Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 236) (1882 01 31)
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“ih F 3 aes Dia mp _ Z Un, Be : ~J | \ iss —S t i of | a SS J | 2 7 — — AN . . ’ SS BEN . y ee — at i: » - aN i . . b. hg ‘ > Ay mT men ia ; aN. ci | a A Bae) beet i ; $2.50 ayear. Entered at the Post Office at New York. N, Y., at Second’Class Mail Rates. Copyrighted in 1882, by BEADLE AND ADAMs, January 31, 1882, le PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS Price, Vol. X. Number. No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. ; 5 Cents. No. 236, a LLO BILL, THE TRAIL TORNADO; Or, ROWDY KATE FROM RIGHT:BOWER. APO BY BDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF “ DEADWOOD DICK” NOVELS, ‘‘ ROSEBUD ROB” NOVELS,‘ GILT-EDGED, DICK,” ‘‘ BONANZA BILL,” ETO,, ETC. BEFORE HE COULD PULL THE TRIGGER HE RECEIVED A BLOW ON. THE HEAD WITH A CLUB THAT FELLED HIM TO*THE GROUND.
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~ Apollo Bill, THE TRAIL TORNADO; OR, Rowdy Kate from Right Bower. A Story of the Mines. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF ‘“* DEADWOOD DICK,” NOVELS, *‘ ROSE- BUD ROB,” NOVELS, ETC., ETC. —— CHAPTER I. THE WORK OF A WOLF! lr was'a cosey little home, even though in mid prairie. You have, perhaps, read of an oasis in the desert. It was not a desert that surrounded this cosey little home, for broad and fertile prai- ries stretched away toward the setting sun, while a range of rugged hills loomed up to the eastward. There was a snug little frame farm-house, painted white and set down within a fringe of elm-trees; there were barns, and other out- build to match; in.front.of the house beau- tiful of flowers were in full bloom; while acres of nodding corn and grain were to be seen not far away, with other large tracts of ground in the vic ; ty, where were peacefully grazing. It ‘oe cosey little en indeed, and every- thing about the place seemed to argue that the greatest peace and harmony existed between those who dwelt there, while thrift and industry were visible at every point. It is a bright sunny morning in the latter rt of May when we look down upon this ome. The sun had just risen above the east- ern horizon, and webs of dew yet hung upon the rass. Birds were making song in the elms; the low of cows upon the prairie, came in on the morning breeze. In the rear porch of the dwelling, overlook- ing the fields of grain, stood a woman, busied at churning with one of the old-fashioned dash churns. he was young and tidily dressed, and not handsome, as critics would declare, yet in her modest demeanor—in the soft quiet of her brown eyes, and the pleasant expression upon her round face, there was much to interest and attract. In the doorway.of the porch were wag hn two little girls, each holding home-made doll- babies and singing to them. Two children more alike in every respect, it would have been hard to find. There was no particular differ- ence in their size: each had sunny flaxen hair, blue eyes, and were gh much alike in coun- tsnance;—in fact, seen in two different places, they would have been pronounced one and the same. Their attire was exactly alike, too, and both seemed blest with a sunny nature. Yet, strange as it might seem, these little ones bore no relation to each other whatever. Just within the porch, near the industrious woman at the churn, sat an aged lady, in a comfortable easy rocker, engaged at knitting, while slie fondly gazed at the little seven-year- olds. She was a motherly-looking woman whose face bore but few of the marks of time, but whose hair was white with the frosts of ad- vanced years. “The dear little angels, Mary,” she said turning to the maiden at the churn—‘‘ how well Ican remember when I was a little girl, even though it was so many years ago. oO. news from Bill yet, Mary?” “‘None, Mrs. Blake. I saw Tom Tabor, a little while ago, on his way home from the Post, but he did not know anything how the contest came out. The votes were not all counted when he came away.” ‘‘ Well, that is some consolation at least. I am so afraid my dear, brave will get into trouble. I can well wish he never run for sheriff, although I doubt not he will make a good one.” ; ‘¢Of .course he will! Master Bill is very pop- ular all over the county, except with those of the ruffianly sort, and they’re not of much ac- count.’ Pi “ But'very powerful. They have had pretty much their own way since Owl-Eye- has been sheriff, and I suppose will stick by him, while they will be very ug.” toward Bill, I am afraid.” ‘Don’t worry on that score, aunty. Your son is brave enoagh to face the lot of them, sin- gie-handed, and they know it.” sheep, cattle and horses. 2 _ Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. ‘*Yes! yes! William is a good, brave boy. and I have t confidence in him. Poor fellow! married so young and had to part with his wife inside of one year. It would have driven most young men reckless. Do you know, Mary, I lo not believe my son will ever marry again?” “Perhaps not,” said Mary, turning her face toward.the glowing sun, to hide an exp) something akin to regret... ‘‘I suppose he is quite happy with you and his child. “Yes, and do know I believe he loves raie® Clifford’s child nearly the same as his own “It would seem so to the observer, but the father affection goes to little Nell,” Mary re- sponded. At this juncture Mary was called to attend to some household du ets Fe for the time being. ‘*] fancy Mary has different hopes about my son’s ing again,” Mrs. -B mused to herself. ‘ Well, Mary is a good, honest girl, has been’a mother to the children since she came, and I don’t know as William could do any. better, were he inclined to.again choose a partner for life. But laws! I don’t believe he will ever marry me And Mary did have different ide~s. A poor farmer’s daughter though she was, she had a true and tender heart, and if she admired brave Bill Blake, and aspired to some day become his wife, it was one of her own secrets. She went down to the clear, cool spring at the roots of one of the elms awhile later, for a»pail of water, and while there took a photograph from her bosom. It was that of a handsome, manly face of a person of some five and twenty years—a clear- cut Anglo-Saxon face, expressing courage, firm- ness, and power to love or hate. The head was set off with a broad-rim slouch hat, tipped gracefully back; the hair was worn long, down upon the shoulders. He sported a graceful mustache, curling at the ends; a nar- row goatee ornamented his chin; his hunting- shirt, open at the throat, was of buckskin; and taken all in all, one would travel many a mile in the wild West before encountering a finer specimen of hardy, sturdy manhood. And Mary Monk gazed upon the picture with eyes glistening with pride and enthusiasm. “He gave it to me,” she murmured, “and told me always to keep itasa kee from him. If he did not have some little care for me, why did he give it, and why is he always so kind and considerate to me? Ah! perhaps it is because I care for his children,” Afternoon came, but with it came not William Blake, home from the Post, where he had gone the previous day to election—he being run on one party ticket, against one Owl-Eye alias Ben Boghart, a notorious rough, who ha had one term of the office. Mother Blake satin her old cushioned chair, and rocked | ently to and fro, for she was greatly w over her son’s non-return. *T wouldn’t promry aunty,” said, by hin of comfortin h she had some mis- erself. ‘Probably Mr. Bill has been the election, and will be home But night drew on apace, not return. “Where is my papa, began to ask, while little concerned, * Alas! I do not know, child,” Mother Blake had to answer. ‘‘I feel as if some evil had befallen him.” **T will-:go for the cows myself, and tell the herd-boys to ’tend to the other chores,” Mary said, “‘and if Mr, Blake has not returned by that time, I will ride over to the Post, and see what is the cause of his delay.” ‘Bless you child—I wish you would,” And so Mary set bravely out upon the prairie toward the grazing-fields to tell the herdsmen what to do, at the same time carrying one of the little flaxen-haired girls with her. ‘Tt will be dark before I can get back, I fear,” she mused, ‘“ but then, I ought not to be afraid of the dark. A woman can afford to do much for those she loves. But I do: wonder what has. become of Mr. Bill? It looks as if something was amiss—his not returning. Oh, I hope no ill has befallen him!” Mary had not been gone over an hour, and night was settling her somber mantle over hill ddale, when a band of horsemen dashed down from the eastern mountains, and drew rein ina lly, or arroyo in the prairie, not over a housand yards from the Blake ho They were a rough-looking gang, mostly past dma?’ little Nell ude seemed equally ‘crowd, with extremely lar , and the conversation. the middle age, and of the class familiarly denominated as ‘‘ toughs” on the frontier. They were, for the main part, men whom some cir- cumstance had made reckless and unruly, and in whose soured, imbittered natures there was little that was good. All were armed with belt weapons and rifles, and were dressed in the commonest and dirtiest kind of garments. As soon as they came to a haltone of the eyes, and who ap’ as though he might have once seen better days, rose in his’ stirrups, and looked his ons over. 7 Bigces” he said, ima voice deep and hoarse in its intonation—‘ boyees, I on you all know sumthin’ why I ordered ye here.” There was a general. shaking of heads in the ive. vident it was that these border roughs had followed the yed man thither, without understanding what was to ha 5 ¢ “Waal,” continued ‘the er, “I wull tél ye. Ye all know what happened yesterday. One o’ the best sheriffs this county has ever 7 ie myself—was, at yesterday’s elec- tion, defea in favor of a young lei a and swell-head, Bill Blake by name, Ye all know what sort of a devil this Blake is—ye know.he.hain’t no more respect for us_fellers than he has for acoyote, an’ would jest as lief shute us as he would a coyote. Anuther thing, I opine ye’ve all kind of an ijeer thet et warn on tals count. that he ,was rung, infer. the office. A murmur of assent broke from the listeners. This man Owl-Eye was a man after their own ttern,-and they were not unmindful of the act that; during his administration, he had protected them rather than arzvested them for various crimes. And Bill Blake was not the lad to do that; quite the contrary; so they gave another unani- mous > gaps expressive of their sympathy with Owl-Eye. ‘“ Yes, I see you’re with me,” the defeated can- didate went on; ‘‘an’ I opine ye war all present at the Post yesterday when [ called Blake a liar an’ he mopped up all ther mud in the street wi’ me, arter which I swore ter hev vengeance. That’s jest what brings me heer now. Over ander is the hum o’ Blake an’ his family. har’s no one thar now but two women an’a bey o’ kids. My purpose around heer to- night is to make that place luk so sick that our new sheriff won’t know et when he comes home. Ef you’re with me ye can bet yer services will be appreciated!” Later that evening, by at least three hours, a horseman was es ing over the prairie east- ward bound, e held the bridle-reins loosel in hand, for the fine animal he bes C) seemed to be familiar with the route over which they dashed through the darkness. A man of superb form was the rider, and clad in usual citizen’s clothing, with the exception of a \iecatully-empeaiineed hunting-shirt of buck- skin and a slouch “‘ prairie” hat. His face and meral appearance were the same as that in ary Monk’s gh and this was William Blake, the new y-elected sheriff, As he rode his gaze was fixed constantly to the eastwarc, where the horizon was lit up with a vivid, fiery glow, and his face was eager and anxious in its expression. “It is a fire!” he said, ‘but God knows I hope it is not my little home. Iam inclined to think it is still further to the eastward, but I may be mistaken.” Urging his horsé into .a swifter gallop they dashed pas each seeming the most anxious to reach the destination before them. Nearer and nearer they approached it as the miles flew by, and the light now grew gradu- ally less, until finally but a faint tinge was visible upon the horizon. Then the moon came up, and the glow disap- altogether. — Finally Blake reached a figh swell of land in the vicinity of his home, and his eagle eyes swept the scene before him only to confirm his worst fears. here once had stood his cosey house and out- buildings, was nothing now but a mass of smol- dering ruins, ’ With a hoarse cry of agony he drove his spurs into the horse’s flanks, and the intervening dis- tance was quickly covered, and hatless and wild oe, Dil Blake stood where once had been the en to his pretty home. He saw the live bed of glowing coals; he saw fallen timbers and indestructible articles lying here and there; he saw a few of his berders standing silently, tearfully by; but it was all in a
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awe OD eee ee eC ——}- _ J a passing glance, for his eyes became riveted upon an object lying but a few teet from him, which filled his soul with utter horror. it was the scalp of a flaxen-haired child! CHAPTER II. THE TRAIL TORNADO. PEOPLE, as a rule, who are averse to reading ‘the so-called sensational novel of far-western life, are naturally ignorant of many of the phases of that life which history does not hand down, or newspaper writers do not develop; in detail. Consequently, when curiosity prompts one of these tw pick up a novel and bean about the do- ings of some particular road-agent, ruffian or rascal, he pegs en a pronounces it a fabri- cation, unfit for perusal by the rising genera- tion, when perhaps the same day’s issue of his local newspaper contains editorials upon the immoral effects of novel-reading, On one page, and on the opposite, shocking reports of mur- ders, outlawry and domestic scandals, unfit alike for young or old to read, Road-agents and ruffians have existed for sev- eral generations, in the wild Western country, and aré likely to do'so for many generations to come, much to the disgust and terror of the peaceably-disposed citizen. Asa rule, this class is only a few degrees less rough and to be feared, than the typical border ruffian; but, circumstances have been chronicled offa brave and gallant man, with a spice of nobility in his heart, who had taken to the pro- fession of stage-robbery, mere on account of some secret life trouble, than taste for the busi- ness itself. But in truth, these are rare instances; the average road bandit is a veritable human griz- zly, waiting to embrace yeu along some lonely mountain trail, and his work is as detestable as his character is vile. The stage from Gilder’s Bend te McGuffin’s, ‘was what the miners of these two flourishin mining towns called weekly; it aimed to re one place or the other, once a week, and tried to get back the next: at any rate, its dates for arrival and departure were a thing omitted from the schedule of eertainties, The distance between the two towns was only thirty miles, but the trail was a wild ene, steep, sidelong.and fy a : But we find the cumbersome vebicle en route for McGaffin’s, one moonlit evening in Mey, nearly two years after the events narrated in the preceding chapter. : For a wonder it was not loaded down with ‘passen ni ben was usually the case. Old Cor leg, alias Jem Stubbs, sat serenely upon the driver's box, holding back with might and main, his fractious six-in-hand, of hand- some bays, and uttering discordant screeches of song, once in awhile, with a view to livening up his passengers. The only outside passenger was seated be- side the driver,—an ordinary looking man, who might or might. not have m a miner, and who was bewhiskered, and well armed. Witbin the coach rode three persons—two males, and a young lady. The first of the two men was evidently an Englishman, and was a person of rather portly proportions, and full, florid countenance, or- namented with a pair of gray muttdén-ch whiskers. His eyes were black, his mout large and firm in its expression, and his hair mixed with gray. : His attire wes rich and stylish, and that he was aman of culture, at least, if nét a man of wealth and affluence, was evident. : The second person was a ‘‘ heathen Chitee,” but not the o' run of Chinamen, who was very richly dressed, a la Americaine. His feet were ineased not in sandals but in patent- ljeather boots, then came a faultlessly fittin suit of clothes of a rich gray color, set off wit collar cuffs and tie; then a jaunty Derby hat which any sport well might have envied. The thir ssenger, the young lady, was probably well-dressed, but a gray duster con- cealed her under attire. She wore a jaunty hat, and was quite tty of face and figure, having dark brown hair, a tolerably, fair com- lexion, dancing black eyes,. and a mouth Pabitually pleasant in expression. But the rolling and jolting of the ponderous stage, brought little frowns of displeasure to her face, at which the Englishman ys “Judging by your expression, I su you will abe ne Ma tender memories of some of our waa journeys in Western America, my Lady Theresa!” he said, good-naturedly. 7 Ko, my lord. The American bighways are DL iO perfectly horrible—enough to drive one dis- tracted, I might say,” was the languid reply. ‘* Have Ae any idea we shall reach our jour- ney’s end, to-night?” ‘*Oh! yes, I presume we shall. I was Cie the next stop was but ten miles from Gilder’s Bend.” ‘Tt seems as if we have come fifty already. What is the name of the next place?” ‘It is called MceGuffin’s,” ““Oh! dear. Worse and worse, odious mining town, of course!” ‘*It is, I expect to meet Lawyer Pringle there with news.” “Vain hope, my lord, I fear. 1 have no longer any hope that your mission will be suc- cessful.” Another **T have every reason to believe I shall find my little lost one. Perhaps our friend, here, can give us some information concerning our destination? How is it, sir? Do you know aught of the place called McGuffin’s?’ “*Chinee man muchee know. McGuffin’s min- ing town—belly bad place, Melican man belly bad, allee samee like Injin. Shootee like deb- bil,” was the Celestial’s reply, as he retied the ribbon to his quene. “Very comforting, inderd,” Lady Theresa , With ‘a sniff of disgust. No harm will come to us. What is your name, young man?” the English- man asked, “*Chin-Chin. Nicee yeung Chinee man, Ne wash shirtee likee common folks; allee sameo like Melican man!” was the somewhat self- assuring reply. “So I should judge,” Lord Clifford remarked dryly. ‘I dare say, seeing that you yet retain ed cue, you some day intend’ returning te shina.” ‘*Don’tee know. Melica nice place—makee lets money, here—mebbe marry Melican girl an’ settle down here,” Lady Theresa laughed; it seemed absurd te her that qny sensible white girl could think of a Mongolian as a husband. The stage bounded on, now, with greater din as they began to descend the dugway, tewa eeTold. te ip,” Old Corkleg yelled ** Ho r yer. grip, rkle elled, “We're doin’ thor ner ou now, an’ aire Hable ter whop over ther precipice inter ther next world in the jerk of a lamb’s tail; an’ ef hain’t fixed things up, an’ posted yer books for ther futur’, now’s ther healthiest opperchunity ye’re et, to get.” Lad eresa turued pale; Lord Clifford looked decidedly nervous and alarmed; but Chin-Chin smiled his entire indifference, ‘* By heavens! we shall all be killed, for com- ing in this rough vehicle,” Lord Clifford ex- claimed. But Chin-Chin shook his head nominal. ‘No be muchee ’fraidee, Chin-Chin know drivee belly muchee.. No gettee hurt. Cork- legee muchee joke; allee samee like Yankee,” “Then, do you mean to say that there is ne danger—that it’s all to frighten us?” ‘That de sizee of it, allee samee likee Melican man. Melican man belly cutee, but no foolee Chinee man.” ‘“‘Thank Heaven,” Lord Clifford breathed. “‘T admire you for those comforting words,” Lady Theresa sighed, regaining somewhat of her former composure, “‘Chin-Chin belly muchee happy for compli- ment!” the Celestial said, dropping on his knees in the aisle between the seats. ‘‘ Makee muchee love to Melican girl, allee samee like Melican men! Fire off big heapee joss!” But at this instant the ponderous stage came to a most abrupt and unceremonious halt, and. unlucky Chin-Chin was sent with terrific force’ against the coach door, which flew open, and the Celestigt Romeo was spilled out upon the urd, Lady Theresa and Lord Clifford were both considerably* shaken up, and seeing the way open. bounced out upon the ground in some aste. . The moon was pouring down a flood of light upon a scene of rugged and picturesque beauty. On one band great jagged cliffs rose to a tre- mendous hight, while on the opposite side of the narrow wagon-trail was a sheer, black abyss, of seeming unfathomable depth. A few paces in front of the halted coach stood a dozen men, attired in suits of red flannel, with top-boots upon their feet, jaunty sombreros upon their heads and crape masks over their faces from forebead to chin, with only a slight aperture for the eyes and mouth. Each of these pic- bores arya ve fellows had bis right band outstretched toward the coach, and in th: | Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. 3 hands, each, was a cocked revolver, while in the rear stood a similar number of figures, while two more burly knights of the trail stood at the heads of the leader horses, Lord Clifford and Lady Theresa both saw and comprehended. They had heard stories of these poate of the road, but until now had never had a glimpse of them, “Ha! what does this mean?’ Lord Clifford demanded, “Waal, I opine et means a genuine surprise- rty, ive cream an’ frested jelly cake thrown n?’ Old Corkleg answered, from his perch on the box. These hyar pilgrims aire missionaries, I reckon, gatherin’ in Sunday. shekels ter send .tew the beethyun down in New Jarsey an’ Injy, an’ sech like sinful sections.” ‘Ha! ba! you are not a bud guesser!” a rather Joris voice cried, and one of the road-agents in he rear of the coach, who wore a plume in his hat, advanced a few paces toward Lord Clif- ford and lady. *‘‘ We are missionaries, but our mission is to toll this trail for our own benefit rather than for that of the heathen. This is rather a light load you have brought us, my noble jebu! ‘I guess they ain’t up ter average in num- bers,” Corkleg replied, ‘‘but ye orter take small favors as they cum. P’raps ef ape ’a? sent me a postal keend, that ye’d be hyar I might ‘a’ breught along a better crowd.” "No doubt. But.I den’t like that kind of re- ceptions. How’s the state ef yeur treasure- bex, driver?” "“Mebbe ye kin find eut!” was the gruff re- spense. ** Undoubtedly. Apelle Bill’s men never back down for one little safe. Beys, open the treasure-box, and hand me the contents.’ “Oh! my diamonds! my diamendsf’ Lady Theresa cried, cl her hands. “Fear net, lady! I'll take care ef them,” Apello Bill assured, with mocking peliteness, ‘and yeu can redeem them at any time within ene year, by hunting me up and.paying for , them, If yeu passengers have any money or trinkets yeu think I might like, you will greatly expedite matters and save yeurselves treuble, by handing them ever!” What use to resist? The passengers were ‘‘tolled’’; the treasure- box was blown open and its contents extracted; then the stage was ordered to move on. So the passengers got abeard, and Corkleg let his animals eut at a faster rate of speed than they had ever pe before; and as they tore on teward MeGutflin’s, Lord Clifford turned Lady Theresa, and said: * “Do you know that I believe Iam at last on the right track?” CHAPTER III. DICK DREW, ES@. Instpe ef five hours after the events last related, the name of Apollo Bill had received an introduction in the hearing of every citizen ef McGuffin’s, and his fame was made. Lord Clifford and his niece, Lady Theresa, arrived at the little miner’s camp without further delay or accident, and put up at the only hotel the place afforded, which was rather a monstrous edifice of logs and boards, and a combination of hotel, my Hie and gambling- house, under the management of ene Jerry Forbes. My lord and lady were shown to a dingy, ill- furnished» pair of rooms, which they were assured were the only first-class apartments the establishment Honsted and were further informed by the eye-to-business Jerry, that as trade and demand for accommodations was large, the ones who spent the most at the bar were usually shown the most favors, and pro- tected in case of arow. _. Lord Clifford and the lady did not add any testimony to Old Corkleg’s story of the stage- robbery—there was no need of that, for the aged Jehu pictured the incident in’ glowing colors, as may well imagined, considering his ability as a narrator. Corkleg did not believe in doing things by halves, aad made Apollo Bill out in the guise of a ferocious typical Italian brigand, who had blood in his eyes, and a complement of butcher- knives in his belt, Road-agents had heretofore been , the least of the troubles of the McGuffinites, and they were now naturally excited, if not alarmed, at. the close proximity of the light-fingered and by ao means bashful gents of the ten McGuffin’s was a town of some six. to seven hundred inhabitants, not including. the floating popalation, and unlike some mining towns, the ruffian element did not hold the predominance.
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oy To be sure they were nearly all a rough crowd, these citizens, but unless some unusual circum- stance occurred to ‘‘rile” them, they were generally peaceably disposed, except the usual Saturday night spree, evidences of which are ever to be found in all towns from California to Bismarck. And this being Saturday night, at least two- thirds of the aduit male population were out on a “tear,” with little other purpose in view than to have some fun, spend their week’s hard earn- ings, and imbibe freely of the vile decoctions handed out over the bar in Western mining towns. The story of the sage robbery hit these wide awakes on the sensitive spot, and for what information he vouchsafed, they “ sat em up ” so lively for old Corkleg that he was “‘ sey- eral seas over” ere he had finished his thrilling narrative, and was obliged to sit down and keep mum. No one was then left to look to for informa- tion, except Chin-Chin, the dandy Celestial, and he was unceremoniously trotted out into the bar- room, ordered to mount a barrel, and explain his recent adventure—or pass in his chips, This latter expression was equivalent to sure death, and al of mining life had Chin-Chin sont WR be cognizant of the fact that he was in deadly peril, Therefore, he mounted the barrel with grace and pects ‘ <i Hhinat ; “Now, lookee hyar, you pig-tai son of a washee-washee!” excited "Modest ike, the typical bullwhacker, bruiser,and. ruffian-gen- eral who looms up conspicuously in the average Western mining. town, until some, better men comes along’ and deprives him of his spurs; ‘* see yar, Yon elmena yea, flat-mugged nig- ger! We, ther fepresentative citizens o’ this hyar burg, do command yer to Make a clean breast gf this road-agenb bizness, wi’out any palaver or superfluous gab, and the sooner, ye do. it, the safer will be your cue—sartin sure!” ‘“*Melican man gittee’ Melican man drunkeé!” Chin-Chin ‘said, wisely, ‘Let Melican ‘man gittee Chin-Chin ‘drunk, ‘60, ‘and he tellee muchee heep news, allee samee.” 1 pa ‘Not by a durned sight, you, chop-stick rat- eater—nary a time! Not a drop of anythin kin ye hey til, ye.guv us a concise statement o the facts of the ‘e robbery !” ‘Belly well, Chin-Chin nottee know much, Stage atop belly sudden, an* Chin-Chin go head ober heels outee door, allee samee like debbil. Melican man raise Ghin-Chin up by queue, Melican man dressee in red, with Big hatee, an’ mask, Melican man rob Chin-Chin of allee money; den we, gittee. board stuge muchee |. quickee, and comee here.” ‘* And the cuss who cavorted at the head of this gang hailed to.the name. of, Apollo Bill, did he }’ “ Yes, he belly muchee nicee looking, man, allee samee likee a god of joss.” The morning following the arrival of Lord Clifford and lady, in’ McGuffin’s was a pleasant one. Theair Was pure and bracing, with just enough force to soothe the every sense, warmed as it was by mellow beams of radiant sunshine, and scented with eee fragrance of the out leaving forests and early flowers. Birds filled the morning air with their wee : the boisterots but not unmusital shouts of the miners. going to their work; the hum of in- sects—all combined to make it a cheerful, dreamy and luxuriant dawning of day; at least, so ought Lady Theresa, as she strolled’ about the rude settlement. There was nothing picturesque or even ro- mantic about McGuffin’s. There were half a hundred or more of rude unpainted shanties and cabins, situated at the very foot of a rugged mountain, open a level sandy bar or bend, around which’ the muddy waters of a deep, dark stream surged with sullen murmur, All the mines Were reachéd by means of drifts or tunnels into the’ base of the mountain, except one or two small unpaying surface claims on the bend itself, What there was romantic about the place to a lady of her refined and society-cultured tastes, Lady Theresa could not conceive, but the air was very pure and refreshing, and so she wan- dered on, There were but two streets, running from the base of the mountain to the river’s edge, and Lady Theresa was upen the steep bank of the latter, looking down into the dark muddy waters, when she heard a tootstep behind her, and turned to behold a young man, perhaps a little older ‘than herself, approachi He' was well dressed, wore a Penitude of | Apollo Bill, t he Trail Tornado good jewelry, and was of good form, His face was well chiseled and falr to gaze upon, and his graceful curling mustache and well-trimmed hair were of blonde color, and his eyes of clerest. blue, Although somewhat surprised and alarmed at his intrusion, Lady Theresa was too self- possessed to betray the fact, and stood regard- ing him with a cool stare that must have confused any ordinary person, As he, drew nearer, the blonde stranger tipped his hat as gracefully as a Fifth Avenue swell could have done, ‘Ah! pardon my seeming intrusion,” he said, bowing, ‘‘but 1 believe—I trust I have the leasure of addressing the pharmeng, Lady heresa—niece of Lord Clifford of Clifford Cliff, nd—or, can it be possible I have made a mistake—-” ; } Anda look of much concern came over his ace. “You have made no mistake, sir—but I am ‘at loss to conceive how you should know any- thing about me,” Lady Theresa replied, prompt- ly and haughtily. “Oh! I dare say you are puzzled, and had I not ‘possessed some knowledge of you and Lord Clifford, I should never have presumed to address you. I trust you like our little, city!” “Hardly. I have not seen anything about _it, as yt to. fall petrenlerly in love with, Until I have some better recommend of you than that accorded by self-introduction, I will excuse you, sir.” And ber ladyship turned again to gaze out upon the river. y The dandy’s face flushed for an instant, at the rebuff, but only for a moment, when he said, pleasantly: “Of course you are doing a perfectly proper . thing, we being strangers, but I hope to hawe the pleasure of renewing; your acquaintance, after I have formally introduced myself to his Lappshin. Good-morning!”,... . Theresa, was conscious that he tipped his hat, and then rétreated down the’ street, when. she burst,into a ldngh. “Snch a gallant, indeed!” she said; ‘ but then, he may be of use to me.” The individual who had so informally intro- duced himself to Lady Theresa, was known at MecGuftin’s, as Dick Drew... He was the adopted son of the. only professed aristocratic family in the mining town, and like the generality of adopted sons, felt himself of great importance, while at, the same time he was a thoroughbred yt si pa He was at times dissipated, and a gambler of no mean pacomphshisen and there were few, if any, who'had any great amount of love for him, notwithstanding his rather fascinating ap- pearance. . . Immediately after quitting the presence of Lady Theresa, young Drew went to the hotel, and inquired if Lord Clifford ‘was to be seen. As Drew was a good patron of the establish- ment, the obliging barkeeper, who wore a pair of reyolvers in his belt, immediately sent a ser- vant to ascertain if his lordship was in his room, and found that such was the case. Drew was accordingly ushered..up to the. gentleman’s ‘apartment, where the visitor was pleasantly received, and requested to be seated, Without hesitation, Drew seated himself in the easiest chair in the room, and helped hintself to a cigar from Lord Clifford’s holder ‘which stood upon the stand, within reach. ws é “‘ Ah! yes—a very pleasant morning, indeed ‘” he began, scratching a match upon his boot, and lighting up. . ‘‘ You, presumedly, are Lord Clifford, of Clifford Cliff hamlet, England—are you not?” “T am,” was the nobleman’s reply. ‘‘ Whom have I the honor of addressing?” ‘Tam Richard Drew, at your service, son of the Honorable Darcy Drew of this place—one of the most prominent capitalists and mine- owners of the region.” ‘© Ah! T see, ell, sir, can I do anything for you this morning, Mr. Drew?’ ‘* Aw! no—that is, 1 dare to presume I can do something for you,” was the somewhat sur- prising reply. ‘‘ Hearing of your arrival and misfortune, I dared believe that I~” ‘*Thanks! I anticipate your intended kind- ness, but though Copsyer of what ready cash I had on my person last evening, I have a suffi- cient letter of credit from the Bank of North America, New York, to supply any demand I may need at present.” : ‘“A very handy thing to have, indeed. But, if I cannot help you in one way, very surely I can in another. I believe it was your for- tune to possess, not long since, an avant cowrier by the name of Pringle?’ sg ihre yf W hat of him?’ ‘What of him remains is deposited six feet under terra-jirma, down at Gray’s Ford, where in the vernacular of the mines, he ‘ passed in his. chips’ about a week since.” ‘‘ Pringle dead? How know you this?” ‘I fell in with him as a traveling companion, and attended bim during his lasitmoments. He confided to me his mission to this country in search of. your lost child, and requested me to meet you here on your arrival, and tell you he had been unsuccessful.” “*Poor fellow! I suppose he had enough Inoney to bury him?’ ‘“He had not, but 1 buried him at my own expense. That, however, is nothing worthy of further mention.” “Think not so, You shall receive whatever sum. you expended onhim. Of whatdid he dié?” ‘‘ Heart disease, combined with pneumonia,’’ ‘‘ Ah! I was aware he had an affection of the heart, but did not think he would be carred off so suddenly, And. you know of my mission to this country?” ‘*T do, and I doubt.not I can place you face to face with the man who knows what has be- come of your lost child!” ‘* You, tell.me this!” “ I dao)” ** Then, name your price, and cenduct me at cure to the place where I can meet William e, 4 “Presently!, The price is. the thing first to be considered, before. making a » you know,” Dick Drew said, with a sinister smile upon his blonde face, CHAPTER IV. A MYSTERIOUS POSTER AND A QUEER RECEP- TION. _ THE next day, Clifford called upon Moses Monk: a ical, Jew, in appartanee and. habits, but some there were who hinted that there was more. of. the Yankee about him than of the genuine Jew. If such was the case, one thing was certain ;.he was playing a well-studied part. Moses Monk was a man of means—a banker, money-lender and pawnbroker combined. He did a general banking business, in his lit- tle shanty, negotiated loans, and lent money on articles of personal value, His place was a regular curiosity, and to Lord Clifford’s mind the fat individual présiding behind the counter, who was nearly as thick as he was long, was even as much of a curiosity as the miscellane- ous articles he had collected around him. , e was some fifty years of age, with a face florid and. doubled-chinned; black, wiry hair; jercing little black eyes, looking out from under edge-like brows; a ook nose with a seed wart on the end, and a fierce black mustache. He dressed well, however, despite his lack of beauty in face and figure, and there was an ex- ession about his countenance which betokenet that he was a.shrewd one to deal with. ‘‘Goot-morning, mine frient!”. he saluted, bridging a pair of glasses before his eyes, as the gentleman entered... ‘‘ Ish der somet’ings vot h can do for you, dis morning?” ‘‘ Yes, I trust there. is,” Clifford replied, ap- proaching the counter. ‘‘I am short of means and wish to draw some money either on my foreign or American letter of credit—say tem thousand dollars, My American letter is from. the Bank of North America, New York.” ‘“A very gaot pank, sure it vas, poot I have not so mooch monish to. my name!” Moses re- sponded, promptly. ‘‘ You write me an order for der amount, und I git you five t’?ousand now und der balance ven I w on New York.” ‘That will not answer my purpose. Can you cash a thousand?” : “Yaw! I giff you. eight hundred for von t’ousand dollar order, mine frient.” ‘“What? Is that the kind ofa premium you bankers exact?” “ Dot ish shust id. Ve don’d vas keep open shop for noddinks. Ve coome here to make monish.” — - “So I should infer. I don’t know which is the least honest—the man who robs the stage, or the one who robs publicly, with the»people’s sanction. But, as I have got to haye some money, I suppose I shall have to, yield to you, this time,” And going to a side desk, the nobleman wrote out a check for one thousand dollars—the Jew, in the mean time, watching him like a hawk, as if there was something in his appearance that struck him, iarly. “There! r his lordship said, laying the check on the coun. ive me The eight bundred dollars!” , ald
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ter. ‘If you get many such customers, you will soon be an American Rothschild.” Monk looked at the check carefully and then counted out the eight hundred, and laid it in Lord Clifford’s hand. “T vas effer so much opliged to you, mine frient,” he. said, smilingly, ‘“und shall alvas pe gladt to do you de same kind of a favor here- after. Goot-day, sir;come aroundt ven you vas proke,” ‘** Perhaps I shall,” Lord Clifford said, as he ‘set out on his way to the hotel. That afternoon, several posters were found stuck up,’ here and there, about the town. By what agency they came there was just what no one could explain, nor did the posters them- selves afford any information. This is how they read: * $5,000 REWARD “Some years ago an English gentleman, Lord Clit- ford by name, came to Western America accom- panied by his five-year-old daughter, for the sole pleasure of bane a buffalo-hunt with the noted scout, Buffalo Bill, Finding that Cody’s services were not to be had, for love or money, just then, his lordship ig oe for several months, with a herdsman and farmer, William Blake by name. Blake's child and the nobleman’s child lédked as near alike as two peas, and. the latter's child bein sickly, and the two little ones becoming ve power 4 attached to each other, his lordship made a bareain with Blake, by which the latter was to keep Clifford's daughter at the prairie ranch for two years, in order that she might regain her héalth from the ure air and free life of the prairie. For this. service ‘his lordship freed Blake's ranch from all indebted- ness, and then departed for England. “A little over,two years. afterward, he returned to America, and. to the e. hom l. re he learned from the Po uaales chat there had recent been a fire which had consumed the house and out- buildings—that the bones of Mother Blake had been found in the ashes—that the sealp of a child’ had been pieked up—that the hired: girl and other child were missing—and last but not least, that Blake himself had arrived on the scene after the fire was over; had picked up:the scalp—then uttering a ter- rible oath, had mounted his horse and ridden madly away, never to be seen again, in that section. - Any one who ean throw any further light on the matter, will be suitably rewarded. To any ‘one who can reveal the whereabouts of Bill Blake and the other child, a reward of $5,000 will be paid, communi- cations should, be sent to “ Post Office, eGuffin's.” The next sideration tobe considered. was— who was X. Y. Z.3 To the best knowl of the citizens, no such a man lived in M 1g It was evidently a fictitious signature, to dis- guise the identity of the author. A good. many curious ones paused to read the notice, Lord Clifford among the rest. . ‘* Homph!” hesaid, musingly, ‘+ this is strange. I wonder what it means. Evidently some one een to, find my lost. child worse. than I do. hovit. cam be, in this wild country, is more than Ficam guess.” It was.a matter that ed him exceedingly, and gave him notva little, uneasiness.' The idea that some one was working in ahead of him, on his own naturally gave rise to the suppo- sition that it was for no good purpose. _ Dick Drew came up.as his lordship was read- ing the notice forthe second time. * Ha! ha!., Lsee have been trying to gain your point by another way than by patronizing me,” he said, with a half-sneer, “All right; just as you please about it.” ‘You are mistaken,” Clifford said. “I know no more who posted this notice than.you do— perhaps not as well. Evidently some one ‘has a |; here scheme on foot to:make money out of me.” ‘*So it looks, and it now stands you in to en- gage me to thwart this plotter, by. first intro- ducing you to Bill Blake.’ ‘*I am not so sure about that, still, you may be right. You swear you can put me face to face with this man Blake, to whom I intrusted the welfare of my child?’ **7 do.” ¢ ‘‘ And your price is:five thousand dollars?” “Ob, no—not at present. The way things stand now you can well afford to pay ten thou- sand.” . de Clifford put up his hands in astonisb- ment: ‘** Are you crazy, man? Do you take me for a person you can twist around to suit your fancy? You are greatly mistaken, then.” “All right. I shall not urge y , but I dare say you will find after awhile that won't come in bad. Good-day.” And with a mocking bow he turned on his heel and strode away. “That man is an infernal rascal, and thinks my services - he has got a hold upon me; but that remains to be seen. Perhaps’ | may turn a trump myself.” Every mining town of any size has its dance- house. McGuflin’s was no exception to the rule. Madame Moree’s ‘“‘ Fashionable Dancing Acad- emy” held opén nightly, and was usually well patronized, for, with the exception of an occa- sional drunken fight, it was bg aa runon a respectable plan, and patronized by the miners, their wives and daughters. The madame herself was a remarkably hand- some Frenchwoman, of business tact and a re- spectable reputation, and she allowed no one to run her place but herself, It was a long, one-story shanty, one-third of which was used for a bar-room and the remain- der as a ball-room, with a side entrance to the latter for the ladies’ use. The music was generally furnished by a su- perannuated old mmer known as Fiddler Jim, assisted by the madame on the piano. The evening of the day when Lord Clifford had'seen the posters offering the five thousand dollars reward, he was sitting in the ‘office of the hotel when o Tettey was handed him. In some surprise he noted the fact that it was directed in a woman’s graceful ‘chirography, and without knowing what to expect, he tore it open. What he read ere him no greater surprise than what he had expected. The letter read as follows: ‘* McGurrin'’s, May —, 18—. “Lad Cifiord and Lady: * Learning of your arrival in town, and in honor of your coming, the miners of McGutffin’s; their wives and daughters, wish to show their due AL to your lordship by giving a grand ball at my fash- ionable dancing academy, and’ Ihave been chosen to the honor of the presence of yourself and, her Very sincerely, ** MADAME, MorEE,”’ Of course Lord Olifford: smiled to himself. at the absurdity of the thing. ‘*T hardly fancy Lady Theresa would. care to | make hérsélf the reigning belle of su fashionable an affair, but in order to make myself familiar with these rude le, I will attend to-night, and see what kind ofa skirmish’ is to be given to our honor.” . Accordingly, ‘when it was about: nine o’clock, he repaired to the dancing academy, in evening dress and looking every inch the nobleman he was. As he entered the bar-room his! gaze rested. Cae as motley an assortment of ru ther-beaten ms as could well. be assembled, and most of them were eg be I dows liberal installments of *‘ bug-juice,” dealt out by a hump-backed man. : hich greeted his lordship’s hearag, »" Willie which gree s. hea sa c) have a smile, yer honor “ * No,. t ou, ‘gentlemen; [. am not thirsty,” and with these words he passed. on into the ball-room, where the music was already catering to thedancers, A more pleasant scene was, here presented. The few males theré, assembled were’ better ladyship this evening. while the ladies, young and middle- mony and modestly, if, not. expensively, at- t . The music and dancing immediately ceased as. Lord Clifford entered, and Madame Moree glided forward to meet him. ‘*T am: so delighted that yon have come, my lord. Tam proud to meet soeminenta stranger in my humble surroundings.” “T am glad that my coming can \pleasure; madame. It is very seldom social gatherings, bus I thought Vd have to make a break for once, and humor yourself and the townspeople.” “It was so considerate in you. But, where is her ladysbip?” ‘*Too indisposed to come out this evening.” * Too bad!” madame: said, with one of her charming French smiles. ‘‘ Buti that, need not deter you from enjoying yourself, my lord. With your permission, I will introduce you.” And taking his arm, she took him about the ball-room and introduced him to the ladies and entlemen present, and the first his lordshi »w, he was whirling away with a robust an by no means homely mountain lassie, whom he found .to be quite as good a waltzer as himself. From her he was caught up by another, and another, until things began to look as if he were hopelessly in for a night of it, without rest. About midnight there was an intermission for refreshments, and the Englishman was thanking his stars that he would perhaps now ve you eged, wea- | dressed and of a more respectable appearanee, }: , Were | Ka go out |: ‘lady in my little fi Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. A 5 get a chance to slip away to his hotel, when something occurred that put an end to any such hope. A young woman, apparently of seventeen or eighteen years of age, clad throughout. in male attire of rich and stylish gray, and with a slouch hat bent up on the left side, sauntered into the room, twirling a jaunty cane between her fingers. ‘“ Hello! Is this the shebang?” she cried, so all present could: hear ber. ‘* Waal, now, this is’ gorgeous,’ aim’t-it? Where’s his nibs, the lord I’m Rowdy Kate, right down from Right Bower Camp, an’ hearin’ thar was a genuine lord here, I kim over fer ther honor of havin’ a dance with his lordship, you bet! So, ef'you know what’s the cute caper, jest trot out yer ‘Tord!’ And with this order, the extraordinary girl folded her arms and gazed coolly around the room. Siena CHAPTER V. ROWDY KATE AND HER STRANGE PARD. AND there was no mistaking that this self- same Rowdy Kate meant pretty nearly what she said, for she was an independent and reso- lute-appearing personage, and’ moreover, a brace of revolvers in the belt about her’ waist seemed to indicate that she was not one to argue long over a disputed question. f'fine figure, of medium stature, she was a rémarkably pretty girl, despite’ her unnatural habiliments. Her face was one of almost mar- velous beauty, lit up by a'brilliant pair of eyes. Yet there was an expression about ber fair face which suggested the ogee of bitter experi- e ce, which possibly had contributed to deaden the natural modesty of her sex. Following her unceremonious entrance into the ballroom, there was a dead’ silenve, for several moments, after she had céased = oA ‘*Come! [ say trot out yer ‘lord, duke, or whatever’ he may be!” she a cried, grow- ing impatient. “1 didn’t sail’down hyar ter kick up no muss, I allow, but dance wi? the Johnny Bulldog aire I, ef it costs my biggest bag o’ dust, you bet!” : At this juncture, the madame, who had the standing reputation of being able to run her own shanty, came forward. “ See here; young woman, your nce is objectionable and you must leave!” ‘shoe’ cried, authoritatively, taking Kate by the shoulder. Bat, that dashin personage shook her off: ‘*Who are you, that you presume to lay your ‘claws'on me? she demanded, her eyes flashing. ‘*T am Madame Moree, the proprietress of this place!” was the austere response, ** and you not being dressed in accordance with the cus* toms of my place, ‘and being, quité evidently, a eharacter with whom my patrons do not care to associate, I must polite y request you to take your leave, at once. ** Waal, now you don’t say co?” “Most certainly Ido!” ** And ye ain’t a-goin’ to let me dance witk his } ip?” “No! the idea is absurd.” ““Mebbe ye think he’s better nor Rowdy old. powder-face?” ‘That niatters not,” the madame replied, at the insult.’ ““ Either you shment at once, or I will have “Phew! that’s consoling. Now, just you lookee here, my frisky’ maiden—D didn’t come here to bev no fuss with you, nor did I come hereto get throwed out by any 0’ yer whisky- bouncers. I simply’ want the pleasure of cing with his lordship, an’ then I'll skip. My name is Rowdy Kate, use’ I’m a leetle wild, but ef ther aih’t more orthodox honor an’ r than there is ih yer bull figgur, I'll buy ther clams fer the crowd. Vm no slouch, ef I am rough, as yell find ef ye don’t bumor me, thar’ll be music!” * Pipo!” madame called, shrilly. ‘ Pipo!”? Rowdy Kate called, mockingly. The next instant, the repulsive - lookin hump-back came bounding into the room, an stood awaiting the madame’s orders, He was a hideous-looking human, with. big eves, omens Fae ge jaw protruding rou ween his a rance more like a wild beast than like a pon 4 “Ha! ha! ha!” Rowdy Kate cried, merrily, as her gaze rested upon the nondescript. “ that’s your bounger, is it, Madame Fresh-skiv? say, Johnnie, just you look me ‘over—I’m Rowdy Kate, | am, an’ you’re only about half of a bite for me; so you'd better go back and spill bug-juice.”
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6 Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. ‘*Pipo!” the madame cried, stamping her foot, in a passion. ‘‘ Do you see that woman?” The dwarf nodded with a grin. ‘* Well, throw her out at once,” ‘Yes, come on, and throw mo out, gorilla— Pipo!” Kate cried, composedly, folding her arms, and looking bim unflinchingly in the eye. The dwarf showed his terrible teeth as a wild beast might have done, gave vent to a guttural growl, and bounded forward. Just within arm’s reach of Rowdy Kate did he get, when her right arm flew out! There was a concussion, as if bone had met bone; then the ‘‘bouncer” tumbled to the floor in a p. Something like a murmur of epproval went up from the assemblage, while wdy Kate waved her hand triumphantly at the madame. “There you are, done up in a nut-shell. That’s the style we sling on, up at Right Bower, gs 7" ea or powder!” she cried, laughing- are at say/—can 1 dance with his lord- ship, now?” “No! no! no!” madame fairly shrieked, working herself intoafury. ‘*% will kill you! 1 will kill you!” And with the words she drew a glitterin dagger from the folds of her dress, and glid toward the girl sport. What would have occurred next is hard to say, had not a man—a stranger at that— bounded into the room, caught the would-be murderess by the hand, and hurled her, back.’ ‘* Stop!” he cried, in-her ear. She gazed at him a moment, in speechless rage; then an expression of astonishment and horror came over her face; she hid it behind her hauds, and staggered from the room: The man who. had w ht this sudden change was one of rather striking appearance. He vas just tall enough to be of commandin presence, with a thoroughly-developed oa haudsome figure, clad from his top-boots to the chin in elaborately-fringed, white-tanned buck- skin. His face was clear-cut and firm, and by 10 means bomely—his eyes were dark and pierc- ing; a mouth of pleasant . expression was shaded by a model mustache, curling upward at the ends; .a narrow goatee ornamented his chin, and his wavy dark-brown hair fell grace- fully over bis broad shoulders from beneath a broad-brim slouch hat, pinned up on one side with a gold band. He turned and after the madame an in- stant, an expression of supreme contempt on his handsome ‘face; then he turned his gaze over the assemblage placidly as he took out and lita cigar. Rowdy Kate came forward, her face glowing with enthusiasm. ‘‘ Bully for you, stranger!” she said, putting out her band, which he took. ‘1 see you’re after my own style, an’ I'm glad to see you. Ef it ain't any o’ my business, what’s yer in- scription?” “My name, you probably mean?’ ‘On course,’ & “ Well, I believe I’m called John Smith, when I’m at home,” was the composed reply. ‘‘Ha! ha! So you belong to that everlastin Smich family, d> you? Some relation terol J oe: taf daresa £ w moreummed old oy 9 wr nc / ou y,’ the stranger sa y: ‘*Then you're a brick. "8 von ye knowed the woman who passed when you order- <i ‘Well, yes, I once met her, and I presume she me, judging by appearances,” ‘* Who sez she didn’t hy, she turned jest as white as a bleached piller-case and vamoosed like she didn’t care about interviewin’ you, or my name ain’t Rowdy Kate!” John Smith started a trifle. ‘Rowdy Kate, eh?’ he said, surveying her critically. ¢ ba ate my lay-out. Ever hear of such a ry? e pointed to a trio of armed miners who were marching into the ball-room abreast— rough-looking fellows, too, they were. ‘Bet a buckshot they’re coming for me,” Kate said, her eyes flashing. ‘‘The amiable madame has set them on.” “ Perhaps they’re not after you,” the stranger remarked, reaching down and drawing a pair of cocked revolvers from his bootlegs. ‘‘It is quite possible they. will not get the gent they are looking after.” The miners advanced to within a few paces of where Smith and Rowdy Kat® were standing and halted; the dancers filled out the back- ground of the somewhat interesting scene. ‘ Well, gentlemen, what do you want?’ up in a position for emergency. “We want to knowif you are one William Blake, and if so we are here to arrest you!” one of the miners replied promptly, ‘*T may or may not be one William Blake, or two or three of them. My name, as J just gave it to Miss Rowdy Kate here, is John Simi , of Idaho City, Idaho. You are evidently off your groove.” The men turned to each other and muttered several words in an inaudible tone, then re- treated from the ball-room as if yet dissatisfied. “You had best get out of here, and avoid trouble,” Smith then said to Kate, ‘‘ for it be- hooves me to skip.” And with the words, he bounded away through the ladies’ entrance, and was gone. **Stop him! stop him!” Lord Clifford cried springing fontarl, se = man is indeed illiam_ Blake, and I'll personally give five hundred dollars for his ture!” He had realized when Smith made a break for escape, that the handsome stranger indeed bore a close resemblance to William Blake—a fact, luckily for the stranger, which had not rticularly impressed him, when the miners ad made the charge. But, when a dozen men, bent on securing the reward, rushed out into the night, they had only to learn that stalwart John Smith of Idaho City, was not to be found. And during the excitement, Rowdy Kate took leave of Madame Moree’s “‘ academy.” The fact that a certain Retounee named William Blake, had been in McGuffin’s during the night, was the cause of considerable com- motion, the next per Not particularly from the fact that such a rson existed, but because it was generally own that at least two persons in the town were anxious for his capture—Lord Clifford for one, and the reward offerer, X. Y. Z., for ee miter pa 2 0 the latter onagé was, no one seeme + to have any idea—therefo » Lord Clifford wa looked upon as the prim loser by Blake’s et cape. Anxious to ferret: out: t xe matter, Lord Cli - ford sought the three men who had appeared i : the ball-room, and demanded to know who set them ou to the stranger... i At first they seemed loth to divulge the secret but when a consideration of money was sli ped into ‘their bands, they of one accord said the madame had told them what to _: . With this knowledge gained, his lordship took his leave. ‘This madame is a Frenchwoman, and con- sequently a schemér, and undoubtedly a very devil by nature,” be muttered. ‘ nchwo- men, as a rule; run that way. Now, the next int, to consider is—what connection with or terest in me or my affairs’ has she, and how much does she know, and where did she learn it? Egad! the situation seems. to w more intricate, and complicated. Yet can but believe that Iam on the right way to the find- ing of the surviving child, be it Blake's or mine, He immediately sought the hotel, but instead of going to his own apartment, rapped on the door of the madame’s room, for she, too, was a boarder in the house. id It was immediately opened by the madame herself, and looking quite pretty, she was, ina full and elegant toilet, notable for its costliness. ‘Ah! is it you, most noble Lord Clifford,” she said, with a sweet smile. ‘I half expected you might honor me with a call, taking into consideration that 1 come from a family of noble blood. Will you come in, my lord?” ‘“With your kind permission I will, madame, as I have a few questions to ask you.” They were soon seated, the madame throw- ing all her power of fascination into her smiling eyes. ‘‘Tam all attention, my lord. Anything I ean tell you, | will be —— in doing.” “Thank you. I will not question you long. What do you know myself and my affairs?” ‘* Nothing, my lo ee or nothing, more t what gossip brought to my bearing. ‘“Then, what do you know concerning Wil- liam Blake?” ‘* I know that we are enemies, for life. Why or wherefore, it cannot possibly matter to you.” ** You are sure of this?’ “ _— positive.” ‘““Why did you seek, then, to have him ar- rested?’ * Because, I saw and recognized him last Smith demanded—as he brought his weapons ‘o the reac night, for the first time since—well, in several years. I feared yet hated him. I Goaghs of the reward as a medium of revenge; you know the rest.” ‘*Do you know Rowdy Bate?” ‘‘No—nor do I care to. She is only a stroll- ing vagabond, not worthy of notice!” **T doubt that,” was his lordship’s unuttered thought. CHAPTER VI. THE DREWS’ PLOT. SEVERAL days passed without anything of story importance Dappening. The excitement had redually subsided, yet Lord Clifford had caused to be posted a notice and reward similar to that which had been issued by X. Y. Z., only that he had doubled the latter's offer, by placing the figures for the capture of Blake at ten thousand dollars. Such a sum in eastern cities would naturally create a sensation; but out in the mines, where money was to be had for the digging or play- ing, such a reward was not arded as extra- inary, and none of the sh of the town a red to be eager for the bait, and Lord Chi ord began to despair, nearly as much as Lage Theres , “ You will never succeed, my lord,” she per~ sisted, ‘‘and I long to be back at Clifford Cliff, once more, You have heard and seen enough. I should think, to discourage you. The scalp, of one of the children being found, that conclu- sively proves it was murdered at the farm- house. ou for a moment suppose that Blake would kill his own child, and make off with yours?” “‘ Not unless, like the arrant ‘nave I believe him to be, he may have designs as regards bringing about an heir to my estates, in the future. No! no! I shall never set foot on Eng- lish soil, again, until 1 have stood face to face and ‘at swords points with the man who be- trayed the trust I ‘placed in him. It may take months or years before 1 can confront this vil- lain, bvt sooner or later, he must explain to me that wi ich I wish to know.” : _ Theiaxt «ay he met Rowdy E fe, it bein the drt tin s he had seen ‘hei singe the balk yoon) & yisod«. Ske \vas parched on a stump, dve rlooking the river, engaged in the occupation of whittling and whistling, her rifle handy at her side, Lord Clifford came upon her unexpectedly, but ever self-possessed, would have turned away, had she not bailed him. ‘‘ Hello, Lord Clifford! Wa’t’s yer burry¢’ - “ Needn’t git skeart, cat?" ed. ** Yes, lremember you,” he returned. “ You are evidently ofa spirit of your own, and do not hesitate to show it.” “Me? Ob! no. I hain’t got the spirit of a converted mouse, ’cept once in a while; then Pm a reg’ler old double-distilled typhoon, you bet. ‘ ‘A suitable amount of temper is better than no temper'at all. Are youalone in the world, young ye” : - ‘* Don’t call me that; call me nw 9 Rowdy Kate. Yas, ’m alone heart out of the pack, an’ the knaves "ll soon pass me in, and finish the: game with the use of spades—if indeed any one takes compassion enough on me to put me out. 0’ the wolves.” ‘You are evidently in a melancholy mood, ” You mistake. I allow this is one of my bully days. Ef ye want to see me blue, I'l! come and tell ye, some day.” ‘* Have you ho friends or relatives living ” “« One or two relatives, but no friends—not a reliable, true, never-failing friend on the face pot God’s footstool.” “That is bad. [ should think it would be easy to find friends for one as bright and beauti- ful as you.” , ‘‘Humph! the word friends ain’t no good now-a-days. I kin go up the street and pick up a dozen professed friends, but Bd quicker trust. myself in the hands of the fiercest mountain- robber, because there is honor among them, where their proclaimed betters are no more or less than snakes in the grass. As fer the
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baa 0 all don’t encumber myself wi’ twenty or thirty io 0’ caliker or silk, or satin, they call me d, hold, and the blazes knows whatall. Let ’em call! Rowdy Kate’s all right, ef she aire Jeetle, an’ she don’t carea fig fer no one ’cept her dorg. Here, Grizzly—come, Grizzly!” and she LpROREAeS up her pretty mouth, and whistled merrily. In response an animal made its BEAKER, and came bounding toward her—not as dogs usually bound, but turn veritable revolu- tions over and over, from fore feet to hind, in the same way our circus-performers turn suc- cessive hand-sprir It was a most remarkable ight for a dumb brute to be seen doing, and when he arrived infront of bis mistress and steed upon his hind feet with a triumphant wag of his tail, Lord Clifford clapped his hands heartily in applause. “Thar, thet’s my friend, an’ about the only one I kin lay any claim to,I tell ye. Thet poodle ain’t no great scraps on beauty, but he’s a fighter, an’ knows. more’n lots o’ humans I’ve * ”» Ss Hh Undoubtedly, judging by his recent exhibi- tion, “Oh! I Varnt him that. Sum fellers hate do: an’ shute ’em. on sight. Asa rule they gi y take aim ata dorg’s head—so I l’arnt Grizzly allus ter approach a pusson _ promis- cussly, so that ef he war fired upon, they war as likely to shute off his tail as his head.” ‘Your logic is not without. reason,” Lord Clifford said, smiling. ‘“‘ And now, may I ask you how much do you know about the man ywbo rescued you the other night, who called himself John Smith?” : “ Ha! ha! I know, one thing; he’s too rich for your.and the madame’s blood. He's like a magic figa—when ye think. ye’ve got him, he ain’t there.” “Tl admit be was too much for us, then. But, | must capture him, or at least confront him and have redress.” “Yas, you'll need on several dresses ef ye cal- culate to buck ag’in’ him. Don’t know any more about him than you do, but, I sized him. up as somethin’ nigh tea condensed earthquake.” ‘Bad man I have no doubt he is, but I must by all ms have an interview with him. You are a girl of ready wit. and tact—I’ll give you the reward I’ve offered, if will bring it about so that I can have a private meeting with him,” “Lord Clifford, you are undoubtedly a man of noble, generous, and honorable . principles but if so I know you will not a second time at- tempt to cause me to betray the only man who bas taken ' art in many along day. I will bid you good-day, sir!” Honorable Darcy Drew was one of the richest men in McGuffin’s, from the fact that he owned interests in several of the best payin es, besides having lots of ready money, which he was at all times willing to loan, for a big share, on unincumbered ms, He was seldom seen outside of the door of his own mansion, which, hy the way, was one of the best structures in the camp, and comfortably furnished. All this.outside business was attended to by his dutiful son, Dick, who, with an eye to the future, was careful not to offend his father by any neglect of duty or extraordinary robbery. ; What. reason the elder Drew had _ for his per- sistent seclusion, was a riddle unsoluble to the McGuffinites, unless he was afraid of meeting some old enemy, who woud “nail him” at sight. He was never seen upon the street, ex- cept it was after dark, and seldom, then. ; he evening after Lord Clifford’s interview with Rowdy Kate, Darcy Drew sat, in his pri- vate office, or library, his head resting on bis hand, the arm of which in turn rested upon a fine office table. That he was buried in thought was evident, for his green-goggled eyes r steadfastly upon the blaze of his office lamp, for some time. r At last, however, a, dark, exultant smile passed over his face and he looked up. He was a dark, swarthy-skinned man of fifty, perhaps, of bony figure, and evident ’ great physical strength. iieteos was for the most covered with bristling black beard, and his hair was of the same color. These facts, with his gaunt, long face, gave him anything but a pre ing appearance. hat was. the color of his eyes was hard to determine, without removing his les. ° is attire was of a respectable nature, but not loud or flashy. ways of get- Dick about ‘That te shall know, directly, boy,” the elder Drew said. thing seems e rewards.” little known in these parts, for identification, and devilish few miners are willing to give up steady gene for the sake of going on a -wild- mee chase after him. . I wish I could have seen he fellow; I should then be better satisfied that it was indeed the man.” “There can be little doubt of it, as the madame claims to have recognized him at sight, as did the Englishman,” “Strange that he should come here; but it will not nearly so strange if he reappears. He is a crafty devil.” ‘* Well, I don’t imagine we have anything to fear from him, no matter how savage he may “Ha! ha! no, And, now, about the child. There are evidently three parties, who know something of the matter, and Lord Clifford, Blake, and another person constitute the three, forgetting, of course, ourselves, whose know- ledge is very limited. Well, now, Lord Clifford as | make out the case, is the most interested rty, from the fact that he is searching for is lost omepring, Nor is this all; he is search- ing for an heir—one out of the only two living legal heirs who could inherit his wealth after his death. | I have learned all about this. The only heir remaining, is the Lady Theresa, who accompanies him, and who only inherits, when it is proven that the true child of Lord Clifford is dead. See?” Dick Drew nogded. He had a fertile imagi- nation, and was not slow to comprehend, ‘“The second person to be interested in the case, I doubt not is Blaké, for I have a stronger idea that he has not possession of either of the children, nor has he had, since the breaking up of his, family, Therefore, it looks but reuson- able that he has no more knowledge of_his child than Clifford has of his, and if he bas any fatherly instincts, he must be just as anxious to learn which of the two children was killed.” “ You are right, again,” “The third interested party, has only a pe- cuniary interest, like ourselves, in putting on poultices and drawing out of the case all the money ible,” ‘Probably. And, now, if Blake is not pos- sessed of the child, who is/—that’s the question, which it may take a good deal of time to solve.” “‘Not in my estimation. I do not have a doubt but what the child who esca the mas- sacre at the farm-house, that night, is in the charge of the servant-girl, Mary Monk, who also escaped.” “Ah! that bad never occurred to me, and I believe you are right. The next thing is— where is Monk?” ‘‘Not far from here, I fancy. This third in- terested party I spoke of, also ; the name of Monk, and the :zame beni, Bae uncom- mon one, I presume he is related to Mary Monk, and has conceived an idea that such being a fact, he is interested in the circumstances of the case, by a knowledge of them and the where- abouts of Mary Monk and the child.” ‘‘ Well! well! you'd make a fine rogue— rather a detective, if you wasn’t so pious, and sessed of so many conscientious scruples,” ick Drew said, with a villainouslaugh. ‘ But this la ter conclusion is only drawn from guess- work, eh?” ‘Yes, but I have every confidence that it will turn out as I have outlined. Now, the things for us to dv, is the next and most important consideration.” “Exactly, First of all, we must be to the fore in finding out where is Mary Monk and the “Yes, That is nearly our first move. Then, at the same time, we must work Lady The- Any” “Yes, she is next heir after the young ’un. She would not be natural if she did not have a hope that the child would never turn up. You see? Now, you can approach her on the sub- ject and tell. her you know just. where to lay your hands on Lord Clifford’s child, and.are only awaiting for bigger inducements before ucing it. In this way you can draw out er sentiments and make your inventory. If you think it safe, you can propose to her that if Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. | 7 she will marry you, you will forever have the child kept in its present obscure but comfortable home, Vt she tumbles, ail well, if not, you may in some sucha way work up his lordship.” a plan. And now, how shall we pro- ceed to work the Dutchman, Moses Monk?” *T hardly know, as yet. It will not take me long, however, to arrange some good plan,” CHAPTER VIL. A VILLAIN’S SCHEME—AN OUTLAW’S HAND, DurRinG@ the week following the events last narrated the name of Apollo Bill, the road- agent, became better known to the public, from the fact that several stages were relieved of their treasure boxes and numerous passengers of their loose change and valuables. Of course, Apollo Bill being first in the field in that section, he received the credit for these outrages, and his name was in every one’s mouth. Some said he was a very handsome man, while others, who had encountered him, argued that little could be told whether he was hand- some or not, owing to the nearly full mask he wore. His band of scarlet coats were evidently fully as fearless as their leader, and therefore were a formidable band to encounter. Apprised of the existing evil, the U. 8. Mar- shal had sent an expert detective to McGuffin’s, who had the legal power to call for local assist- ance to hunt down the road-agents, if neces- sary; but as yet he had made no move in that direction. This man’s name was Butler, and instead of taking any immediate steps toward hunting down the outlaws, he issued a placard, offering are hundred dollars for the arrest of Apollo As compared with the munificent reward offers by X. Y. Z, and Lord Clifford, for the arrest of William Blake, this reward enlisted no interest whatever. Butler was a dappex little indiyjdual, who did not look as if he ever was intended for war, In the mean time, Lord Clifford had accom- lished nothing. He was still stopping at the otel, and was daily on the alert, in hopes of learning something relating to his case; bus it seemed to be a vain quest, One afternoon, while he was out about town, Lady Theresa ordered her fine saddle-horse—a new purchase since coming to the camp—and mounting, rode about the town awhile, finally branching off into the deep ravine, which was 44 only way of reaching the camp by stage or saddle. She had never P ascanbagi the strange place before, and should have known better, perhaps, but the temptation to ride in between the cool high, ru walls was too great to resist, and the ring of her spirited steed’s steél-shod hoot's reverberated through the long aisle of nature. So well did she enjoy a wild gallop, and so much did she admire the grandeur of the rug- ged scenery around her, that she had gone pany miles before she thought of turning back, and it was only then, when an accident oc- curred, that she was brought to a realization of her situation, , Selim, her horse, caught his right fore-foot. in a crevice, and failing extricate the foot, he went plunging forward to the gronnd with a seream of agony, as his leg snapped in twain. Too thoroughly a horsewoman was Lady Theresa, to be endangered by such an accident. Many a wild and exciting fox chase in the great meadows back of Clifford Cliff had in- ured her to the habits and mishaps of equestri- anism, so that she had landed upon her feet, safely, ere her poor steed reached the ground, bruised and badly broken. ‘* Poor Selim! I am_to blame for this, my r, faithful fellow! Your leg is broken, and must be miles from the town. It is growing dark, too! Ob, dear, what shall I do?’ “Do what every sensible young lady would do, under the cireumstances—be brave!” a voice exclaimed, and Dick Drew stepped from behind a big bowlder, but a few feet away, Lady Theresa gave a little scream of horror, but when she saw who it was, she felt a trifle more ass . ‘Lady Theresa, this is a painful accident you bave met with, and it is opportune I happened to be so near, as I trust I can be of some little service to you, at least,” young Drew said, ap- proaching. “If you will go back down the gulch aways, I will shoot this poor animal, who is suffering intense pain from a broken leg, and put him out of his misery.” “Oh! must he be killed, sir?” It would be cruel to let him lay ‘Certainly.
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8 Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. here and suffer, when nothing we can do can ease him.” “Then I will go, sir.” And she turned away, “*T will join you ere you have gone far, and act as your guardsman back to camp,” Drew said, in his most pleasant and respectful tone. And he was true to his word. After putting r Selim out of his misery with a rifle-ball, he hurried down the gulch in pursuit of Lady Theresa and soon overtook her. ‘We've a distance of over twelve miles to walk, Lady Tremaine, and I fear you will obi inadequate to the task!” he said, anxious- y: “Oh, never fear about me. Iam young arid strong, and if I get tired Pll rest, and then re- sume the journey, How came you so far, may I ask?” ‘Oh, I’ve been hunting a big cinnamon bear for a couple of days , unsuccessfully, an was about starting for Ponte when I heard you hae i hey walked along in silence then for several miles, when Lady Theresa signified a desire to rest, and Drew found her a seat on a moss- knoll, while he stretched himself out upon the grass near by. The full, moon was pouring her effulgent rays down into tho ‘ravine, lighting up the pictur- esque surroundings, brilliantly. His lordship has not h ,any reliable’ tid- ings of his lost child as yet, has he?” Drew asked, as he lit a bandsome pipe, and sent a wreath of smoke heavenward. “Oh! dear, no, and the worst of it is he per- sists in remaining in this horrid country with- out any reason.” “Then you think the child will never be found?” “Pooh! of course. It does, not look reason- able that she will ever be found.” “You being the only heir, then, I should pre- sume you have no greet, henaeef to have her found!” Drew remarked, insinuatingly. Lady Theresa. did not. reply—her face was averted; she was toying with one of the dia- mca Aa wHOn her fingers. » a8 ed, carefully. ‘* You are not iad who could ever stoop to c criminal act or think a criminal thought—yet, should Maude Clifford. never come to Bebt, I am satisfied it would be but natural for you to feel a great sense of relief. Is this not so!” “ | neither admit nor deny it. I do not look for the child’s recovery; consequently I do not feel the anxiety 1 might otherwise feel.” “ But when I'assure, truthfully and candidly, that'I w where Lord ‘Cli ’s child ‘is, an am only waiting for bigger offers from him be- ke i produce ber—what have you to say, then “If what you say is true, T am of course in danger of having my hopes regarding the heritage, spoiled, Where is this child?” ibis“ bpeepant but secluded home, where, ig- norant of really who she ana is'as happy, as ure and as innocent as. childhood can make er.” ‘“* You are sure of this?” ! “Tam. I saw her but a few weeks ago, an she was, to all appearances, healthful and happy.” ‘IT must tell uncle this. It will give him sO much comfort and assurance.” 4 “Ah! then you think not of your own fu- ture?” ieee x IT do, but not with designing in- ** But, look, Hear me out, Lady Tremaine. Iam ason of an honorable family, and should not, perhaps, make suggestions to one like you were it. not that I always hate to let a chance go by unimproved. Now, this child is in good ,hands,,in comfortable circumstances. She does not dream of being a nobleman’s heir —why should she? Even the people who have adopted her have no thought of such a’ thing, and nobody but myself’ knows where and who she is, All the parties in the world t search for her without result. She is buried— none can resurrect her to her rightful vosition save me, Why, then, should you not be heir to all Lord Clifford’s wealth?” Lady Theresa buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears. ‘*Oh! don’t! don’t!. You area bold, wicked, unscrupulous monster—you wish to make me the victim of a villainous plot!” “Ah! Lady Tremaine, you wrong me. I have no such in view. I have simply been pointin oot to y z save yourself. ou an opportunity to I beg pardon if T have teen a. offense, Come, let us go, or we will not get to camp before morning.” ‘“Stop! there is more to this; you may as well explain now as later. You know where the child is—what would be the price for for- ever keeping the child’ in oblivion, as regards herself?” ‘“The price—well, there can be no harm in telling you. Iam deeply. in love with you, my poe and pretty Lady Tremaine, and, as your usband, I should probably look to our mutual interests in respect to the real heir. You may accordingly Pe ge that my price is your hand! “Sir! I loathe ‘and despise you for your willingness to defraud a child out of its dues. If I want to marry a monkey, I wil go to Africa and select one to my own choosing. “*Good decision! Darwin says all the human race care descendants therefrom, and perhaps your ladyship’s tastes long for one of the origi- nal aborhetnas: rather than one of the more en- lightened species. As to the child, if Lord Clifford don’t care to pay a princely sum for it, I shall hold it a matter of twelve hae yet, marry it,,oust you out of Castle Clifford, and reign as lord-master. Ha! ha! no scheme like one reversible, to suit all circumstances. A kiss, now, my beautiful Lady Tremaine, and then, 1 am away! Just one long, lingering smack—” ‘‘In the mouth, and that settles you!” a stern voice cried, and ‘Drew ‘received a blow across his face that flattened him instantaneously to the ground. He sprung to his feet, however, with a cry of fury, and stood face to face, and within t paces of his assailant, who was a man of hand- some Ne clad in scarlet suit of buckskin, top boots and slouch hat—a man whose face was covered to the chin with a mask—whose hair flowed in a wavy mass over his shoulders —a man who wore a. pair, of Rang Sebi tinge | revolvers in his belt, and looked as if he coul ‘lick his weight in wildcats.” ‘Curse you, what do you mean?” Dick Drew demanded, doubl up his fists, and panting with . “What do you mean, sir, by laying hands on a gentleman?” “‘Most assuredly, Ido not remember of ever having done so, in anger!” the man of the mask replied, composedly, ‘‘ Do you mean to insinu- ate that you are one of that s ” “ Certainly, and I can meas the man that says I ain’t!” Drew declared, hotly. ‘Out that ay is a matter simply of your own opimion. dare say a -sized mouse would frighten the wits out of you, if so be you pen to have any.” “You black-hearted rufflan, do you mean that insult?” 7 “Pm one of the most candid men in the world, so judge eh ppebewht was the taunting reply. ‘Apollo Bill never*thinks one thing, and speaks another.” “Apollo Bill!” Drew exclaimed, incredu- pongly. * Apollo Bill!” Lady Theresa gasped. “Bxactly! Apollo Bill!” was t Ronee, ‘‘T seem to be known to ycu, Lady emaine, has this fellow, whoever tie may be, i ia you further than by offering to kiss you “No, sir—unless proposing to marry me can be regarded as insult,” ‘“‘T should regard it as the hight of insult. IT wonder you didn’t accept him! I should think the girls would run ge Dh such 9 desirable cool re- oung man. Young fellow, whence camest thou! If you peregrinated hitherward from the town ob uaffin’s, it is yet several miles distant down this ravine, and about the health- iest thing you can do is to seek it, in a hurry. But, first of all, get down on your knees and say: ‘Lady Tremaine, I humbly ask your par- don! Then you can go!” ° “Ha! ba! you think I am in idiot, do you?” Drew cried. , “T don’t think anything about it!” Apollo Bill retorted. “ AllT ask of you, is to‘doas I just. bade you!” ““ Why, Pd see you in —— first!” “On your knees I say!” Bill cried; sternly, at the same time drawing, cocking, and leveling one of kis revolvers. “I'll give you two minutes to obey me; if you don’t, I shall not mince matters, but blow your brains out!” Dick Drew was an arrant coward, when it came to facing danger; so he resolved to save beri shat ap at the e ma 7 humiliation. y Tremaine, um beg par- don!” he said, a malicious scr 34 on face. “That is Nie: !” Apollo Bill said. “ Get on your knees, vely, too—you’ve not much time to lose!” White with rage, Drew obeyed; then rising and shaking his fist at them, he hurried down the gulch. The hour is late,” Apollo Bill said, turning to Lady Tremaine. ‘Accompany me to my retreat, and I guar- antee you greatest courtesy and attention, un- til morning, when I will send you back to Mc~ Guftin’s. First, however, you must permit me to blindfold your eyes!” CHAPTER VIII. AT APOLLO BILW’S RANCH. THERE was no other course Lady Theresa could pursue, that she could see, and she ac- cordingly signified her acceptation of the road; agent’s proposition, — She could not be in worse hands, at any rate, than she would have been, under Dick Drew’s guidance, and this thought gave her considera- ble reassurance, . With a black alk handkerchief, Apollo Bill gently blindfolded her eyes so that she could not see; then he gave vent to a shrill whistle, and she was conscious that a number of horsemen had ridden out from some adjacent cover, and sur- rounded them. The next action was to place her on horse- back, behind Apollo Bill; who directed her to put her arms about his waist, and ‘ hang on.’ The horses then started off on a gallop, and thus continued for hours, it seemed ‘to Lady Theresa, ere a halt'was made, and she was as- sisted to dismount. Then, after a few minutes, the ban was removed from her eyes, and she was able to view her surroundings. She was in a large room, containing one door, and no windows. Light was furnished ‘by a dozen candles, which burned brightly in a rude sort: of chandelier; a table, several stools, a couch of skins, and a carpet of the same material, comprised the furniture. The on t of the room, besides Lady Theresa, Was.a neatly clad Indian who stood near at hand, and'who had 6 ly re- moved the blindfold. She was, more properly, a half-breed, bein light of complexion, and more in t an tty appearing than the average Indian girl. are Ant bady eresa said, gazing abode ber, in surprise. *“* How is this—where am Ff” “You are in the home of Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado!” the girl replied, in good Eng- lish. “But I thought I just dismounted!” ‘*So you did, and were lifted from your horse Pe this room,” the girl said, with a vague smile, “Oh! well, I su one is subject to being pursed under pal circumstances, as these. here is Apollo Bill, as you call: him?” “Gone to the a room, I dare say. Did yow wish 'to see him “i i, oy Ihave no bias ev ipne desire in that/direction. Road‘agentsyor more correetly, robbers, are not on my list of uaintances. is bighly-named’ Adonis who has brought me Te is, I’dare say, a paragon of bea and wolfish cruelty-combined.” ‘* Indeed, lady, you wrong him. Apello Bill ‘is a gentleman and a man of honor, outside of Vis professivn, of which itis not for me to judge. He never offers harshness to a woman, but can be stern with men when necessity demands it.” ** And who are you?” “7 am fee . IT was pia ot or vengeance of m le Apo when they were bP f Rae! we me for warning a party of pale-facés of an impending massacre. Apollo Bill took mé to his home, treated me as he would a sister, and as such I love him.” “Indeed. Very romantic. Can you tell me what his name is, aside from Apollo Bin?” +“ ot ? ** Fou will not, you thean,” ~ ay I yeas adel *Ah! Do you w, then, what ob he as in towing the sinful lite of a eoubert Surely not wealth.” “Not that alone. He has a sad stery con- nected with his life. Once he was in good cir- cumstances, but the hand of an enemy did’ him a foul wrong—one that he could not forgive— one that urged him to seek for vengeance. He struck the trail of his enemy and followed him for many suns; At last one night he fancied he saw his man standing upon the upper deck of a Mississippi river steamboat as it lay at the levee. Drawing his revolver, he shot him through the heart. ‘Tt afterward turned out that he had killed the wrong man, and the news of this nearly drove him wild with despair. From point to —_
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—_ A pollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. 9 point he fled, closely pursued by the minions of the law. Twice he was ca ed and placed in jail, but on each occasion he escaped. At last, hunted down to the last resort, he rallied around him a band of fellows and took to the mountains. They were discovered in their first retreat, and branded road-agents ere they had earned the right to such a calling. ** Assailed despondency and anger at this injustice, Apollo Bill fled to this fastness and organized his men into what is known‘as Apollo Bill's road agents. “There you have all that I know about my protector. ‘*Good enough for a novel,” Lady Theresa said, taking off her hat and riding cloak. ‘‘T presume this muchly-wronged man has a child living, has he not?” i “Not to my knowledge, me ’am.” d ‘*You have never heard him speak of having a chill now or in the past?” “a Well, perhaps: ke is: of tive disposi ‘* Well, perha e is of a secretive disposi- tion donbertting "hts habits; perhaps, again, he is not the party I think he is. Have you ever seen him unmasked?” “T have not.” **Then he remains constantly disguised?” **So far as I know, yes.” “Do you think’ he would grant me an inter- wei damot=yeh, 1 poiethay baal vb I ‘I do nct—yet, I possibly ma wrong. will tell him your wish, and you need nee be surprised if he does or’ does not put in an ap- pearance soon.” Then, with a courtesy, the girl passed from the room, taking the Feceets jon to lock the door, after her, and Lady ‘Tremaine was left to her own meditations. It was not for Lady Theresa to see Apollo Bill, that night, had she desired to, ever so much. She waited a reasonable sae, beat time, for him to come, and then threw elf wearily upon a couch of skins, wondering if she would indeed get safely to the mining camp, as Apollo Bill had promised, Sleep soon came to her eyes, and she for all her troubles, until she was aroused by Con- chito, the Todian girl. “Come. I‘must’ blindfold you, and then you will be taken. back to the miners’ camp,” she ‘* Here is a Package Apollo Bill directed me to give you, say it was what he had taken from you and rd.” y Theresa received the epee with a glad cry, and itted Conchito to blind her eyes. ext, she was led from the room, and mounted’ upon a horse, with a man in front of her, the'same as before, and was soon dashing away. an hour later, she was dismounted in the guich, within sight of McGuffin’s but by the me she could unbind her eyes, her carrier was. gone from view. The following night, the outward bound stage from McGuffin’s, containing bullion in the treas- ure box, to the amount of ten thousand goness, was sto ust outside of the camp, by a ban of rede ested road nts, the gers re- lieved oftheir valua and the bullion appro- priated, after which the outlaws rode triumph- antly away, and the coach turned back to McGuflin’s, to dispense the tidings. The excitement created’ by the report was in- tense, The owners of the bullion were wealthy mine-owners, but they seemed to feel the loss just as keenly as though they were poor, and offered big rewards. , A band of men were at once np ago and sent out to scour the vicinity for the bold ma- rauders, but they returned the next day, at noon, without having even struck the trail of the pang. Mining was for the most part suspended, and gr of men collected’ here and there, about the town, to discuss the situation. What was to be doné?’ They were in the midst of a danger for which there was no ap- parent help. , Were they to give tamely up to the system of brigandism, which Apolle Bill had inaugurated? Were they to submit to being deprived of their earnings by him, at his own convenience? No! something must be done—all seconded that motion. But what? That was the question just then lacking solution, D ty Marshal Butler was consulted, and asked y he did not make some move toward removing the existing evil. ‘* Gentlemen,” he said, “‘from my experience of these road-agent devils, I find there ain’t no way 0’ gettin’ at ‘em, like bidin’ your time, watchin’ carefully, an’ ’ropin’ ’em in, when they’re not expectin’ it.” his did not satisfy the average McGuffinite —he wanted gore, and wanted it bad, too. But what set the town in the greatest uproar of all, was the discovery of a large notice, just before sunset, posted upon a saloon-‘loor, in plain view of every { isser-by. It was written wi‘ 1 a brush in large letters, and read thus: Noricr, “*T, the undersigner , will pay five hundred dollars to that party or part as, who will capture alive, and hand over to the proper authorities, one outlaw and road-agent by the title of Apollo Bill. He isa hard case, but must be onged, if any one’s got assurance enough to, try the jo . AS soon as captured, I will pay to the captor the above sum. “Yours truly, “APOLLO Brit, “The Trail Tornado,”? If this wasn’t the hight of impudence and audacity, the McGuffinites didn’t want a cent. After others had their turn at offeting rewards, this Adonis of the roads had. actually come out and offered a reward for bis own. cap- ture—the worst of bluffs to the McG—ites. Nothing like it had ever been heard’ of before in those districts. Even old Herims of a dozen years’ epee experience adm that it was ae of the rh any j t was a shadow , illustrate to the golrl-digs they had to deal with. The man Moses Monk seldom left his little bank, but early on the Sr ening following the events last narrated, he cl shutters, and left the. place by the rear way, taking care to the doors behind him. made especially to ers the style of man fast lock Going toa stable near by, he brought forth and bridled and saddled a skinny-looking donkey, and mounted the same, after which he rode down along the shore of the river. It was but a narrow and dangerous path, seldom used as a way of exit from the town for this reason, but the sober-looking donkey picked = a along; as though familiar with the The donkey and its obese rider were so widely at contrast as regards size, that they made a really ludicrous appearance, At first it was very dark, but after they had followed the dark, rapid stream for some ‘three hours they were fortunate enough to have a dim light from the late moon to reward’ their efforts in endeavoring to pursue the difficult The rebgeyd for miles was wild in the extreme. On either side of the river ruaged craggy moun- tains rose almost perpendicularly, hight, in continuous chains, as if to the sullen, moaning waters from escaping from their embrace. The night was well advanced ere Moses Monk came to a sort of plateau widening in the monotonous course of the trail, and drawing rein, he dismounted. mie donkey oeaiely lay down, showing no disposition to proceed further, With a grunt of approval, the banker gazed pay dt around him, and then ‘began to climb up a steep and rugged path, that led toward the mountain top. For some time he pursued this route; then reached a sort of shelving ledge, barely big enough to stand upon. In tof him, looking into the mounyain, was a large, cavernous opening, which was the entrance to some subterranean chamber, and which now had a dark and forbidding appear- ance. Waiting a moment to get his breath, Monk sepped into the entrance, and called: “Mary! Mary!” There was hho teddies answer, so he called again. ‘‘ Mary! are you there?” Then, a Woman’s figure glided out from the cavern. CHAPTER IX, MOSES AND MARY—MURDER. ** Mary ish dot you?” Moses Monk asked, peer- ing into the face of the woman. “ Who do you puppoce it is?’ was the rather short reply. “ brings you here at this unseemly hour, Moses?” ‘Oh! dat you vill learn, ven you vas find oud,” the Jew replied, facetiously. ‘Ish der kid ashleep?” “Yes, t of it?” ‘ “T vas glad of it. I haff something imbortant to tell you.” F “What! Have you any iy of—?” **Dot don’d vas matter, I ish here to tell you somet’ink, if you ask me in.” ‘*Oh! well, come ‘along in; but for heaven’s sake, leave off that Jew business and speech, which make you ‘unnatural and despicable!” *sOh! well, if you like, T will, for the present: but I must resume it, in business, you know, for the average American admires the shrewd busi- ness tact of the Jew, if not the Jew himself, and therefore, patronize him, Lead on, however, and I will try to speak my native Yankee , tongue.” g ary obeyed, and the banker followed her into the heart of a large inter-mountain cham- ber, where all was darkness of the most intense nature. A lighted’ torch, however, soon illuminated the scene, and the interior of the cave. There was for furniture a table and chairs, and some skins and blankets in a couple of places which were probably used for beds, On one of these beds lay a flaxen-haired girl of nine or ten years, fast asleep—a pretty, sweet- faced, healthy looking child, whom one could not help admiring. Even Moses. Monk went. over, and looked down upon the sleeping innocent, with more of a softening expression than was usually seen upon his face. Then. he turned to Mary—a woman, young in years, and possessed of average good looks, mr appears healthy and happy, Mary?’*he said. ‘ ** And so she'is,” was the response. ‘Since I came bere, she has picked up, day by day, the wildness of ‘our ab he i apo to alfect her for the. better. hat brings you here, cousin Moses?” . Business. Sit down, and, we will compare notes.” ' And so saying, he drew a_ stool forward inte the torchlight and became seated. Mary followed his example, a look of eager ba ena on her face. he was a woman still in her twenties, and rather pre ing in appearance, despite her common dress and an babitual expressiom of eapyy which hovered about her eyes and mouth, ‘You come to tell me good news?” she asked, leaning toward him. ; “Well, that depends somewhat Ba, ew iok at Ue I hare news, it, ja, trte whether good to you or no o not knew “ Then you have found Mr, Baber “Yes—that is, he was in McGuflin’s not many evenings ago; but, owing to a demand for him, by several parties, he was obliged to self scarce. A new road-agent lumi put in an appearance in the nee as their styling himself ApoMo Bill, aud orip- tions are very nearly, the same, I daré to pre- sume that he be lake are one and the same,” “Oh! Mr. would never do that—ne, I de not. believe he would, for an instant, consider such a ae “Pooh! Men will do anything, nowadays, for the sake of roping in the shekels.” ; “Oh! T wish I could be satisfied, for certain, in. re: tothe matter. Who were the persons who wanted him?” “The woman, Madame Moree, who keeps the dance house; Lord Clifford for another—well, there seems to have inte work,” ‘*How do you mean?” “The same way I explained to you on a for- mer visit. Tell me whose child that is, yonder —RBill Blake’s or Lord Clifford’s, Then I will make you my wife, and our interests will be utual and identical. Then I will produce the child before Lord Clifford, with you as the roof, and claim a reward of twenty thousand Molla, which, when added to my own pile, will make us independent for life.” “A very tempting proposal that might seem to some women, but not to me. In the first place, am your cousin—that is one good and sufficient reason why I could not marry you, In the next place, I do not nor have I ever loved but one man, and fate seems to will it L shall —_ be granted the favor of his presence very often. “You mean Apollo Bill?’ “‘Tmean William Blake.” “Pooh! you are fooksh. That man you will
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10 probably never see again, for the Vigilance Committee are after pee tl and heavy, and ’Il elevate him as soon as they get him. Besides, he cares nothing for you. When he was in McGuffin’s he was accompanied by a woman dressed in male attire, who cailed herself Rowdy Kate, an’ I reckon he was on purty good terms with her.” “Bah! I do not believe it!” ** Well, I do not know whether you door not. But anyhow you must tell me which man is the father of this child. If you do not, we are henceforth strangers.” “So may it be, then. Until I see fit I shall disclose nothing te any one.” “You are silly and stubborn!” “Tam not. You never thought well of me until you found I was worth money from hav- ing in my possession one of the children, I know all you care for me is to make some ar- rangements whereby you can get on of the reward money and I will have nothing to do with you. Go back to your Jew shop and try, ¥ vee sat aig bine “Yes, Ij 0, you may, me in soon in a way that will not Sie 760. ‘Adieu, Lady Honesty !” Then, with a bitter laugh, he turned and left the cavern. Monk gazed after him with flashing e C8. WN Oh! you contemptible coward, how I despise you!” she cried. ‘“‘ You thought to make your cousin your dupe and tool, but, no matter who is the parent of yonder sleeping. child, you shall not have the sfaction of earning the reward, sa ner any one else while I can help it. There are a few things I must learn before I yield my charge to any one, and, first of all—is William Blake .true to a certain promise he made me some years ago?” Moses Monk went at once back to McGuffin’s. He was literally boiling with rage over his defeat, and th» soliloquized exclamations he made while en route were more forcible than el nt. e arrived at the mining-camp early the next forenoon and opened up his ‘shop,’ and while he attended to current business his mind was by no means idle, When the duties of the da went at once to the hotel, an Lord Clifford, A maid answered his knock, and’ informed him that Lord Clifford was not in, As she did not invite. him to enter and await his return he went back to the ‘shop,’ and, throwing himself on a bunk behind the counter, was soon in the arms of Morpheus. For hours he slept. soundly, but was finally were over he to the room of awakened by some one slapping him, smartly upon the cheek. Bg his eyes he beheld two men standing him, both of whom. wore long beards, evidently false, and masks beforé their eyes._ True to a natural crafty instinct born in him, Moses Monk next turned his eyes upon their clothing and made a discovery. Move he could not, because his hands and feet_were securely bound with cords. Vel, vot you vant?’ he demanded, surveying them with unflinching gaze. “ Vot you mean py all dis foolishness mit me?” ‘‘ Waal, neow, I reckon we’re hyar tew see ye on business, an’ thort we couldn’t find ye enn more at liberty than sum sech a time as this!” one of the men drawled out in an unnat voice, * Oh! shut, oop”” Moses retorted. ‘Off you t’ink I vas a fool? 1 know you both, und id ain’d no use for you to dry on any monkey busi- ness mit your voices.” . The two intruders exchanged glances, and ut- tered a grunt each of disapproval. ‘* Well, it don’t make any difference if you do or if you don’t,” was the answer. ‘ We’re here on business, and have accomplished a part of it—that of securing some of your lus cash, The remainder of the business is. this: You know where Mary Monk is hiding with the lost child. Tell us where to find her or we will kill you ere we leave this a “ But dot would be murder, und you don’d vas dare gommit murder!” Moses protested, greatly alarmed, “Oh, we don’t, eh? . Do we look as if we are men to falter at the execution of any crime that would further our ends?” . “Vell, no; but id von’t for you to kill me, pecause you got hang en.” ‘“Oh, no fear about that. There’s been more than one mygterious crime_at McGuffin’s that no one ever got banged for, and you can rest assured you’ve not got enough friends to con- cern themselves about your demise. i we are not known to be here. We mean busi- ness from the word, and so the quicker you tell us what we want to know, the quicker you ain’t a dead man,” ‘*T don’d vas know vei? Mary Monk is at all!” “You lie! It is kno\m you left the town night before last, and the ‘e, of course, is where you went. Itis useless t deny anything. Pu count one, two, three—thi », if you don’t pro- ceed tw unload, in a pret y lively manner, I'll blow your brains out, quici er than you can say scat! One—two—three—” ‘Hold on! I peg! I tell you! You follow up der drail up der river shore a number of miles, till you come to a plateau—den you climb up a steeb bony till you find von plack hole mit der rocks. Dot vas der entrance to von cave, und in dis cave you vil find Mary Monk.” ** And the child?” ** And the child.” “Very Now, then, you will do us a favor by telling us whether that is Bill Blake’s child or Lord Clifford’s?” ‘** That I don’d vas can do,” “Why not?” ** Because I don’d vas know, mineself. I vent last night on purpose vor to find oud, but Mary vouldn’t tell me. Ifshe had, I should haff got der reward from Lord Clifford, to-day.” ““Then it is a good thing we nailed you, to- night. ‘You are too dangerous a customer to be at large, and must die. So say your prayers!” ‘Dick Drew! Darcy Drew! You dare not kill me!” ' “We shall see!” one of the masked men hissed, and his upraised hand came down swiftly. Moses Monk uttered a groan—there was a gur ling noise in his throat. : me,” one of them whispered, after all |. was silent. ‘You were foolish ,to kill him, father.” ; “Bah!” the other replied. ‘ He’d ’a’ been too dangerous. As it is, now, the girl is in our power, and we must get ber, as soon as prac- ticable.” The two criminals speedily left the satey by the rear, and hurried away through the dark ness, for the late moon had not yet risen. They had not gone far, when two. figures. ap- Bdten around the corner of the shanty, and penees near “ rear meg dni cy y were person the figures 0 wdy Kate, and the dandy Celestial, Chin-Chin. ‘Sh!” the former said, in a whisper.. They.- *ve gone, and that ain’t ail. They’ve killed the Jew, .. You heard him groan, didn’t u2”” ; ‘“* Chin-Chin hearee, allee samee likee Melican | girl. Blood muchee git cold!” -.‘*Humph! you’re a phickep. Nevertheless, all thet I keer is so ye heerd, e heerd, too, what ther Jew called ther galoots!” ** Of course—Chin-Chin velly sharp ears.” ‘Well, then, listen. We'll keep this matter quiet for the present, Mind—not a word of it, Melican girl slay., If Melican girl gittee any money, fhe ives A as if she was his wifee!” “Oh, you bet!” Kate said, with a laugh, The next. morning the news of the murder of Moses Monk became known, and created more of a sensation than such a.crime usually would make in the mining-camp. A coroner’s jury was at once impanneled, and brought. in a verdict that he had been murdered with a.sharp knife, by some person or persons unknown, and for reasons nown, A search was afterward made of his office anid it was discovered that all his money had been stolen, as well as a quantity of gold and diamonds he was known to % Then some one mentioned that it looked very probable that, being as the money was gone, Apollo Bill the road-agent was the author of the crime. A dozen stood ready, of course, to grasp at this theory, and in a short time it had become an. established fact that Apollo Bill had, in reality, committed the crime. That night, a queer looking specimen of hu- manity, mounted upon a queer looking speci- men of a donkey, rode leisurely into the town, from out of the mountain-gulch route. CHAPTER X, ‘ZEKIEL STROP TO THE FRONT. To begin with. his wardrobe was of the most dilapidated varity. His pants, coat and shirt were ragged and patched to such an extent that there was scarcely a semblance of the original cloth of the garments to be seen, and the colors of the patches embraced all the various hues of the rainbow. His feet were incased in brogans of large size and the battered wreck of a once stylish plug hat which was plugged full of bullet-holes, was set. upon the back part of his head. In face he was a decidedly peculiar-looking person, 35 3 pe of his physiognomy bemg covered with rd of a brick-red hue, matted and irregular in length, and his hair was of the same color and condition. The mule he bestrode was one of the scrawn- iest of its race. And this individual drew rein in front of Madame Moree’s dance-house, from which strains of music were issuing, and gazed around him, in apparent wonderment, as if it were next to impossible to credit the sense of his hearing. ‘ ° ‘““Waal, now, gol darn my knittin’!” he ex- claimed, slapping his fiery much-tained steed upon the side. “I swow tew gracious ef thet ’ar ain’t the fust. fiddle I’ve hearn sence I left Podunk, N. H. I say, hellow, thar, fellers, be thet aire a fiddle I heer?’ “You bet. yer boots, Yank!” one of the out- side loungers replied, to. whom the stranger had <ddsessed his inquiry. ‘‘ This is a dance-house. Won’t ye come in?” “Waal, neow, I don’t keer ef I do, fer dancin’ aire one 0’ my side-holts, I tell ye. I swow to racious ef I ain’t bin to more corn-shuckin’ log up around Podunk, than ye kin shake a stick at, an’ the gals uster say I was some un’kins on the Fisherman’s Hornpipe an’ oney Musk, an’ sech dances.” And with. this. remark, the stranger stepped out of his saddle, and stretched himself, to get rid of the kinks of his journey. “Spect how a feller can git some one tew dance with, ef he goes in thar, can’t he?” “Oh! yes, utidoubtedly,” Dick Drew said, he being one of the crowd. “The madame is a widow, an’ I'll bet she’ll freeze, to you like hot cakes to the griddle. Come from. the East, eh?’ _ Waal, now, you’re shoutin’, stranger, you aire! I’m from Podunk, N..H., I am, an’ my name’s Zeke Strop—old Obediah Strop’s son, ye see. Mebbe ye. know dad;.he owns a saw-mill, ye see one uster Jend me yaller ru’ ’em I hearn tell so much consarnin’ ther gold excitement out ip this country, thet, I told dad there warn’t no sorter use 0 tallin’—I wouldn’t never «skid anuther. log till ’d see’d a few o’ the sights *twixt hum an’ here. So I throw’d my leg over old Mazeppa, heer, an’ heer I am—dead broke. So ef any o’ you chaps want. to make a poor cuss barry, Tl take straight whisky, fer mine. “Why of course. Whisky is as free as water bere,” Dick Drew exclaimed, foreseeing some sport ahead. ‘‘ Walk right in, Mr. Strop, and have something at my expen se. sedan barrels do you hold, riend "Zekiel q” ell, I’m generally gaged at forty gallons. but I allow I eaten vi ten gallons,” Zeke lied with a grin, e then followed Dick Drew and_the others into the saloon, and Drew called forth the black awe gape the man from Podunk to help self, This Zeke proceeded to do, by unbl ly uring out a brimming glass, and downfmg it with a smack of satisfaction, “Well, now, gol darn my knittin’ ef thet ain’t like ile on troubled waters, tho’ et ain’t nowhar as good li’ker as we git up in Podunk.” “ Well, here comes madamé,” Drew said. ‘‘l’ll give you a good introduction, and no doubt she’ll invite. you to have a glass of cham e.” I'd like “ Phew! neow Sakis, grog of you. tew get acquainted, furst rate.” At this juncture, the music having ceased, the madame appeared behind the bar. ‘Madame Moree,” Drew .said, turning to Zeke, ‘‘ allow me tomake you acquainted with the Honorable Zeke | ee a ae of the City of Podunk, N. H. . Strop has come here for a. few days’ recreation, and I recom- mended him to your academy as the place for terpsichorean pleasures.” : In acknowledgment of which introduction Zeke bowed low, ~~
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—_-_ “T am happy to meet you, Mr. -Strop,” Madame Moree assured, sur him with a piercing glance. ‘* Will you have a glass of mec Sop sir? ‘Waal, neow, you bet; that is ef you stand treat,” Zeke promptly replied. ‘‘ I'd like furst rate todrink with you, ’ca’se how I’m darned ef yeain’t a reg’lar area | o’ Deacon Tubbs’s gal, y Jane, who I used to shine around, Sun- day nights, till the deacon booted me out, fer helpin’ myself tew some 9’ ther wine he used fer feedin’ the cbureh folks wi’—an’ he had a hull bar’! on it, tew. ’Spect how, maybe, ye may hearn tell o’ Mary Jane?” . ‘Well, no—not that I am aware of,” the madame answered, as she stepped into a closet, soon after reappearing with a bottle of cham. pagne, which the dwarf opened. ‘ Drink earty, Mr. Strop, and then we will adjourn to the ball-room.” , Zeke raised the glass with a gracious grin, and the sparkling beverage was gone in an in- stant from the glass. Just whether Zeke had swallowed it or not probably none could have sworn. The madame then showed Zeke into the ball- room, and introduced him to a number of livel girls, and the man from Podunk was soon off- m the midst of a hornpipe, making many gro- tesque figures that convulsed the spectators with laughter. But this was not long to be. He soon com- plained of sleepiness, and went and took a seat in one corner. In ten minutes, to all appearances, he was fast se Tue went on yet, for a couple of hours, when the people began to disperse to their homes. ‘ There was an expression of satisfaction on the madame’s face, as she this, and -her ea- gernes# seemed to increase until the last person was gone, including the barkeeper. Then she closed: the shutters, and locked her- self within the establishment, turning down the ig hts, except ii the ball-room, which had ‘no co When she had done this much she stole to- ward the anparently-unconuscious Yankee who =D) slactde We-chaip int anp-comter of the room! a3 the movements of a cat, were pose of as she softly approached Oe» Fo 4 Vee meee oe we eevee 11 “To the world, yes; You have heard the story that one child was killed and one carried off. The saved child, if living, Il have no doubt is Lord Clifford’s.” ‘“You do not know this?” ‘No, not for certain, and it is likely that the truth about the matter never will be known.” “I do not think so. There are ons in this town who claim to know where the servant girl and the child are concealed.” “That is merely bluff. The reward would have an effect, if there was any truth in it. But, I am talking too freely with a woman I utterly despise. Mabel Moree,.we are no longer aught to each other in this life; there are no ties whatever, so far as I am concerned, to draw us toward one another. It is possible that I may some day desire to marry again, and you, likewise.” ‘Never! I want no divorce, nor shall you ever marry any other woman!” madame cried. “1 will yet win you back, eventhough you re- sist with might and main!” ‘Not if I know it. You and Bill Blake have parted for good, Maude Moree, and so let it be. Above all, keep yourself aloof from having any- thing to do with the schemes of two doomed rascals, in this town, or you will bring down upon your head the same fate that shall soon overtake them. Remember!” The woman replied not.' Her face was white with on; sbe trembled in every limb. ‘‘T have said all that. is necessary at this in- terview!” Blake finally resumed, ‘and you will mec me by opening this rear door, looking well that you make no attempt to have me ar- rested.” “You need not fear,” the madame said, obeying his order. “‘ I do not now seek to have you arrested,as that would only Jose you to me. My object im life, henceforth, is to so get the best of you, that you will be only too glad to come back to me; an bumbled and obedient husband. You are at liberty to go!” A miser to the core, was Darcy Drew; he closely guarded his wren oe neeyreremy afea | night as well as by day. slept upon @ bed in his office, ab night im lose neextanser to ‘he did Within & yara or wun sne succeeding in get- ; uur rest Weli, OUT tossea uneasii upou his bed, And. the’ person whom: this transformation revealed, was none other than Bill Blake, whom we have seen once before, in the dance-House keeper’s presence, ‘“Ah!” Madame Moree: gasped, when he un- masked: “ ¥es—ah!” he retorted, sternly; “ You find I am still too aarp for you. My little sleight- ef-hand trick fixed your drugged champagne down the ontside of my throat, and no one was harmed. I presume we fully recognize each other, woman?” fh Very ble,” the madame replied, white with alarm at being discovered. ‘One is not on to forget a man of your standing. Oh! Bill! ily? ‘‘Humph! what do you mean? How dare you address me familiarly, you bad, wicked ‘woman !”. “IT am not! Ob! Bill, are we never to be anything to one another agent: “Never! Think you I could ever respect you? Years ago, I married you only to learn that your father and brothers were counter- feiters, and were using you even after you were my wife and the mother of my child, as an accomplice to their schemes—that you were robbing me of good money, and using meas @ medium for circulating their spurious stuff. regardless of the peril it to, on me into. I discovered your baseness, and gave vou an hour to get forever out of our home. Luckily for you, you were sensible enough to go.” “What else had I to do? But, since then, I have been a better woman, and I long to come back to you and your child.” ‘‘ Yes, I have just had an example of your goodness, to-night. It is a downright good woman who feeds. an innocent greenhorn with drugged champagne, Oh! I don’t doubt your ! Apollo Bill said, calmly, as he seated himself | Apollo Bill said. ee eee wrestling with dreams and visions of an un- pleasant nature, evidently. it was in the small hours when he was sud- denly startled from his sleep by a cough. He instantly sat up in , with an oath grasped a revolver from under his pillow, and cocked it. ¥ The room was only dimly lighted by a ray of moonlight which streamed in through the win- dow, but he was not long in discerning thé figure of a man, standing near the door which epened into the hall. ‘Ha! who the devil are you?” the) mine- owner cried, leveling his weapon. “‘ Speak quick, or [ll shoot!” No answer. The intruder, evidently; was not inclined to speak, Bete se. you, take that!” and Drew pulled the here was no rt! “Take what?” the man cried, rapidly advan- —— * Put up — tool, Darcy Drew, as you eall yourself, and keep mum, or it will be the worse for you, because your weapon is not loaded, and mine is!” ‘‘Curses on you!” gasped the s ator, shrinking back from the formidable: six-shooter thrust toward him by a stalwart fellow clad in top boots, slouch hat and scarlet suit, and whose face was hidden behind a mask. ‘Who aré vou, man?” ‘Who am I?’ was the grim reply—“‘ who am I? Need you ask, Darcy Drew, tas Ben Bog- hart, alias Owl-Eye, the border ruffian—need ou ask, when you hear my voice? I am your eadly foe—I am Apollo Bill the Trail Tornado, and I am Bill , the man-hunter. You are the man I’ve been hunting for years!” CHAPTER XI. APOLLO MAKES A LIFT. “Mercy!” Drew gasped, as he heard the words of the masked intruder. ‘“ What do you want here, Bill Blake?’ ‘**Not your life, this time, brute in the guise of man, although I have sworn to take it!” * Of course. however.” “ Bah! knows, I do not know what you mean, I know ayy perfectly well—God Do you think I could ever forget you, when it was you, vile wretch, who tired my home, killed and burned bg aid old mother, ° and tore the scalp from the head of one of my children? Curses ever rest upon Ben Boghart, until thé Twelfth then, look you out for m shall surely smite: you. child was it tell me, Ben hart!” “How should I know, when I]: never saw enough of the devilish young ’uns to tell them apart. You may rest assured if I knew which was which, I—” ‘*Ha! I anticipate you. If you knew, which was which, you would produce the remaining child and make some money out of it, No! no! you will never succeed in that game, my fine rascal. You'll find that Apollo Bill stands ready to balk you at. every turn. Tell me, where is Mary Monk and the living child, for T am satis- fied you know!” “T do not know, nor would I tell you, if I did. You thought Moses Monk knew, #vidently. when you killed him, but found out different, it ms. ou and yours, ay of June!— vengeance, for it ell me, man—which our fiendish cruelty murdered ?— “What! dare you accuse me of that crime, committed, ’ve no Goabt, by yourself? 1 say you do know the whereabouts of Mary Monk and the child, and I’ll give yen just.ten minutes to tell me! If you refuse, either you open your safe there, and hand me over your hoarded eash, or I'll blow your brains out, all over this room!” You will?” “T will. DP’ve sworn to kill you, anyhow, and a matter of a few days will not make any dif- ference, if you cannot come to time, my royal ascal | r * Kill me you dare not, and were you to kill me a thousan’ times, ye could never make me Gisclese the of the child, which; shall oto Se yeure., You hear me!” “T am not deaf—you hear me too!, If you don’t unlock and open that safe inside of five minutes, I'll put a chunk of Jead in you instanter, and ina Frere where you'll immediately feel the effects of it. Sogo ahead, without noise, Re- member the time—five minutes!” ; Drew gazed at the imperturbable individual confron him—then at his safe, He doubted not that Blake would do just as he had promised; he knew, of old, that it had ever been one of his characteristics to perform what he promised. Again, on the other hand, it would be and wormwood to give up the large sum of money in his safe. Which should he.do, out of two choices—give up the money, or dare the Trail Tornado to do his worst? There was not much time in which to decide— five minutes of time fly by rapidly to one hav- ing only that space of time to decide in. ce more he glanced at Apollo Bill, as he now rend arin and threatening—there was not an exp on of pity or relaxation upon his face—nothing there but hatred and undying resolution. **Come!” Blake spoke. a a single word it was, but it decided Darcy rew. Getting off the bed, he knelt before his safe and proceeded to unlock it. To aid him Apollo stepped beside him, and producing a dark-lan- tern, sprung the slide, thereby letting a bolt of bright light fall upon the safe door and Darcy iw. ’ The latter soon had the door unlocked and swung open, and the interior of the safe was re- vealed, “That looks business-like,” Apollo Bill said, dryly. “Now haul out everything, and count out your cash to me, so that I can see how much you have. Drew obeyed, He had gone so far—there was no use of his backing out now, So he pepctoten to count out his greenbacks and gold, until everything was included, and the result was: Seventy thousand dollars. strange coincidence!” “Now that I rememher it, “Humph! that is a
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12 Apollo Bill, the Trail Torna that is the sum you robbéd old uncle Jones of, down at Santa Fe, through misrepresentation in arascally business transaction—on your part. I got to Santa Fe shortly after. you left, heard ot your big swindle,*and told tho,old gent, who was in destitute circumstances, that if I ever ran across you, kd make you pony over every cent, and send it back tohim. And that is just ewhat 1 shall do with this money. Hand it to me!” Drew obeyed with an oath, ‘“Yowll regret this, curse you!” he gritted, savagely. ‘‘ You and I haven’t. squared accounts yet.” ‘Truly spoken!” Apollo Bill, retorted, with a chuckle, ‘‘and until I get. ready for. you, June 12th, take that!” And as he received the money with one hand, he dealt: the ex-boerder ruffian a blow between the eyes with the other, that laid him out, senseless, upon the floor. Then, with a laugh, Apollo Bill leaped through a window he had left, open on entering, and was gone! As a matter of course, the next mornm Darcy Drew had an interview with his ado son Dick, and the events of the preceding night were narrated. “We are ruined!” the elder Drew—as we shall ‘still continue to call him—said. ‘‘The money that I gave him was all that is really ours In the world, for you are aware that Moses Monk held a mortgage for Me cent my interest in the mines was worth. That mort- gage is long over-due, and the succeeding heir will likely foreclose it, which wl leave us nk rer Therefore, something must be one.” “The devil, yes. Where will all my good <lothes and spending-money come from?” Dick grpwied mista gre ‘To be sure, doubt if you’ve got enough gumption to earn your own salt, if it wasn’t for me,’ “Thank you. Wo shall see. By the way, who is the heir to peg aati Tt Ae “The girl Mary, no doubt. e failed to find any papers. The appointed executor, Mark Shelby, has likewise failed, and will hold the property a year before disposing of it.” “Well!” “We must no longer put off capturing the girl, and see what we can do with her. IfT am not mistaken, we can work ber so as not only to get possession of the kid—which means a reward of ten thousand dollars—but also the mortgages and other papérs of Moses Monk. So much to be done, and then we are once more on our feet again.” “* Indeed—if we succeed! That?s the thing to consider, @’vée been having so devilish much bad_ luck of late that it looks as if we were on the wrong groove.” “Pooh! a little bad luck, ought not to dis- courage ts. I mean to réaliza ont of the kid. Ten thousand dollars alone will give us quite a lift.” '“THow do you to reach .the place where Mary Monk and the child are living? ‘By boat.on the river, I would not go by the trail, lest they may have some one on guard to notify them of our approach.” “Very well. What will you do with them after ing them?” “Take them to the wooded island just a mile ao 4's here. It will be a eapital retreat for us About as, hot-headed an Englishman as ever’ existed‘was Lord Henry Clifford, He was, fathered by a stern and aristocratic old nobleman, who never forgave or forgot an injury. It was but natural then, that., Lord Henry, should inherit, some of his father’s wel ties, among which was the one of not forgetting or orgiving an injury. He considered that he had been doneva terrible wrong, and bis blood boiled for redress. When he had visited the deserted farm some maliciously-disposed, person had. hinted to him that Blake had an object, and a prime one too, in burning his home and having his famil massacred, as he had not long before had all their lives insured, from which he must, of course, have realized a handsome sum. Of course this was utter nonsense and. villain- ous meanness; but Lord Clifford. accepted it, as he saw no one else to deny the story while in that neighborhood. The man then whom he had aided and trusted was a wretch without parallel, The day that included the events last narrated, to y go b, Then, Rais So be A! pri gro he*made up his mind to break the monotony, by going into the mountains for a hunt. Lady Theresa entered the room, just as he was about to start. ‘*What! are you going out; my lord?” she | asked, in surprise. ‘* Yes, I’m off for a little hunt. Mayhap Tu bring you back a grizzly cub, for a poodle.” ‘* Mayhap, you will not return at all, my lord, for the road-agents are growing so bold, that everybody fears them.” ‘‘ Well} Iam not afraid. If, however, I should not return, why, I have left enough money in my bureau, here, to defray your expenses back to England.” ‘In that case, I suppose, the search for little Lady Maude would cease?” ‘ Very likely, yes, for you would not natur- ally care to interest yourself in a continuation of the search.” Lady Theresa colored—grew pale —then flushed, angrily: ‘* Thank you, Lord Clifford, As you say, it cannot avail me anything to hunt up an out- law’s child, and:make her lady of Clifford’s Cliff, when by right of entailment, ene treed comes me, after the death of sweet little Maudie whose sad fate occurred nearly two Then, rth floahing, inci h en, wi » in ant eyes, she swept from the room with regal. saben rs Lord: Clifford turned and after her with a prolonged whistle:of se. ‘Well; by Jove! That’s oo first time I ever saw an exhibition of my Lady Theresa’s temper,” he remarked; musingly. ‘‘ I’ve been studying her some, however, since coming here, and have noticed 7 eat panes carelessness on her part, as\to whether I ever succeed in finding Maude, or not. Something tells me some one has been talking to her—at any rate, she is right. If I die, now, she wins; but, I must. not. die! With his mind busied with ‘these, and similar thoughts, he left the hotel, and wandered, on foot, into the mountains, In the beginning he followed the route through the gulth; but finally struck off up a path among the wooded peaks and crags. For bours he rambled on, occasionally shéot- ing a bird or rabbit, until the sun’s position in the sky indicated that it was past noon. . . norte about _ turn. back, — caught sight.of a young bear upon a crag, a of him,and likewise far above. If-shot, it would fall.upon. the rocks not far infront of. him. ing his rifle he fired: Sure enough tke animal tumbled off the ledge, but, instead of rei upon the rocks, disap- appeal ew. nning ahead)a number of rods, Lord: Clif- ford came to ibedignals corr ravine, and:saw the bear lying at the bottom—half a hundred feet. below, at-least. sheer was.the descent at the point where he was standing, that he had to search for a place less steep, ere he could go down. He soon came to where a path descended through a ‘thicket; and, following its’ course, came out into. the gulch within sight of ‘the ar. : ’ To his astonishment, as he advanced he saw a man engaged. in skinning the beast—a man clad in elaborate buckskin and slouch hat, but whose back. was turned to Lord Clifford. - “Well, by Jove! that is cool! I wonder ifthe knows who killed that bear,” his 4 growled, his anger rising. ‘‘ I don’t usually kill game for others,to ap iate.” And, grasping his: rifle, he strode toward the bear, quickly. ; s he heard some one approaching, the man who was skinning the animal arose and faced about, Then he uttered an exclamation of sur- Be. Lord, Clifford duplicated it, and came to a standstill, “Bill Blake!” he ejaculated, his features wing stern in their expression. ‘* Yes, my Lord Clifford, I am Bill Blake, at our serviee!” that individual replied, ‘‘ better own hereabouts, tho’; as Apollo Bill!” CHAPTER XII. ROWDY KATE WINS AND LADY THERESA LOSES. ‘THE recognition was mutual, For several minutes neither spoke; but at last Lord Clifford found voice: ‘* William Blake,” he said, sternly‘ William Blake, at last we face each other—the very thing I have been praying for the many days past, since I discovered your treachery!” “Tam aware you sought to meet me, sir, and ” Apollo Bill returned. am sorry for it, do. ‘Why sorry—betause you hated to face me in all your guilt, William Blake?” “What? Of what. am I guilty? ‘Tell me that!” ‘*Guilty? Why, you accursed villain, have ou the face to ask me ‘that? Guilty of what? hy, of hiring a dozen ruffians to burn your cosey home, wherein perished pad aged mo- ther and either your or my little child—the child I intrusted to your safe keeping. Why, you are a monster!”, ‘¢Lord Clifford, you are an unmitigated liar!” ‘¢ Sir!’ and bis lordship’s hand sought the side pocket of his coat. ‘*T repeat it—you area liar, sir! You' have accused me of something no. other man ye oo of doing—the murder of my own family. - fore I deny sucha thing, pray tell me what ob- ject could I have in killing those I loved?” ‘*Money, sir road-agent—money, a greed for which has led you to the position you now occu- py. ‘You insured the lives of all your family against death, and it was not your fault that the other child was not consumed, so that you could draw the insurance on its: life!” ‘« And so you, a man of ordinary good sense and enlightenment, have the assurance to make a gross charge against me like this?” “T have. You are a wretch and a rascal, and shall answer to’ me for the betrayal of the trust I imposed in you.” * And you, sir, whom I once believed to be a gentleman, are a liar and a coward, whom I would be very glad to accommodate ' with satis- faction. If your tongue had not ru away with your wits, I could explain much since we have met. As it is, unless you apologize we are henceforth enemies!” ‘So be it, then. Far better to know a man of your stamp as an enemy than as a friend. As for apologizing toa man like you, or any man in fact, it is wholly out of the nen ane “Then I su we may. as well fight it out here as anywhere, I presume you know how to handle a revolver, eh ‘Probably! But I do not even intend te bandy words or fight a duel with you. Thereby kill you with less torture than you killed my child!” And. even while be there was a pistol report, though Lord Clifford did not: take his pistol from his pocket, and Apollo Bill felt te the ground, A faint streak of blood upcn bis forehead teld where the bullet bad glanced against. the and produced instant insensibility—for Apolk Bill did not stir after he fell. “Ha! I thought the much-lauded ‘scoundrel would some day find a man who would be tee much for him!” Lord: Clifford muttered, step- ping ‘nearer to the prostrate victim of bis chery. ‘He’s paid the penalty of his crimes sooner than he had any though’ of, curse him!” But a quiver in the muscles of Apollo Bills van instant later, undéceived him. ‘No, he is not dead. The bullet'did net kit it only stunned him, But that mattérs not, 4 have a bitter wrong to’avenge, and have swora to avenge it, and there is no time like the ent in which’ to do it, William Blake, if ene shot wil) not kill you, another will!” And with’ these: words the vindictive mas drew a intone eed coon muzzle of 4 against. the temple o llo Bill;:‘but before could pull trigger he fochivad a blow on the head’with a club that felled him to the He was not deprived of his senses, however, and. immediately struggled to his feet, to be conerontes by no less a personage than Rowdy te ! ** Hello! didn’t expect me, did you?” she eried, her eyes flashing. ‘‘ Well! well! Lord Clifferd! Lam truly ashamed of you—you,. who claimed to be the descendant of a noble English family, a@ man of honor!” ** Well, is it any of your’ business what I am or what I am/not?” Chfford demanded, flusbing angrily. ‘‘ What right have you to interfere in any of my actions, girl?” “The right of one human to protect another human from the bite of a snake!” was the re- tort. ‘Not satisfied with having nearly killed this man, who never did you any wrong, you sought to finish your cowardly crime before he should awaken to take his own part. Why, euss my boots! d’ye know what I’ve a mind to do?” and she whipped a revolver from her belt and cocked it. “T can surmise, but I know you wen’t do that, Inso doing you would be wronging your friend here, who I know would prefer to settle with me personally. ” , “Well, et’s lucky so. I know he’ll make it
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hot fer you, or else I’d make your heart stop beatin’ right here. An’ now I'll give you just about ten seconds to turn your pedals and scoot! D’ye hear?” ** As you have the advanta to the inevitable,” Clifford said. for me—we shall meet again!” ° He turned away, and te watched him un- til he was out of sight, then followed him until she came in sight of him again, and saw that he was still traveling away toward McGuffin’s. Satisfied that he had no purpose of returning she returned to where Apollo Bill still lay un- conscious. Searching about, she soon found water, and filling ‘the cup at her belt she went back and bathed the road-agent’s forehead and poured some water between his lips. Then, by rubbing and chafing his hands, she soon had him restored to consciousness, and he sut up and gazed about him, for the moment be- wildered, “ Ah! I see!” he exclaimed, feeling of his forehead. ‘‘The treacherous devil came near doing for me. Where is he? How canie you here, Rowdy Kate?” \ “Oh! I happened along, just in time to baffle him!” Kate grimned; then she p to ex- plain, Blake’ the while listenipg attentively, his handsome face growing sterner and his eyes gleaming, — **And he did that, eh?’ he demanded, when Kate was through, ‘* Youbet! an’ I only let him off alive when he 9 ee that maybe you'd" prefer vo settle with him yourself. Oh!-by blazes; you’ bet I’d . paralyzed his heart-strings ef it‘hadn’t bin for that. “You are a good girl, Kate, and I respect you for your bravery. Moreover, 1 owe a great deal'to you for saving my life!” “No ye don’t—not a cent, nor I ain’t’ the tenth part of a girl, an’'you bet omit. ‘All thar was.of it he was goin’’to play the knave when I stepped. in with the ace of clubs an turned a trump!” ‘““And wons Well, I shall always be grateful to you. You’ are alone in the world, Kate there must be a history connected with your life. Will You tell it to me” ‘* Mebbe, some time. But not now. I must get back to McGuffin’s to-night, where some- thing may occur in'which Lam interested. So, if you feelsrecovered, [will leave you.” “Oh! yee: I'm all right, now, If you must go, good-by, and ry joe for further acquaintance in the near future, if so be you are willing.” , | must submit ‘But look out After Lord Clifford’s departure Lady Theresa went out, ostensibly for a stroll about the COmDD but, in reality, in hopes of seeing Dick rew. -° Somehow of late she had been very nervous and ill at ease—by no means in the humor that had swayed’ her On coming to McQGuffin’s. The seeds planted in her mind by the oily tongue of Dick Dea had taken root, in spite of her heart struggles todo what was right. Had he not told the truth, she argued? If little Lady Maude was found she would, of course, be, Lord Clifford's sole heir to an estate worth one hundred thousand pounds at the least. What, then, would be her — Lady Theresa’s—fate? . Probably she would not be actually ousted from Castle Clifford, but she would not, natu- rally, have the same liberties,’ nor the same moneys, nor the same attention that she had so long enjoyed. There would be no more London season, In all probability, and many less admir- ers, when it came to be known that she was a dowerless catch instead of a golden one. The thought was gall and wormwood to her, the more she considered it, and all interest she had at first had in Lady Maude’s nocOvany gradually died out, and in its place grew the hope that she would never be found. * Dick Drew told me he knew where the child was—that my hand, in marrivge, to him, meant the reign of a life-time for me, at Clifford’s Cliff. If he speaks truly, why should I not ac- cept him? He is nota -looking person, and seems to have both the education and the man- ners of a gentleman. If I. could marry, and tolerate him, until I could find out the where- abouts of the child, and—and—well, dispose of her, then, I could perhaps, manage to get rid of my husband, and choose again, from rank and nobility. It isa desperate Lig tp do—I shall have cut pane 6 roan mnels and support—the uestion is " That was the question she had been agitating for several days. Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. She walked about for some time, finally going down to the river bank, where she met Dic Drew, who was lounging there. He arose, re- spectfully, as’ he saw her approach, and stood gazing at her, curiously. a -afternoon r. Drew,” she greeted him, bowing. ‘‘ Were you fishing?’ **Oh! no; I was merely tare away time, by watching the water. suppose you have come down to sail for Africa have you not?” Sbe flushed, and then turned her vexation into a laugh. “‘T appreciate your taunt, sir; I perhaps de- serveit, Do you know-that I have been seek- ihg for you?” ‘No, I was not aware of it.” ** Well I have, and what do you think I am going to propose t6 you?” ** Well—I—I really can’t say, That Igo and commit suicide?’ I have been con- iu rack od far acai that. “ . ering the on you made me, the other night, and Te ade up my mind to give you my hand in marriage!’ ‘*Oh! you have?’ “Yes, on conditions that you can prove to me that you know the whereabouts of Lord Clifford’s child.” * But, that I cannot do, without going miles and miles from here, and taking you with me, Therefore, all I have to offer you is my word of honor. To-morrow, unless before. that time I make other arrangements, [ shall-start to fetch the child, and receive from its «father, the sum of twenty thousand dollars.” ‘* From Lord 'Otifford?’ and Lady Theresa suddenly paled. ‘Ofcourse. We came toa bargain, this morn- ing.. You know) twenty thousand dollarsiis a snug little sum of money?” * Bab! It is’ but atrifle. You said if you did not make previous arrangements. Does’ that mean you are. ready to marry me, and keep the child forever in Seclusion?” “It does. I am ready to carry out to the letter, the plan I first proposed to you.” | Then, come. Let us at once go before a magistrate, and be married, with the under- standing that ‘I ani your wife and ‘you are to support me, until by the demise of Lord Clif- ford, we come into possession_of his wealth.” ‘Certainly. There is an ordained minister, werking in one of our mines, Who will tie the knot in shape, and after we are married, we can laugh at his lordship. It will be like docing a link in the gulden chain of fortune, to im ; Dick Drew then took her to his father’s house where he left her, while he went to: make all necessary preparations, In a” short time he returned witha rough- looking miner, who, equipped with a book, read to them the Episcopal aig service, and in- side of five minutes, Dick Drew and Lady Theresa Tremaine were man and wife! And, within an hour after that, nearly every- one in MeG@uffin’s knew of it! CHAPTER XIII. A DOUBLE GAME OF VILLAINY. Lorp Curmrorp heard of it, on his return to Me- Guffin’s and swelling with rage, he went at onee to the Drew mansion. Darcy Drew, himself, answered the summons. “Is my niece here, in your house?” Lord Clifford demanded, savagely. . * Not that Iam aware of, sir. elder Drew asked, with a yawn, “T am Lord Henry fford, and I hear reports that my niece has married your foster-son. I want to know if it is true!” “Quite true, sir. They are married, and gone. I know no more about it, sir!” and with this by-no- means-comforting assurance, he slammed the door in Lerd Clifford’s face, leaving that individual in a turmoil of passion and uncertainty. And that. was all he could learn, No one knew whether Ditk Drew and his bride had left’ town, or not. Some thought they had sloped, while others ‘‘ poohed”’ at the idea. ord Clifford went to his hotel, and deliberated. “Tet them go!’ he muttered. ‘For the sake of future inheritance, she has allied herself with a ras- cal, who claims to know where my child is, If he - Mo eal ane — is, it is their urpose er put her out o 6 way, or kee per for life in obscurity. t, we shall ae. I hear get possession of her, ret, in spite of them, and then we anal see who will triumph!” Later, that evening, he received a call from Mad: Moree. She was elegantly attired, and looked really attractive. “T have just heard the news of the fair Lady. Theresa's great mistake, and want ko fell Woe. bow e - d much I sympathize with | ou,” she said, as ed her a chair. he : Who are you?” the beached, This 13 “Then, you think she has made a mistake, eh?” Lord Clifford asked, regarding her curiously, “Oh! certainly, my lord. It was a great mmesal- liance, Foung. rew is a fellow with no heart, feel- ing or principle, and no one likes him. He simply married your niece, hoping, should not your child be found, that he would realize handsomely from your wealth.” ‘*So Iam aware. of child?’ but he may have, Do you think he has possession within twenty-four to come certain place and take care of it,"’ ‘Ah! then there must be a aeart, 7 his asser- tion that be knew her whereabouts. dame, could you be induced to tell me the place they wanted you to fo to? “"No,”’ was the reply. * IT could not do that,” “Then can you, still better, accept of the position pw offered you, and get. possession of the child, an surrender it tome? It will pay you well to do 80 ” “*T will consider your proposition, Lord Clifford, and hg you an answer at an early date, I will now bid you good-evening!”" And she arose, and took her leave, ‘‘ Methinks I foresee a little scheme cropping out originated in the fertile brain of the madame. If she gets the child in her possession, she is the very woman to aspire to lofty position as a reward for yielding up her prize. Oh! God, why am I thus ersecuted and plotted against, when I only seek my ost darling?" That night when darkness reigned supreme, ow- ing to the fact that the heavens were overcast with the clouds of an, im storm, the Drews, younger and elder, ntly left their house, and made their way Comoualy 50 the water's edge, hts burning in the shanties, ‘There were but few it peng, after ten o'coak and the two night-hawks little trouble in avo: being seen. t the water's edge a ekitt or small boat was Drew taking the oa Dewded fel Saehenete ~ rew ® Oars t up-stream. “ We'll get a drenchin’, I'l bet!” Dick. growled, keeping mself well enveloped ina rubber coat. “Tt's Linge ag be a blamed rough night.” ** Just, the hing for our business,” the elder Dréw ted, .with satisfaction, ‘‘Allus select a night like this, for nefarious business, if you wish to succeed. The louder the din the greater surety of success.” And the thunder was.not lacking: It soon came in deep detonating tones, one clap. following an- other until there seemed to be one constant pound- ing, jarring cannonade of sound, he lightning flashed and flitted in vivid nig“Bage. now and then paring plain to view the little ski with its two occupants. Rain soon. came down, in torrents, whereupon the thunder and lightning grew less frequent, While Darcy Drew manipulated the oars, Dick took advantage of the flashes to sean the shore for the widening of the trail, and the cave entrance in gBe mountain side, of which Moses Monk had spoken. At last he discovered it, and directed his father to pull in to shore. “The next thing is, how are we going to work this little game?’ Dick said. ‘It will be dangerous to enter the cave boldly, as she may be on the watch and lay for us!’ “‘T have thought of all that, and planned accord- ingly,’’ the elder Drew: exclaimed. ‘‘ We will land, and climb to the ledge, in front of the cave, Here we will have an argument, the drift of which will be that Bill Blake sent us for Mary Monk and the girl, and that you are afraid, and so forth, She will no doubt overhear us. and listen, and on finding we come from Blake, will be ready to go to him.” “How know you this?” J “Easy enough. She used to be in love with Blake, and he was kind to her, and you can bet she would be glad to get back to him,” “‘ITcomprehend, For ideal scheming you are un- su !” Dick said, f They pulled in to the shore, and fastened their boat; then they the ascent of the mountain, It was no ney Bey , and considerable time Was oc- panied in reaching the ledge. ere the two villains became seated and lit their pipes. RY tell ye, I don’t like the job," Dick Drew growl- ed, in aloud tone, “ Ef the captain wanted the ga® why the blazes didn't he come fer her himself? Furst ye know, she'll pop us over,” “Pooh! what ye skeered at? Cap knows his biz, you bet! Didn't he say as. how et would be all right? Well, I opine he did, that. He sed-as how the gal, Mary Monk, used ter be in his employ, when he was known as Bill Blake, and that.as he ‘an’ her war good friends, he felt certain she would want. ter see him, now. ‘Yas; 1 kno"he did, but the gal not knowin’ this, is likely ter take us fer enemies, instead o’ friends, an’ give us an ounce or two o’ cold lead, instead 0’ a Git out! Shel be tickled nigh to death “Git ou 6 c nigh to death, when she finds out Blake sent fer her.” 7 ' Ui mebbe. How did he find out she war “Dunno, ‘cept that he found et th rey pm et out down at the **You think he’s struck on the eh?’ ‘““*Pears to me so. He's allus ae about her.’* Then there was a pause, during which the two
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14 villains puffed away at their pipes vigorously, while Mary Monk was standing just behind them, in the cave entrance, with pale, frightened face, scarcely breathing lest they should hear her. A cocked re- volver was in her hand. What did all this mean? Could she credit her hearing? Had Bill Blake, as these two roughs stated, sent for her? Her heart thrilled at the mere thought. She was armed; practice had made her a good shot. Why, then, should she not make her presence one and talk with these envoys of the man she oved? “Gentlemen!"’ she said, holding her weapon in readiness. : The two Drews wheeled in great apparent’ sur- prise. Me nn a —— Kae fire!’ the older exclaimed. “We're not enemies, as you may suppose, friends, and we're just consulting as to the best way of apprising you of the fact without endanger- ing ourselves.” “T overheard your conversation. Who are you?” “Waal, mum, we’re what aire commonly known as need ones, Ot we belong to Apollo Bill’s gang. My name is Serious Sam, ar’ my pard’s handle, hyar, is Californy Chet.” “ Bactly, and, judgjng by or conversation, you were sent here to capture me?" “No, mum—not to capture you, but ter fetch ye back to eur captain's camp, et you were willin’ to * Am I to understand that your captain sent for e "7 “Yes, mum.” ** And your captain's name is Williana Blake, is it?” “Yes, mui.’ ‘*How did Blake find eut that I was here?’’ cam hen sinNer and after givin’ us directions how te find place, m * Waal, I dunno as fm right to tell, but seein’ as you an’ the ea no is any harm n’ you. sient, below MoGutfin’s 0’ lookin' fer us." Mary was silent several moments, in deep medita- tion. “T believe I will go with you,”’ she said, fimally, “‘for I desire very much to see your . You will please’ wait until I am ready.” With this, she re-entered the cavern, and the two plotters were.left to themselves. Im the course of half an heur she reappeared, car ‘a child in her arms. is on, and I will follow,” she said. They yed without demur. It mped raining, and the clouds everhead yee gradually breaking away, but it was still very ar! while he up his ae at the prow, and his foster-father in held thé ears, The frail craft was soon bara swiftly along with the current, like a thing of life. Not a word was SPO en by the two villains, as be 4 rode along: while pleasant thoughts came te faithful Mary Monk, as she looked forward to a meeting with Bill Blake. MeGuffin’s was passed, and, half an hour later, the = ot ia upon the sandy beach of a small wooded is . ‘‘Here we are!’' Dick Drew announced, leapin out, folowing by his father; “allow me to assis you out, and I'll blow the signal for the captain to come and meet you, Miss Monk.” ey allowed him to lift her out, but it was a fatal action. His arms clutched about her, and while he thus held her, despite her struggles, the elder Drew se- curely bound her, hand and foot, thrust a gag into her mouth, and blindfolded her. He then took her from ‘Dick's arms, and carried her into the depth of th€ woods, Dick following with the screaming child, They soon came to a log cabin, which they en- tered, to find themselves In a rudely-furnished apart- ment, where a fire was burning, and light was fur- nished by a torch, Madame Moree sat by the fire, but arose, as they entered. “We've caught the bird, and yout are her jailer!” Drew, Sr., id, as he thrust ry into an inner rom, and locked the door. “The kid you can keep here. ‘We shall be here, again, in a couple of days, to perfect our arran ents. Itis perfectly under- stood between us?—yo? are staying here, as jaileress, at a salary of a hundred a week!’ ‘* Exactly!” madame assented. ‘Then, we must be off, and back to;camp, ere it is daylight. Look well to your charges!” Madame Moree was good for her word, as long as that night lasted, but that was all. The next morn- ing, she left the nd in a boat, and took the child with her. The child was dru; into a sound sleep, however, and knew nothing of its perils. About an hour after her departure, a boat was beached upon the island, and Darcy Drew and Dick stepped therefrom, and plunged into the forest. ot fifteen minutes afterward, another boat pone the island; and two more persons disem- rked. Things began to look decidedly as if they were posse down toa crisis—at least; for Darcy Drew and his pted sou! ‘Kate cried. Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado. CHAPTER XIV. CONCLUSION.’ Tue latter boat had landed several rods further down the beach, in a little. inlet, and consequently out of sight of the first boat. The occupants. were Rowdy Kate, and the Trail Tornado, Apollo Bill. * T hope you are right, but I fear that this is a wild oose chase!’’ the -agent. said, as they disem- rked. ‘tI don’t believe Mary Monk and the child are on this island.” ‘** Mebbe ehey ain’t, but I see’d the two Drews a- comin’ from this direction, and I opine et looked somet: like it, to me!” “Well, Lhope you are right, The next thing is, to make the search, and find out, which ought not to take long, on so small anisland. First, let us look well to our | eg An examin age, proves. that they were in condi- ond then Apollo took the lead, and they entered the forest. Sra 1 though the island, more than an hour was nt in search, ere they came to the old log cabin, the door of w was ores Na : ‘“‘Hal didn’t I tell you?" Rowdy Kate exclaimed. “That's the place where Mary, Monk is to be found, and I'll bet money on it. Come! let’s go and see.”’ “Hold! do not be too fast!” A “You may rush into a lion's jaws first you know. Let’s pause here in ambush a few moments, listen |!"* Which they did, but could see no sigu of life about the premises, - Monk has been here she has probably been removed befere this,’’ Apelle Bill said gloemily. ** Ah! hark!” Pet sounds of Pitif f so of some person came from in the direction of the cabin. “By blazes! some one’s hurt, an’ that’s certain!” ‘Come! let’s make me mere benes ef it, but make a rush!” : Accordingly they dashed ferward, and inte the cabin thr the opem door. But they paused near the thresheld—paused aghast at what met their gaze. Upon the floor in front of them, bound hand and foot, and gagged, lay Mary Monk, her face disterted with the pain of acute b Her back had been bared, and was one intricate mass of bleeding cuts, evidently inflicted by a bull- i+ which lay Bear at hand. er face was alse bruised and discelered in and several bleeding weunds had been infli her head with some sh instrument. me Mary—! am Bill—Bill Blake.» member?” The sound of his voice seemed to arouse her, and she opened her eyes and up into his face. “Ts it you, Master Bill? Oh! thank God!” she murmured, gazing at him wistfully. “I haye so long wished fo see you, Bill—I—I have spent all these years faithful te you, Bill, knowing we should meet, Pe od bless you, Mary.) ,Lalwaya ik - ou, always knew you were a , true 4 But you are hurt, Mary—you have nm cru abused! Tell me, who is the wretch who did this devilish brutality?’ A shudder through her frame before she answered. “Yes, I have been killed—I have been maltreated untill amdying. Oh, Bill! it was awful, but itis all over now. They captured me and brought me here last night, and placed me in charge of a woman who told me her name was ame Moree, and that she was going to take the child to Lord Clifford. morning she left, and not long afterward Ben Bog- hart and another rufflan came. They found the child gone, and were furious. They swore if I did not tell them whose child it was they would beat me to. death. Of course I refused, and they treated me so brutally that fainted. Believing me dead they hu off,'a short time before you came.” “Then, Mary, my brave girl, hear me swear here, and before High eaven, that your wrongs shall be ave !” Apollo Bill cried, sternly. ‘‘My whole “ Bill—thank —it is yours! Thechild bas been aah as and knows her own name, Nelly ‘ake |” Then she sunk back, exhausted. With tears rolling down his cheeks, Apollo Bill kissed her once more; then calling Rowdy Kate aside, he add a few words to her in a Iw tone, after which he took his departure. Madame Moree went straight from the island to McGuffin’s and to the room of Lord Clifford, but she did not take the child with her, His lordshi was e in reading, but he arose and greet her pleasantly: “Well, I lagi you have come to bring me news?’ he said. “Yes, I have,” she replied. “I took your udvice and went into the employ of Dick Drew and his fos- ter-father, and as a result I have obtained possession of your ehild.” : “Very well; so far, s0 good, Now, then, how do you know it is my child?” “Very well. The Brews made Mary- Monk con- fess the truth, and she gtated that it was Lord Clif- ford’s child she had taken with her, on the night of the fire at the farm-house.” ‘“Madame Moree, are you lying tome?” ‘Loud Clifford, I am not.” “Then, why’ do you not preduce the child, at once?”’ : The madame smiled. . “You must remember, my ord, that there is a consideration to be agreed upon. 1 am a woman. of the world, who have to earn my living by my wits. Consequently, I cannot undertake dangerous jobs, without proper reward,” ‘Ah! of course. But; look you;—a woman of your stamp cannot afford, either, to play the de- spoiler—l am perfectly willing.to pay you a fair compensation, but of course, you could not reason- ably expect me to pay you the rewards I have of- pated as they were merely baits to gain inferma- tion,” ©" money, Lord Clifford, and a ‘shall know it, As it ef course, important you that re it, as your heir and suecessor. lam not a woman, but, as I teld you, to make , 8 . .On comin{ inte pesvension of your Lr peasy her with y poison* ace of safe is drug has but ene antidote, and I doubt if a phy- sician in America understands it. If te sleep two hours from now, she will be dead. You will therefere readily perceive that I have the des- tiny of your heir, all in my own hands!” 7 God! Heaven help her!” Lerd @lifford power te her ainonte iacenoneanne ours. “Woman! devil! go en and mame yeur price!” Lord Clifford groaned, “Twilldoso. My don is yeur hand im marriage within half an hour ‘Great Heaven! are you mad?” *‘ Not in the least. will go, and b the child here, and a minister. When I am joined to you in wedleck the child shali have the antidote. You can have a few minutes te consider; in the mean time, I will bring the child!” And, witha oe she swept frem the room. deovitig the nob ing the , with a have to drown It is my only chance!”’ Madame went down-stairs to the hetel office. ‘There is a miner here who is an ordained minis- ter, is there not— working in a mine or somewhere?" she asked of the clerk at the bar. “Yes'm; ‘spect John Doe does thet kind o’ busi- ness, but ye cant git him off durin’ workin’ hours. *Spect we can fix ye, tho,’ fer yonder’s a new arrival sittin’ over thar who registers as the Reverend Simeon Shaver. Better go tackle him.” Madame Sneed at the individual indicated a mo- ment, sharply—then walked over to him. He was a good-sized man, respectably dressed, and wore a plug hat. His face was nearly covered with gray beard, while his bushy hair was of the same . His eyes were 4 screened by a pair of blue glasses, and altogether he had a clerical spacedence. “Exeuse me,’’ madame said, “ but I was told that you are an ordained minister. Is that true?”’- ‘““Yes’m!? was the reply, in a squeaky voice— Hate til inher bap ‘“‘Then, pre , on m cat. am you will be well paid.” \ Then the esaene ne eke n twent utes she returned, carrying an ap- rently slee ing child, in her arms, and motioned . he minister bo ollow her up stairs, which he did. They both entered Lord Clifford's room, and ma- dame laid the child upon the bed; then turned to his lordship, and said: be “There is your child, my lord, and here ’’—hold- ing upasm al—‘‘ is the antidote that will save her life. See! I lay_it on the table, within my reach! me, and I will let you give the contents to your child, Refuse, and i smash the vial into atoms.” a ! I have made — mind to save my child's life, at all 4 lordship cried. . “Stand up here and 1 will marry you; then, if you do not restore that to consciousness, I'll murder you before you leave this room!” “T am willing so to do when we are man and
Page 15
Apollo wife,’’ the madame said, taking her position. ‘‘Go on, minister, and m us.” The minister took out his book and read overa marriage service, after which he asked the usual questions, and, later, pronounced Lord Clifford and tladame Moree man’ and wife. “Now, then!’’ his lordship cried, drawing a re- volyer, “give my child whatever will bring it back to life and sense!”’ Without a word the madame turned and poured the contents of the vial between the sleeping child’s lips, and then, waiting a few seconds, shook the little sleeper, who readily awakened. ‘*Ha! ha! a good trick to win a husband, but you have failed, woman!” a stern voice cried, that caused Clifford and the madame to wheel around in sur- prise. Ah! What transformation was this? The minister had thrown off his false. wig. and beard, and ae Bill, fierce and accusing, stood confronting t em, & revolver in either hand! “ Lord Clifford!” he cried, ‘you have been duped, and you have to thank me t you are not in real- a yonder viper’s husband. . She, sir, was. once my wife, and yonder, On that bed, sits the child she bore me, Your child, unfortunately, perished. The author of that heinous crime was the elder of the two so-called Drews, of this place, from whom yon woman stole my child. If you doubt my word, you have but to go ask Mary Monk, who lies at the point of death at Forbes's mm 2 It was she who escaped with my child. That is all I have to say, sir. I take my child and go. I warn both of you to make no attempt to hinder me, for if you do, I'll drop you in your tracks!"’ Then he quickly resumed his disguise, and taking little Nellie the hand, backed out of the room. Neither ‘ord nor madame attempted: to stop him; both had had sufficient knowledge of him, to assure them that it would not be best. The next day was one of tragic interest in the an- nals of McGuffin's ieee: . Early in the forenoon the bodies of Dick Drew and Lad eresa were found in the Drew m on, es m the posit ion in which they lay, it was judged m on in whic’ “ that Lady Theresa had first killed- her husband, and then killed herself. After attending to her burial, Lord Clifford left McGuffin’s, en route for his native country, a sadder but wiser man in the ways of the world. The same day the body of Darcy Drew was found just outside of town, suspended to the limb of a tree, and upon his breast was pinned: a paper, upon _ was written the following, in a bold, dashing and: ““Beware! Behold the fate of a human wretch, whose deeds brought upon him this retribution. His first crime may have been small, but thé older he grew the greater wretch he became, until it was ne- cess to elevate him to the limb of a tree, where he have pure air and protection from. wolves, Thus ends Ben Boghart. APoLLo Brin,” After that, little was heard of the bold road-agent around McGuffin’s, While Mary Monk lived, he was often at her bed- side, in disguise, but no more stage robberies were —_ ee sg his a 7a fame soon me a thing of the n that region. en Mary’ I Monk died, she willed Rowdy Kate what wealth she had inherited by her cousin’s death, and since then, Kate has become one of the Sore “‘catches"’ in the mining town upon the THE END, Calday Joura “The Model Family Paper —AND— Most Charming of the Weeklies.” A pure paper; good in every thing; bright, brilliant and attractive. Serials, Tales, Romances, Sketches, Adventures, Biographies, Pungent Essays, Poetry, Notes and Answers to Correspondents. 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Deadwood Dick, tHe Prince or THE Roap By Edward L. Wheeler. , ellowstone Jack. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr, Kansas King; ‘or, Tue Ren Ricur HAnp. By, Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain l'rederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe, THE Youre WanvERING JEW. By Oll Coomes.: Double Number, 10cts. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper. by £. 8. @lis. 7 The Flying Yankee; or, Tae Ocean Ovr- cas?. _ By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 8 Seth Jones. By Edward 8. Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen, 10 Nat Todd, By £. 5. Ellis. 11,.The Two Detectives, . By A:W. Aiken, 12}Gulliver’s “Kravels, By Dean Swift. 13 The Dumb Spy By Oll Coomes, 14 Aladdin; or, THe Wonverrut Lamp. - 15 The Sea-@at, By Captain Fred. Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe, (27 Illustrations.) 17 Ralph Roy, tue Boy Bucecanmrr; or, THe Fuaertrve Yaour. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 18 Sindbad the Sailer, His’ Seven Voyages. 19 The Phantom Spy, *By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers. By B. L. Wheeler. 21 The Frontier Angel. By Edward S. Bilis, 22 The Sea Serpeift; ‘or, Tae Boy Rosson Crusor. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o° the Night, By T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. 25 The nea * Captain. By Roger Starbuek. 26 Cloven Hoot, Tae, Burrato: Demon; or, THE Bokper Vourures. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, thx Boy Guipg. Oll Coomes 28 Buifalo Ben, THE Prince or tHE PISTOL; or, DeApwoop Dick mv Disguise. E..L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page. my CP, F. Whittaker. 30 eat tie Shy alph Ro Less RANGER. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Kuife, Prick or roe Prairies. By Oll Coomeés. 1 32 Bob Woolf, rsx Borper Rorrran; or, THE Girt Drap-Sxor, By Edward L. Wheeler, 7 ane Océan Bloodhound. 8. W. Pierce. egon Sol; or, Nick Wuirries’ Boy Spy Byes J.F. C, Adams. 35 Wild Ivan, vHE Boy Ciaupe DuvAu; or, Tae BROTHERHOOD or Datu. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown, By k §, Finn. 37 The Hidden Lodge. By T. 0. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, THe Boy Scour. By Texas, Jack. 39 Death-Face, bi Derective. By Wheeler. 4 Roving Ben. By J. J. Marshall, Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes. 42 The Phantom Miner, By KE. L. Wheeler, 43 Dick Dering, THE .Pony Express. RIDER. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker, 44 Rattling Rube. 47 Nigh ingate Nat, By T. C. Harbavigh. Olin, THE Roap-Acent. By Badger. 49 Omaha O11, By Edward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt’ Bunker, tHe Tripper, C. EK. Lasalle, 51 The Boy Rities. By Archie C. Irons. 52 The White Buffalo. By C. E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., tHe Boy. Puenrx; or, Tarovugsa to Darn. By Bdward L. Wheeler. 54 Ned Hazel. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 55 Deadly - Eye, Tux UNKNOWN Boon or, THE BRANDED ‘BRO’ D. BY alo Bill, 56 Nick Whifites’? Pet. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles. By Wheeler. 58 The Border King. By Oll Coomes. 59 Ola pve tag 4 By arry St. George, 60 The White Indian. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 61 Buckhorn Bill, By Edward L, Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship. By Col. Xi Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood. W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy@ack, By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Hurricane Bil. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr 66 Single Hand. By W.J, Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe. By Philip 5. Warne. 68 Border Robin .Hood,. By Buffalo Bill, 69 Gold Rifle. By Edward L. eeler, 70 Old Zip’s Cabin. By Capt. J. F. 0. Adams. 71 Delaware Dick. By Oll Coomes, 72 Mad Tom Western. By W. J. Hamilton, 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Catamrry JANE, THE Hero oF WHoop-Up, By Wheeler. 4 Hawk-eye Harry. | By Oll Coomes. 5 The Boy Duelist,. By Col. P. Ingraham. Abe Colts ?TH® CROW-KOLLER, ‘By A.W. Aiken. Corduroy Charlie, THe ‘Boy Bravo; or, EADWOOD Dick's Last Act. ‘By E. L; Wheeler, Ine Dick. By — Mayne Reid. 9 Sol bree Guxt Trapper. By A: W) Aiken, 80 Rosebu ob; or, Noaaet Neb, THE KNient or THe Gutox. By Edward L. Wheeler. 81 Lightning Jo. By Captain J. F.C. Adams. 82 Kit HMaretoot. By T.-C: Harbaugh. 83 Rollo, the. Boy Ranger, By Oll.Coomes, 84 Idyl, the Girl Miner. By E. L. Wheeler. 85 Buck: Buckram, (ee J. F.C. Adams, 86 Dandy Roék. By G. Waldo Browne. 87 The) nd Pirates, By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 paecuarare Phil, tse Boy S.ievTH; or, Rosepup 5 REAPPEARANCE. By FE. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim. By Bracebridge Hemyneg. 90 The Bread #idér. By G. Waldo Browne. 91 The Omptatn of the Club; or, Tar Youne Rival Arwizrrs. | Bracebridge Hemyng. 092 Canada Ohet. By Edward L. Wheeler, 93 The Boy Miners. By Edward §. Ellis. 94 ees. sae, THE Roav-AGrnt; or, Tue Boy . By T, C. Harbaugh, wood, THE REOK-. 95 Khe Rival Rovers. 96 "‘Watch-Kye, ‘rH: Sxapow. By H: L. “Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers. By J. J. Marshall. 98! Robin. Hood,’ THe OvTLAwED HaRL; or, THE MERRY Men oF GReeNwoop. Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of ‘Kaos, By G. Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A | SPRANGE STROKE FoR LIBERTY. 4° Wheeler. 101 Jack ‘Markaway in New York, By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye. By Col. In am. 1038 The Lion of the Sea. By Col/DelleSara. O04 Deadwood Dicks Device, By Wheeler. 105 Old Rube, THe Hunter. Capt. H. Holmes. ‘106 Old Frosty, THE Going. By T. C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim. By James L. Bowen. 108'Daring Davy. By Harry St. George. 109 Deadwood ick as Detective, By Edward lL. Wheeler. . 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies, A Thrilling Story of Téxan Adventure,’ By Bowen. 111:The SéeasDevil. By Col. P. Ingraham. 112 The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe. 13.Jack Moyle, Tun Youn¢ Sprcu.ator; or, THE Roap to Forrunm By Ed. L. Wheeler. 4 The Black Schooner, Roger Starbuck. The Mad Miner, By G, Waldo Browne. The Hussar Captain, Col. P. Ingraham. Gilt- ed Dic > THE Sport DETECTIVE; or, | Tas AD-AGENT’s DAUGHTER: Wheeler, Will Somers, THe Boy ve. Morris, Wustang Sam, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. The Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont. Cingamon Chip, tHe Gm Sport; or, THE Gonven Ino or Mr. Rosa. Kd. L: Wheeler, Phil Hardy, tmx Boss Boy. By C. Morris. Kiowa Charley, tHe Warr Mustancrr, By T, 0. Harbaugh. ippy, THe Texan. ‘By George Gleason. Bonabhza Bil, Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler, Picayune Péte. By Charles Morris. Wiild-Wire, Bossor raz Rodsp. By Dumont, The Young Privateer. By H. Cavendish, Deadwood Dick's Dowble, By Wheeler, Detective Diék. © By Charles Morris. The Golden Hand, | By Geo. W. Browne. ‘Phe Hunted Hunter. \ By Ed. 8. Ellis. 3 Boss Bob, tHE Kine or THE BoorsuacKs: ov, THE PAWNBROKER'S Ppor.. Ed. Li, Wheeler. 4 Sure Shot Seth, Taz Boy Ririeman; or’ Tus Youna Parrots oF THE:NortH. By Oll Coomes, 35 Captain Paul, Dxr'Kenrucky Moonsuiner; or, Tae Boy Sey/or tHE Mountarms. By Clark, 36 Night-Hawk Kit, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 7 The Melpless Hand, Capt) Mayne Reid, 8 Blondé ii3 or, Deapwodp Dick's Home Base. By Edward L, Wheeler. 9 Judge Lynch, Jr — By T. C. Harbaugh. 0 Blue. Blazes ;-or, Tit Break o’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. 1 Solid, Sam, tae Boy Roap-AGrent; or, Tae Branvep, Brows. By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Handsome | Harry, THe Boorsrack Dr- TECTIVE, By,Charles Morris. 3. Scar-Face Saul, By Olli Coomes. Dainty Lance, THE Boy Srort,. By Badger. Captain » Ferret, tat New York Derec- TIVE; or, Boss Box's Boss Jon: By Wheeler. Silver Star, THs Boy Knianr. Coomes, Will Wildfire, tHe THoKovGsEReED; or, Tae Winning By Charles Morris. Sharp Sam, Be J. Alexander Patten, A Game, of Goldy or, Deapwoop Dick's Big Sorike. “By Edward L. Wheeler. Lance and Lasso, By Capt. F.Whittaker. Panther Paul, Tax Rte Prrare; /or, Dainty Lance To THE Rescun. . J. B. Badger. 2 Black: Bess, Wau Wrpriee’s Récer; or, WInnine. AGAts? Opps, By Charles Morris. 3 Eagle Kit, Tae Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes. 4 The Swerd Hunters. By . Whittaker. Gold Trigger, TH Sport. T;C. Harbaugh. Deadwoo Dick of, Deadwood; | or, THE Pickep Parry. Edward L. Wheeler. Wike Merry, Tax Harsor Poticr Koy; or, THE Niaut-Hawss of PuHu.ApeLpsia, Morris. Fancy Frank of Colorado. Buffalo Bill. The Lost. Captain. By Whittaker. The Black Giant. By J. E. Badger, Jr. New York Nell, tae Boy-Grrv Derecrrve; or, OLD BLAKESLY’s Monty. By E. L: Wheeler. Will Wildfire im the Woods. Morris. i ae. MOOR Oe as Row www Nwwiet WH OSO Malate wa w& waw > bh ba em moO 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 & Se GrOnerSe Gt Ot Qo ae =e f “ar By nia hunderbo om. Harry St. George. Dandy Rock’s Rival. By GW. Browne. Bob Rockett, Tat Boy Dopaerr. By Morris. Captain Arizona, By Philip S.Warne. The Boy Runaway jor, Tae BuccANecER or THE Bay. Lieut. H,.D, Perry, U.S.N. 4 Nick of Nevada, | E, L. Wheeler. Solitary. . By Ol. Coomes. Bob Rockett, THe Bang Runner. Morris. 0 The Sea Traller ; or, A Vow WELL Kzpr. a eut. H. D. Perry, U é 181 ild Frank, THe Buogaxrm. Brave; or, Lavy Lity’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler 182 anys Hurricane, Tse Boy fee fed fen um fFd fefk d)k fad fl ak fn’) peed. bl fd Jd fd ffm, ft ks) mf fk mt” St d=. fd ek bff fd pt ek fl fd ft ed fd ffl dt Sk ek et fd et hd WafakaE aTeekakesE GGHHGHS GH AA Goan CHE QURWNH SORIA AR GH HOOD CAPTAIN. ‘oomes, HALF-DIME | LIBRARY. Lietit! Col’ Hageltine, | 205 212 227 229 | 237 183 The Hidden Hand, By Chas, Morris, 184 Whe Boy Trailers. By Badger, Jr. 185 Evil Eye, Krxe or CatTrie THikves; or fribrtont 4 of THE R10 GRaNDeE, By F. Dum Cool Desmond, By Col, Delle Sara. Wred Halyard, THe Lire Bost Boy; or, THE SMUGGLERS OF THE INLET. By C. Morris. Ned Temple, THe Border Boy. Harbaugh. Bob Rockett, tax CracksMan. By Morris. Dandy Darke, By Wm. BR: Eyster. Buffalo Billy, tree Boy BuitwHacker, By Capt. A. B. Taylor, U,'8, A Japtain Kit. By Lieut, H. D, Perry,U.S.N, Captain Mask, Tur Lavy Roap-AGENT; or, PaTENT-LEATHER | JOn's Dutmar, By Warne. Buffalo Bill’s Bet. By Captain Taylor. Deadwood Dick’s.Dream, By Wheeler. Shadowed} or, Bon Rocket?’s Fignt ror Live. Charles Morris. . 197 ‘Little Grit, re Wd River, By Ingfaham. 198 Arkansaw, THE MAN WITH THE KNIFE. By. T, C. Harbaugh. 199 Featherweight. By Edward Willett. 200 The Boy Bedoutins. By Whittaker. 201 The Black Hills Jezebel; or, Drap- woop Dick's Warp. By. Edward 9 Wheeler. 202: Prospect Pete, or THe Boy BRIGADE; or, Tax Youna Ovriaw Hunters. ' By Oll Coomes. 203 The Boy Pards,. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 204 Gold Plume, THe Boy Banprr., Ingraham. Deadwood Dick's: Doom, ‘By Wheeler. Dark’ Paul, Tie Ticer Kina. By OC. Morris. Navajo Nick, tHE Boy Gotp Hunter. A Tale of Arizona. By T.C, Harbaugh, « The Boy Hercules, By: Oll Coomes, Fritz, ‘tr Bounv-Boy Derecrive. ‘Wheeler. Faro Frank of High Pine. By Eyster. Crooked Cale,’ tHE CaLIBAN OF CELESTIAL Crry. «By Josi £. Badger, Jr. E Y DerTEOTIVE. Pea ie y Ch Fritz'to the Front. By EK. L. Wheeler. THE RHINE. Woligang, THE ‘ROBBER OF By Captain Inederick Whittaker. si beat ‘Bullet, tae Rarer Kine. By T. C. Harbaugh. Bison BiJl, tHe Prince oF THE REINS. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. * Captain Crack-Shot, By E.L, Wheeler. Tiger "Tom, THE Texan Trrror. » By Ol) Coomes. Despard, the Duelist. By P. 8: Warne. Tom Tanner, ScALAWAG AND SCAPEGRACE, By Charles Morris, Sugar Coated Sam, By E, L. Wheeler. Grit, the Bravo Sport. By Ingraham. Ozark Alf, Kixe of tHe Mountar. By Edward Willett. Dashing Dick; or, TRarpyr Tom’s CastTLr. By, Oll Coomes. Sam Charcoal, the Premium Dar- ky. By Charles Morris. Snoozer, THE Boy, SHARP. Wheeler. Dusky Darrell, Trapper. By E. Emerson. Little Wildfire. By Oll Goomes. Gey ate, THE ) Gib» Tratterr) By 1. Prentiss aham. @he Yankee Rajah, By (. D, Clark. Placky Phil,.or rug Mountain Trai. BY T. C. Harbaugh. ai ' Gold-Dust Dick,. By E.. L. Wheeler. Joe Wuek, of Angels, «xv His Boy Parp Pavur, PowpernorN; oryfae Torer WILD Men oF Escur Bar. By, Albert W. Aiken, Old Rocky’s “ Boyees?” or, Benrro, THE Youna Horsk-Breaker. By Buckskin Sam . f ; Shadow Sam, THE MEssENGER Boy; or, TURNING THE TABLES. By Charles Morris, Apollo Bill, rae Train Tornapo. By Ed- ward L. Wheeler. Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain: or, Tue Mysterious RANCHERO, By Colonel Pren- tiss Ingraham. j The ‘Parson Detective; or, Lirrie SHocky, THE RANGER OF Raven Roost. By Oll Coomes. | 389 The Gold-secker Guide; or, THE Losr Mounrarn, By Captain Mayne Reid. Ready February 21st, By Edward L. Wheeler, Ready February 28th. THE ont, 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 206 207 208 209 210 214 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 22 223 224 225 226 By Edward L, 228 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 238° 240 cyclone Kit, A new issue every week, The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five ceuts per copy, or sent by mail on receipt ef six cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.