely, and a minute later the two gained the top of a _ grassy knoll at the same time. For a second they looked northward, and then a cry of astonishment escaped the boy’s lips, and the face of the girl grew deathly white. “The fiend has exhibited his heartlessness. Look! Cyrille, Fort Reno, like the other two, has been abandoned, and the torch and toma- hawk have destroyed all that the soldiers left behind! Thornton Hardinge, may the fates curse you—curse you!” The girl, Cyrille, remained silent, but the look that rested on the lone and blackened spot over which a few days before she had seen the stars and stripes wave proudly, was full of the Gy oP of despair. otso the boy’s. ** We'll go down and see,” he said. ** May be,” remarked Cyrille, first time in along while, ‘‘ may be the Indians attacked the fort and took it. To know that _sach was the case would be preferable to believ- img that he left me to the mercy of Red Cloud and bis red warriors.” “Which is just what he has done, as you will soon discover,” declared the youth. They rode down the knoll and toward tho — where they had expected to see Fort Reno. As they advanced they crossed the road that led to Fort Fetterman, in the far south, and the boy’s quick eyes detected the fresh mark of wagon-wheels on its surface. *¢ Just as I told you,” he said, pointing down- ward. ‘‘The fort has been voluntarily aban- doued by the regular troops.” Further. evidences of wholesale desertion awaited them a little further on. They drew rein on what was the parade square within the walls of Fort Reno, It was now covered with blackened timbers, officers’ barracks, the stockades, and so forth. The half- burned flagstaff had fallen to the south, its tip pointing toward Fetterman. The Indians had destroyed the empty post; unable to take the scalps of the garrison, they had applied the torch to everything combus- king for the Several days must have elapsed since the red- skins’ visit, for the ruirs were smokeless and euite cold. Slowly the sun went down while the aban- dened pair silently contemplated the ruins of Fort Reno. They knew that forts Phil Kearney on the Piney, and C. F. Smith on the Big Horn, had been abandoned, for during their journey from Fort Buford, Indian scouts had so informed find us here to-morrow night.” Indian rule and ruin one of the richest countries on the face of the globe. ‘I pever liked Thornton Hardinge,” almost hisse i the boy, turning so suddenly that Cyrille | started. ‘1 told you last winter that, if he was your uncle, he was a man who would bear watching. Now, what do you say? He knew we were to leave Buford on the 9th. Why did he not send a Crow scout to meet us with the news of Reno’s abandonment? Or, why did he not stay here until we came? I tell you, Cy- rille, he is a. bad man and—pardon me!—a villain who disgraces the Government blue he wears.” Cyrille Averill did not resent the epithet be- stowed upon her relative; but her eyes’ seemed to flash and her hands closed madly. ‘1 never liked him,” she confessed. ‘‘I al- ways thought that my uncle Thornton would bear watching.” es a that he will! But look! it is getting Yr Cyrille for the first time seemed to notice this; the fire-scarred timbers were no longer distin- guishable; it was a mass of dark ruins that sur- rounded them. “Yonder is the Fort Fetterman trdil,” said the boy, pointing southward. ‘The garrison is two or three days ahead of us. Shall we follow?” ‘¢ What is behind us?” “Indians! Red Cloud and his bloodthirsty cutthroats.” ‘Might they not be between us and Fort Fet- terman?” ‘“Yes. I am not going to try to conceal from you the fact that just now we are probably the only white people in this vicinity. We are in the midst of the hostile country. The lands of the Sioux areon every hand. Weare environed by death, Cyrille, for which you can blame your uncle, Thornton Hardinge.” ‘“He is my uncle no longer!” cried the girl, “but a villain of the ma 9 dye, always a plot- ter, and a man who would stoop to anything to gain his ends.” The boy’s eyes flashed with triumph. “'That’s the way I like to hear her talk,” he thought to himself. ‘‘ When she hates that man as I do, then I will cease to fear him.” A few minutes later the deserted pair had dismounted, and the boy had built a shelter for his fair companion. few boards that had escaped the savage fire, sufficed for this, and the long grass in which the Powder River country abounds made a downy cot for her. The horses, hoppled, were enjoying the rich provender of the country, and the youthful cou- ple tried to find a meal among the dry victuals which they had carried-for several days. They had hoped to eat at the mess-tables of Fort Reno; but, instead, they were supping among its ruins, and with the ground for a table. Their sense of loneliness was hightened by the long hoot of the Montana owl, that came u from the river foliage, and then the dism howl of the prairie wolf assailed their ears. ‘‘We shall not want for neighbors,” Cyrille remarked with a faint smile, as she looked up into Ned Temple’s face. ‘‘ But they will not “They must not. If we had not dismissed our Crow guides we would be on the way to Fetterman, or back to Buford at sunrise. But now—now, Cyrille, we are abandoned here, and for a pu , too!” The girl gave the speaker a look of wonder. | “Yes; for a purpose,” he repeated. ‘“* He— | Thornton Hardinge—wanted you deserted in the Sioux country. He never wants to see your face again, and me—well, before he dies he will wish a thousand times that Ned Temple had never crossed the Missouri. He isn’t alone in his villainy, Cyrille. He mustn’t receive credit for all the ingenious ideas that he pro- mulgates; there is a power behind the throne, a man who is his equal in rascally doings.” “To whom do you refer?” “ Can you not guess?” Before the girl could reply, the sound of hoofs and the whinny of a strange horse, caused the | boy to spring up, and a moment later she was at his side, gazing breathlessly toward the south. Maybe Thornton Hardinge was coming back? A full round moon was in the heavens when the sun went down, and its beams were falling upon the ruins and their surrouhdiogs. But Ned Temple and his companion stood in the shadow of one of the remnants of Reno’s walls, and were waiting enxiously for the horseman. He presently came in sight right between them. And now Reno had shared the same | them ani the silvery disx of the moon, and fate, and the Government had abandoned to ! there reined in his steed. . Jocks, A quaint-looking fellow he was, slim as an arrow, and as straight 9s one, with an old slouched hat on his head, and a clear-cut, weasel face. Hesat on bis horse about forty feet from the eager watchers, and seemed to be surveying the ruins of tue fort, ‘“May I catch the chicken-pox afore next Chris mas, ef they hevn’t pulled up stakes an’ lit out!” said a clear, falsetto voice. ‘‘ They took everything, not even a sick pony left be- hind,” and the man seemed to laugh at his own words. ‘‘Uncle Sam war a tarnal fool fer buildin’ the forts hyar in the first place; but if he didn’t intend to hold ’em, why did he build em? The lijuns hev full swing in the Powder river kentry now. Red Cloud an’ bis devils will hev to go to scalpin’ crows an’ snakes; thar ar’ no soldiers left to scalp. But ’m hyar— hyar in the corruption an’ the ills ov the flesh— I'am, by hokey!” and he bestowed an emphatic slap on his horse’s neck, ‘I war hyar last week, but not a word was said about pullin’ up stakes,” he went on. ‘‘ They didn’t want me to go with ’em. I war to be left hyar for seed; yes, that’s it—left fer seed! ha! bal hal” and the gaunt fellow lifted himself in the —— pon faoghed till the river timber caught up ec oO. ‘¢ Who is he?” whispered Cyrille. “Some wild man,” said Ned. “I guess we don’t want to make his acquaintance.” ‘*No! no! be looks like those whisky-traders of Fort Buford, and they are worse than In- dians.” ‘Wal, if I’ve been left fer seed I'll jest take root an’ grow in this confounded kentry,” con- tinued the strange individual. ‘‘T’ll go up on the Rosebud whar I kin find plenty ov wild- cats an’ Injuns. By hokey! i hevn’t killed a wildcat fer three days, nor an Injun fer four, an’ I’m losin’ flesh in consequence. Three wild- cats an’ two Injuns per day ar’ my natural allowance—the cais ar’ to be taken in doses ov one, the Injuns all at once.” Ned Tem ple could not repress a smile at the remarks of the singular man who believed him- self alone among the blackened ruins of Fort Reno. ‘1d like to know what he calls himself?” he thought, ‘I may have heard of him before to- night.” “T must be goin’. The ground is softer up on the Rosebud, an’I kin plant myself thar with- out much diffikilty. Old Sam Wildcat—” Ned lost the rest of the sentence in the light cry that welled from Cyrille’s throat. «For mercy’s sake don’t let bim see me!” she said. ‘Sam Wildcat? Well dol recollect the name and the man. He is the same man who came to Fort Buford last spring and offered me four bleeding Indian scalps for a kiss, and I got rid of his insults only by dashing a lot of boiling water into his face. Oh, the mad look he gave me as he left! And he is here now, like an evil spirit, and at the moment when Thorn- ton Hardinge has abandoned us to the merey of the human wolves that people this country.’ The sight of the man_among the ruins filled the girl with terror, and Ned’s arm led her back to the shelter he had lately built for her. As he left her he heard Sam Wildcat’s voice again. ee Injuns! Maybe they’ll give me a chance to take my reg’lar dose ov blood purifier.” He pi Rams 3 at Cyrille. She bad heard all ‘“‘ Better the Sioux than that man!” she mur- mured. All atonce Sam Wildcat disappeared and a minute afterward two Indians mounted on ponies, occupied the ground just deserted. Ned saw the Jong leathern straps adorned with pieces of tin that hung from their scalp- and knew tbat they were Sioux war- riors. : Suddenly the crack of a rifle startled the young spectator, and one of the Indians, reeling Seoul Ia buffalo blanket, struck the ground to stagger forward and fall dead at Cyville’s very feet. The young girl shrunk back with a cry as the remaining savage, with a mad yell, dashed to ward the marksman, now, of course, invisible. Ned held his breath. He seemed to be think- |ing that Sam Wildcat was waiting for the second Indian not far off. His thoughts were swiftly confirmed, for a loud ery suddenly rent the air, aud the words “Thar! P’ve taken my reg’lar dose!” told him that another Sioux warrior had been wiped out, ‘“Now lam goin’,” continued Sam Wildcat; ‘“‘T’ll pay my respects to the rest at some future time, but no more Injun in mine at present, if you please.”
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The rest? What did he mean? Ned’s meutal question was speedily answered. A hundred mad yells had replied to the death-cry of the second Indian, and a legion of | cavalry seemed to be coming pell-mell up the Fetterman road, Indians! and ‘‘ hostiles” at that. The boy Jeaped back to where Cyrille was and caught up a repeating rifle. Cyrille snatched a revolver from his belt, and, cocking it, stationed herself proudly at his side. CHAPTER II. SAM WILDCAT’S PRIZE, SCREENED by the little shelter lately erected, the young couple waited for the Indians. “T fear that escapes is impossible,” said Ned to Cyrille, “If we are discovered, shall we surrenier or fight? What do you say?” “Tet us await developments.” “Very well.” The boy turned from the girl and with ready rifle crept around the rude shanty, and disap- peared. Cyrille heard the sounds of hoofs that each moment grew more distinct, and all at once the Indian band drew rein on the very spot where Sam Wildcat had unseated his first oux. She might have counted them as every figure was plainly seen in the brilliant moonlight; but at that moment the numbering of her deadly foes was far from her mind. ‘© Wiat do I see and whose voice do I hear?” she exclaimed suddenly, shrinking back. ‘It must be so! The Indians have overtaken the soldiers, and uncle Thornton has fallen into their merciless hands. Ned?’ ‘*T am here.” : rnp looked around; the boy was at her s10¢e. ‘What do you think of him now? Yonder he is, hand in glove with Red Cloud.” ‘Not willingly, Ned,” was Cyrille’s reply. “The troops have been overtaken between here and Fort Fetterman, and he is among the few spare. “You would not think so if you had heard what Ihave. Are his hands tied like a cap- tive’s? Ho sits hip to hip with Red Cloud himself. There! they are going on now. We shall escape!” The column was moving on, and the hind- most riers were about to disappear, when a yell of discovery rent the air. “They've found Wildecat’s victim,” whis- pered Ned, ‘I hope they will not bunt for the other one.” Nea’ Temple left Cyrille again and crept for- ward. Red Cloud and his warriors had discovered the dead body of the second Sioux. The sight had mad:jJened the savages, and their yells and threats of vengeance against the slayer made a perfect bedlam. “Trail him down!” cried Red Cloud. ‘He is not so swift that he is across the great river already, nor can he cl ave the clouds like the eagle. Back to the trail! Red Cloud will not sleep until the skin of the slayer feeds the fires of the stake.” His commands were received with great de- light, and a general dismounting took place. “They will not leave a foot of ground un- searched,” said Ned, darting back to Cyrille’s side. ‘Quick! the high grass of the river is our only hope.” Seizing the girl’s hand, he dashed away in the shadows of the blackened beams of Fort Reno. Fortune seemed to favor them, for, unseen and unfollowed as they fondly thought, they reach- ed the river bank, where, side by side, with wildly throbbing hearts, they crouched in the luxuriant ee that grew there. A short distance away, as certain sounds told them, the Indians were hunting for Sam Wild- eat’s trail. The dead body by the shelter had just been found, and the discovery bad in- creased the red skins’ rage. Once or twice a dark figure approached the river, but speedily vanished again. Suddenly, a shout that announced an impor- tant discovery fell upon the ears of the fugi- tives, Ned sprung erect. They have found our horses,” he said, “ They will know that they were not riddon by their own people, and now tho hunt for us will begin. Oh, Thornton Hardinge! I wish I held your life at my ecarbine’s muzzle!” *You’ll never find it thar ef you expose yer corecass in thet manner,” said a voice at his elbow, and Ned turned as Cyrille sprung to his BLGO% , ' be } N Standing near by, with his tall figure tower- ing above the river grass, stood the man they supposed far away—Sam Wildcat. A stride brought the Indian-killer face to face with the youthful pair, but Cyrille tried to keep her features from his searching gaze. ‘““A gal an’ a boy, by hokey ” exclaimed Sam. ‘ Whaton airth ar’ you doin’ hyar? Did the soldiers leave you behind when they sneaked out o’ Injundom with their tails be- tween their legs like whipped dogs?” ‘*We came here after the Z rt had been abandoned.” . “Brom whar?” “From Fort Buford.” * Alone?” ‘‘No, sir; we had several Crow guides who had promised to stay with us until we reached Reno; but twenty miles up the river they sud- denly deserted us, and we made the rest of the journey alone.” ‘*What’s your handle, boy?” quizzed Sam, ** Ned Temple.” ‘¢ An’ the gal’s?” Ned hesitated he was afraid that the mention of bis fair companion’s name would recall to the Sioux killer the incident which Cyrille had lately mentioned—his repulse by boiling water. ‘* Mebbe she hasn’t any name,” said the rough fellow, seizing Cyrille’s arm. ‘‘ Come out inter the moonshine. I want to get a squint at yer. By hokey! she’s as purty as a picter, a reg’lar daisy, the beauty ov the blossom ov the profile ov the mountain. I’ve steered ag’in’ her some- whar; haven’t I, gal?” “Yes, sir,” said Cyrille, certain that expo- sure would come, and resolved to anticipate ib. ‘““We met onceat Fort McPherson, Surely you have not forgotten the captain’s child.” ‘What! the gal what guv Sam Wildcat a bilin’ water cathartic?’ cried the Indian-slayer. ‘“ Wal, I should reckon you ain’t forgotten. Didn’t I say that I would get even with you one ov these days fur thet smart trick? An’ bevn’t I got you now, my rose-blossom ?” The eyes of the rough seemed to emit fiery sparks of triumph. ‘‘T am here,” suddenly cried Ned, laying his hands on Wildeat’s arm. ‘* You must not harm Cyrille. We are helpless—that is, we have been crually abandoned in Sioux land, and I have sworn to protect Cyrille from every dan- ger. You must offer her no indignity [ say.” Sam Wildcat was inclined to laugh contemp- tously. He despised the boy who had spoken. ‘** You her pertector?’ he retorted. ‘* Why, I could crush you with my little finger. You don’t know me. I’m Sam Wildcat! The man what has been left in this kentry fur seed. I’m the walkin’ death ov these parts. Ef you think I’m givin’ you a game ov wind, go an’ ask Red Cloud over yonder how much he’d give fur my sya You’ve heer’d ov death on his pale hoss? Wal, he’s resigned the persition to Sam Wild- eat. So you're the pertector ov this rosebud, eh? By hokey! it beats the funny stories in Jast vear’s almanac. Come hyar, my holly- hock!” Cyrille resisted with an appealing look at Ned, and quick as thought the click of the car- bine’s lock was heard. * Insult Cyrille if you dare, brute!” said Ned. ‘* Release her this instant, or I’11 send a bullet through your brain. You could save us from those Indians over yonder. Does not a helpless girl appeal to your better nature?” ‘*Shs does, by hokey!” exclaimed Sam, who did not shrink in the least from the muzzle of the carbine, nor release Cyrille. ‘‘A helpless wo- man kin always draw on Sam Wildcat fur help, an’ he will take pleasure in honorin’ the draft But this gal—this pink ov Sioux land! By hokey! I must kiss her once.” ‘Spare me!” cried Cyrille. ‘You should be guiding us to safety, not—” “Wnhand her! If you do not, I will carry out my threat,” and as Ned gare he seized Cy- rille and wrenched her from Wildcat’s grasp. ‘* Now, sir,” he continued, placing himself be- tween her and the tormentor, “if you will not help us, you will leave us to help ourselves,” For a moment Sam Wildcat stood bewildered before the daring boy, then he took a stride for- ward, and before Ned could prepare for his ac- tion, he found his carbine wrenched from his hand, *T’m a hull den ov wildcats when you stir me up,” he cried. ‘‘ I’m worse nor an Injun nation on wheels. Yes, I’m willin’? to get the rosebud outen this diffikilty, but you'll pardon me, I hope, if I leave von behind!” *“No! ro! if you can’t save Ned, too, I will stay here!” Cyrille exelaimed. ‘*‘We have promised faithfully to stay together.” ed Temple, the Border Boy. a ht ti 3 Indian slayer’s grasp. He exerted his utmost strength to get loose, but a minute told him that he struggled in vain; he was as a toy in the gripe of the Mad Hunter of Powder River. ‘“Yes, Dll bu’st the agreement, my dande~ lion!” hissed Wildcat, turning toward tlhe river with his prize. ‘Tl save the gal an’ do tte squar’ thing by her; but I don’t wait you around the premises. Ned felt himself lifted above the hut ter’s head, and then while Cyrille, paralyzed with terror, as it were, stood not fer away, he went whirling through the air toward the moonlit waters of Powder. ** Now, my rosebud,” hoarsely cried Wildcat, whirling upon Cyrille, as Ned struck the water, ‘‘ we've just finished the preface ov one ov Sam Wildcat’s books. Now let’s begin the first chap ‘ter. Come!” : ‘Not with you,” Cyrille said, retreating. “ Better the clutches of Red Cloud.” The man leaped after her, and the next mo- ment a piercing cry for help rung from her throat. A wild oath shot from Wildcat’s lips a¢ he seized her, and started on a run toward his horse, that had been near all the time. “ Now, Lightnin’, carry us outen this pickle an’ Vit pension you fer life,” he said to the animal that darted away like an arrow shot from a Sioux strong bow. Cyrille’s cry had been heard. A ys ipo ery or a series of yells came over the bluff, be- yond which Red Cloud and his warriors were still searching for the slayer’s trail. ‘*-You stirred up the hornets, gal, an’ we’re im fer it now,” said Sam addressing Cyrille. Then he struck his horse savagely with the spurs, and as the race for life began, Cyrille sbut her eyes only to see Ned struggling for ex istence in the treacherous current of Powder river. : CHAPTER III. FOLLOWING TO KILL. As rapidly as possible the late garris. | Fort Reno was pushing on to Fort Fetic) ic. The distance was not great; but the way © ay full of dangers for the officers feared that Rod Cloud and his hordes would attack from some ambush, and make the march to Fetterman & march of death. The little band of regulars consisted of part of a regiment of cavalry, some detachments of in- fantry, anda train of artillery. At night the camp was formed in regular military order, the soldiers sleeping on their arms, ready at a mo- ment?s notice to repel the assaults of the foo, On the night that witnessed Ned and Cyrille’s adventures at Fort Reno a group of excited officers stood in the light of one of the camp- fires, The faces of all told that something in- explicable had transpired. Colonel Armstrong, the commander of the troops, a brusque, heavily-whiskered man, and an old plainsman, had just turned abruptly upow a sun-browned sergeant who evidently stood im the witness-box. : ‘Well, sir, when did you last see Captaim Hardinge?” asked the colonel tartly. “ About four o’clock last night.” “ Goodloe saw him an hour later, want your testimony.” ; The sergeant was about to retire when an officer of the cavelry, a young man, touched Colonel Armstrong’s arm. “T would like to ask the man one question,” he said quietly. ‘*T see no use in doing so. We bave Good- loe’s evidence. But,” reluctantly, ‘‘you cam put your question if you wish.” The young cavalryman bit his lip, but turned upon the witness. As he did so, he whispered hurriedly to a major at his side: “ Watch Ben Simon as [ put the questions. — He is standing on your left.” Then to the sergeant: ‘¢You say that you saw Hardinge last at four o'clock last night. Now, sir, what was he doing?” The witness hesitated and glanced over bis right shoulder as if he wanted help from some- body not far off. Ten feet away, and in the light of the camp-fire, stood one of the scouts of, the expedition, a tall, dark-skinned, wiry man, whoga garments were nof, more than half civi- liad, Hiseyes were as piercing as the eagle's and his dark hair touched a pair of broa ’ shoulders, We don’t
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| J ! This man was the Ben Simon whom the cav- alry officer wanted watched. ‘Phe glance of Simon and the sergeant met for aninstant, On Simon’s part it was so threaten- ing that the soldier trembled. The scout’s eyes seemed to say, ‘‘ tell the truth, if you dare.” “* You will not tell me what Hardinge was do- ing when you last saw him?” said the soldier, bringing the sergeant back to the fact that he was under the eyes of bis superiors. “T need not conceal his actions from you. He was writing a letter,” was the reply. “A very harmless amusement,” laughed Col- onel Armstrong. ‘‘Captain, I guess you are willing to drop the witness. He does not seem en burdened with any startling testimony, and— Pardon me, colonel; at four o’clock yester- day Hardinge was not writing a letter as that een as well as other parties in camp, well know,’ ‘* You do not accuse the sergeant?’ “Ido! I accuse him of willful lying in the presence of his superior officers,” said the cav- ‘alry captain. The sergeant’s eyes seemed to flash, and again they sought out Ben Simon the scout, on whose rugged features sat a scowl as black as night. ‘You must not be so hasty in your accusa- tions,” Colonel Armstrong said, rebukingly, to the young captain. ‘‘Unless you are able to prove that Hardinge was not engaged in letter- writing at four Pp. M. yesterday, I cannot listen to your charge.” “Il can and will prove it,” was the quick an- swer. ‘‘I amone of the few who say that Thorn- ton Hardinge is a deserter, and there is one man in camp who, if he jcould be induced to tell the truth, would not hesitate to sustain me in the belief.” **To whom do you refer?” “*T do not like to place him on the witness stand, and besides, we could not, as he is not an enlisted man.” ‘‘Oh! one of the scouts!” cried the colonel. ‘Bring them here.” The next instant Ben Simon disappeared; gliding away like a serpent, he soon passed be- yond the light of the fire, and when he found himself safe he turned toward the improvised court of on ag A ‘‘Of course Thornton Hardinge has deserted, but you won't catch me blabbing it,” he hissed. ** You did well not to mention my name, Major Beverly, and if Sergeant Knight doesn’t pay you for the epithet you saw fit to bestow upon him, then he ought to be eaten by crows. He was about to move away when a soldier appeared in sight. **Hallo, Simon! You’re the very man I’m looking for. The colonel wants all the inde- pendent scouts before him at once,” said the soldier. ** He does, eh?” flashed Ben Simon. ‘Such are his orders.” “YT might as well face kim,” thought the scout, ‘* but I guess I can keep my own counsel,” and the next minute he was tramping back to the camp-fire he had just deserted. His reappearance caused a slight commotion among several officers, and Major Beverly's eyes seemed to glow with triumph. ‘““Yonder is the man who knows all—Ben Simon,” whispered Beverly tothe colonel, “ Pll warrant you that he saw Hardinge last of all.” Colonel Armstrong wheeled upon the scout and folded his arms on his breast with officer- like precision. “Simon,” he said, brusquely, ‘‘ where is Captain Hardinge, of the —-th cavalry?” ** Dead, mebbe,” was the answer. “We want civil answers; no witticisms,” suapped Armstrong. ‘Where is he? You know, they say.” Ben Simon’s face ew dark again, and thro ving a malicious glance at Major Beverly, who was eying him, closely, he stepped for- ward. *. ““A Nie won’t mend matters now,” he said, and, as the cap’n is out of harm’s way, I might as well tell the truth. He’s taken a bit of French leave.” - pla 1 pr Se eryerpi ou may call it that if you w. “4g ‘Whither has he gone?” F eT? ‘*Northb’ard, 1 suspect.” “You are certain of this, Simon? “T am, colonel; but I didn’t like to tell on him because me an’ him hev been kind o’ friend- -” “OF course; we appreciate that; ptain Hardinge a deserter? What led him to this course eS ee ee a ne ne eee ee ee ne ee ne ey ee ee ee ee ee Oe ee 4 Ned Temple, the Border Boy. a a private matter, I guess,” the scout said. ‘We must post him. By George! every fort shall hear of bis cowardly deed, and when he falls into my hands I'll make a sieve out of him. To-morrow, major,” to Beverly, ‘‘ we’ll preyere our handbilis, and I wiil send you back to Buford. Simon, you will accompany Major Beverly to Fort Buford to-morrow.’ ‘““To-morrorv? If we are to get ahead of Cap’n Hardinge, I think we had better start to- night,” ventured the scout. ' Armstrong glanced at his watch. “I will see about it. Come back here at ten o’clock, two hours hence.” Ben Simon withdrew, and the court of in- quiry was broken up. Enough had been learned. Thornton Har- dinge was a deserter; but the colonel did not suspect the deptb of his treachery. Hardinge had never been an army favorite, although as brave as a lion; he had too much of the bar- recom bully about him, and, besides, he was scheming and full of low cunning. He had served on the plains for ten years, and during that time bad made many unenvia- ble acquaintances. Scouts had reported that he seemed to be well known to Sitting Bull, and | Red Cloud, each of whom had praised his gal- | lantry in the last Indian war. | Bui that he should desert the service and turn his back upon the little column struggling to Fort Fetterman, Colonel Armstrong could hard- ly believe. About two hours after the examination of Ben Simon, the scout, by Armstrong, four ap- parent scouts, well mounted, on fleet horses left the camp, and turned their faces toward the far-away forks of Powder river. One was easily distinguished as Simon, and his com- panions looked as much the independent ranger as he. But they were not all scouts. The shapely ficure at Simon’s right was Major Beverly, who had been commissioned to carry to Fort Buford and other Government posts at the north, a number of bandbills offering a reward for Hardinge’s arrest. From a short distance the quartette would have been mistaken for Indians, and as_they dashed up the trail which, although they knew it not, was destined to be one of wild adven- ture and death, they mimicked thew arrior well. Ben Simon cast many a wicked glance at the man who rode beside him. ‘Major Beverly, you’re a blarsted fool!” he said, to himself. “‘I wonder if you expect to live to report to Colonel Armstrong. You want to find Cap’n Hardinge, eh? Wal, you shall hey thet honor, but curse my boots if you'll ever live to tell of the meetin’ at the camp-fire of the —th cavalry. Old Ben Simon are at yer heels—the man what you’ve insulted, and he’s goin’ to see yer scalp stretchin’ on an Injun hoop!” A hideous smile wreathed the scout’s face as he spoke, for, like many of his class, Ben Simon was more Indian than white man. And Major Beverly, the favorite officer of one of the crack regiments of the service, was galloping into Red Cloud’s country, with such a viper at his elbow. Do not sleep for a minute, gallant major, if you want to report in person to Colonel Arm- strong beneath the stars and stripes of Fort Fetterman. CHAPTER IV. CYRILLE ENCOUNTERS A MONSTER. As there was no road along’ the river, Sam Wildcat had to take the Fetterman trail. His horse was a fleet, strong-limbed animal, not used to carrying two persons; but able to perform the feat. An Indian yell behind him soon announced that the sounds of his flight had reached the ears of the foe, and he speedily knew that the red Arabs of the plains were thundering at bis heels, “ This ar’ no scrub race, my blossom,” he re- marked, as he looked into Cyrille’s face, as she, forgetting, as it were, that she was a captive, clung to tun with all the grasp she could com- mand, ‘“Mebbe we kin both git away, an’ mebbe wecan’t. Old Lightnin’ ar’ the boss hoss ov these parts, an’ he’ll do bis best; you kin bet yer bottom dollar on thet, gal. But ef both ov us can’t git away, one kin, I know.” What did he mean? Would he abandon her to the mercy of the Indians and save himself? ; “He is quite likely to do so,” thought Cyrille. | = fe would save himself and leave me to per- ) The thought had hardly been uttered by her lips when Sam Wildcat drew rein and halted his foam-covered horse. ‘Tt ar’ no use,” he said. carryin’ more nor his quota. ‘** Lightnin’ hez been e must carry | only one from this out.” Cyrille’s heart sunk within her. ‘The Injuns must take care ov you fur a while,” continued Sam. ‘‘ Never mind; they’ll not harm a hair ov your head, Rosebud, Why, afore a week, one-half ov the young bucks will be makin’ love to you, but I’ skirmish around an’ git back in time to spile a few ov their ar- rangements.” He was lifting her from the horse, and he placed her gently on the ground. ‘“T’ll come back fur you an’ [ll find you, too,” “‘T hope not,” said Cyrille. “I have all along suspected a second abandonment. May your horse stumble soon, and, falling on you, hold you fast for the tomahawks of the Sioux.” ‘“‘Now that would be outrageous,” said the Indian-killer, with a grin. ‘‘I couldn’t git to take my reg’lar dose—two Injuns a day—any more. What! Old Lightnin’ stumble! You don’t know the critter. Good-by, Rosebud.” Cyrille saw the horse dash forward once more, but this time he did not carry her. No! She stood alone on that lonely trail | . . . . . . with the noise of approaching hoofs ringing in her ears. The Indians were coming! “Flight would not save me,” she said, “and Red Cloud may not be the merciless red fiend that he is called. If my uncle is his captive, we will share each other’s trials. I cannot believe that he is a traitor—that he left me to perish here in Sioux land.” The next minute a quartet of Indians ut- tered cries of wonder at the apparition of a young girl on the trail, and recoiled so sudden! that they forced their steeds back on their haunches. ‘Where white man?” they demanded, recov- ering. Cc rile pointed down the trail. The Sioux looked and listened. Sam Wildcat had passed out of sight, and the sound of his horse’s hoofs no longer came back to the red- men. When the Indians leaped to the ground Cyrille was instantly surrounded. She had seen Indians before, but for the first time she stood in their presence, a captive. ‘Girl purty,” said one, a young buck. ‘‘ Hands white as snow, and eyes like the stars. The young bucks of the village will have to fight for er. Her make wigwam smile all the time.” ‘“‘T may prove an evil spirit to you all,” Cyrille said, seeing that the young Indians ex- hibited no resentment. ‘‘ Where is your chief?” “Red Cloud? We take girl back to him an’ let white hanter go.” ‘* Yes, 1 want to see Red Cloud.” Cyrille was lifted upon one of the horses, and the band was soon galloping back to join Red Cloud. ‘‘Now I will see Thornton Hardinge, and solve the mystery that clings to his presence here,” she thought. ‘If he hates me, I will dis- cover all.” The ride back was uneventful te Cyrille. The moon went down. but they still kept on. When near the ruins of Fort Reno the Indians left the trail and struck northward. Daylight found them riding slowly down a little valley whose mouftainous surroundings were wild and grotesque. “You are not taking me to Red Cloud,” Cyrille suddenly exclaimed. ‘You have de- ceived me,” ‘‘Red Cloud away over yonder,” one of the Sioux said pointing over the mountains. ‘“‘In- dians brought girl bere to fight for her. She can’t be squaw to all.” Tn the middle of the valley the four Indians sprung from their horses which they turned off to graze on the rich grass that abounded on every side, and unslung the long bows that they carried on their backs. Now that daylight had fairly returned, poor Cyrille had a fair opportunity of secing her cap- tors. They were strong young fellows, rich in mus- cle and good Indian jooks, and the scanty gar- ments that they wore proved them veritable athletes to the girl. . After a short parley in the Sioux tongue, the braves separated in pairs and walking away turned and faced one another with twenty yards between them. \ . Cyrille saw them fit the feathered barbs to 8 :
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their bows and draw the arrows to their iron heads. ‘*Girl count three,” said the nearest Indian glancing over his shoulder at Cyrille. ‘‘ Indian heard white sholders count in the forts, and him understand. Girl count—quick!” ““T will count!” said our heroine, stepping forward. ‘‘ And may each arrow find an In- dian heart,” Then she exclaimed: ** One—two—three |” The twanging of four bow-strings seemed blended into one report, and the arrows sped away on their mission of death. Cyrille uttered a cry as two of the red duel- lists, one in each rank, reeled away, arrow- pierced, and dropped their bows to fall dead on the grass. The other two remained unbarmed. Quick as thought the survivors snatched new arrows from the quivers which they had placed on ~e ground, and drew them madly to the rb. Then springing forward until they had cleared twenty feet they suddenly halted and fired again. This time only one wild death-cry echoed over the secluded valley, and pierced through the neck one of the young bucks staggered for- ward to die among the green blades. The victor with a proud glance at Cyrille quietly unstrung his bow and picked up his quiver. Then he came forward. “The arrows of the Red Wolf found the hearts of his opponents,” he said. ‘The fight was fair and the white girl will warm d Wolf's lodge and smile only for him.” But Cyrille with a shudder shrunk away. “White girl no run from her chief,” cried Red Wolf as he scowled, ‘‘ Him fight for her, him win her, and now him keep her!” He bounded forward as he finished. Indian ire flashed in the depths of his dark eyes. “Girl stop!” he commanded as Cyrille still involuntarily retreated. ‘‘If Red Wolf cannot keep, he kin kill.” e infuriated buck had drawn his tomahawk and planted himself firmly a few feet from the shrinking girl. The weapon was poised above his head, and Cyrille who had witnessed a great deal of hatchet-throwing by the western Indians at different forts, knew that it would certainly find her brain if hurled forward, ‘Girl no stop? Then Red Wolf kill his brothers for nothin’. e will kill white girl, too.” The naked arm went back a few inches fur- ther, the tomahawk turned half-way in his hand and then— The sharp report of a rifle broke the stillness and the hatchet, hurled forward, fell harmless at Cyrille’s feet! As for the young red athlete, he lay on the NM eid sward with the death-gurgle in his t roat. The unexpected shot startled Cyrille and made her turn toward the mountains behind her. ‘*Merciful Father!” fell from her lips. ‘‘ Into the hands of what kind of a aap have I fallen now?” Well might she use the word ‘‘ monster,” for a few rods away quietly a rifle stood a being whose nether limbs were human, but who had the head and arms of a bear. Cyrille felt fear creeping to her heart as she looked, and when the monster came forward she seemed nailed to the ground. Nearer and nearer came the repulsive creature, his rifle slung over his shoulder, and his eyes seeing, not the girl, apparently, but the figures stretched on the grass. He passed quite near to Cyrille, giving her a uick glance and stooped a moment over each ead brave. Although the astonished maiden watched him closely, she did not see him perform the scalp- ing operation, nor did he appear to possess any such trophies when he again stood erect. _ Then he seemed to turn bis whole attention to her, and bounded forward with a strange cry. Cyrille, seeing that escape was impossible, stood her ground until one of the hairy bands shot forward to seiza her, when she suddenly reeled away and sunk back in aswoon. i eyes of the Bear Demon seemed to glis- n. CHAPTER V. THE TWO OFFERS OF LIBERTY. ** Hist! Injuns! we’re in fur it now.” The voice was Ben Simon’s, and the next mo- ment four horsemen drew rein and cocked their revolvers, Night had once more thrown her mantle over the country, and the-men—Major Beverly and Ned Temple, the ee eee ee ee his companions—were in the neighborhood of old Fort Reno. They had proceeded thus far on their way to Fort Buford, and no incident, save a few false Indian alarms, had broken the monotony of the journey. This time, however, there seemed to be xrounds for fear, for the working of Ben Simon’s countenance and the flash of his eyes, as he re- joined the little party after a brief reconnois- sance, told all that he had seen something un- usual. “They are coming this way. Quick! to the grass, and cover your horses’ mouths.” The cominand was swiftly obeyed. The men urged their steeds from the trail, and while the held their caps over their mouths with one hana, the other held ready for instant use the formi- dable revolver of the army. Ben Simon had not spread a false report, for the tramp of many horses soon fell upon the soldiers’ ears, and the apparitions of horses and their riders greeted their eyes. Major Beverly did not think of treachery at that moment. Teed of looking at Simon, the scout, he kept his eyes fixed on the Indians. All at once the red-skins halted and at the same moment a voice on Beverly’s left attracted that officer’s attention. Ben Simon was not at his post, although his horse was still there. Where was the scout? “Thar they ar’, Red Cloud!” suddenly cried the traitor. ‘“‘Twoov’em ar’ my cronies, but the other one is one ov the accursed blue-coats.” If a bomb had exploded at Major Beverly’s feet he would not have been more astonished, He had been betrayed, and for the first time he knew that his two other companions were men of Ben Simon’s stamp. ‘‘Devil! you shall not live to boast of your in- fern’ treachery,” the officer cried, droppin, his bridle and darting toward Simon. ruil scatter your brains over the scene of your trea- son. Ben Simon involuntarily slunk away, but the two men behind Beverly instantly seized him and tried to wrest the weapon from his hand. ** White man be quiet,” said a stalwart Indian who was instantly recognized by the soldier. My braves are all mad for blood, for the secret killer walked among their camp-fires last night. White soldier must not provoke them.” “Then, Red Cloud, you and that traitorous dog are partners,” flashed Beverly, glaring at Simon, who, seeing him firmly held, had ven- tured to come forward in. ‘‘ You accept of his betrayals. Beware! some day that viper will sting you. If he is dog to us, he will prove wolf to you before he dies. Were I loose for a moment, I would do you a favor.” But Beverly was still firmly held by the two traitors, and after awhile he was turned over to the Sioux, by whem he was closely guarded on the site of Fort Reno. He had much to cccupy his mind while stood in the midst of the Indian band His journey to Fort Buford had come to an abrupt conclu- sion. He had been consigned to the care of three traitors, and that by Colonel Armstrong, who had selected the trio himself. Did another terrible thought flash across his mind while he stood in the midst of the Indian camp? “Heaven forgive me! I do not want to think that I have an enemy at head-quarters,” he muttered. ‘I am hurried from the com- mand at night, with three companions, traito every one. What does it mean? And in wha manner have J offended Leslie Armstrong?’ The thought had no pleasant associations for Major Beverly, and dismissing it as well as he could, he turned bis attention again to his present situation. Armstrong was not his enemy. : ‘* Yonder, if I am not mistaken, is an Indian whose figure has familiar outlines,’ he sudden- ly exclaimed, regarding a person holding a talk with the chief, Red Cloud. ‘An Indian; no, he is not. a Sionx; but one of those treacher- ous devils of the Simon stripe. Ha! he is com- ing toward me—a message, probably from Red Cloud himself.” The man had left the Sioux chief, and was walking toward the soldier, now lashed firmly to a young cottonwood, No Indians were near at that moment, and the chief’s late companion came on until he stood in the shadow of the tree thrown by the firelight, and within five-feet of the captive. a Major, would you accept a favor at my hands?” he said, in a tone that made Beverly start. ‘If so, here isa knife. I’ve succeeded in doing something for you with, Red Cloud. Border Boy. The whole band will move off directly to in- vestigate a pretended alarm; we will leave you here. I will contrive to have a horse for you at the old ferry, and you know bow to use this knife. By George! I never expected to see you in this fix, and I want to say vbat Simon be- trayed you without a word fror | me.” Major Beverly did not speak until the man had finished. ; He knew him now—Thornton Hardinge, of the —th cavalry! : He was not only a deserter, but was ‘hand in glove with the red scourge of Montana, ‘Captain Hardinge, why are you here in league with the scarlet fiend who has scalped a battalion of our old comrades?” cried Beverly. — ‘We had all made up our minds that you were a deserter, but not one dreamed that you had turned Sioux.” Despite the coloring on the deserter’s face, his countenance was seen to change. His eyes flashed, 1 “T offer you liberty, Beverly!” he cried, tak- ing a step toward the prisoner. ‘‘ And you re- turn the favor by calling me a deserter. Do you want the knife?” ‘*From you? Never!” Hardinge seemed taken aback by the answer, “Think! I may not be able to offer you free- dom any more. The young bucks egged on by Ben Simon will soon break out in a tumultuous clamor for your blood. Last night the secret terror of Cloud’s camps was among us again, and six Sioux warriors, the flower of Indiandom, so to speak, were found this morn- ing dead around the fires. No one knows who the mysterious slayer is. He has followed Red Cloud on every war-trail for the last two years, and the chief has been robbed of his best braves by the terrible unknown. His deeds last night have more than maddened the young bucks whom he spared. They will cry for your blood } directly. Do you think Red Cloud can prevent ’ the shedding of it? He is only one man and he, would not stand two minutes between you and the sixty demons over yonder. As for your charge, I did leave the army; but I joined Red Cloud for a purpose.” “You will be murdering our troops next,” cried Beverly, bitterly. . Hardinge winced under the words, but did not reply to them. “You will not accept freedom?’ he asked, suddenly. ‘*T have answered you.” . “Then die where you are!” was the harsh answer, and Hardinge finishing the sentence with an army oath turned\on his heel and left Beverly to bis reflections. The eyes of the captive officer followed the deserter until his figure was lost to view. ‘Of course he came hither for a Rope ” he said. ‘‘ Cyrille, if you have left Fort Buford, he must know it, and it is you that, wolf-like, he waits for here.” ‘ ‘ Then Major Beverly knew the girl Cyrille, Ned Temple’s companion! For several minutes the soldier was left alone although he was aware that keen eyes were fixed upon him, eyes that had the baleful glit- ter of the cobra’s orbs. Red Cloud was not in sight. Somewhere, he was listening to Hard- inge’s report of the interview just closed. an at once Beverly saw the figure of the Sioux chief appear on the very spot where the deserter had stood. The sight caused the major to start violently, for he not witnessed | Cloud’s approach. “White man can get away. Red Cloud doesn’t want his blood. His friend, the white soldier, has plead for his life—” “Life is dear, chief, but I do not want to keep it when it comes as a gift from Thornton Hardinge’s hands. He has deserted the flag of his country, and has added treason to his crime.” Red Cloud bit his lips at these words that fell » from Beverly’s lips with a noise like the biss of water on a heated iron. He had not expected such a reply. It seemed to deprive him of speech, big lock » 18 a stare of incredulity. ‘‘ Offer me freedom your own account and I might accept it,” con. ued Eeverly, in a dif- ferent tone, ‘ but don’t icy in that sneaking de- serter. I repeat that I will not accept anything at his bands—not even life itself.” Red Cloud hesitated a minute, and then sprung forward. The next second Beverly felt a knife-blade against his hands, and heard the ropes cut through. He was free! , |, “‘ Soldier stand still,” whispered the red liber- ’ ator. ‘*‘By’m by Indians hear alarm and all
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6 _ , Ned Temple, the B —— —— —— —_-—__-—--—- ———— aoa v oie goto see. Then let the soldier slip down to the old ford; him find horse there, and him know which way to ride.” The Sioux chief sprung away before Beverly could frame a word of thanks, and a minute later he was out of sight. Then he waited for the false alarm. All at once the Indians sprung up around the camp- fires, and Beverly saw Red Cloud’s figure mov- ing among them. he Indian’s part of the programme was car- ried out well, and the major soon found himseli wnwatched, Quickly gliding from the tree he made his way to the ford which had been used by the garrison of Fort Reno. Sure enough, a horse was waiting for him, and Beverly’s heart leaped for joy when he found two loaded revolvers in the holsters of the cavalry saddle. _ “Thanks, Red Cloud; but none to you, Oap- tain Hardinge!” exclaimed Beverly, preparing to vault into the saddle. ‘‘One of these days, eatey. Major Beverly will be able to return a ioux’s one good deed.” “« Major Beverly, of the regulars?” exclaimed ® voice so near the fleeing officer that he turned and threw back the flap of one of the holsters. “Yes,” he said, boldly, ‘‘ I am Major Beverly. Who are you?” “‘Ned’ Temple,” was the answer, and the weapon half lifted, fell at the officer’s side, as ihe speaker sprung from the tall grass and halted elose by him. Beverly could not repress an exclamation of astonishment. *““Thank heaven! I meet a friend again!” the boy went on. ‘You are escaping from tho Sioux—from the scourge Red Cloud. IT saw a ' man bring the horse down here, and heard him gay, talking to himself, that it was for Major Beverly. @ was rejoiced at the thought of etting rid of you, for he more than half be- ieves that Cyrille is in these parts, and, of course, he doesn’t want you here at the same time.” Beverly’s hand shrunk from the bridle. a Then Hardinge is helping ine. But where is “‘T wish to Heaven I knew.” “She is not in this country?” “She is. We got to Fort Reno safely; but ou had left. Then we were separa I was sed into Powder river by a fiend in buman shape who called himself Sam Wildcat, and Cy- rille was left in his power.” * Cyrille alone in the hands of that man?” ex- claimed Beverly. ‘‘ We must rescue her!” “Of course! we will stick together,” said Wed. “Major Beverly, fortune has brought us together, and when we have saved Cyrille, my promised bride—” A hoarse, mad cry broke from Beverly’s throat. “Your promised wife, boy? Cyrille the fairy our bride? Never! by the flames of Tartarus! 0 back and die at the stake or by the knives of the Sipux, in place of Major Beverly, whose blood they want. Not while I live shall Cyrille become your wife. I would die for her—I, Major Frank Beverly; but you—go back and die where I was to be sacrificed !” Beverly held the boy in his mad sp while he spoke, and, with the last word, he hurled him headlong away with all his might. Then he leaped upon the horse and was soon #iying along the bank of the river. CHAPTER VI. THE SWOOP OF THE CROWS. NED TEMPLE, staggering from Major Beyerly, struck a cottonwood and fell unconscious among the grass. It was genet xs = - ec ange — in bey way, for, while he lay death-like on the twa figures glided up the river bank and looked for several moments at the spot where the horse had been left. The twain, Thornton Hardinge and Red Clond, were satisfied that their offers of liberty had bern accepted by the «idier, for after ex- chang.ng a few words * . an undertone, they ‘went away together. 'Whon Ned regainen consciousness he found ‘himself alone and still on the bank of Powder river. His rival, the major, had long since dis- appeared, and a short scout told him that Red Cloud and his band had gone northward, or to- ‘ward one of the large villages of that red chief, afew miles away. ' “T must first find whether they overtook Sa Wiildeat and Cyrille,” the boy said. ‘TI have the girl to save and that villain to punish, and I ze ¢ swear that I will not leave the Powder river country until I have accomplished both.” Fortunately his sudden immersion had not deprived him of any weapons. The repeating rifle which had fallen from his grasp when Wildcat sprung with him toward the water, he found again after his escape fiom the waves, far his revolver had not been lost from his Following the Indian was no great task; the trail was as plain as a country road, and Ned did not halt until the light of another day came. Having selected a good shelter among the hills by which he was surrounded he resolved to hide until night when once more under the stars, he would push forward, nor pause until be knew whether Cyrille was an inmate of Red Cloud’s camp. Leaving the boy there let us precede him to the wigwams of the Sioux. Red Cloud and his braves had kept on to the village situated on one of the estuaries of Pow- der river. They were captiveless, and the braves were in no good humor. Fort Reno had been abandoned by the Government, and the troops had eluded the bloodthirsty Sioux. Thornton Hardinge began to feel uneasy from the moment of his entry into the camp. The sight of a white face was not a cheering view to the Indians unless it belonged to a captive. It is true that Ben Simon and his companions were among the band; but they were regarded as friends to the nation, and would be treated accordingly. {f Hardinge slept the remainder of that night bis eyes belied his words when he greeted Simon the next day. Tho two sat together in the lodge which Red Cloud had presented to the deserter. “ Wal, we’re hyar, cap’n; but you’re without the gal,” said Simon. ‘Curse it, yes! Where is she?” “Of course it consarns you most, but I’m gettin’ oneasy about her, too. She war to leave Fort Buford on the tenth?” ac Yes.” ‘Who war to be the guides?” ‘Two Crows, Black Robe and Uncapa.” Simon gave a long whistle. “Them two devils?’ he exclaimed. ‘Then you hardly expect to find the gal in these parts, cap’n?” ardinge’s eyes seemed to possess a tri- umphant glitter. “T didn’t think of that when I sent Black Robe and Uncapa after Cyrille.” “You couldn’t hev seut two better Injuns. Cap’n, allow me to congratulate you. The gal is outen your way,” and Simon held out bis tawny hand, ‘*Not yet, Ben. Maybo she is still at Fort Buford,” said Hardinge. ‘*Not if the Crows got thar an’ Ill bet my hat that they did. Now, cap’n, ef I war as far through the woods as you ar’, I’d dance a jig in ‘‘Why not? Lown thet I ain’t as handsome as a rose, noras good as a saraph, cap’n; but I’ve got a grand marryin’ scheme on foot. You hev heard ov the lovely Stargold? Ov course you hev!” ‘*Not Red Cloud’s only daughter—the prin- cess of the Sioux?” ‘*She’s the sunflower ov my heart,” was the scout’s reply. “What does Red Cloud say?” “‘By George; I never sounded the old cod- ger. He may object—I expect he will—but Pil get the gal or die.” ‘Then it is a de te case.” Ren he I should remark. Every young Sioux throws his first skins and his first scalp at Stargold’s feet. She hes hed ’em fightin’ fer her smiles fur two years. Never saw ’er, cap’n?” ‘I never have,” said Hardinge. “I would like to see this red beauty.” “The future Mrs. Ben Simon? Well, we’ll go down to the palace an’ take a squint at the queen.” “Now?” “* Why not?” Hardinge hesitated. “Wait till night,” he said. ‘The Indians must get used to my presence here before I appear among them. That strange fiend who visits their camps at nicht has lately mad- dened them anew. Phey believe him to have a white face. By to-morrow they may partially forget him; then I can eppear in public.” / order Boy * Jest as you like,” remarked Simon, ‘Tl go down an’ pay my respects to the beauty.” Hardinge saw the curtains of the lodge drop behind the scout’s lank figure, and his steps soon died away in the distance. The deserter drew them closer with his hands and pinned them with the blade of a bowie. Every now aud then footsteps passed and re- em the lodge; but he cid not look out. If e had he might have seen looks that would have troubled him. Slowly the first day of his sojourn passed away. Simon, the traitor, had not returned. Had he fallen into the snares of the lovely Star- old and was he at her feet in Red Cloud’s odge? ‘*T guess I can go out now,” said Hardinge, who had grown impatient since sundown. “ 1’m not wanted here even if Red Cloud did receive me with open arms, and tell his partners that my person was to be regarded as sacred as hig own. My work in this part of the country seems to have been accomplished, if Black Robe and Uncapa did their duty. Simon never sus- pected anything, altbough he thinks that I don’t care if Cyrille never calls me uncle any more, Hardinge was unpinning the lodge curtains as he spoke, and his hands gently drew them aside. But the next moment he stepped back with a light exclamation of astonishment for a figure stood before him. “White chief must go! Why does he stay here when the knives of the Sicux are ready to touch his heart?’ said a girlish voice. The soldier could not speak for a moment. ‘*Red Cloud is away. He will not be here to stand between the young bucks and the white chief whose blood they want because the pale slayer visits the Sioux camps.” “Just as I’ve been thinking,” exclaimed Hardinge. ‘‘They are going to sacrifice me. Where are they?” “They gather behind the hill,” said the girl, ointing away. ‘‘They are the young chiefs— ong Scalp, Eagie ao Fox Tail and their brethren. Will the pale chief stay in his lodge and die?’ ‘Not if flight can save,” “ Stargold may help him.” “Stargola! Then youare Red Cloud’s child,” cried Hardinge. ‘‘ Where is my friend?” ‘She is here. Stargold is the white chief's friend.” ‘“No! no! my friend, Ben Simon.” ‘Over there with the young chiefs.” / “Plotting against me? Quick! Stargold, I want to go now—not to stay away, but to come back by and by and find the heart of this ac- cursed double-dealer.” At the thought of Ben Simon’s ce fire seemed to flash from Thornton Hardinge eyes. ey am ready!” he cried, stepping from the lodge. ‘‘Show me the way.” P Stargold seized his hand and started forwar ‘but came to a sudden halt. “Too late!” she said, looking up into the sol- dier’s face. ‘‘The wolves come for the heart of the white soldier.” ““Where are they? I see nothing.” ‘Look yonder,” said the Sioux girl, in a low whisper. ‘‘ Cannot the white man see the wolves creeping forward on their bellies? One —two—three—twenty!” ‘*T see!” grated Hardinge, bestowing a fierce look on the moving figures. ‘Twenty against one. Stargold, can you point out Ben Simon? I want to send him ahead, as an avant courter.” ‘No. White man might go back and run for his life. Stargold cannot stay here. Good-by.” “Not yet, my beauty,” hissed Hardinge, ringing after and seizing her arm. “There all other blood than mine shed here to- night. By Jove! I'll rob Ben Simon of you anyhow if I cannot take his worthless life.” uscular and strong as a lion the desperate deserter held Stargold in his = The crawling figures had halted, and resem- bled so many tigers crouching for a spring. ““Come on!” shouted Hardinge, inviting the combat. ‘I shall have the pleasure of making your tribe queenless ‘before I go. Come on and see the trump I hold in my hands.” Not a figure moved. ‘“‘Hyar! giv’ me the gal, cap’n!” suddenly eried a voice behind him, and some one was trying to take Stargold from bim. ‘ Giv’ ’er to me, I say, an’ leave these diggin’s. The camp is full ov mountain Crows an’ the two tribes will be at it in five minutes.” | Thornton Hardinge suddenly released the girl when he recognized the man that wanted her— Ben Simon!
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—————— SS Ned Temple, the Border Boy. “You were with the young bucks plotting against me, an hour a0,” he said, recovering. “ That’s a lie, cap’n,’ “ Ask that girl.” “Not now. Ar’ you goin’ to stand byar an’ die? I war huntin’ you to save you. don’t care fur this camp, so I kin git outen it with the sunflower ov my heart. I’m goin’, cap’n; do as you please.” ‘**?m going, too,” was the response. Stargold threw her arms around the scout’s neck as he sprung away. She believed that he | was going to carry her back to her own people and to safetiy. Hardinge followed the scout, and not a word was uttered until the edge of the camp was reached. Then it was that Hardinge uttered a cry, for ° he had fallen over a figure that lay at the door of one of the lodges. “A dead Injun!” ejaculated Simon, stooping | over the body for a moment. “ The Terror has been hyar, an’ thet lately; the red-skin is hardly cold.” “ How do you know?” asked Hardinge. ““There’s a figger four on the Injun’s fore- head, an’ the right ear is missin’—the demon’s marks! Jest think ov it, cap’n; the Crows an’ the Terror on the same night!” “Td like to see this secret slayer.” “‘Mebbe you will; but we can’t hunt ’im up now,” was the answer. ‘ Over thar ar’ the mountains.” The scout turned to fly forward again, but the whiz of an Indian arrow cleft the air and he dropped Stargold as he sprung back. The next moment the night resounded with wild yells, and the discharge of fire-arms as- sailed the ear. The Crows had fallen upon the Sioux camp! “Ym goin’ back an’ help the Sioux,” cried Ben Simon. ‘ This ar’ aCrow shaft. Look at the point an’ the featherin’,” and he held be- fore Hardinge the arrow which he had drawn from the body of the Indian girl. ‘Pll pay ’em fur the shot! Go an’ save yerself, cap’n. Yer day hezn’t come yet. Ben Simon’s hez.” The scout leaped toward the battle, and Har- dinge and the stricken girl were alone. ‘“Hold a minute,” said a voice, as he was about to fly. ‘I want to ask a question before I go over thar to takemy reg’lar dose. Is the gal, yer niece, in the camp? “* Who “Cyrille?” cried Hardinge, amazed. are you?” ‘Sam Wildcat, left fur seed in the Powder River valley. I hed the gal in my arms the other night; but the Sioux got her. The gal, yer niece, cap’n. What on airth ar’ you lookin’ at? Hev I turned catamount er alligator since I saw you last?” ; : “ Oyrille alive and near me,” cried Hardinge. “The girl in this village? Impossible! Sam ou will help me. Wo will go back and find er!” ‘“* Back thar whar scalpin’ is the programme? I’ve taken my reg’lar dose to night—two Injuns raw. You kin go back ef yer want to, but old Sam Wildcat prefars to wait till the battle is over. Thet other fellar is somewhar around, an’ I hev no desire to meet ’im. DTve found six dead Injuns in my travels to-night an’ thar ar’ only six good ears among ’em. I say, cap’n— Great gunflints! look yonder!” Hardinge turned and saw the head of » bear between him and the moon. The next moment he saw the body. “*Good-by, cap’n. Sam Wildcat doesn’t want an introduction,” exclaimed the frontier rascal. “Tllsee you later, ef convenient.” An instant later Wildcat was bounding away and Hardinge was not far behind him, ‘Run! cowards, run!” cried a new voice, ‘*J will not desert Cyrille at any rate. I have sworn to save her, and, despite the Secret Slayer’s presence—despite the Indian battle raging over yonder, 1 will not turn my back on Red Cloud’s village until I learn something about Cyrille.” The speaker rose from the ground in the shadow of a lodge near where the two men had stood. It was Ned Temple, Cyrille’s boy companion and lover. CHAPTER VIL. TAKEN UNAWARES, er was treacherous, ben Simon was no coward. He had carried his life in his hands into too many “ hostile” camps to show the white feather te a lot of Mountain Crows. One thought maddened him above all others while he hastened to that part of Red Ciloud’s Jf } town where the two bands already engaged in deadly conflict, were struggling for the mastery, Stargold had been slain in his arms, and that, too, by a Crow arrow. It was astray barb, no doubt intended for the heart of a Sioux warrior, but, missing its first mark, it had found the fairest target in the Indian camp. A few rapid bounds in as many minutes brought him to the field of battle, and putting himself at the head of the Sioux warriors with a revolver in each hand, be led a charge that turned the tide of war, and drove the mountain | wolves, beaten and disorganized, from the tield ‘when victory was about to declare in their fa- vor. The raid had failed, but the victory had cost the Sioux dearly. Fifty of their warriors lay on the plain, and several women and children had been hit by stray arrows. Simon, as a matter of course, came in for a large share of the praise bestowed on the vic- | tors; but he soon found an opportunity for with- drawing from the, to him, disgusting spectacle. He ran back to the spot where he had left Stargold. The beaten Crows had retreated in that di- rection, and what would heal their wounds ae than the beautiful scalp of Red Cloud’s child? A howl of rage burst from the scout’s throat when he reached the spot. The body of his dusky love was missing! Fora moment Ben Simon stood bewildered at the place, staring at the ground. ‘“Twenty scalps fer ev’ry h’ar!” he suddenly exclaimed, ‘Death steps on yer trail, you mean Mountain Crows. Far’well, cap’n; take keer ov yerself, TFar’well, Beverly; old Ben Simon hez gone intc the Crow pickin’ business. He’s goin’ to make howlin’ in the mountains. I’m a walkin’ death from this night, a hull grave- yard on wheels!” He looked over his shoulders for a moment and listened. Behind him the Indian camp was anuproar. The fiendish cries of Indian victory were mingled with the wild mourning chants sung by the Sioux women, The scout tightened his belt, and then darted away to disappear on the trail of the beaten Crows. “Go back fer the boys? No! I’m goin’ te make my own graveyard,” he said. ‘The boys would only hinder me. The Crows will not go far. I'll find ’em somewhar along the old pass.” Nobody knew the war tactics cf the Crows better than the man now on their track. An hour later the figure of the scout leaned over a cliff, and he looked down upon a large pt of Indians in tho bottom of the ravine be- neath. Did his eyes glitter like a tiger’s while he gazed with his eager fingers twitching uncasily at the triggers of bis revolvers? Suddenly a wild ery that almost betrayed him parted Ben Simon’s lips. A fire was burning in the ravine, and it re- vealed the rocky sices of the pass, Here and there a few bushes growing in the clefts of the rocks cast grotesque shadows, but otherwise the light shone every where, Ben Simon saw every Indian; he might have counted them if a certain figure had not sud- den] vp into view, “Stargold, by my eyes!” he cried. * Why didn’t I stay by the girl? Ben Simon, hey you forgotten that a Crow arrer doesn’t always kill? Stargold wouldn’t be down thar now ef you had stayed by her. She’s not likely to become’ Mrs, Simon; she never will if you lie here like a fool an’ let them mountain wolves do their worst.” Red Cloud’s child stood beneath the scout, and in the midst of the Crow warriors! She looked every inch an India: queen, with hei long hair and flashing eyes, and her faultless figure drawn to its true hight. On every side were ran the Crows, wild, half-naked men, armed with knives and toma- hawks. Not a few still bled from wounds re- ceived in the camp fight, and all smarted under the defeat. Stargold was unbound, but helpless still, and Simon thought that her eyes wandered to the belts of the Indians nearest her as if she longed to seize a, hatchet and bid defiance to the Crows. ; “ Let "em open the ball!” hissed the scout, as his long arms went over the precipice and his deadly revolvers covered the fiends before the Sioux girl. ‘Jes’ let ’em lift a hand ag’in’ Stargold, an’ death wil! start a graveyard in tiie old pass afore mornin’. Face the tigers, gal, an’ never flinch. Look’em in the eye, an’ be what you war an heur ago—Red Clour’s j 7 queen! Tech ’er ef you dare, Mountain Crows: yes, jes’ lift a finger ag’in’ ’er!” Ben Simon did not look behind him; his whole attention was directed to the scene in the moun- tain pass. Therefore, he did not see the dark figure that had followed him cat-like up the mountain, the figure, which, halt-hidden by a tree, appeared to be watching him with x pair of vengeful ey es. The watcher had the shape and figure of Major Beverly; but what had brought that worthy into the midst cf Siouxdom? We left him flying from Red Cloud’s warriors along the. banks of Powder river. He had abandoned Ned Temple to his fate. Had he returned to hunt the boy down, and to rid the world of a rival for Cyrille’s hand? Whon Ben Simon’s attention became fixed om, Stargold and her captors the watcher crept - from his tree, and, snuke-like in his movements, again approached the scout. The scout heard nothing; the tread of a cinnamon would hardly have disturbed him. The short grass aided Beverly; it gave forth: no sound, and when he stcpped again he might have touched Simon's feet with bis revolver. “Who can it be?” muttered Beverly “It ain’t the hoy. Isce that now, Is it Kardinge Ah! I would like to meet that cowardly deserter’ somewhere among these mountain lands and tell him bow he deserted Cyrille and lefi her te. her fate somewhere between Bufcrd and Reno, But Leare not who he Le--Hardinge, the boy or Wildcati Here goes!” As Beverly finished, he rose and threw up biz pistol arm. “Captain Hardinge?” he exclaimed. The man on the ground leaped up with > ery, and Beverly started back. “Oh! it is you, traitcr!” he cried, * Thank Heaven we ere alone!” and Peverly, seeming ta: forget that he carried leaden death in his band, flung bis revolver to the ground, and sprung like a tiger at the throat of the sccat, It was a tound which could not be resisted, end although Ben Simon struggled with thedes perateness of despair, the man whom he bad ee seemed to pcssess superhuman strength. Beverly forced the pistols from the scout’s: hands, and then bore him to the very edge of the cliff. The pebbles broke loose beneath the. traitor’s feet, and still the baud of the cavalry- man was at his throat. “Down you go, villain!” hissed Beverly. “Youve betrayed your last white man into» the hands of the Sioux. There are two more» left for Beverly’s vengeance, which, as sureiy as death, shall overtake them. Now, go and join the army of dead traitors, headed by the. chiefest cf all—Arnold! And take with you tha ccmpliments of Frank Beverly.” A sudden push, a balf-ultered oath, and Ben Simon was hurled from the bank, Beverly cid not lean forward to witness the docm cf the traitor, for it was by a master effort that he hept himself safe; but he heard a wild indien yell thet almost froze his blood. Yndians below him? ‘Heavens! I did not know that I was throw- ing the traifor down to his friends!” he ex- claimed. ‘ Well, let them receive him as they have received him befo1e—with open arms.” Ah! Ben Simon had not fallen among the» ows. In his flight downward he had caughta clump: of strong rock bushes in his hands, and was: . hanging suspended in. the firelight over tho chesm., Well might the Indians start back and utie: wild cries at the sight of a man banging above. them by a frail grasp on a few mountain .. bushes, Stergold recognized Ben Simon in an instant. ‘‘ Save! save!” she cried, in her native tongue, as she sprung forward; but the naked the Crows dashed her back. The next instant twenty elk-horn bows were bent, and a many deadly arrows, drawn to the barb, covered the body of the suspended scout. “Shoot!” grated Ben Simon, looking down over his shoulder. ‘‘You’ve got Ben Simon whar you want ’im. To-morrer you may not hev ‘im in sich good shape. Make hay while the sun shines, Mountain Crows!” CHAPTER VIII THE DEATH SHADOW’S HATRED. We left Cyrille about to fall into the hands’ of the bear-man who had rescued her from the hatchet of the survivor of the Indian duel. Let us go back to tho spot_and follow her for- fre a timn ¢ tay ctty eB arms of”
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When she fell fainting to the ground, the clawlike hand of the strange person was about to seize her, and the next moment his eyes were looking down upon her face. The fiery flashes of vengeance had now left them, and where they had burned, the softer light of pity shone. Cyrille was still unconscious when she was lifted from the ground, and borne away in the arms of her rescuer. When she recovered the little valley tenanted by the four dead Sioux had been left behind, and the bear-demon was slowly ascending a mountain by a narrow path that wound its way gn the bushes. The girl shuddered and shut her eyes when she saw the grotesque head of her captor. Strength to leap from his arms she had not, and resolving to lie still she did not make the at- tempt. As she suspected, her forced journey ended in a mountain cave where she was placed once more on her feet. The man without a word kindled a fire on the floor of the cavern. He then spread a bear-skin on the ground to which he invited Cyrille by a gesture, The girl was fatigued and did not hesitate to accept the in- vitation. “*T wonder,” Sa Cyrille, ‘if he knows anything about Ned. When he comes back I will tell him my story.” The bear-man had vanished among the sha- dows of the cave and Cyrille was alone in the firelight. Suddenly the step of her captor startled her and she looked up. The next minute a cry fell from her lips. The shaggy head of the cinnamon no longer looked down upon her; but the face—the natural features of the Indian’s Terror had been revealed. It was the face of an old man; the eyes still burned with great brilliancy and the closed li were expressive of some master resulution. is hair was almost white. ‘-T am no longer a monster, girl,” he said to ille, as he sat down on the edge of the bear- skin. ‘‘ Your pretty face has brought the past back—the past so strangely full of love and horror. o are you? and how came you in these parts?” Cyrille told her story of which the stran being did not lose a word. Now and then he elinched his hands, and once he turned his head away that only the stones that “eave in the wall might see his eyes flash madly. “Now,” said Cyrille emboldened by his at- tention. ‘‘ Will you not tell me something about your life?” “Me?” he exclaimed. ‘‘I am Vengeance—I am Death! Ask the Sioux who that shadow is that falls athwart their wigwams in the night, and they will whisper Negotoo, the Death Sha- dow. will not horrify you, girl, with the story of the night that made me the Indian’s foe. You have lived in the western forts all your life, and you have heard enough of such tales. You may have heard of my great griev- No! no! you were not born then, and it has passed from all living minds save mine. It was near the Missouri—near the hunting grounds of the Sioux. I was not there. I came back after all was over —after the inmates of our twelve wagons, with their guard, had been killed and burned—yes, burned, girl, for the inhuman butchers had thrown the dead among the wag- ons, and upon all a dozen torches. Why was not I there when they came to destroy? Why did Captain Thornton send me out after game, and keep the best hunters in the camp? He knew the country; he had traversed it before; but it wasnew tome. Itis not new now,” and the man laughed strangely. ‘‘Every foot of Sioux land is known to me; every village, every camp that Red Cloud has pitched since that fa- tal night has witnessed the work of Negotoo. You are wondering if I will not stop some time. Yes,when I can no longer lift my hand to slay— when my eye shall refuse to direct the stroke.” “Your ily were with the train?” said Gyrrille. “Yes, my wife and my child! I buried one, but the babe I never found. Somewhere among the burned wagons she had perished.” Cyrille shuddered. No!” suddenly continyed the slayer, laying his hand on Cyrille’sarm. ‘‘ You are going to osk me wholam. Donotdoso. It mightmake »s remember that I am not Negotoo, the Death { .:dow, andif I forgot that, my hand might weaken fora moment. I am Negotoo and none of yer! Tam no longer—” Tle paused and caught himself in time. The Ned Temple, the Border Boy. | “You will stay here,” be went on. ‘‘Myra would nave looked like you if the death-eagles had not swooped vopon the train—if her uncle had not sent me out to hunt. Well, he saved me for vengeance, and perhaps I ought to thank you, Captain Thornton. Thank you? no! no!” and the slayer sprung up likea madman. ‘‘ You knew more than I thought you did; you knew what would be Myra’s portion one of these days, if she lived. I wish the torch and the hatchet of the Sioux had spared you, Captain Thornton. I would give my right arm, ay, my life, if Heaven had but preserved you for my revenge. If 1 thought that you still lived, I | would go to the end of the world to find your | trail. Red Cloud could sleep peacefully in his camps while I hunted you, white liar and prince of traitors!” ‘‘Then,” said Cyrille, deeply interested in the Slayer’s words, ‘‘ Captain Thornton was a trai- tor. A traitor brought you here; and a traitor, asl firmly believe, deserted me in the land of the Sioux.” Negotoo whirled upon her. ** His name?” be cried. Cyrille hesitated. Why should she accuse her uncle Thornton Hardinge when she had no pos- itive proof of his treachery? “ You will pardon me. I may have been too fast.” she paid. ‘‘No; you would suspect nobody unjustly. Whois your traitor? Tell me, child?’ “My uncle, Captain Thornton Hardinge. Since my desertion I have seen him with Red Cloud.” “That name again!” exclaimed the Slayer. “My traitor was Captain Thornton; yours Thornton Hardinge. Heavens! can it be— No! Iam not to be favored thus. But go on. — this uncle of yours—my traitor’s name- e. Cyrille did so. “The same eyes, the same hight, but not the same name,” said Negotoo. ‘He was at Fort Reno?” ees.” ‘‘T was never there, Since that terrible nigbt the stars or the walls of this cave have covered me. I neverenter the forts. My place is where Red Cloud builds his lodges, and where he mar- shals his scarlet devils. But let me ask you one question, girl. Where is your father?” “ At Fort Buford.” ‘* His name?” ‘Dudley Averill.” ‘¢ What is his rank?” “‘ He holds none; he is the sutler of the post. But cam) call him captain.” “Dudley Averill?’ repeated the bear-man springing suddenly back into the gloom of the cave. Cyrille was nonplussed. Her father’s name had been strangely repeated by the demon; it had affected him almost in the same manner that the mention of Thornton Hardinge’s had. When he reappeared the griuning head of the cinnamon was on his sh e18 once more, and Cyrille started from the flash of the eyes be- neath the hideous covering. In one hand the Slayer held a piece of paper which looked like a leaf froma memorandum, and before our heroine recovered from her sur- prise the paper was thrust between her fingers. ‘“*Read it when I am gone!” cried Negotoo, inting to the paper * And then stay here ill I come back. am still Negotoo, but be- fore I see you again I will be the man who car- ried his babe on his arms across the mountains, but still a heart-hunter and a blood-drinker. Stay here! To venture beyond this cave will be to perish by the hatchet of the Sioux. or the teeth of the mountain wolves. 1 will come back. Red Cloud’s village lies in my way. I will pass through it like an_angel of death, for far beyond it is a face that I must see.” He sprun aay with the last word still on his lips, and Cyrille, staring at his strange fig- ure, saw him vanish beyond the firelight. Then her eyes fell to the paper in her hand. It was covered with names written a long time ago for many were hardly legible; but there were two which had been written over and over as if the persons who bore them were objects of interest to the writer. These names were ‘‘David Dudley” and “Captain Thornton.” “ Merciful heavens! what do I see?” suddenly exclaimed Cyrille, staggering back while she clutched the paper. “David Dudley was with the train that the Sioux attacked—the train that contained the Death Shadow's wife and child. What awful 7°22 which he had nos uttered for years was light is breakin before me? Those old letters xtout to fall from his lips. that I found’ in father’s room last summer were signed David Dadley, and when I asked him what it meant he tore them from my hands and made we promise never to speak the name again! Then Lan not an Averill, but a Dud- ley—the child of a man hated and hunted by a demon whose motto is ‘‘ Vengeance and blood.” Father, be on your guard. He is hunting you now. The blood-hunter of Montana has thrown himself upon your path; he will steal into Fort Buford like a thief in the night, and I—I am the one who showed him the trail which be deemed lost forever. Father! father! Heaven keep the child that betrayed you and cannot save.” Cyrille darted forward with an agonizing cry, nor stopped until she stood at the mouth of the mountain cave. The day was drawing toa close, and the sun no longer threw Cyrille’s shadow on the rocks. The bear-demon of Montana had already passed out of sight, and strain her eyes as she might, our heroine could not see a single being. ut all at once a strange noise overhead startled her. It was the noise like the flapping of great wings. Shrinking back, Cyrille ven- tured to look up and saw the body of an eagle, the king of the skies, dart downward and strike heavily at her feet. A moment later she noticed that the breast of the bird was pierced by an arrow which had passed entirely through the body so that she could see the barb and the feathered tip. ‘Out of one peril into another!” gasped the girl, ‘The slayer of the eagle will hunt for his prey, and find me. No! I will turn robber. will rob the Indian of his bird!” and picking up the cloud king Cyrille bore it back into the cave where she grasped a rifle left behind by Nego- too, and facing the entrance waited for t deadly marksman. CHAPTER IX. SAM WILDCAT’S REVENGE. Ben Summon was in no enviable position. Suspended in mid-air, as it were, above the sharp points of a score of Indian arrows, he was nearer death’s doors than he had ever been. — He felt his grasp on the bushes growin weaker and knew that if the crows withhel their shafts a few moments longer, he must of necessity relinquish his hold and fall among them. ‘Shall I fall, or shall I hold on?’ he asked himself. ‘‘ Ben Simon you ar’ in pickle now!” “Hold on!” came a voice down from over- head. The scout looked up. “'Thet sounds like Sam Wildcat,” he said. “But what would he be helpin’ me fur?” “711 hold on till the Injuns shoot. Then, ov course, I’ll hev to drap,” he answered, A moment later, a lasso glided over the edge of the cliff, and the scout caught it eagerly with one hand. A yell of rage broke from the throats of the Indians below, and as Simon was whisked up- ward by the unseen help, a dozen arrows lefts their bow-strings. ‘‘ Hit! by hokey!” cried Ben, as he landed on the firm ground above. ‘‘ Who ar’ you, ‘ pee Hardinge, by my sculp! an’— Sam cat! ““No congraterlations, an’ no thanks, Wildcat, soringii forward. “I hevn’t taken my reg’lar dose, to-night. I guess ll take it now.” The next moment, two pistol-shots in rapid succession reverberated through the pass, and two Crow warviors staggered back, dead. “‘T never take more’n two Injun pills,” coolly remarked the slayer, stepping back. ‘‘ Now, whar ar’ you goin’?” The question was addressed to Ben Simon. ‘Oh, I’m goin’ to foller the Crows, an’ save my ge ae ‘ Whar is she?” ‘‘Down thar. They shot ’er in my ae the cap’n knows, to-night, but they didn’t kill ‘er, Stargold is now with them red skunks in the pass,” During his speech, the pistol which Wildcat had put back into his belt after shooting the two Crows, was drawn again, ‘*So you’ve got a gal?’ he said, addressing Simon. ‘“‘Do you remember the Cheyenne beauty thet made us enemies; the gal you took from me? What did I say then?” Ben Simon’s eyes suddenly flashed. __ “Ov course I know what you said,” he cried, ‘* We couldn’t settle the matter hyar. The Crows might take a notion to interrupt the tussle. Let’s go down the mountain. Thar’s a cave not a dozen miles off, whar we kin cut er shoot at each other’s hearts.” “I didn’t say thet I would fight you, Ben.
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You took my Injun beauty from me, an’ I’m goin’ to take yourn from you.” Wildcat took a mad stride toward the edge of the cliff, Simon, witha tigerish roar, sprung after him. He held his bowie in his hand. * Stand back!” cried Wildcat. There was a threat in the command, but it fell against a rock. The scout never stopped, but threw himself pa Wildcat, who was braced for the as- sault. The right hand of the would-be slayer of Stargold caught the descending arm and a mo- ri Jater Ben Simon was hurled back from his 0e. “*Tll settle with you arter awhile,” said Wild- cat, turning to the cliff again. Simon fell at full length on the ground ten feet away, but hastily scrambled to his feet. As he did so he heard the sharp report of a revolver, and saw the dark figure of Wildcat withdraw from the pass, ‘*She’s down thar—yer Injun beauty!” said Wildcat, coolly. ‘‘We’re even now. Now we'll go to the cave an’ squar’ accounts.” Ben Simon stood for a moment like a man be- wildered before Sam Wildcat, then all at once the truth seemed to flash across his mind. He sprung forward with a cry of horror and looked down into the pass for a moment, What did he see? A number of excited Indians rushing up and down the gulch seeking a path that would lead them to the enemies above, and a few bending over the dy anion figure of his dusky sweet- heart, Red Cloud’s daughter, shot by his old en- emy, Wildcat. A moment’s glance was enough for the traitor. A mad yell broke from his throat as he turned. ‘‘ We'll fight here, Wildcat!” he roared, dash- ing at the figure that confronted him. ‘Hold on! I’m not the man, Ben, Don’t tear me up, for mercy’s sake!” Simon let go at the sound of the voice and started back. He had seized upon Hardinge, “ Whar’s Wildcat?” ae oo left.” ” a n oath, a cry of baffled r ‘*'Whar’s his trail?” ty “T dont know. I was watching you and did not see him go.” “The skunk!” Then Simon shouted: ‘‘Sam Wildcat, you cowardly white-livered hound, I dare you —I, old Ben Simon, a better man nor youdare be. I kin mop the ground ov Mon- tana with a dozen Wildcats all once, I kin lick you six times afore breakfast. You're a liar, an’ a hoss-thief; you shook yer old mother on her dyin’ bed!” A wild laugh of derision came down the mountain. Simon looked te a soo his teeth, and sent words of fierce defiance back. ‘Not now; you can’t taunt me enough to git me down,” said Wildcat. ‘‘I’m engaged in other business jes’ now; but I'll meet you any- whar next week an’ settle accounts,” ‘* Thet’s a lie!” went up the mountain. “Try me!” cane back. “ Next Friday then; at the cave on the Bald Top mountain.’ “Yl be thar!” ** An’ so will Ben Simon, the Greased Thun- derbolt ov Montana.’’ Wildcat did not reply. Somewhere over- head, he was hastening away with the blood of Red Cloud’s daughter on his hands, A few minutes’ search enabled Simon to re- cover the pistols which Major Beverly had snatched from his hands. ; ! ‘“We must not stay here,” Hardinge said. “ Oy course not. Thar ar’ two death trails for Ben Simon now.” es Two?’ : “Yes, Sam Wildcat’s is one, an’ the major’s is the other.” “The major?” exclaimed Hardinge. ‘**He pushed me off—slipped up behind me while I war watchin’ the Crows menace Star- gold, and over I went. I thought he had scooted back to Fetterman; but he’s in these parts huntin’ somebody. He left the post to find you, cap’n,.” Hardinge uttered an oath. ‘{ helped him when he was Red Cloud’s cap:ive,” the deserter said. ‘‘ He is a man who never forgets favors. He may think, Ben, that Cyrille is somewhere around.’ ‘*Wal, what is the gal to him?” _ “More than you think.” * But you don’t want him to find her?’ ** Wo mustn’t inquire jes’ now, at any rate. If the gal is hyarabouts we’ll find ’er, an’ the next time, cap’n, thar’l) be nolyin’ Crows to fail, eh, my friend?” ‘“That’s sound talk, Ben. Stand by me, and Vl fill your pockets with gold—not dirty nug- gets, but the beauties of Uncle Sam’s mints. I ought to have given you the job in the first place, but never mind. You never had a girl to stand between you and wealth, happiness, and position?” ‘* Never, cap’n.” “Then you don’t know anything about my position. ‘Now I’m ready.” Ben Simon cast a last look over the edge of the cliff ashe tightened his belt, and saying **Come on” to his companion, strode away. SpEney Hardinge was eager to leave the spot. A new thought filled his mind. Cyrille must be still alive, and somewhete in the Sioux country, for Sam Wildcat had nar- rated enough of his adventures during the flight from the Indian camp to almost fix his belief in her existence. Did he want her dead? The two Crows had failed to do their ‘‘ duty :” the girl was still a thorn in his path—a thorn upon which he was likely to tread at any mo- ment on his road to ‘“‘ wealth, happiness and po- sition.” The Crows did not pursue the three whites, but remained in the pass. Daylight breaking over hill and valley saw Hardinge and Ben Simon emerging from a mountain forest. The traitor had another man to betray. Suddenly Simon halted and turned to his partner as he pointed downward. A bluish smoke was rising above the tree- tops. at breakfast fire— Wildcat mebbe!” said the scout, while his eyes flashed. The twain now be to approach the spot, and after a good dea) of crawling on all fours their eyes beheld four Indians seated around what Ben Simon had called a “ breakfast fire.” They were entirely unsuspicious for their rifles lean none) a tree near by; they were wait- ing for the bear-steaks on the coals to be roasted ‘““We’ve got the villains!” suddenly cried Hardinge ‘By Jove! this is a pleasure unex- cted. Look at those two on the left of the re! Did you ever see them before?” ‘“¢Ov course I hey—Black Robe and Uncapa.” _ “The two red scoundrels that went back on the agreement I made with them,” hissed Hard- inge. Are a ready, Ben?” “Ready fur what?” 2 ‘ *‘ Why, to send a bullet into one while I take care of the other.” 4 “ An’ miss a good chance ov knowin’ fur sartain whar the gal is? I say, take the other two an’ leave Black Robe an’ Uncapa.” ‘‘ A good idea! I did not think of it.” - The repeating rifles of the twain were at their shoulders, and all at once two of the Indians sprung back from the fire and fell dead. The two others leaped toward their rifles. ‘‘ Halt!” shouted Hardinge. ‘‘Touch a gun _ to their liking. and we'll bullet bore you. We've got the dead drop on you. I want to hold a talk with you; that is all.” ‘* He wants to kill you. I have the dead aeop on him! Run for your lives, Uncapa and Blac Robe. I'll kill the white man whose cheek drops to his rifle for aim.” F Hardinge and the scout involuntarily turned their heads toward the speaker. _ He was not far away, and the rifle that cov- ered them was held above the tops of a clump of bushes. a3 Only half of the speaker’s figure was visible. ‘A boy, by Jove!” grated the deserter. Yes, a boy—Ned Temple! CHAPTER X. RED ALLIES. It was a strange tableau. The two Crows hesitated, nd their gaze al- ternated between the rifles that covered their bodies and the boy who threatened the lives of Ben Simon and his comrade. ‘‘ Lower your rifles!” continued Ned. ‘‘Cap- tain Hardinge, your rascality has already for- feited your life at my hands,and my finger itches to press the trigger it now touches. Those Indians, Uncapa and Black Robe, failed SE eR oe ee er te ee drop of their blood. Down with your rifles; throw them down or die! This is the last com: mand!” “The brat hez got us, cap’n,” whispered the scout. ‘‘He means bigness when he talks thet way. Our time will come. Down go theshoot- in’-irons!” and Simon cast his weapon down. Hardinge followed his example with an oath and sullenly faced the boy whose eyes glittered with triumph. ‘* Now, sirs, about face! forward march!” The two men turned; but twenty feet away they halted. “On! on! I can kill at long range,” were the bore words that drove them forward again, he two worthies did not halt again until they had passed beyond rifle-shot. “Not another step, cap’n!” said the traitor scout halting. ‘I'll die hyar first.” Well might he be defiant now; the bullets of the boy could not reach him, The two pions did not know that they had | walked the last fifty yards at the mercy of the rifles of the Crows, nor that they owed their continued existence to Ned whose uplifted hand had kept the red-skins’ fingers from their trig- gers. When they looked back they saw their young foe and the Indians together at the fire. ‘“‘They’re goin’ to make a trail fer us,” said the scout. ‘* All we hev got to do to find the gal, is to foller them.” . ; “And follow them we will and that to the death!” grated Hardinge, regarding the scene. ae the death mind you, Ben. The boy must e. “T ; nerally kill young wolves, when TI catch em. hey never grow to be old ones then. A “Don’t I know ’im?” responded Simon with a rin, ‘*Why he’s Colonel Temple’s second-hand y; he war found freezin’ in an emigrant’s wagon a good many winters a somewhar near the Cheyenne bad lands, ‘8 a rooster, he is; trip me once at Buford, jes’ fer fan, an’ laid me up durin’ the hull ov a buffler season with the worse shoulder west ov the Missoury, Don’t I love ’im, cap’n? Doesn’t a grizzly love a mountain sheep?” and Simon’s eyes flashed murderously while he spoke, Meanwhile Ned and the Crows were together “The wi the b ho had ded rifle ey were the braves who Averill and himself to within at ioe nattes of Fort Reno, and then mysteriously left them to shift for themselves. Our first chapter has already told of the re- mainder of that journey. bahede, 4 Re Wie Crows greeted Ned with outstretcheé ands, ; “Where girl?’ one asked and then quickly continued. ‘Big fort all burnt up; soldiers gone, ; ‘Yes, Fort Reno’s ruins greeted ce Cyrille and I were separated there. here Cyrille is just now I do not know.” me “Girl lost? White man over there no get her. Him bad, too bad for Uncapa and Black Robe to do what him pay ’em for.” “Then you were to slay Cyrille?” The two Indians nodded assent. “Let me forget that Thornton Hardinge has such a heart as that in his breast. Tf fo I have met him for the last time. Should we meet again I may not grant him the mercy he received today. I am hunting for Cyrille now.” d “The Crows will help white boy. The trails of Sioux land are to them the trails of their own country. They know ’em ell.” “*T accept your help,” Ned replied. “TIT keve been of service to you to-day; you may scive me,” ‘**Good! We march egainst our foes first; then the girl.” The eyes of the Incians were darting looks of revenge and hretre' to tors of the conference. “No; let them go for'the present,” the boy said. ‘Their trails will cross yours again, and [Tam satisfied that you will not have to wait long for that event either. Then I will not say no. = ‘*Boy talk well. mebbe: bus the snake that ard the distant specta- the Indian spares lives to bite again.”
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he Indians acquiesced. eagerly, ‘‘do you know where Bald Top is?” Black Robe uttered a hght cry as he caught Ned’s arm and pointed in a westerly direction his arm slightly elevated. ‘“* Boy see blue mountain over there?” ae f “That Bald Top.” | “Why, it is far away!” ‘Git there by another sleep,” was the an- wer. Ned did not reply but gazed at the far-off mountain as if his hopes hovered around its i oe ‘Why does boy look at Bald Top?” asked neapa. “She is there!” exclaimed Ned, starting and his eyes brightened. ‘Last night I was in Red Cloud’s village. I was there when the Crows attacked the Sioux among their own lodges. I saw Captain Hardinge and Sam Wildcat seek safety in flight. Then I thought that Cyrille was somewhere among the wig- wams. While the battle was raging in one rt of the camp I was gliding through another unting for her. All at once | came upon the strangest creature that inhabits this country. I attempted to fly, but was captured by a bear- man who had just been stooping over a dead Sioux.” Ned’s narrative was interrupted phe ejacu- lation from the Indians; their k eyes dilated. ‘*T know you have heard of him,” the youth said. ‘‘He is the Death Shadow of the Red Cloud’s camps. Does he ever visit your vil- lages?” ‘Him never trails a Crow; always the “Boy see Death Sioux,” was the answer. Shadow, last sleep?” “Yes. He caught me and held me fast,” Ned continued. ‘‘ Suddenly the voice of a whi man came from that funny, yet hideous head. My name,and my story were soon told at his command. I told him that my hunt for Cyrille had carried me to Red Cloud’s camp. ‘Go and find her,’ he said to me. ‘Go and find Bald Top; he will give you back the girl. She may need your help. Protect her till I come.’ Then he turned me around, and pointed with his hairy aim over my shoulder, ‘Keep in a straight line,’ he said, ‘and Bald Top will t P sagt I tarned to ask for a better direc- ion, for the arm had been withdrawn, but I was alone. The demon of Montana had disap- ed and I stood beside the dead Sioux. believe that Cyrille is somewhere on that mountain; but there are many trails to mislead me. I am bound to find her. My duty is to do so, and to punish. Now, ‘On to Bali Top? is my. battle cry.” he two Crows had not understood all of Ned’s narrative; but they grasped its main points. “ Bald Top shall give white girl up to boy,” said Uncapa. ‘‘Then the Crows will trail the white snakes. Boy ready to go?” ** Not oly ready, but eager.” Black Robe ran forward and picked up the rifles which Ben Simon and Hardinge had been forced to drop. He held them exultingly above his head a moment, in full view of the mad owners and then suddenly dashed them against a tres. A how] of rage burst from the scout’s throat. “ Jes’ what I thought red skunks would do!” he cried. ‘‘Cap’n, we’ve got to get new shootin’-irons afore we kin compete with thet ‘* Where will we find them?” ““Not nigher than the Sieg 7% Hardinge fairly groaned. He did not relish the thought of losing precious time. _* Thar ar’ hosses fur us back thar,” said Ben. ‘We kin soon make up lost minutes. Wemust have the rifles!” ‘“‘Then away to the Sioux camp!” The two worthies turned their backs on the boy and his scarlet allies; but with renewed oaths to return to the trail again. The tall figure of Uncapa led the van of the little party whose faces were now turned to Bald Top, the distant goal. They did not see the lank figure gliding after them. lt had the movements of the panther and the greedy, flashing eyes of the wildcat. When they halted, it stood still, and when they advanced again it followed as before, a wolf on a trail destined to be bloody before many hours had passed. “Tho youugster hed some news about my lost * hollyhock of the mountains,” said this tireless trailer, speaking to his ungainly self. ‘‘ They’re breakin’ straight fur Bald Top, too. Didn’t I hear old Uncapa mention the mountain once er twice in an in.portant way. May I ketch the chicken-pox afore Christmas ef I didn’t! Halt, Sam Wildcat! Thar’sa short way to Bald Top. Hyar’s the trail by which Colonel Armstrong marched over thar an’ got licked. The Crows don’t know about it. Sam Wildcat, you’il miss yer reg’lar dose to-day, but you’re in Juck. My mountain pansy, ’m comin’ on legs thet kin out-run a rumor.” He bounded down a mountain defile like a stag, leaving Ned and the Crows to press on over the trail they had selected to Bald Top. Cyrille, wherever she was, had no one to warn her that more than one tiger was that day on her track. CHAPTER XI. CYRILLE’S PERIL. “T am waiting for nothing. The Indian does not know where his eagle dropped, and now that night has come again he will not continue his search.” Cyrille had waited, rifle in hand, three long hours for the eagle-slayer. During that time her eyes had not left the en- trance for a moment, nor had she ceased to lis- ten for the footsteps of the foe. At last she sat down to rest and to pay her re- spects to the food which Negotoo, the bear-man, had left behind. While engaged in the latter occupation, she was suddenly alarmed by a sound near the cor- ridor, and the next moment her rifle was ready for service. “Is the eagle-slayer coming at last?” she asked herself, ‘‘ Well, he will not find me un- prepared.” She ser beyond the limit of the firelight as she finished and waited. Her heart seemed in her throat, but she held the weapon steadily. For a moment the startling sound was not re- peated, then something more like shadow than substance greeted her eyes, and there rose into view near the inner threshold of the cave the lithe, half-naked body of an Indian. Cyrille saw him plainly because he stood in the firelight. ; Her inmost hope was that the eagle-killer was alone. The Indian stood for a minute where he first appeared, and then leaping suddenly forward, landed near the fire, and but a few feet from the rifle that now covered him. He was alone and the bow grasped by his hand told Cyrille that he was the brave for whom she had waited. ‘* He will not see the eagle. I have thrown it away from the firelight. is eyes—” Ail at once the Indian leaped to the left, and acry of joy broke from his lips as he pounced upon the dead bird. It was thiscry that broke wee sentence. hen, the young brave came back to the fire he sat calmly cown and began to examine the eagle. He drew the arrow through the body and returned it to his quiver: then he began to deprive the carcass of its finest feathers. Vhile thus engaged, Cyrille did not take her eyes from him. Why did he exhibit such fearlessness in a strange cave where he had discovered a fire and his eagle? Itis true that he was in the midst of bis own country; but might not an enemy in- habit it? Cyrille did not disturb him. "When he had se- cured the feathers he would quietly take his de- parture and leave her undisturbed. She believed this when she saw him cast the plucked bird aside and quit the cave. Our heroine breathed freely again. “Thank Heaven! I was notcompelled to shed blood,” she said, and she was about to leave her station when a number of voices fell on her ears, and she shrunk back into the shadows again. Her long residence at Fort Buford had famil- jiarized her to a certain extent with the Sioux tongue. “Cat Eye find his eagle here,” she heard. “Tire burnin’ when be come in. Nobody tell Cat Eye to go, so him sat down and took his feathers.” The eagle-killer was not alone this time as Cyrille soon saw, for when the last word fell from the young Sioux’s lipsa dozen stalwart bucks stood before her, staring at the fire which the deadliest enemy of their race had lighted. ‘** Somebody make fire; same person that find eno lof thse ‘kil l earlo? eni 1} Yo . ~wmanIoONns. | eario,” sari cne Ce HiLCr’s Comparmtons. | a | ee C—O ‘“‘Him come back to cave by-an’-by. Mebbe him be Negotoo,”’ At the mention of the dreaded name the In- dians involuntarily started back, and might have fled had not Cat Eye rallied them. ‘‘Negotoo no man—him not flesh an’ blood. Why then should he live in a cave?” said the buck. ‘* We will hunt the hole that we have, found—hunt it with fire.” Rallied by Cat Eye’s words the Indians ad- vanced again and several sprung to the fire to secure torches. ‘They will find me now,” thought Cyrille. “T have permitted safety to slip through my fingers. Cat Eye should not have been allowed to leave the cave alive.” The next moment a voice stern and strangely unlike a girl’s came from that part of the cave which our heroine occupied: ‘“‘The Sioux have come to Negotoo’s lodge? Do they want to wear his mark so badly that they must hunt him up?” Instantly the peveges who were about to lift the torches sprung back with startling cries, and Cyrille saw a fear-stricken group of war- riors trying to penetrate the shadows that con- cealed her. “‘Negotoo the Death Shadow is ready to make his mark on the Sioux warriors!” con- tinued Cyrille in the same tone. “They want it; but let them come forward and stand for him in the firelight.” The braves stood a moment longer in the presence of the speaker, and then bounding back turned and fled! All but one! Standing erect as if planted in the stony floor of the cave, young Cat Eye, the eagle-slayer, dared to face the enemy. He had drawn his tomahawk, and the flash of defiance was in his eye. “Let Negotoo show himself. Here stands Cat Eye, the Sioux, who never shows his back to the foe—not even to the evil spirits. Black Coyote wears Negotoo’s evil mark. He was Cat Eye’s brother. Where is the night Spirit? It is afraid to meet the tomahawk of the Sioux warrior when he is awake.” “ Negotoo does not want to slay the brave. Cat Eye’s time has not come!” was the a ‘“‘Cat Eye says it must come. If Negotoo will not come forth, he will seek him.” The young Sioux strode forward. Cyrilie went back until the wall of the cave stopped her. ** Fool!” hissed Cyrille, and the next instant the Indian staggered from the jet of flame that leaped into his very face. here was no death-cry; the victim of rash- ness fell and died instantly where he had lately hurled defiance into the teeth of his foe. ‘One out of twelve!” murmured Cyrille. ‘‘ Now, if the others have only left me to myself! I must ascertain.” She appeared once more in the firelight as she spoke and started toward the mouth of the cave. Fatal move! A number of vengeful cries fell on her ears, and several arrows whizzed past her head. Instantly she retreated, but the spell had been broken; the Sioux were not contending with the death man Negotoo, but with a girl. Cyrille turned, but too late; the red panthers were upon her, Supernatural strength appeared to nerve her arms, and the blow that she dealt staggered the foremost brave. eee a hundred hands seemed to be clutching at her. In a minute all was over; her weapon was wrenched from her grasp, and shivered on the floor, and she stood in the midst of a pack of wolves —a lamb about to be torn to pieces. A torch was held near her face that the Sioux might obtain a view of their prize, anda series of mad cries broke from their throats, Negotoo after all was not a spirit, but a young white girl. They bad at last discovered the dread foe who for two years had killed in their villages andcamps. Nota hideous being as they had imagined him, but a beautiful creature was this shadow of death. ‘‘Negotoo will kill no more! She bas made her last mark on the brow of a Sioux,” flashed a stalwart warrior. ‘The eagle that Cat Eye killed led Red Cloud’s young braves to the Slayer. Does Negotoo expect to kill any more?” ‘“Yes!” answered Cyrille. ‘‘ Your camps and trails will continue to be visited by his hand?” ‘*¢ After we have killed you?” ‘¢ After I am dead!” The Sioux ciared into each other’s faces.
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—_—- —— amen : Ned Temple, the Border Boy. “ Negotoo talk mad now.” *T am not Negotoo.” Several bands fell from Cyrille, but those of the spokesman of the band still held her. ** Girl lic!” he cried. Cyrille’s face reddened. “fam not free. Iam a prisoner,” sho said, indignant. ‘‘ But Iam not Negotoo. He may be behind you new.” More than one Indian turned toward the en- ‘yanee expecting to see the figure of Death jhadow ready to deal the blow that always lew. As for the positive brave, he held Cyrille in a rise-like grip, Her words did not deceive him. She and no one else was Negotoo The Slayer, for had she not lately spoken in the Terror’s name? ** Negotoo is in the Long Viper’s hands,” he said. ‘*She will never strike again.” The braves camé back. “Red Cloud has demanded that Negotoo, when captured by his braves, should be killed,” continued the tall Sioux. ‘‘We have caught the killer, and the young brave Cat Eyo lies at her feet. She shall die here in her own lodge.” Did the shout of savage approval that seemed to shake tho roof of the cavern blanch Cyriile’s check? She was not allowed any timo for reflection, for as the fire burned anew under a fresh sup- ply of fuel preparations for death began. ‘All this came by your hands, Thornton Hardinge,” broke from her heart, ‘‘ May the blood that these Indians are about to shed bring a speedy justice to your door.” “ What Negotoo say?’ asked Long Viper. “Nothing for you. Yes, yes; there is a white man who bas betrayed his people—a soldier— who is among you now. He hates you: his heart is bound to your enemies, the Crows. If ou don’t slay him on sight woe to your tribe hrough his work.” ‘*Ncgotoo means the white captain?” ‘*Ves; Captain Hardinge.” “Long Viper and his braves will not forget; they will split his Crow heart with their arrows.” “Good!” cried Cyrille. ‘‘After all my avengers will be red ones, traitor!” - A minute later ten Indians who had been stooping around the fire stood erect once more, and Cyrille saw that each held a bow in his hands to which the slenler death-arrow of the Sioux had been fixed. ; The moment had come. Long Viper glanced at his companions and then led Cyrille toward tho rear wall of. the eave. It was now revealed by the fire. Halting there he held our heroine out at arm’s length and looked at the executioners bending their bows. ’ At that moment his grip was not tight. “Heaven guide me!” ejaculated Cyriile in an undertone as wrenching herself from Long Viper’s hand she bounded into the gloom on her left. ‘* Merciful Father! show mo safety!” There might be a wall there; she did not know; but none halted her, and she darted on. A wild cry that made the cavern ring greeted her escape. It lent new speed to her limbs, and with her hands before her anda prayer on her lips she kept on with the scarlet tigers of Sioux land at her heels. She had never explored Negotoo’s home, and the dark way she was threading might lead to death. CHAPTER XII. A FATAL PARTNERSHIP, Iv was the night after the thrilling occur- rences of the chapter just ended when a man ap- peared at the foot of Bald Top and tried to pen- etrate the forest of trees and bushes that covered the sides of the mountain. He wore the well-known garb of the army scout, but there was something about him that proclaimed him a superior being to that person. “This is Bald Top,” he said; “but I am in the dark as deeply as I was before I heard that wild man utter a word. Maybe he instructed the boy in an undertone, but I think not; I know he did nothing of the kind. I am ahead of the youngster, at any rate. I am here to wrench Cyrille from him should he find her. Major Beverly, this is to be your battle ground. Al) you have to do is to wait for the foe; he is bound to come.” The man, then, at the foot of Bald Top was Frank Beverly, whom we left leaving the cliff from which he had pushed the traitor scout Ben Simon. He was still hunting for Cyrille the lost; but what had brought him to Bald Top? A word will explain. In hastening from his last adventure he moved toward the Sioux village and had the fortune to come suddenly upon Death Shadow and Ned Temple. By the veriest chance bis presence es- caped notice, and he heard tho conversation that passed between the pair, and felt his heart leap into his throat when the bear-demon told Ned that he would find Cyrille somewhere on the mountain. Then he hurried away. To beat the boy’ to the place, and to find Cyrille first was his heart’s desire; but the wrong trail has misled him. When be found Bald Top night had again spread her vail over the face of nature. He stood at the foot of his goal and uttered the words just recorded. He knew that his young rival could not be far away, for Negotoo’s words would cause him to hasten tothe mountain: but Beverly did not care to wait for him. ‘* Wo will have to meet and fight it out seme- time,” hecried. ‘‘The boy fool! does he think that Iam going to yield such a queen of beauty to him without a struggle?’ Ho no longer stood at the foot of the mountain, but was creeping up with no definite object in view. Perhaps he expected chance to reveal him Cyrille’s hiding place. Chance had several times befriended bim in the hunt for her, All at once Frank Beverly stopped. “Pm missin’ my reg’lar dose to-night,” said a rough voice, the sound of which led his gaze to the speaker, who looked like a statue carved ogainst the starry sky. ‘‘ Wildcat, you’re on Bald Top ahead ov the hounds; but you hevn’t struck the fawn’s trail yit.” Beverly started at the name that fell from the hunter’s tongue, Sam Wildcat! the man who had separated Ned and Cvrille—Sam Wildcat, whose promis- cuous slaughter of Indians had caused the Goy- ernment a great deal of trouble; and the man whoso presence at any of the forts would have cost him bis life. Beverly had never been so near him before and the thought of this lawless frontier wolf hunting for Cyrille was enough to make him draw his revolver, which he noiselessly did. “Tl go up an’ look at the old cave; hev’n’t seen it tur five year—not since I took an over- dose ov Injun in it, an’ got laid up fur six weeks with lead in the lungs. The boy an’ the Crows can’t be fur behind me, an’ I might take the trick by findin’ the cave first. Never give up, Sam; the pansy ov the mountain ar’ bound to be yourn!” He passed by Beverly so closely that the sol dier might have touched him; but he did not. ‘So he knows where a certain cave is?” ejac- ulated the major. ‘ He shall guide me to it, but I will enter alone. Yow shall never enter it, Sam Wildcat, for death is at your heels.” Beverly took care to creep without noise be- hind the outlaw, and more than once smiled at the thougbt that Wildcat was innocently guid- ing his worst enemy to the spot where the ob- ject of their mutual attention might be. Wildcat suddenly turned to the right, and when Beverly reached the turning spot he saw a narrow path which gave out evidences of late travel. ‘1 am on the trail at last!’ he cried. “Cy- rille, my love, I am nearer than you think.” He never took his eyes from Wildcat, and when that individual halted, the soldier saw that the cave bad beenreached. An absence of five years had not blunted the outlaw’s recol- lection. “Wal, I’m hyar now fur my hollyhock,” fell from Wildcat’s lips. At that moment the figure of Beverly sprung up scarcely ten feet away. At the same time be cocked his revolver. ““Thunder! follered!” roared Wildcat, wheel- ing upon his trailey, and the major started back with a cry of astonishment. ‘¢- Yes, followed, Wildcat!” he exclaimed, re- covering ina moment. ‘‘I am Frank Beverly. Our mission to Bald Top is the same; but you shall fail, while I am going to succeed. You have found the cave for me, and Cyrille, I trust, for which service accept my thanks. From this hour I have no need of you. And thenI owe the Government a service which I can perform while I help my own affairs. You are going to cash your last check now. Major Beverly is the indorser.” Wildcat knew what was coming, for the re- volver rested on a level with his foreheed. If it had been day he could have looked into its barrel. 11 ‘* My last check, eh? You wouldn’t hold back a minute, would you?” he said. ** No!” hissed Beverly who had heard of Wild- | cat’s many feats of agility. ‘lm not the man | who throws away such a brilliant opportunity ; as this. Your time has come. No more Indian wars from you.” “* An’ no hollyhock fer Major Beverly !” The last word ended like the short growl of the panther just before its leap, and at the same instant Sam Wildcat’s figure dropped suddenly Na Beverly’s pistol, and then leaped at rim. The following second the report of a revolver reverberated among the defiles and forests of Bald Top, and Beverly struck ‘ below the belt” by Wildcat, would have been hurled from the path if an iron hand at bis shoulder had not prevented. “Sam Wildcat’s last check, eh?’ was hissed in his ear. ‘‘Somebody else will pass in his’n afore mornin’. So you want the pansy ov Bald Top—you, an’ the boy, an’ the cap‘n, not to speak ov the individual called Samuel Wildcat, Kusquire. What do you think ov yer chances jes’ now? Wouldn’t you sell all ov ’em at less than cost?” Beverly did not reply. The sarcasm of the voice seemed to be intensified by the murderous flashing of the speaker’s eyes. “‘T ginerally give white men a fair show)” continued Wildcat. ‘I always respected the sarvice; b’longed to it myself once.” You a soldier?” exclaimed Beverly. “What part of the service did you disgrace?” “The Whisky Brigade,” answered Wildcat with a grin. ‘Just as I suspected, but you were an honor to that department, not a disgrace. Pardon me! Beverly at his turn was trying to be sarcastic. “ Arter I left the sarvice I turned avenger. The loss ov ten barrels ov as good whisky ez ever killed a soldier, made Sam Wildcat the In- jun’s foe, an’ I take my reg’lar dose every da —two red-skins raw an’ when I kin git ’em wash ’em down with three or four wildcats, But let’s git to bizness. I always give white men, an’ ’specially members ov the sarvice, a show. Hev youa knife?” “Yes,” Beverly was released, and as he had been de- rived of his revolver he instinctively drew his nife—a formidable bowie. ‘The mountain pansy ar’ in thet cave, I know it!” said Wildcat. “ Ef you wipe me out you kin walk over my carcass, an’ take her; but ef I manage to git the pint ov my knife into your life chest, why T’ll do the claimin’.” The two men were standing toe to toe before the cave’s entrance, Beverly was eager for the signal. To gain Cyrille he had but to plunge his knife into an outlaw’s heart, and this he had resolved to do, For a moment the twain stood ready for the combat, They had lifted their knives, when a strange sound, very like a signal, came up’ the mountain, It was replied to from some point overhead, * They’re hyar—the rest ov ’em!” ejaculated Wildcat starting slightly at the sounds. “ They {—who?” “‘The boy an’ the Injuns. They’ve their issues. The man that wins in our will hev to fight all three.” ‘* Why can’t we pool our issues?” Wildcat gave Beverly a searching look. ** Honest, major?’ ? ‘*T mean business. If they have leagued to- gether why need we be enemies at the present m e Wildcat thrust forth his hand, and the major grasped it. The duel was averted. ** Now fur the common enemy,” said the In- dian-slayer, ‘‘ Thar ar’ two Injuns, my reg’lar . dose, an’ the boy kin take the place ov the Wildcat dessert. Come, major.” The two entered the cave and glided down the corridor. When Wildcat stopped, he said: “ We're in the big room now whar I took the overdose ov Injun fire years ago. Hev you matches?” Beverly felt in his pockets and produced sev- as - lucifers which he placed in Wildcat’s an | The next moment a sharp crack announced the lighting of the matches. : A iad held the burning bunch over his ead. ‘““ Tt was my tightest rub,” he said, going back to his fight in the cave, five years before, “Tl or you the hole thet seved me arter while. Yow— led *russle
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Re ee EE ee ee es _ ’ April Ned Temple, the Border Boy. The matches had flashed up suddenly and re- vealed for a second the couple’s surroundings. All at once exclamations of horror rung from the white men’s throats, and both started back as the matches were dashed to the floor, At the same time a dozen dark figures, re- vealed by the lucifers, sprung at Beverly and Wildcat, like wolves at the stag enticed into their trap. They had walked deliberately into the very jaws of death, for the yells that filled the cav- ern were the yells of the bloodthirsty Sioux. “Til take my reg’lar dose right hyar!” said Wildcat drawing his knife. CHAPTER XIII. BEN SIMON’S “‘INJUN TRIGGER.” ‘“‘T BELIEVE it would be worth my life to show my face in the camp now. hy, only last night the young bucks were plotting against me, and, in all human probability, I would not be here if the Crows had not made the attack when they did.” Ben Simon and Hardinge were looking down upon the Sioux village from an elevated plateau and the latter was the speaker. We left the twain on their way to Red Cloud’s camp to procure new weapons with which to contend with Ned Temple and his Indian allies. Captain Hardinge’s hesitation was natural. ‘Tue attack of the Crows had preserved his life, and he knew, too, that the man at his side had plotted with the young bucks, *““You are safe down there, Ben, but I am not,” he went on. ‘‘ You can get the guns and horses. Double pay will reward you.” “Pil try it, cap’n,” was theanswer. ‘‘ What if the Sioux say thet I desarted ’em last night? Er, what ef Red Cloud hez come back, and sw’ars thet 1 carried Stargold off?’ ** He isn’t back yet. For Heaven’s sake, Ben, o down and get our equipment. I am impa- ient to go back to the trail we struck this morning.” Ben Simon left his companion and was soon gliding toward the Indian camp in which m iny signs of life could be seen from the pla- teau. Hardinge watched him until he could no longer be seen, and then prepared to await his return. The day was waning again, and the familiar forms of the Indian lodges faded gradually from the deserter’s view. ‘Several hours passed away without bringing the traitor scout back. At last the captain’s impatience could be sup- pressed no longer. ‘“*T was a fool to trust him,” he cried. ‘He betrayed Beverly and plotted with the Indians against me. One is compelled to put up with strange bedfellows sometimes, and I had to ac- cept him. But never mind; T'll cut loose from, you, and that in a manner which will deprive the world of your further services. I play for high stakes—the girl Cyrille, and a bonanza. What is the news from the gold coast? What does that advertisement say?” He answered his last question by drawing an old paper from an inner pocket. Unfolding it he found a notice at the top of an obscure col- ei it made his eyes glisten for it read as fol- ows: “WantED—Proof that David Monterey and his family eee in the massacre of Travis's train, h, 1868. Any person furnishing positive proof of their death to the undersigned will be lib- erally rewarded. *“ Hatcu & Darst, Attorneys, San Francisco, Cal” * Proof? that is just what I want the lawyers to have,” exclaimed Hardinge. ‘‘ Dudley and I played the wrong card that day, sure. no bonanza in her. I know all about this ad- vertisement. After Cyrille, the bonanza goes to the next of kin, which is me. Curse the Crows! If thev had kept their part of the bar- gain, I wouldn’t bo here, nor with my regiment either; bnt ’'d have my fingers$on the stakes. So you want proofs, my shrewd lawyers! Well, that’s just what I’m hunting for now.” When Hardinge returned the pa nocket, a smile of Victory wreathed his lips; but the next moment it disappeared. He had turned his eyes toward the Sioux camp again; | J } | man I’ye wiped out, in my time foolin’ with but Ben Simon was not ‘no sight. ‘* He’s up to some tree -hery again,” grat-d the captain. ‘More ples, and new viulainy. Curse him! Tl cut loose from him, now. Tl go down and help myself.” He left the plateaa, and the camp from which he had lately shrunk with a shudder, he entered boldly, but on all fours, like the scout. r to his | Se dS? i Se ee ee ee ee ee We | wanted the baby; but now we know that there’s | A rifle and a horse; these were what the plot- ter craved. He crept toward the corral and saw the gaunt figure of the guard as he stood erect, en- tirely unsuspicious, and at his ease. Hardinge had seen a good deal of frontier life; he had on several occasions entered hostile camps with the army scouts, on horse-stealing expeditions. Therefore, he knew how to ap- proach the sentry. The crawl of the mountain-cat was not more noiseless than the deserter’s. All at once he sprung at the guard from be- hind, and, throwing his arms around his neck, he drew him back before he could utter a sound, Then the knife made short work of the brave, and the pick of horses was at his disposal. Captain Hardinge was not long choosing, and having stood the guard against the tree of his sentry post, he sprung upon the horse and galloped away. He had secured a rifle by his daring deed; the guard’s weapon was now his. ‘* Now, Ben Simon, keep your distance!” he cried. ‘We've dissolved partnership. I am able to take care of myeelt now, and the proof, too. Iam confident that you have deserted me. Treason and desertion are your twin character- istics. Only keep away from me. I shall ask no more.” Meanwhile, where was Ben Simon? Hardinge had not misjudged the scout. He had visited the corral only a few minutes before the deserter and belped himself to one horse—not two—and that at the connivance of the guard. He had already obtained a rifle in the camp. No blood bad been shed by him. He could not live without betraying some- body, and as he guided his horse past the foot of the plateau where he had left Hardinge, he looked up to smile grimly, and to laugh at his latest trick. *Thar’s a gold mine in thet girl fur him,” muttered Ben. ‘‘ He wants to share with me; but I might ez well hey the hull vein. I wouldn’t make the hifalutin’ bonanza king that he would, for I’d be Ben Simon _in the parlors, ez I am in the mountains; but I’d make ag hum’round ’Frisco an’ New York. I guess I'll prospect a little on my own account an’ see what’s in the lead. The gal’sa gold mine; I know it! Cap’n Hardinge wouldn’t desart the sarvice an’ run the risk ov bein’ caught an’ shot onless he saw money enough ahead to keep his hide whole.” Such were the traitor-scout’s thoughts as he galloped past the plateau, leaving, as he thought, a duped man behind. For two hours during that night he stopped and slept in the Sioux saddle that he occupied; then on again. Daylight found him in a rough mountain —a gulch whose bed was a rocky road. e flushes of dawn were slowly dissipating the shadows. **Thunder! somebody’s behind me,” exclaim- ed Ben, and with a hasty glance over his shoul- der he hugged the darkest wall and held his hat over his steed’s nostrils. Yes, some one was behind him; and a few moments later a horseman rode by. Ben’s heart almost stood still, and his eyes seemed ready to fly from his head when he recogni ardinge. ‘“‘He isn’t sech a blamed fool, arter all,” growled the scout. ‘‘He sailed in on his own hook, an’ got hoss an’ gun somewhar. Now he’s cut loose from me, an’ thinks he’s playin’ hob. Wal, he is—in a horn!” As Hardinge, unsuspicious of the scout’s presence, rode on, Ben’s rifle slowly a proached his shoulder. It was cocked and finger touched the trigger. “By George! I'll never git a better chance,” muttered the traitor ‘‘He’s huntin’ on his own hook, so am I; an’ he might circumvent me ef I let this opportunity slip. I’ve got a bead on his head now, an’ the least techin’ ov the trigger— Almighty Jupiter!” Well might the scout thus exclaim, for a loud report had broken the ravine’s stillness, and the cee ahead had fallen forward on his horse’s neck. ‘**T didn’t mean toshoot. The trigger war one I never saw till last night,” said Ben whiter than usual. ‘‘ Confound it! thet’s the second strange triggers. Wal, I kin hunt on my own hook now, can’t I? Mebbe, arter all, it war a lucky shot. I'll go and see.” He galloped toward his victim, but the sound of his approach caused Hardinge’s steed to prick up his ears and start off. ; The scout urged his horse on, but the animal ahead began to increase his gait until he seemed to fly over the ground. Hardinge still hung on. ‘*Cuss ?im!” growled Simon. when we git out ov the gulch.” But on the rolling lands, upon which the two horses debouched, the race soon became a one- sided affair. Hardinge had the best horse, and with head erect and mane streaming in the morning wind, he bounded away guided, if guided at all, by a dead hand. : Ben Simon gave up the chase, and spirnging upon the saddle, watched his victim disappear far away. “The hoss couldn’t shake ’im,” he murmured. “Well, good-by, cap’n! T’'ll find the gold mine an’ toast my old feet in the best parlor in Cali- forny. I didn’t intend to tech the trigger; but Inever beg a dead man’s pardon. It isn’t Ben Simon’s style.” we | Then he dropped back to his natural position on horseback, and looked as if he was already toasting his feet in a bonanza king’s parlor. CHAPTER XIV. A WOLF’S LOVE-MAKING. ° *“*Sran’ up to the ar an’ take yer swill, pardj The odds ar’ ag’in’ us. tried it in this place five ear ago an’ came off second best. Ef this ar’ to be cam ildeat’s last dose ov Injun, it shell be the biggest one he ever took!” ank Beverly did not hear more than one-half of these words. The Indians were already struggling’ with Wildcat in the gloom of the cave, and he tinctly heard the disgusting thud of the outlaw’s bowie as it struck bone and muscle. He was also attacked, but by a single Sioux whom he had the good fortune to hurl from him. “So far, so good!” he thought. ‘They are over- matching Wildcat. een forgotten. Why can I not escape?” The thought sent a thrill of hope:through Beverly’s breast. Wildcat was still battling with the Sioux who con- d tinually uttered loud cries, some of pain, others of e and encouragement for their comrades, vt scape! Beverly sprung away as the thought took firm hold on him. He prouait he knew _ where the entrance bes | but during his brief struggle with the Indian he had turned around several es and this, with the gloom, would likely bother him. “Ah! fortune surely favors me,” he exclaimed when he found the sounds of Wildcat’s death-tussle growing fainter. ‘It has led meto the entrance. I will see the stars soon!” But, Beverly was doomed to disappointment. He went on and on with his hands in front of him, but fanned his face, no stars greeted his vision. He did not know that he was threading the same unknown corridor down which Cyrille hastened the previous night. ‘“Where am I?” he cried, not a little bewildered. ‘“‘T must be traversing some way that leads into the bowels of Bald Top, of to the outer air.” He stood in gloom that seemed palpable, and the stillness around him was the stillness of death. The battle in the cave must have terminated, for he heard it not, although he listened with all his. might. Could it be possible that he was too far away to hear the noise of the struggle? “T dare ncv go back. I will go on; this corridor must lead to daylight. Ahead safety lies; back death, Fortune, having favored me thus far, will not desert me now.” He went on again, holding his hands before him. All at once they struck a hard surface like a wall of 4 te, and Beverly came to a halt. “*T am at the end of the corridor,” he said. ‘I no further. Were the Sioux to follow I wo ave to die here, and that like a dog, in sight of the richest bone he ever scented.” For a moment the major’s situation overwhelmed him completely; if one could have seen his face at that moment, one would have started at the expres- sion of “Be and despair that covered it. Must o back? Hark! fwhat was that? Come on, mountain wolves! Iam here—here to die like a soldier and a man.” With a revolver in each hand, and braced by the wall that had barred his further progress, the soldier tried to pierce the darkness and discern the figures of his foes. A sound like, a footstep had surely startled him; it told him that some one was near. ‘““You need not keep back. I am here,” be said, audibly, for he was burning with impatience. “I ran from you a few minutes ago; but now I am here to die, but not alone!” ; ene ‘ast word had scarcely left Beverly’s lips, when he felt the impress of a hand on hisarm. He turned like a person stung by a viper. “You are white,’ said a voice that instantly drove his heart into his throat. “ You are not Thornton Hardinge, for your voice is not his. That is all I want to know. You are my friend, for I fled from the Sioux wolves last night, and the dark rooms of this wonderful cave haveehid me, Ah! I did not ex- pect to find a friend,here.”’ ; “T am your friend!” cried Beverly, grasping 4 hand in the dark. ‘I will stand between you an the fiends of Sioux land. Fear not; no harm shall reach you while Major Frank Beverly lives.” . A light cry of mingled amazement and disappoint ment greeted the mention of his name, k “Major Beverly, what brought you into this coum “T ll catch ’im I have
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ae try?” said_Cyrille, for, as the reader has guessed, the person at Bever' ly” s side was our heroine. “Duty!’ answered the soldier mage Aa and then he ie Mee “Oh, Cyrille! Cyrille! since I have found you that duty will keep me near you to de- fend you against every foe.’ ““Thanks,”’ breathed C yrille. “But, will you not come to the spot where, since last night, I have lived in constant fear like the deer that seeks refuge in a thicket within hearing of the hunter’s hor ns?” “Since last night? Poor girl! you must be near starvation’s door.’ “You shall see,”’ was the answer. The hand of Cyr ille guided Beverly from the spot. The touch thrilled him. He had found the beautiful girl whom he had sworn to make his wife despite every 2 sunray and he was slready resolving that he would not leave her side until the ceremony had been performed! “We are going up now,” said Cyrille. ‘The in- terior of Bald Top is a ps wfect honey comb of caves. ortune surely guided me last night and you to-night, pom Major Beverly, what do you think of my par- or? The young girl asked the question as she led the ioldier into a cave, lit up by a frre that burned on the floor. Beverly expressed astonishment at the sight. “*T know what you are thinking about, by Gy rrille re- marked, looking into his face. ‘‘No, my fire will not betray us. It cannot be seen from’the corridors below. I have investigated this matter. The dry wood and bark awaited me here. All I had to do was to gather them together and apply a match.’ “A match, Cyrille? What good fortune placed such wealth into your hands?” cried Beverly. “Ah! it was fortune, indeed. When I fled from the Indians whose bows were already bent for me, I van against yon deer-skin bag that hung from ape or nail in the wall, and it fell over my head He | clung tome. I could not shake it off, for I thought mly of escape, for the savages were behind me. When I reached this place, panting live a chased doe, I blessed heaven for the accident that knocked the’ bag upon me. In it were life and light—a few pieces of pemmican and two old lucifer matches. On the first I have subsisted, and the fire has cheered me, for to live here in darkness would be to go mad.’ “IT believe it,” said Beverly. “But tell me how you came to encounter the Indians.”’ Cyrille did not hesitate, and Beverly listened to her adventures since her departure from Fort Bu- ford guarded by Ned Temple and the two Crows. Only one thing she kept back; the bear-demon’s ee, dete: his departure, as she supposed, for Bu- ford to slay her father. Beverly watched her carefully while she spoke of Ned. Her beautiful face was in the firelight, and he could catch its every expression. His scrutiny seemed to afford encouragement. “T cannot think that he is dead. He was a brave boy—brave to rashness, We will meet again. Do you not think so, Major Beverly?” “T donot know. Life is not safe in this wild country. You have other friends besides that bo. Yon, yes; but I do not want to lose him. His friendship has been tried, and—” * You Viaed never put "Major Beverly’s devotion cot the test,” interrupted the officer. rille gave him a look of inquiry. yon do not understand me,” continued Beverly, flushing. ‘You seem to put more reliance in the fr'endship of a boy than may be just. If he has es- yo ed with his life, might he not be hastening back uford anxious to place himself behind its stock- sg?’ adSyrille colored. - “Tfear you do not know Ned Temple,” she said repressing no little indignation. I: now many of those - ouths who have become the officers’ proteges,” replied Beverly with a light laugh. ‘They are all ali e, Cyrille. ou must find stancher friends if you wish protection i in the hour of peril, and stronger arms than a boy’s.’ verly was standing before Cyrille, and with the last eo, he took a hasty stride that Janded him on her side of the fire. “ Oyrille, the protecting arm is here!” he cried. “Tt belongs to Hrankk Bever ly, and the heart that nerves itis not a boy’s, but a soldier’s—a strong man’s. I have loved you long; nightly I have seen you from the barrack cot, or the saddle of the ylains. You will listen to me now; you will not re- ject the love that comes to you in the hour of ersmor the arm that is held between you and no he kntved of Red Cloud’s braves. Say the word that I have waited to hear, Cyrille; say that you will become the bride of Fr anik Beverly and—” He was interrupted by the exclamation of sur- srise that fell from Cyrille’s tongue as she drew ack, “T cannot!” she said. ‘ Major Beverly, the truth must be told even though I lose the protection you offer. You ask too much. I cannot become your wife.” capris with difficulty suppressed the oath that struggled to his lips. His eyes flashed like sparks of electric fire. “What prevents? that boy?” he cried. “Cyrille you donot know what you lose when A u reject Frank Beverly’s love. The arm that offered rotection is strong enough to dash all opposi Be om its path. Think again.” “Tneed not think. Shall I repeat.my answer?” Beverly’s brow darkened, “You reject me because that boy lives; but I am not the man who will be thus outwitted. Beverly always wins when Frank hearts are at stake, I Jah CAG See Temple, the Border Boy. | | dia not turn from my path of duty and imperil my life among the death-paths of Sioux land for noth- ing. You were the prize that led me on and on, and now that I have found you, let me say, Cyrille, that you shall become my wife. He had leaped forward like a tiger, and his hand would have sc ized the young girl’s wrist if she had not sprung bick. ou are near enough!’* she exclaimed. Beverly, the arm you Eave offered shall never pro- tect me. Ispurn its protection! “Better death here than life with one who makes love like atiger. See! I am not defenseless. There’was something in for- tune’s purse besides pemmican and matches. Now, sir, touch me if you dare!” Cyrille, drawn to her full hight in the light of the fire, looked more ‘beautiful than ever, Her eyes flashed like an insulted queen’s, and in the right hand that she held aloft was a long-bladed hunting- knife, rusty, but with a needle’s point! Beverly stopped, and inwardly cursed the the girl who held him at bay. “Major CHAPTER XV. A SHORT-LIVED TRIUMPH. Tue next minute Beverly was inclined to laugh. “By Jove! my love- making has reached the } pone of a bowie,” he said to himself. . “I did not expect to find the girl so stubborn, and I must look for op- position onions as that boy stands in my path. Why did I not throw him into the grass, dead, when I had him in my power? Isee now that I was a fool then. Give me another chance at him, Fortune, and if I leave a living rival in my road, then may 1 be shot by the squad!”’ Cyrille still faced him, the flashing of her eyes not abated in the least. uae still said: ‘‘ Touch me if you dare!” **Well,” suddenly cried the Pe ee “since you threaten your best friend, Oyrille, £ see no reason why the arm that has offered to proteet you should not be, withdrawn. I am going. We may meet again. “Cyrille seemed to start. He was going to leave her; then she would be alone and helpless again in the subterranean re- cesses of the mountain. The knife dropped at her side, asif all power to hold it up had suddenly Jeft her arm. “‘ Because I refuse your offer of love you desert me?’ she said. ““T do not see why I should defend w ith my lifea — who is to marry my enemy,” was the reply Rt ‘Then you and Ned are enemies?” “The boy and Major _ Frank Beverly cannot be friends; that is cer tain.’ “Then, sir, you can oat I will stay here until true protection comes, or seek it myself,’’ exclaimed Cyrille, stepping forward, ‘ Frank Beverly, there was a dark threat but half concealed in your last sentence. Now I do not ask protection from the arm that will not hesitate to strike a rival in the dark. You can go, sir.’ Uttering an oath the soldier shrunk away; but at the threshold of the cave he pened and turned a face full of threatenings upon Cyrille. “IT willcome again, my beauty, and in triumph too. Ileave you now to strike a trail which I shall follow to victory. If you think that I relinquish all claims to your hand, banish such thoughts at once, I win or die! Good-by, my white tigress. Cyrille’s answer was a look of scorn, and the next moment he had passed beyond the line of light. Let us follow him. The corridor which he soon reached was the one down which he had fied from the Sioux in the main cave. It was dark as midnight, but by keeping a hand on one of the walls he guided himself along. At Jength he began to use caution and advanced slowly. He was near the great cavern, Sam Wild- ext’s last battle-field. He was anxious to know the result of that terrible struggle in the dark, although he ‘ secretly believed that it could have but one ending. Of course the desperado had been overpowered and killed. When Beverly felt the corridor suddenly end, he croype ped to the ground and listened. a sound reached his ears, and the darkness be- fore him seemed pupae, He remembered how silent the cave had been an hour before, when in fact it was filled with Indians, and as that same ominous silence again reigned, he regarded it with just suspicions. He waited and listened in the dark until inaction became unendurable. “Tf they are there, death hems - in,” he said finally. “Tf they have departed, I am a fool for staying here.” Drawing his knife and putting the blade between his teeth while he carried his revolvers ready for in- stant use, Beverly crept forward once more. He held his breath as he crept over the floor of the cavern inch by inch. Allat once his hand slipped along the ground. Beverly shuddered. He had struck a pool of blood; it}might be Wildcat’s! “A little further on a like occurrence took place, but this time the soldier did 1.0t shudder, “They found a tiger in Sam Wildcat,” he said to himself. ‘1 thank fortune that I showed the red dogs the soles of my boots.” He went on slipping here in somebody’s life cur- rent, and striking there a broken knife-blade, or a feather from an Indian head-dress At last he felt the cool night. air, and the next minute be stood erect in the starlight that revealed the mouth of the cave, ; i 13 He had run the gantlet in safety, and he was now ready for the new trail upon which the love of Cyrille had thrown him. “It cannot be that Wildcat drove the Indians off,” he said, his mind going back to the fight in the cavern. “TI am confident that they are not here, for once or twice while I was creeping across the cave I made sufficient noise to have betrayed me. Well, Sam Wildcat, I have no further use for on Our partne rship would not tai 8 lasted long, an how; we would have fought “ar rille—that aoe we would be lunging at each 1er’s heart, ere this. So peace to your soul, Sam, and thanks to the red wolves that slit your throat,” Beverly would have returned to the cavern for the purpose of examining the battle-field with a few lucifers if a startling sound had not reached his ears. It came down the side of Bald Top and told him that some person was above him. “More Indians!” he ejaculated. gone far.’ He stepped back and with his figure half-hidden in the mouth of the corridor, he cocked his revolvers and looked up. Confident that the noise overhead was occasioned by the Sioux that bad lately left the cavern, the officer prepared to meet them, for certain sounds told him that more than one person was approach- ing. “Cave near. Black Robe find it soon,” said a “That voice, ‘* Black Robe?’ echoed Beverly, starting. is the name of a Crow scout once attached to the service. Is he, too, on Cyrille’s trail? By Jovel everybody seems to i, hunting her.”’ Just then the figure of an Indian glided snake-like into view, and Beverly immediately covered it with his revolver, “Tf it wasn’t for the report I'd settle your hash,” he hissed. ‘‘But creep a little nearer and let me get a eet at your face.” Asif his words had been heard, the Indian over head stooped, and the next moment cleared the distance between him and the revolver and landed with a grunt on the hard ground in front of the major. At the same time a singular cry, undoubtedly a signal, fell from bis lips. Beverly heard it echoing up and down the sides of “They have not Bald Top. “Boy an’ Uncapa hear ae an’ come, Black pie 1d the big hole in Bald Top,” said the Indian ou The boy? Of course he meant Ned Temple. Beverly’s heart seemed to stand still, : “So my rival has formed a partnership with you and Uncapa, eh?’ he grated, glaring at the unsus- nn ious Crow. ‘‘ Unions seem to be the order of the ay in this part of the world. One was broken awhile ago, and now I’! fracture another.” The next second Frank Beverly left the rock with a tigerish spring, and before the Indian was aware of his presence ie fell upon him with a mad hand at his throat. Black Robe, taken by surprise, glared for a mo- pont into the face of his antagonist as he was borne c “Death has ca ught you fairly, Indian hound!” hissed Beverly, and the knife that glittered for a moment in the starlight disappeared beneath the Crow’s painted breast, A groan fell from the unlucky warrior’s lips, and as Beverly released him, he fell’ back to roll down me ees -side while the death gurgle rattled in 1is throat * One!” said the soldier in triumph. ‘Tl go back and wait for the others. Fortune is bringing the boy into my hands.”’ gain he occupied his old position at the mouth of the cavern ready for Black Robe's companions. “Maybe they did not hear a signal,” he said at last, ‘and I cannot imitate it. I wish I could call the bo into my clutches, Then I would have a walk over o ¥ e track to Cyrille’s heart. Ha! what was a 9 Voices, low and eager ones, were approaching. Beverly put up the knife and drew the revo vers, Then he dentuan his eyes to catch a glimpse of Ned Temple aud his companion, The boy and Uncapa were creeping forward, nearer Cyrille than ey suspected, nearer death, too, than they dreamed. “ Halt,” suddenly 4 ye i? on the night air, Tve got the dead drop on both a Tf you. wonder where your comrade is 1 find him down the mountain a little way wit pon blood in his heart. This is my night, Ned Temple; you've had yours!” The figures creeping along the mountain path had leaped up.’ ‘““Major Beverly!” exclaimed the boy, recognizing his rival as much by his voice as by his face and fig- ure. ‘ We are not foes.’ “Put another foot forward and discover,” hissed the soldier. ‘* Our trails are the same, and yet we are not enemies! How do you make that out? We cannot divide the diamond we are erie 4 It must belong to one person, and I swear that it shall be- long tome! Ah! you understand now.” “Yes. You flung me from you w hen I told you that Cyrille was my betrothed,” the boy said. “By some fortune you escaped Red Cloud's eyes,” replied Beverly. ‘Now we'll settle our: love affairs here. Frank Beverly i is, not going back to his com- mand, beaten by a boy.” “Then shoot, murderer! You dare not give Ned apie a chance for his life.” t 7’ll give you one afore the last dose ov Injun settles me furever!”’ came in gruff tones from below, and, before Beverly could catch a glimpse of the
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aker, a revolver spoke, and he staggered from his position with a sharp cry of pain. “Now go in an’ posses the land, youngster!” said the same voice. * I wouldn’t hev helped you ef my karkiss war whole; but I’ve taken an overdose ov Injun, an’ death ar’ cashin’ Sam Wildcat’s last check.” Ned Temple did not enter the cave whose entrance 7 before him, but hastened to the speaker’s side. ropped up by a tree was the gaunt body of Wild- eat, his face bleeding from a score of knife-cuts, and his clothes clinging by shreds to his figure. “Tt war a terrible tussle!’ he said, greeting Ned and Uncapa, ‘‘an’ you could hardly tell who came out first best. It war the biggest dose ov red-skin I ever took. They carried off enough to start a grave- a bigger but not a better one than I came ar to start with my old karkiss. You are the boy what my last victim war cussin’ afore the fight? You want the hollyhock by the mountain, eh? Wal, she’s up thar somewhar. Go up an’ take ’er.” The next minute Sam Wildcat started from the tree and aoe headlong down the side of Bald Top to fall heavily on his face like a death-struck man. “Stay, boy,’’ said Uncapa ing Ned’s arm. “White man dead. We no eal Din now.” “That is so,” was the response. ‘‘ His last act was a good one, Cyrille is near, he said. Of course she E ithe cave. Let us go up, Uncapa, and rescue r The Crow nodded, and Ned dashed eagerly for- ward to find his fair companion. snaelh dca CHAPTER XVI. A SHOULDER AND NOT A HEART, We have seen how, when in the act of ridding the world of the young lover who stood between him and Cyrille Averill’s affection, an une ted shot from Sam Wildcat’s revolver sent Major Beverly stengerin from the scene of his triumph. ly he caught at the bushes through which he fell; he rolled a long way down the mountain-side before he stopped, Excruciating pains shot through his body, and al- though he ground his teeth that he might bear them in silence, at times, he was almost compelled to cry out, And té cry out would be to tell the out- law and Ned Temple that he was still alive. _ Therefore, he lay perfectly still bearing his suffer- ings without a groan until he felt that an hour or so had passed away. Above him everything was still. “'The boy and his red ally have found Cyrille, for did not Wildcat tell them that she was near? They would at once believe her to be in the cave, and she would quit her hiding-place at sound of his ac- eursed pore The thought was gall to the man who, though a ‘brave soldier, had left the path of duty to risk his life for the sweet face that had infatuated him. “*T want to live over this dastardiy wound for ven- geance, more than for love!” he went on. ‘ Wild- cat is dead; but Ae still lives—the boy who will win and possess if I do not interfere. Dwill live! By the gods! L[ will not perish here and marked on the rolls as a deserter. No! I will go back to the ee aa victor, with a wife, and vengeance- sated.’ He then examined his wound. Thanks to the uncertain light the bullet intended for his heart had crashed through his shoulder; he had been wounded worse before by a Sioux arrow and when he had examined his hurt a smile o mingled hope and joy passed over his face. Despi® the thousand arrows of pain that shot through ce at the slightest movement, Beverly got upon his feet. ““T must have weapons if I would hunt and slay,” he said. ‘‘ Weapons first, rest, if I need any, after- ward. Wildcat is surely dead. I heard last words and his headlong fall when the monster over- eame bim. I will rob him. He knew that the outlaw could not be far away and dragged himself toward the spot where he ex- pecte: to find him, More than once he stopped to grit his teeth against the pain of Wildcat’s bullet wound, and then erept on again. Suddenly he halted and looked at a lot of bushes that lay on the ground as if some heavy body fall- on them had borne them down. t was where Wildcat fell. From the spot a distinct trail led, not down the mountain, but gradually up a path like a wounded snake would make only it was much broader. Ned Temple, the Border B occur that would tell him that the man who carried the deadliest revolvers in Montana was uo more. But he was disappointed. Armed only with his knife, he at last reluctantly crept away. Cyrille was in the cave no longer. Ned Temple and Uncapa had v adoubtedly found her. Indeed, he soon had convii cing evidence of this, for in a soft spot of ground, not far from the cave, he found the print of a girlishfoot alongside | of a » occasin’s. Soe was escaping him! The thought was madness; it out-pained his wound. Like the sleuth-hound he followed the trail thus accidentally discovered; but at the brink of a little ta that kissed the base of Bald Top he suddenly ost it. In vain his search for Cyrille’s track and at last he gave it up.and resolved to wait for day. Time never passed slower to the outwitted cavalry- man. A thousand times he looked eastward to ign oe ny ga of Sa a ae ap ener at met his.gaze he sprung u a cry of joy. But what else did.he seo?” B ian sod A dark speck was moving along the rim of the far-off horizon, “Indians! always Indians!” he groaned, keeping his eyes fixed on the unwelcome sight. ‘* Are the to find me here and balk me in the end? I w turn Sioux as other white men before me have done, I will sell my soul for a blow at Ned Temple’s heart.”’ The dark object grew more distinct as the morni advanced, It was approaching Bald Top, and rapid+ ly, too. Beverly who had wisen on his knees saw that it was a horse carrying a*man. *““Who knows that the animal may not carry me pack ?” he said, a smile of eagerness crossing his ace. For some minutes the horseman disappeared. A art ¢s Bald Top’s forest was between him and everly. All at onco the soldier started back, The horseman had reappeared, and so near that he could distinguish bis features. He was at the foot of the mountain which he was inspecting with upturned face. “Ben Simon!” fell from Beverly’s lips, as he stared at the person. ‘Is, he a cat, like Sam, that he cannot be killed? I flung him over a cliff among a lot of Indians and now here he is alive and hunting something. Oh, he seeks what we all want, the Montana Lily. ive got another tiger to fight, I ex- pect.” The man before Beverly was Ben Simon who had betrayed every man with whom he had dealt. Treachery was a second nature with him, and Beverly, as he looked and inwardly cursed him, wondered who his next victim would be. The long grass and the stunted trees that grew where Beverly had ensconced himself, shielded him, from the traitor-scout’s piercing eyes. When Simon moved forward again Beverly watch- ed him. The horse slowly ascended the sides of the mountain. ‘He is hunting the cave. He will enter it on foot, for it will not admit a horse. Ha! fortune has brought measteed. Frank Beverly, you are still in luck!” Beverly went up the mountain again, but took care that the sweeping glances of Simon did not fall upon him. The bridle-path traversed by the army scout led to the Death Shadow’s cave, and Beverly saw him dis- mount and with the rein in one hand lean forward and peer into the dark retreat. : Ben Simon’s mission was no longer in doubt. He, too, wanted Cyrille, not to make her his wife, but that he might * toast his feet at the best parlor fire in Californy!’’ Beverly saw bim throw the lines over a bush, and with drawn knife gissppent beyond the entrance. What it Sam Wildcat still lived? lf life had not left his gashed anatomy, Simon’s invasion of the old cavern would be followed Bae most terrible of combats, for more than once in camp Beverly had heard the scout relate the story of the Cheyenne maiden, and how be had taken her from Wildcat. As soon after the traitor’s disappearance as he found it practicable, the soldier Brace forward, The horse was at his service; he had but to seize the bridle, throw himself into the saddle and dash away. Sta, in there and get killed,” he muttered. “Sam Wildcat, if you live, just put in one blow for Frank Beverly, the man Ben Simon sold, body “The demon isn’t dead yet,” muttered Beverly , and breeches, to Red Cloud and his wolves.” as he followed the strange path. “Is he amanofa pound lives? vA mye & year’s pay to hold one of revolvers against his heai, or the poin knife at his throat.” parapaeiae Any eye could have seen that the trail was that of a desperately wounded man. Beverly saw how he had relied on bushes to lift him to higher ground pd how he had braced himself when he stopped to rest. For age minutes the wounded followed the wounded. of Black Robe’s veins, was in his hand ready to an- swer to the leap of revenge which he momentarily expected to have at Wildcat. h® trail led to the cave and there Beverly halted. He mechanically shrunk from its gloum. Somewhere inside, he imegined, a dying man, as lesperate as a wounded grizzly, was waiting for him, He knew the piercing eyes that had glistened over Wildeat’s brown cheeks, They might be watch- ing for him. / or half an hour the soldier listened at the mouth cu. the cavern. He hoped that some event would He reached the horse and was jerking the bridle from the bushes when a volley of oaths fell upon his ears, and the next instant two human beings shot from the cave. They were locked together like battling tigers, and each fo was held by a hand that always grasped to kill! “He stirred the dying tiger—Ben Simon did!” cried Beverly. ‘Hold on to each other’s wind-pipe, dogs! It isn’t my muss this time, Gods! they're everly’s knife, tarnished by the blood | tearing one another's throat Jike wolves.” It was truly a tussle between Titans, and as Beverly looked he saw chem lose their footing and itch headlong down the steep side of Bald Top, hting as desperately as ever. Then he vaulted into the sacdle that fortune had brought to his door and shot down the narrow path as fast as hoofs could carry him. “Now, my boy, escape me if you can!” he ex- claimed. ‘‘ And you, too, my western lily, do not dream that you have seen Frank Beverly for the last time.” : His unexpected success made “him forget his , / ¢ 7 a 7 4 Oy. -_ Se — Te nw - A ET LT A wound, and when he reached the foot of the moun- tain he looked up triumphantly. All at once a faint cry came down to him, It sounded like the echo of a yell of victory. But which Titan had triumphed—Ben Simon or Wildcat? CHAPTER XVI. THE AVENGER’S WORK. On the evening ot the sixth day following the last scene recorded in the foregoing chapier, @ man whose only head-covering was a large handkerchief, appeared mounted on an Indian horse on the sum- mit of a hill that overlooked the picturesque Powder River valley. Suffering had given him a haggard appearance, and-he looked like the survivor of s60me great mas- sacre, or & fugitive from justice. His arms con- sisted of a re ating rifle’ and a knife, the latter stuck into A belt in.such a, manner that its wolfish blade was Visible from hilt to point. The fiery rays of the sun dazzled his eyes so that he had to&hade them with one of his hands while he looked ‘westward. « He-did not think that it was the last sunlight he would ever’see. The man was Thornton Hardinge, the victim of Ben Simon’s “‘Injun”’ trigger as we have already seen. His horse had carried him while unconscious into strange places and along mysterious paths. The delirium of two days had left him weak and almost crazed, but he still thirsted after the track he had followed for gain, and while he rem: ined on the hill, the word Cyrille more than once passed his lips. Fort Buford was not far away, but dared he, a deserter, enter it? He must see a certain person there—David Dudley, Cyrille’s supposed father; but Hardinge well knew that the post sutler bore no such relation to the fair girl. ‘‘While I push forward I leave the girl behind for others to rescue,” hesaid. ‘But I cannot co all the work. He will keep me if Isbkare with h‘m, and share I will until I catch him napping. Then—then Mr. Dudley, we'll dissolve partnership. I wish he was here now; but I must leave Cyrille another day’s gallop behind me, and the ‘Brisco lawyers must wait alittle longer for the proofs.” Hardinge had scarcely ceased speaking when three horsemen came insight by turning the base of another hill not very faraway. He hed no idea of their proximity, and started visibly when they burst upon his view. “Indians! and Crows!” he exclaimed. ‘*But who is the third pores? a white man by my heart!’’ and as he leaned forward and indulged in a more seareh- ing scrutiny, his eyes flashed with satisfaction. — Think of the devil and he appears,”” Hardinge con- tinued. ‘I had but to mention Dudley and here he is. Now’we can hunt, and slay and grasy together. And his Indians! ——s will reinforce our league for gold. But what drew him from bebind the stockade of Fort Buford? Has he seen the lawyer's adver- tisement? That is not impossible.” The approaching trio did not notice Hardinge un- til he attracted their attention by a shout. “Come on, Dudley. You’re the very fellow I’ve been wishing for for six days. Do I lock like a prairie, tramp? Well, I’m Thornton Hardinge alli the same, A shout from below told Hardinge that the white man had recognized him, and a few mcments later — two men leaned from their saddles and grasped ands. ‘Why didn’t you come yourself ard not send that letter which came nigh getting me into trou- ble?” asked Dudley. “The letter?—what letter? I—” Hardinge stopped stammering, and stared blankly into his friend’s face, : “This letter,” cried Dudley, thrusting a piece of dingy paper into the fortune-hunter’s hands. “One of the soldiers found it fastened to our stockade one morning and brought it to me. But first, like a fool, he showed it to the colonel, and the result was that I instantly found myself on the witness-block. It took some tall lying to get out of it, Hardinge, and I must never go back to Buford. Who was your messenger?” “T never sent this letter!” exclaimed Hardinge, Ro had perused the document which read as fo} OWS; “DupLEY AVERILL: “The girl never reached Reno. Iam scouring the Powder river country for her. So are gihers. A bonanza bigger than a mountain await’ us if we play our cards right. Come to me right away. I am at the mouth of Little Powder. Secrecy and dispatch, Dudley, and our hands will cluich a ton of gold. The Indlans failed us. THORNTON.” “ You—never—sent—that letter?” said the sutier slowly. “T never did, so help me heaven!” “Then who did?” There was no reply. : “T wanted you, anyhow,” said Hardinge at last ‘and if I had written you I could not have v« rded the letter any better than this one seemstole, A bonanza does await us—if we find Cyrille. If we lose her we lose stakes worth fighting—ay, worth dying for.” Hardinge was becoming excited; his eyes flaehed again. “T want this letter explained first,” said the sutler whose face had been pale from the morent that Hardinge denied the enientibns | of the mysterious letter. ‘‘ You did not write it? then, in the name of heaven—” He paused and seemed about to reel from the \
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saddle, but recovered in an instant and darting for- ward, clutched Hardinge’s arm while his eyes glistened like a madman’s. * Everything is clear now!"’ he exclaimed. ‘‘ Your denial explains all. The ghostly being that has fol- lowed me since I left Fort Buford—the strange foot- rints—the midnight hoofs—the bear that walked on | ts hinder feet like a man—I am in the dark no longer! Hardinge, the avenger is on my track, and on yours, for you were ‘he7'e, and he knowsit. He decoyed me from Buford by this letter, and he has sworn that our hands shall never touch the bonanza you have discovered.”’ Hardinge felt his cheek blanch while the sutler spoke, but assuming new courage he cried: “No one shall baffle us! So some one has fol- lowed you?” and he tried to smile. ‘‘A man whose head looked like a bear’s eh, Dudley? He is called Death Shadow in this country. Red Cloud knows him well.” “Then we are doomed, if Negotoo and Monterey are identical!"’ cried Averill. “Doomed? Fool! Shall he outwit us? We beat him years ago, and he is still the same person, no stronger, no shrewder. Look! wo are four against him—four to one, Dudley. Go back if you want to. As for me, I will stay here and win or die.”’ “So will I,” flashed Averill. “*A thousand Death Shadows shall not cheat us out of the big bonanza.” “Good! that talk wins,’ said Hardinge. ** And this kind aveng s !”” The four men turned in time to see a jet of fire leap from a ey barrel not far away; Averill reeled from his saddle and fell backward like a man shot dead. ; The two Indians involuntarily recoiled; but Har- dinge, with an oath, cocked his carbine, and looked defiantly toward the slayer’s position. CHAPTER XVII. “THE BEST PARLOR IN OALIFORNY.” Ir was getting dark, but Thornton Hardinge could see a singular figure outlined against the gloomy “It is ho—Monterey and Death Shadow!” he mur- mured. ‘He thinks he will complete his vengeance here, but I am not dead yet.” Then he turned upon the frightened Indians. “You see what our enemy has done,” he ex- claimed, pointing at the body of his comrade lying motionless at the borse’s feet. ‘Let us go and finish him. Fifty dollars in gold to the man who touches or kills him. What! are you cowards?” The Indians had not stirred. Hardinge fairly frothed at the mouth, ‘“*Bear-man over there hate pale-face more than Injun. Then let the white men go and fight him,” and striking their horses quickly, the two Crows bounded away, leaving the deserter alone. “The treacherous dogs!” he grated. ‘‘I am alone with my old enemy now.” He turned and deliberately rode forward saying: “Tf you are a man you will stay and fight me.” There was no response, but when Hardinge reach- ed the spot where the slayer had stood he was sud- denly confronted by a man. He was a singular looking personage for he had the head of a bear; but this almost immediately fell backward like a cowl and revealed his face. Hardinge did not start; he already knew the wearer of the mask. For a moment the twomen looked at one another. Negotoo was on foot. “Get down!” he commanded, and Hardinge dis- mounted. “Captain Thornton, we meet at last! Untila few “ oI believed that you and David Dudley fell with the rest in the massacre of the train. we ehild—yes, she must be my child—put me unconscl- ously on a new trai] which, after leading to Dudley, ends before you. You thought—nay, you knew that Cyrille was worth a fortune, and you saved her from the Sioux hatchets. I ought to thank you, but Icannot; you saved the child and left her mother to die with the others. You made me the Indian’s terror, but I fancy you never dreamed that I would turn on you some day, nor that the lips of the baby of the train would become avengers. Now, sir, are you ready? Draw!’’ Hardinge as we know had no revolver; the avenger noticed this and put up the one he had drawn. The next moment the two men stood face to face with ready knives and a second after one reeled away with a wild cry. It was Hardingo. : The eye that never slept on the trail of vengeance had driven the knife to the seat of life! A man rode from the spot with the strange head- piece still resting on his shoulders, and the night that lay npon river and plain enveloped him, It was all over. The traitors of Travis’s Train were dead! We loft Frank Beverly riding from the spot where, locked in the embrace of death, Ben Simon an Wildcat were contending tor the mastery. : He heard the victorious shout of one, but curiosity did not tempt him to the battle-ground. If he had journeyed back he would have seen Si- mon tottering over his old enemy, and heard another, but fainter, for it was his last, cry of triumph. He would have seen the traitor-scout pitch forward and fall across the body of his foe. Enemies in life and trackers of each other, death had finally brought them together. : Simon had betrayed his last victim, and Wildcat had taken his last dose of ‘‘ Injun.” But Beverly had other plans before him. He ‘vas well mounted now, and having resolved to overtake | young vi Ned Temple, the Border Boy. Cyrille and her rescuers, his enemies, he pushed on, Six days later he was still on the trail, for the trio had procured horses and were hastening toward Fort Butord. Cyrille wanted to save her father, hunted, as she believed, by Negotoo. But already the blow of ven- geance was being prepared, and when it fell she had a father still, On the night of the seventh day Beverly’s long hunt ended. He came aya! upon a camp-fire at the foot of a hill, and feasted his eyes on the fair young girl whose figure was revealed by the light. Cyrille was found again; and as Beverly looked his passions became aroused. Then his eyes fell upon Ned Temple and Uncapa, and flashed fire. “One bold stroke and she is mine; this time for- ever!” fellfrom his lips. ‘‘ One shot shall follow the other, like drum beats. The Indian first, then the r ” He had crawled to the edge of the camp, and his pistol hand was raised. One shot and Cyrille, the prize, would be his. But, all at once a hand fell like a thunderbolt upon his arm and held it down, Beverly turned. ““You would make me the sole survivor of Travis’s Train, would you?’ cried a voice. ‘* You would kill my child?” verly could not speek. The figure before him almost congealed his blood. It was aman with the head of a bear.” “Your child?’ he stammered. ** Yes, mine!’’ and the head flew back, as if oper- ated by a secret spring. ayae are Major Beverly of the army, are you not?”’ ‘Tam.” “Then go back to your post and report for duty. T have had enough blood: I don’t want yours. Go back!” and while the last words rung in his ears adhesin found himself staggering away from the error. Negotoo watched the officer for a moment, and then pl abi toward thecamp. An instant later a loud shriek rung from Cyrille’s throat. Ned and the Crow leaped to her assistance. “ At last Ihave found you—the long lost Myra!” the bear-man was saying, heedless of Ned and his friend, and the heroine found herself in the arms from which she had once fled with a shriek, Let us stop here. We need not tell how Cyrille listened to the Ter- ror’s story, nor how she gradually learned that he, and not the sutler was her true father. Ned listened with great interest to the narrative, whose finale greeted the silent watches of the night, and Uncapa moodily kept the camp-fire burning. A few weeks later the ‘Frisco attorneys learned that the Monterey family was not altogether among the dead, and forgotten, and Cyrille, or Myra, as the new-found father called her, found the fortune that awaited her; or the *‘ bonanza,” as Hardinge called it. Of course Ned Temple won the prize, and Frank Reverly, cashiered and disgraced, although he was a brave officer, returned to Sioux land to drift into a desperado’s lito whose exploits have often claimed the writer’s pen. Uncapa revealed Hardinge’s treachery, and Cyrille shuddered when she heard that the two savages who conducted her from Buford to Reno had been paid to slay. Red Cloud lost his daughter, of course, but he also lost the terror of his camps, and to-day the Sioux seeks his robes with the assurance that the bear-head of the old enemy will not look down upon him while ho sleeps. Ben Simon, as we know, never toasted his feet in the “best parlor in Californy,” for Cyrille’s face was its sunshine while his bones bleached on the woody slopes of Bald Top. 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1 Deadwood Dick, rue Prince or THE Roab, By Edward L. Wheeler. 3 Yellowstone Jack, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Kansas King; or, Tae Rep Ricur Hann. I, BY Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). ae 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain ! Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker. it 6 Vagabond Joe, THE Youna WANDERING JEW; | or, PLorTIna For A Leaacy. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper. By E. 5S. Ellis. 7 The Flying Yankee; or, THe OckAN Ovt- cast. By Col. Preotiss Ingraham, i| 8 Seth Jones. By Edward §. Ellis. H 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen, 10 Nat Todd. By E.&S. Ellis. 1 Khe Two Detectives; or, Tat Forrunes or A Bowery Girv. By Albert W. Aiken, Gulliver’s Travels, By Dean Swift. The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes, Aladdin; or, Tue WonperFuL Lamp. The Sea-Cat. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. > Robinson Crusoe. (27 Illustrations.) Kalph Roy, tue Boy Buccanesr; or, Tur Fueitive Yacut. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. The Double Daggers; or, Deapwoop Dick’s Deriance. By Edward L. Wheeler. CDH FOU by 1 1 1 1 : 1 1 1 1 1 ~) — 1 21 The Frontier Angel, By Edward S. Elis. j 22 The Sea Serpent; or, THz Boy Rosrnson Crusoz. By Juan Lewis. - 23 Nick o? the Nights; or, THe Boy Spy or "76. I, By T. C, Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. i 25 The Boy Captain. By Roger Starbuck, an 26 Cloven Hooft, tz Burrato Demon; or, THE Borpger Vuutures. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, tHe Boy Gurpz. Oll Coomes. } 28 Buffalo Ben, THE PRINCE OF THE PISTOL; 1 or, DEADWoop Dick mm Diseuise. E. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page. By Capt. F. Whittaker. ; 80 Roaring Kalph Rockwood, THE RrckK- 1 LESS RANGER. By Harry St. George. tj 31 Keen-Knife, Prince or THE PRaiRmEs. By i} Oll Coomes. | 32 Bob Woolf, rHe BorpER RvFFrAN; or, THE bi) Girt DeaAp-SHot. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1} 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, Tue Rep | PIRATES OF THE CARTIERKES. By §. W. Pierce. 1! 34 Orexon_ Sol; or, Nick Wuurries’ Boy Spy. } By Capt. J. F. ¢. Adams. i) 35 Wid Evan, tHe Boy Ciaupr Duval; or, THE Biba Breornernsoop ov DeatH. By'Ed. L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown. By Frank §. Finn. - 37 ‘The Blidden Lodge. By T, C0. Harbaugh. 1 | 38 Ned Wylde, tHe Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Pace, roe Derecrive; or, Lire snp bit Love In New Yors. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Lieving Ben, A Sroryor a Youna AnErRI- | ; coax WHo WantTED TO SEE THE WoRLD. Marshall. } 41 Besso Jack. By Oll Coomes. t I2'The Phantom Miner; Dick's Bonanza. By Edward L. | , 48 Bick Darling, THe Pony By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 44 EKeattling Rube. By Harry St. George. 45 G:d Avalanche, THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR;} i} or, WiLp EpNa, THE GIRL BRIGAND. E, L, Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, THe Great SHor or Tak West. By Capt. J. F.C, Adams. 47 Ninhtingale Nat. By T. C. Harbaugh. 48 Hilack John, rhe Roav-AGEnt; or, Tae Ovt- LAWws Rerreat. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. 49 @mraha OM, THE Masked Terror: or, Dmap- Woon liek Iw Dancer. By Edward L, Wheeler. 50 Bluvt Hunker, raz Trapper. C. E. 8, 51 Fite Boy EBittes. By Archie C. Irons. 1} 52 Phe White Bullalo, By C. E. Lasalle. i 53 Jims Hludsoc, Jr., THE Boy Prentx; or, \,. Tukoven To Death. By Edward L. Wheeler. 54 Ned Mazel, tie Boy Trapper; or, Tar PHan- TOM PRINCESS, By Capt, J. F, C. Adams. ! / 65 Deadiy - Eye, true UnkNown Scour; or, Toe = Braxpep Brovurruoop. By Buffalo Bill, 56 Nick Whidles* Pet. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. $7 Deadwood Dicks Eagles; or, Tae Parps or vtoop Bar. By Edward L. Wheeler, \ ; 58 The Worder King. By Ol) Coomes, } 59 Ota Eicekory\. By Harry St. George. 60 Phe White Indian, Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 61 Wockhorn Hill; or, Taz Rep Rurve Traw. } By Mdward L. Wheeler. 62 Phe Shadow Ship. By Col. P. Ingraham. 63 Dhe Ked Brotherhood, W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dondy Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Elurricane BH], By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 Sinegte Hand, By W. J. Hamilton, 67 Dateut-leather Joe. By PhilipS. Warne. 68 Border Bobin Hood, By Biufalo Bill, 69 Geid Mifle, rue SaanrsHooTeR; or, Tux Boy \ Deveev1ve oF THE Buack Rance. By Wheeler. 70 Gia BZip’s Cabin; or, Tae Greznnorn w TH Woops. By J. F. C. Adams. j 71 Delaware Dick. By Oll Coomes. 72 Mad Pom Western, Toe Texan Rance; or, THE QUEEN OF THE PRarRiE. By Hamilton. 13 Deadwood Dick on Deck 5 or, CALAMITY Jase, THE Heroine or Wuoop-Up. By Wheeler. 74 Weauk-eye Harry. By Oll Coomes. 75 The Boy Duelist; or, Toe CrvisE or THE i Ses-Wour. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 76 Abe Colt, rae Crow-Kiuer; or, THe Great Ficutine Man oy tHE West. By A. W. Aiken, or, Drapwoop Wheeler. Express Rmer. —— BEADLE’s ———$—<—— Charlie, Taz Boy Bravo; or, cK’s Last Act. By E. L. Wheeler. 77 Cordu at 3 Drapwoop Dr 78 Blue Dick. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, Giant Trapper. By A.W. Aiken. 80 Rosebud Roby; or, Nuecet Nep, roe Knicat or Tuk Guicn. By Edward L. Wheeler. 81 Lightning Jo, By Captain J. F.C, Adams, 82 Kit Hfareitoot, Tux Woop-Hawk; or, OLD Powprr-Facr aND His Demons, By Harbaugh. 83 BRollo, the Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes. 84 ge the Girl Miners or, RosEsup Ros on Hanp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Buckram) or, Bess, THe Frma.e Trapper, By Captain J. F. C. Adams. 86 Dandy Rock. By G. Waldo Browne, 87 The Land Pirates. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 Photograph Phil, Tae Boy S.ievrn; or, Rosseup Rop’s REAPPEARANCE. By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 90 The Dread Rider. By G. Waldo Browne, 91 The Captain of the Club; or, Taz Youne trvaL. AruueTes. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 92 Canada Chetj3 or, OLD ANACONDA IN SITTING Buuv's Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler, 93 The Boy Miners. By Edward 8S. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, THE Roap-AGENT; Tir Boy Trapper. By T. C, Harbaugh. 95 €lee Bival Rovers, Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 06 Viutceh-Eye, Tar SHapow; or, ARABS AND ANGULS OF 4 Great Crry. By E. L. Wheeler, 97 ‘Fie Outlaw Brothers, By J. J. Marshall 98 Lkebin Hood, Taz OvTLAWED Eart; or, THE Mrery Men or Grernwoop, Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 ‘Fhe Tiger of Taoss or, Wrtp Katz, Danny Rock's ANGEL, By George Waldo Browne, 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A STRANGE STROKE FOR LiseRTy. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York, By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, rue Boy Smuvactrer; or, THE CRUISE OF THE VIXEN. By Col. Ingraham. The Lion of the Sea, By Col. Delle Sara. WMeadwood Dick’s Device or, THE SIGN OF THE DousLE Cross. By E. L. Wheeler, Old Bube, THe Hunter. Capt. H. Holmes. Old Frosty, THE Guivg. By T. C. Harbaugh. One-Eyed Sim. By James L. Bowen. Daring Davy, THE Youne Bear-KiLieER; or, Tre TRAIL OF THE BorDER Wo tr. H. St. George, or, 103 104 105 106 107 105 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler, 110 ‘fhe Black Steed of the Prairies. A ‘Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure, By Bowen. She Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingraham. ‘The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe, Jack Moyle, THe Youna Sprco.ator; or, Tue Roap To Fortune. By Ed. L. Wheeler. The Black Schooner. Roger Starbuck. The Mad Miner}; or, Danpy Rocr’s Doom. Ry George Waldo Browne. The Hussar Captain; or, tHe Hrrur or Heut-Gare. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Gilt-Edged Dick, THE Sport DETECTIVE; or, Tur TtoaD-AGENT'S DavexstTrer. Wheeler. Wt} Somers, THe Boy Detectryz. Morris, “lustang Sam, THe Kina or ‘THE PLams. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. The Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont. Cinnamon Chip, THe Grru Sport; or, Tne GOLDEN IpoL or Mr. Rosa. Ed. L. Wheeler. Phil Mardy, Tur Boss Boy; or, THE Mys- TERY OF THE STRONGBOW. By Charles Morris. Kiowa Charley, Taz Wurre MusrTanasr, By T. C. Harbaugh. Tippy, Tue Texan. By George Gleason, fonanza Bill, Miver. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Picayune Pete; or, Nicopemus, THE Doa@ Derective. By Charles Morris. Wild-Wire, BossorrTne Roap. By Dumont. ‘The Young Privateer. By H. Cavendish. Dendwood Dick?s Double; or, THe Girost of Goraon’s Guicn. Ed. L. eeler, !etective Dick. By Charles Morris. ‘The Golden Handj or, Danny Rock To rus Rescugt. By George W. Browne. The Hunted Munter. By Ed. §. Ellis. Boss Bob, THz Kine or THE BooTsuacks; or, THe PAWNBROKER’S Pitot. Ed. L, Wheeler. Sure Shot Seth, rae Boy Rirteman; or Tre Youne Patriors oF THE NortH. By Oll Coomes. Captain Paul, tHe Kentucky MoonsHiner; or, THE Boy Spy or THe Mountams. By Clark. Night-Hawk Kit. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. The Helpless Hand. Capt. Mayne Reid. Blonde Bill; or, Deapwoop Dick’s Home Base. By Edward L. Wheeler. 139 Judge Lynch, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh 140 Blue Blazes; or, THE Breaxz 0’ Day Boys or Y Bar. By Frank Dumont, 10} 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 1258 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 HALF-DIME | LIBRARY. 141 Solid Sam, THE Boy Roap-AGENT; or, THE BranvDep Brows. By Edward L. Wheeler. 142 HMandsome MWiarry, Tax Boorstack Dr- TECTIVE. By Charles Morris. Scar-Face Saul. By Oll Coomes, Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport; or, Tax Bank-Baeakers’ Decoy Duck. J. E. Badger. Captain Ferret, raz New York Derec- TIVE; or, Boss Bos’s Boss Jos. By Wheeler. Silver Star, THz Boy Kyicut. A Prairie Romance, By Oll Coomes, Will Wildfire, THz THoxovespReD; or, Tue WINNING Hanp. By Charles Morris. Sharp Sam} or, THE ADVENTURES OF A FRIENDLEsS Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. A Game of Gold3 or, DEApwoop Dicx’s Bie Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler. Lance and Lasso. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Panther Paul, Tse Prarmrme Pirate; or, Darty Lanck To THe Rescun. J. E. Badger. Black Wess, Witt Witprme's Racer; or, Wiyntne AGarnst Opps. By Charles Morris. Eagle Kit, tam Boy Demon, By Ol] Coomes. The Swerd Hunters, By F. Whittaker. Gold Trigger, Tux Sport. T, C. Harbaugh. Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, THe Pickrep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. Mike Merry, THe Harsor Potice Boy; or, Tue Nicut-Hawks oF PHILADELPHIA. Morris. Fancy Frank of Colorado}; or, Tax TrApPER’s Trust, By Buffalo Bill. The Lost Captain; or, THe OPEN PoLar Sra. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. The Black Giant; or, DAtinry LANcE m JEOPARDY. By Joseph ¥. Badger, Jr. New Work Nell, tar Boy-Gmt Derective; or, OLD BLAKESLY’s Money. By E. L. Wheeler. Will Wildfire in the Woods} or, Camp LIVE IN THE ALLEGHANIES. By Charles Morris. Little Texas, THz Youna MusTanerr, A Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes. Dandy Rock’s Pledges or, Hunrep 10 DeatH. By G. Waldo Browne, Billy Baggage, True Ramroap Boy; or, Run To EartuH. By Charles Morris, Hickory Marry. By Harry St. George. Asa Scott, Taz SreampoatT Boy; or, THE Lanp PIRATES OF THE MississiIPPil. By ied. Willett, Deadly Dash. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Tornado Tomy; or, Insun Jack From Rep Corz. T. C. Harbaugh. 170 A Trump Cardy3 or, Wn. Wrprire Wrss anp Loses, By Charles Morris. 171 Ebony Dan. By Frank Dumont. 172 Thunderbolt Tom; or, Taz WoLF-HERDER oF THE Rockies, By Harry St. George. 173 Dandy Rock’s Rival. By G.W. Browne. 174° Bob Rockett, raz Boy Doparr; or, Mys- TERIES OF NEw YorE. By Charles Morris. 175 Captain Arizona, THE Kina Pin or Roap, Kilgore: or, Patent Leather Joe’s Big Game. By Philip 8. Warne. 176 The Boy Runaway; or, THE BuccaNEER OF THE Bay. Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S.N. 177 Nobby Nick of Nevada3 or, Taz Scamp OF THE Srerras. By Edw L, Wheeler. 178 Old Solitary, tHe Hermrr TRAPPER; or, Tue DRAGON oF bruvER Lake. By Oll Coomes, 179 Bob Rockett, rox Bang Ronnzr; or, THE Roap To Ruin. By Charles Morris. 180 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow We Kept. By Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.8. N. 181 Wild Frank, THe Buckskin Bravo; or, 182 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 Lapy Liny’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler, Little Murricane, THE Boy Caprary; or a OATH OF THE YOUNG AVENGERS. By ou omes, The Hidden Hand} or, Wi. WiLprire’s Revence. By Chas. Morris. The Boy Trailers; or, Danry Lance on THE War-Patu, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Evil Eye, Kixa or OaTrie THIEVES; or, THE VULTURES OF THE Rio GRANDE. By F. Dumont. Cool Desmonds or, THr Gameier’s Bia Game. By Col. Delle Sara. Fred Halyard, THE Lire Boar Boy; or, Tue SMUGGLERS OF THE INLET, By C. Morris. Ned Temple, THe Borper Boy; or, Tue Map HUNTER OF Downer River. By Harbaugh. Bob Rockett, Tox Cracksman; or, DRIvEN To THE WALLS. By Charles Morris. March 8. 190 any Darke; or, THE Tigers or HieH Pre. By Wm. R. Eyster. Ready March 15th. 191 Buffalo Billy, Taz Boy BULLWHACEER; or, THe Doomep}Turrreen., Capt. A. B. Taylor, U.S.A. Ready March 22d. A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street. New York. 1838 184 185 186 187 188 189