Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 242) (1882 03 14)
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NG ti 2: E E Ss = PS nd res aS 4 3) 5 [| | | i. 4 i AWAY ; \ \\\ CF a Se a ta sal ici y | ra \ YN 4 WL” FQ, NATE TR \ : AF ee es a ae aK: SURAT 0/I r OA) A SS ma re 2 VL tL i i Ti a! ivi ee ANS __ 8250 a@ year, Entered at the Post Office at } New York. N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyrighted in 1882 by BEADLE AND ADAMK Marah 14, 1882. BLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND AD Vol. X Single PUBLIS WEEK A ADAMS, Price, No. 242. oe Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. THE TWO ‘BLOODS’: of, SHENANDOAH BILL AND HIS GANE, A MOUNTAIN ROMANCE. BY CHARLES MORRIS, 4UTHOR >F ‘‘ BOB ROCKETT, THE BANK RUNNER,” ‘‘ BOB ROCKETT, THE BOY DODGER,” ‘WILL WILDFIRE,” ‘‘ DARK PAUL,” ETO,, ETC. =— SSS ~ = en * Sst FRANK STOOD WITH UNFLINCHING FACE AS THE RIFLE SLOWLY CAME UP TO THE MARKSMAN’S SHOULDER,
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. 2 The Two ‘Bloods.’ The Two ‘Bloods’; Shenandoah Bill and His Gang. A MOUNTAIN ROMANCE. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF ‘SAM CHARCOAL,” ‘TOM TAN- NER,” “‘ DASHING DAVE,” ‘‘ DARK PAUL,” ‘‘SHADOW SAM,” ETC, CHAPTER I, A VIRGINIA RIFLE MATCH, Our story opens in a wild region of West Virginia. Rugged mountains were visible to right and left; here, near at hand, the long- reaching Shenandoah range; yonder, in the far distance, the blue summits of the lofty Alle- ghanics, It was far more of a hunting than of an agricultural district. The towns were few and far between, the farms narrow and poorly tilled, while the wild woodland of the mountain slopes invaded the valley in green outreaching promontories. In a clearing of this region, just outside the small village of Sumter, on a fresh October morning, was gathered a group of men, who had come together rather for sport than for busi- ness. bw Af were mostly stalwart, hardy, weather- beatén fellows, dressed in rough but strong at- tire, and far better suited for the perils of moun- tain and forest than for the civilities of city life. But on the edge of this group of mountaineers stood a small party of men very different from them in dress and appearance. The most no- ticeable of these was a young man of middle hight and graceful, well-rounded form. His handsome face was destitute of beard, with the exception of a small, brown mustache, but under its quiet good-humor there lurked an en- ergy which seemed to say that it might not be quite safe to trifle with this well-dressed and emg: personage. By him stood a tall, stout man of unusual breadth of shoulders. His muscular limbs were clad in fashionably-cut broadcloth,, and he leaned his shoulder against a tree with the lazy ease of one given to indolent enjoyment of life, A third person in the group was a thin-faced Southerner, whose jaws were in constant mo- tion as he chewed industriously away at “ pig- tail” tobacco. Most of the mountaineers were provided with rifles, and a broad target set up at several hun- dred yards’ distance showed the purpose for which they had come together. But this was no ordinary trial of skill. It was, in fact, a specia] match for a series of prizes which had been set up by a rich inhabitant of the district and which varied from a- of two hundred dollars to a silver-mounted powder-flask.. Several shots had.already been made at the target, with varying success, and another had just taken the stand. This was a n-faced, heavily-whiskered fellow, the roll sleeves of his red shirt showing em- browned m arms. He grasped his heavy rifle as though it were but a toy. , ““Vamose thar, now!” cried this fellow, in stentorian tones. ‘‘The black buzzard of the Shanandoah is goin’ to make Rome how! ’bout that target! I’m arter that powder-horn, flat- footed, you bet! But, blow me if I like to level old Betsy at a barn-door, like that bit of timber! I’d sooner shoot at a peeled stick or a swaller’s eye, or somethin’ as every blasted greenhorn can’t hit.” > He patted his rifle affectionately as he roared one right, 1y good fellow,” replied the to . m ellow, % .cco-chewing gentleman, cally. ‘We will give youa chance to show your mettle yet. Center the target, and you can have a shot at ot timber? Why I’d drown myself in a pot hole if I souldn’t Don’t nobody hide behind that target, ’eause Betsy’s gol.’ to say somethin’, and it moughtn’t be healt Fe he Spoke id a $y one Ae Bet anced quic: ug’ C) and withouw' . pcm hesitation ulled thet b There was a sharp report. The boys who ‘were attending on the target rushed forward and examined the ted rings on the broad board. One of them waved a handkerchief, while he placed his finger on a spot just inside the central ring, ‘* Hoopee!” roared the marksman, he * up and cracking his heels. ‘ An inch to the left, and it’d been a dead bull’s-eye! Didn’t want to Spile that purty bit of blue paint or ’d made a — center. There ain’t no use buzzin’, but hat thar rifle is goin’ to wipe out the hull caboose to-day; now you hear me!” ‘“ Hear you? Why you don’t imagine that we are all stone deaf?” asked the young gentleman whom we have described. “It isn’t any hard matter to hear the roaring of a buffalo bull. Brag’s a good dog, my friend, but he isn’t the best, ‘Who the blazes is you that’s a-pitchin’ in here?” roared the mountaineer og rrr il ro 4 that purty face if you say brag to me again. You derned city snipe, mebbe you’ve a notion you kin discount Betsy !” “T am not here to shoot to-day,” was the quiet reply. “*T thought you weren’t,” growled the other. ‘Comin’ here meddlin’ with riflemen and don’t know the trigger from the sight-piece, blast yer imperdence! “Hold your horses, crony,” answered the young man with a meaning smile. ‘‘ Don’t crow too loud before you find what fence you areon. If you want a friendly shot after the match is over, ’m your man.” “You!” and the fellow broke into a horse- laugh. ‘‘Blame my eyes if the banty ain’t a- goin’ to crow! Say, lads, this drygoods pattern is a-goin’ to shoot ag’in’ the Shanandoah buz- | Can’t some of you go borrer zard, sure pop! We'll want a hefty Jake Blunt’s big barn? target.” A loud laugh broke from the crowd. Evi- dently they thought the challenge a very amus- ing and a very absurd one. ‘Go on with your match, gentlemen,” re- sponded the young man, with his easy smile. ‘‘T mean business; you may take that in. If this loud-smelling buzzard hits my target, I’ll engage to hit his, and for any wager he wants.” “It’s a bargain,” cried the mountaineer. ‘Blast me if I don’t take the starch out of you.- We'll show you an Old Varginny rifle gallery.” He was interrupted by a rifle-shot, as another of the contestants sent_his bullet into the target. **Come, come, Mr. Frazer,” said the Virginia gentleman, ‘there is no use in your giving such oe challenge as that; this fellow is a prime shot. “Very well,” answered the young man, “ then it will be no Searace if he beats me. I don’t mind being talked down in a gentlemanly way, but I don’t calculate to be crowed down. And, between you and me, Mr, Smike, I know some of the points of a rifle.” ‘You can hit a cow in a pasture, I suppose,” laughed his lazy friend from his perch against the tree, "You up, Bart,” replied the young man, smilingly, “Iam going to give that blustering whiskerando a set-down, and if you’re on the bet, I'll lay you a double-eagle that I will squelch him.” ‘* “You're too confoundedly lucky,” answered Bart, doubtfully. ‘‘ But I den’t mind risking a bit of gold. Here’s for you.” “While this bet was being made, and the mon deposited in Mr. Smike’s ds, the rifle-mate' went on with varying fortune. One after an- other the riflemen stepped up, leveled their weapons, and sent their bullets w ng through the an ped —— as a rie Cogs og weer many of them having spent their lives in fo and yaaa, and been familiar with the rifle from boyhood. The target was perforated with a score of bullet-holes, many of them within the inner ring, though none had yet beaten the shot of the boasting red-shirted mountaineer. ‘When it comes to a three-hundred yarder. and no rest,” cried this fellow, “Pil get old Betsy e field, s my signateor, in that bit of board. Jist you openes up, folks, or Pll rake down that powder-horn, flat-footed. There remained only one marksman to take his turn at the targeh, This was a slenderly- built young fellow, with an open, handsome countenance, though it bore a gloomy, serrew- ful expression. He steod erect at the a ising a rifle much ter than those By his 0 titors. Tie bossa belly laughed on “You ain’t ‘speeting that s ’ to lant a bullet inside of old mark, hey, ttle one?’ p “Tt is to ” answered the young man, anicely. bat “Oh! you get home to yermammy! Don’t be pokin’ yer boy’s face here’mong men. Folks say as yer likely to be wanted to home,” The youth turned quickly with pale face and compressed lips. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. But another of the ai took up the quar- rel. This was a big-fisted, broad-shouldered, oldish man, who pushed rudely between the antagonists, and shanna the bully back with little reverence. 4 ‘See yere, Bill Bounce,” cried the peace- maker. ‘‘Ye’ve got blow enough to take the leaves off ’n oak tree. I s’pose you think you own all creation and a slice of the United States to boot; but blast my eyebrows if I don’t curry ye down myself, if ye keep puffin’ yer sealin’- wax round yere, Jist put that in yer pipe and smoke it.” The bully retreated before this resolute tone. There was a dignity in the bearing of the old man, and the look of one accustomed to con- trol his rough associates, while his stout frame showed that he could hold his own, if his decrees had to be supported with brute force. The bully retired grumbling, and without venturing a reply. Meanwhile the young man had taken a quick but careful aim, and pulled the trigger. He rested the butt of his rifle on the ground, and leaned upon its smoking muzzle, while he await- ed the report of the target attendants. There was a strange gloom upon hisface,as of ») with some secret source of trouble. ‘*Half an inch too far to the left,” exclaimed one of the spectators, ‘‘ You’re out in the cold, Hardy. Bill Bounce bas won the horn. You didn’t make the right allowance for the wind.” ‘* He’s welcome to the prize,” returned Hardy, walking away. ‘‘Are you in for the next match? The two hundred-dollar prize?” Hardy looked at him somewhat strangely. ‘Don’t you know,” he said in a low tone, ‘that the sheriff is on Py mother’s house? We'll be sold out root and branch if I fail to take this prize. Hang it all, Joe, I’m afeared my nerves are too unsteady. The confounded trouble has got all through me.” He passed his hand absently over his brow, as if he would wipe away the memories which i oy ot ; it ene ; ‘Keep a stiff upper lip, my boy,” answerer his friend caloriuety: ke en | aa knows you’re the best shot on the ground. Don’t dis- grace old Sumter now.” Hardy smiled sadly, and walked with slow steps away. The group of gentlemen bad over- heard this conversation, There was deep interest in the faces of the fwo young men as they asked their Virginian friend for the par- ticulars of young Hardy’s trouble. Meanwhile a gab were making for the concluding match of the day, the shot for the two-hundred-dollar purse. ut the participants in the former match occupied themselves in another fashion. Their exertions bad made them dry, and they were partaking of spiritral refreshment from the mouth of a huge pre, which they tilted up and applied successively to their thirsty mouths. Bill Bounce lifted the heavy jug with one hand, and bent it over till the fiery liquor ran in a stream down case-hardened throat. Some of the others looked on with alarm at this immense swig. ‘‘Thar! I feel better now,” he said at length, reversing the jug. ‘“‘I ain’t much given to imbibin’ lately. doctor yee onwhole- piece 0 Rs ~ bn - a , n’t b’lieve in a hog of m » nobow. There waa dubious laughs at this modest diselaimer, but ne one ventured to hint that Bill’s ideas of moderation were set at a rather h level. eanwhile the target for the final match was being set up. It proved a very different affair from the broad, painted board at which they had so far fired. It was, in fact, a piece of timber cut into the rude outline of an eagle, and of about the size of this patron bird of America. This slender targets was nailed against the trunk of a sapling, at some three hundred yards from the shooting-stand. In its center. was a round t of red paint, only visible at that distance te very keen eyes. The whole ip, om in fact, seemed little larger than ai, 8 a silver dollar et fort yards, Reiiitas ere’s your tar, ’ the direciar of the ton ih. “Nearest to the bull’s-eye wins. Who enters for the purse? Some of you might as well save powder and ball, but fi you want to come in thore's ne limit, Step right up to the eaptain’s office and
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; The Two ‘Bloods.’ 3 register. Come ahead, my jolly riflomen, and draw for places!” In response to this the marksmen crowded around the agro who had improvised a table out of his hat, and was busily engaged ee down their names. “How, now, my boy?” asked the lazy gentle- or his friend, ‘‘are you going to take par ‘Not much. But I back down before no bragging bully. Ill challenge the fellow to a private match after this is over,” CHAPTER. II. THE SHOT FOR THE MAIN PRIZE. Ir was with no friendly look that Bill Bounce en pes the city-bred youth, who had been bold enough to challenge him to a trial of skill with rifles. He had no thought of being beaten, yet there was an ease and self-possession about he young fellow which he did not relish, and he hated him on principle, as he hated all who opposed him. ho were these chaps, and what had brought them to this out-of-the-way corner of Virginia? he asked himself. The mountaineers usually had this region to themselves. They were little troubled by strangers, and particularly by such fancily-dressed individuals as these. Were they only summer birds of fashion, or had they other business in this rural region? The bully looked at them with a surly aspect. One who knew him well might have judged that he was not quite at ease. He had reasons of his own to distrust strangers. His life record was not a very clean one, “Dunno what brings them city dandies out’ yere,” he growled to a companion. ‘‘ And then, jist to think of the imperdence of the half- weaned baby, to come sproutin’ ’round Bill Bounce! Wonder if he thinks I’m fed on skim- milk?” ** Are you goin’ to shoot with him, Bill?” oti laughed grimly, as he gazed at the youth. ““ Why you don’t s’pose he’ll stick, does you?” * Looks as if he might.” “An’ de you calk’late the Alleghany war- hoss is goin’ to back down afore a counter- jumper like that? Ef he was goin’ ter shoot with yard-sticks stead of rifles, then you mought talk. Like to ring him in on a big bet, and then salt him, that’s all.” ; “Take care, Bill! Some of these city chaps are good shots,” ‘Yes, with pop-guns,” laughed Bill, derisive- ly. ‘'They kin hit a barn door, at twenty paces. But let one of them try fur an owl’s eye, on a swingin’ limb, a good hundred yards away, or summat of that sort. It’s the do. ee imperdence of the fool as gits me. But, let him howl on, We'll see if he don’t git the starch took outer him.” : "7 They must be some of Mr. Smike’s city friends,” suggested the other. ‘Who keers! I don’t like old Smike fur noth- in’. If he comes pokin’ his nose round my way Tl bu’st it, sure. And I don’t like none of his puppies no more nor I do him.” _,While this conversation was going on the two city geotlemen, in another part of the field, were conversing with young Hardy. There was a look of settled gloom on the face of the youth, and he seemed inclined to shrink from the strangers, as if he was in no mood fer talking. “ How came you to let that bully beat yout” asked the younger of the two citizens, ‘Mr, Smike says you are the best shot on the ound. “T ain’t quite in trim to-day,” was the brief answer, ;, Are you in for the big prize?” I’ve got to win it, or—” He turned away without completing his sen- tence. ‘“©Or what?” ee pape a ae angrily. ‘1 don’t seo that you gentlemen have an usiness to mix into our mountain troubles,” ‘“We don’t mean to offend you,” answered Bart. “(My friend here, Mr.’Frank Frazer, is the last person to hurt the feolings of any man, You are toe sensitive, my lad “T can’t help it,” replied the youth, rubbing away the tears that involuntarily sp to his eyes. ‘My father—my dear ather—bas just died! My mother and my little h, sirs, they are im such trouble! And only a boy like me to look after them!” ‘You need the prize they are going to shoot for now?” ‘“« Tf I don’t win it we will be sold out of house and heme,” Young Hardy leaned upon his rifle, with his eyes fixed upon the ground, He could say no more. ‘‘Tt isa bad business, my dear fellow,” said Mr. Frazer, feelingly. « But you won’t win it; so don’t build on that.” ‘How the deuce do you know he won't, Frank?” cried Bart, while an angry flash came from Hardy’s eyes. ‘Because he has lost his nerve, Get angry, my boy. Desperate. Anything but down- hearted. No man who isin the blues can make a true shot.” “IT can try, anyhow,” answered Hardy, quietly but resolutely, as he walked away. ‘““What the blazes ails you, Frank?’ Bart angrily exclaimed. ‘'Do you want to take all the spirit out of the lad?” ‘“*T want to put some in him,’ answered Frank. ‘If I could make him a little spiteful it might bring out what pith there is in him. No man without a strong nerve can hit that center,” He pointed to the red spot in the center of the target. ‘* You brag on your shooting. Why don’t you put infor it yourself, and give it to the poor devil if you win?” ‘*Come, Bart, no chaff, You think I haveno chance?” ‘*About as much asa cat has of crawling through a knot-hole.” ‘* Don’t take too much stock on that margin,” was Frank’s quiet answer. ‘‘ Anyhow, this is the mountain men’s match. I won’t meddle, But | will shoot with that big bully, no matter what comes of it.” ** You will be laughed at for your pains.” ‘*Did you ever see me pull trigger, Bart?” ‘'No. Can’t say as I did.” . ‘Then don’t crow too loud, that’sall. That fellow may win my cap, but he won't take its feather. If I had my own piece here I would engage to beat him. I will try him, anyhow, ce Hardy’s rifle, I rather like the look of it. Bart laughed incredulously as they walked toward the shooting stand. The crack of rifles had resent commenced, Fully fifty riflemen had entered for the match, The most of them, it is true, had no expectation of winning. But they had all done good work’ in the mountain forests, and each was willing to Pipe up his stake for a chance shot. wind had risen since the previous match, and blew transversely to the line of shot, It was rather irregular, and it was not easy to tell just how much allowance to make for it. But to men used to taking snap shots in all sorts of weather this did not matter much. Each hoped that the wind might favor him. A three hundred yards shot, without rest, with a cross wind, and a small target, is a severe test to ordinary riflemen. It isnot to be wondered that many shots missed the target altogether, and were buried in the tree, while other’s struck the outer edges of the narrow board. But two or three nearer shots were made, the nearest being about two inches from the center. The lucky owner of this shot eyed it with great complacency. ‘ts not so bad,” he averred. ‘‘I won’t sell my share in the pool for less than a cool hun- dred.” “You'd best take twenty, if any fellow is oh ¥ enough to offer. For I’m goin’ to plant a ullet inside yours.” The speaker was the stalwart, oldish man who had so quickly settled Bill Bounce a short time before. He was an old mountaineer, and had been noted as a prime shot. But he had lost some of his youthful nerve. The rifle was brought to his eye and aimed with t care. : **Old Tom isn’t the man he used to be,” whis- pered a bystander. ‘‘ He used to shoot on sight.” The quick ears of the old man caught this whisper. He turned sharply round and fixed his keen eyes on the ker. : “So you think Old Tom’s lost his nerve, eh?’ with a bitter laugh. ‘I'll wager you a cow I would bring down that bird if it was soaring two hundred yards overhead. Here’s a snap for you.” He turned, glanced his eye like lightning weg the rifle barrel, and pulled the trigger. “Pl bet you it’s the best shot in the d, afore there’s a call,” he offered. But no one was inclined to take the offered bet. They knew what Old Tom Turnstile was ual to when he was r’iled. ‘¢ A scant inch and a half from the center,” cried the marker. ‘* And a hard shot to beat.” “That's so; with this wind,” said the old man, calmly. ‘'I’d engage to plug the bull’s- eye if it was still weather.” The shooting continued, with varied fortune. Some forty shots had been made before the name of Bill Bounce was called. He responded with a wild whoop as he sprung forward, ‘"Yere’s yer rhinoceros in an alligator’s hide!” he roared. ‘ Yere’s the ring-tailed tur- key-buzzard that’s a-goin’ to rake down that stake! Make tracks, folks, and let roarin’ Bill Bounce up to the winnin’-post.” ‘*Dry up!” cried Old Tom, in disgust. ‘* Less gas and more powder would go down better with us boys.” “Ye s’poss I’m braggin,” answered Bill, somewhat quieted by this reproof. ‘* We'll see, old hoss. Bill Bounce ain’t that sort.” That he was a first-class shot they all knew and those whose names were yet to be called waited with some anxiety for his effort, The loud-mouthed marksman wasted little time in preparation. The rifle came Tey to his eye, and its sharp report came almost as guickly, The wind had lulled at the moment, which gave him a special advantage. ‘‘There’s yer buill’s-eye,” he cried, ‘Old Betsy never wastes no bullets.” It proved to be so. The bullet had pierced the e of the red circle, at less than an inch from the dead-center of the target. _ ‘* It'll take a hundred and ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents to buy that shobt,”, he boastingly exclaimed, as he left the stand. ‘'There’s a chance for anybody as wants te make a cent.” These odds were rather too great for any ene to care to take up, and the shooting {proceeded Bill Bounce looking on with a stare of inselen triumph, Young Hardy was one of the last ef the marksmen. His face was full of a gloomy de- opp as he walked up to the shooting stand. “Ther’ ain’t no use, Hardy,” cried the insolent bully. ‘‘ Ye know the bit of free-gratis advice I guv ye a while ago.” ‘he youth’s lip curled as he gazed sternly at the speaker. He seemed on the point of one aune: but checked himself, and gave his attention to the target. His young face looked haggard and careworn, but his eye was steady and his frame firm as he faced the small, distant object. Mr. Smike and his two city friends pressed close up. They were greatly Interested in the fortune of the present marksman. Hardy took a long and steady aim, his eye keenly ranging the sights. At length his finger ressed the trigger. A sharp report came from is short-barreled rifle. There had been a lull in the wind at the mo- ment of bis taking aim. But the next instant a — of wind swept by. The boy flung the reech of his rifle spitefully to the ground, He turned away with a sullen countenance, ‘‘Tt’s all up,” he said, to Mr. Smike, “If V’d only shot two seconds sooner! That gust has settled it, Fortune is dead against me, ‘‘ A miss,” cried the marker. “But it is a good shot, It’s on a line with Old Tom’s.” ‘* And the fellow as can line Old Tom ain’t no slouch,” remarked that individual. ‘¢ A miss is as good as a mile,” Hardy gloom- ily rejoined. ‘It’s all up,” he said to himself, ‘The house is gone to the dogs, and my mother —_ the little ones are homeless. It’s mighty hard. ‘ There were tears in the youth’s eyes as he left the circle, most of whom were in sympathy with bim. A hand tapped him on the shoulder, as he was moving with depressed head, along the path that led to the neighboring village. The downcast youth turned, with a look of surly anger, but his face brightened on seeing who ae tg oe him. It was the city gentle- man, rran razer. «Come, enna = rar aay the latter cheerily. ‘‘ Keep u fellow. Trouble can’t last forever, a t is best to face it down at once,” ‘“That’s not so easy, sir.” ‘ “Try,and you'll find it is not so hard. I want to borrow your rifle, Hardy. I have a match with that roaring ruffler, Bill Bounce.” _“ You?” in great surprise, “oe Yes.” “ But you will have no chance with him.” re om be so sure of that. Can I have the e “Of course you can; and my good wishes with it.” At this moment the last rifle cracked. The match was ended. ,
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4 enahieh a rs mee of “geome, 7 a ered fone y. Hesprung up and cracke heels together. “ ~ “ By the r’arin’ ripstaver, didn’t I tell you?” he shouted. ‘‘ The idear of you boys shootin’ agin’ me! Jist slide out till [ rake down that cool two hundred.” “Hold up, my friend. You’ve got a match with me yet.” It was the voice of the city gentleman, Frank Frazer. “You!” roared the bully. ‘You ain’t con- founded jackass enough to shoot ag’in’ Bill Bounce?” “Pil lay two hundred against your prize, and shoot you a match for the pool or nothing.” “Done!” cried the* exultant mountaineer. **Tt’s a square bet. And we chaps don’t allow nv back-down.” “Allright. Don’t you try it on then,” was the cool reply. 1 pup CHAPTER III. A LUCKY RIFLE. FIFTEEN minutes have passed since the mo- ment of the close of our last chapter. This in- terval has been enough to produce considerable excitement. in the throng of sportsmen. Tbe match between Bill Bounce and the city gentle- man seems to them utterly ridiculous. It can- - not be possible that the stranger will have any chance against their crack marksman. Yet the bet is a big one, and the man does not look like a the | sabe No one can tell what may turn up. ay cannot help taking a deep interest in the matc “*What’s to be the target?’ cried the moun- . ‘I can’t waste my vallyble time yere. Ther’s duck in the mountings, and old Betsy’s hankerin’ arter them. Jist stir up, so’s I kin rake down that there stake, and git.” His opponent smiled, as he continued to slice the bark from a slender willow wand, which he had just cut. It was about six feet long, — was barking it for about a foot from one en ** Hore’s y r target,” he said, holding up the slender stick. ‘The man that can cut this be- tween bark and wood at a hundred paces, takes the pool. That’s the bull’s-eye, and the nearest wins, : He pointed to the spot, where the barked met the unbarked portion of the stick. Bill Bounce whistled, and then broke into a hearty laugh. The affair seemed to strike him comicall y- ! “All squar’, my honey,” he ejaculated. ‘I'll shoot ata streak o’ ligbtnin’, or a midge’s eye. Yer can’t play no dodges on Alleghany Bill, nary time. But ye’re not ’spectin’ to hit that thar toothpick?” Pll try to slice a little more bark from it,” replied k, as he closed his knife, and re- ‘turned it to his pocket. “ Just stick this bit of timber in the ground, at a hundred paces.” He handed it to one of the managers of the ‘match. “Yer don’t mean to say as yer in earnest?” asked Bill, in astonishment, { * You bet Lam!” “Shoot me far a punkin-eater if I thought ‘war sich a fool! ake up thar, hosses! The Shanandoah rhinoceros is in a hurry to rake omy that cash. Put up stakes, incontinen- r. “*My money is up, against your prize,” an- swered Frank, as he tried the hammer of his we bead ti it for me, Hardy,” he said, to the 79 J man. ‘ You know its paces better than 0. Hardy took the weapon, with a very doubt- ful ion. He stepped up close to the young man, who was resting easily against a ree, “You are \arowing away your money, sir,” he tested, “You have no chance against thatman. You 'had best lose the forfeit and draw stakes.” - ‘‘That’s what I think,” remarked Mr. Smike, the Virginian. ‘‘ You saw in the last match how the man could shoot.” “Let him go on,” cried Bart, satirically. ‘*Money is no object with us city bucks. He has got to earn his education.” smiled quietly as these remarks were made. He would have returned some answer, but just then one of the judges tossed up a silver dollar for choicé of shots. “* Heads or tails?’ be demanded. “Heads,” c¥ied out Frank. ‘* And heads it is. You have first choice.” “Very well; then our Shenandoah alligator can have first shot; and some of you tell him The Two ‘ Bloods.’ uietly to do his best. He may find he has no ouch to deal with.” ‘* Pd jist like to shoot you with blunderbusses ag’in’ a brick house,” retorted the mountaineer, “it’s a dead shame to waste the fine p’ints of a rifle on a counter-jumper as don’t know a sight from a pig’s éye.” ‘* All clever,” smiled Frank. ‘‘There’s your target, let’s see what’s in you.” e slender, greenish rod was scarcely visi- ble against the grassy background. Only its whitish upper portion was distinctly visible, and at the distance it looked like a mere line. Old Tom shook his head conpttnly: ‘* The grass blinds it,” he said. ‘‘ You might as well try to bark a swallow’s tail with a flying bullet,’ “Yer eyes ain’t as sharp as they used to were, old fellow,” returned Bill Bounce, as he stepped up to the shooting station. ‘ Why, old hoss, I’ve shot the point off a ’skeeter’s sting afore now. Ye don’t s’pose Pll back down from that thar toothpick? Not much, I reckon.” All was silent as the renowned marksman brought the rifle to his eye. There was no brag about Bill now, the prize was too valuable to take any chances on. The wind had migaer fallen, and his keen re ranged the sights wit all his old skill. he spectators anxiously awaited the result. A light pressure of the finger, a flash of light, a keen report, and the bullet sped on its path. There was a rush toward the target. Bill rested on his smoking rifle, with some anxiety on his rough face. ““A prime shot,” came the announcement, ‘‘ the bullet chipped the wood not an inch above the bark.” ‘* Whoopee!” screamed Bill, as he sprung from the ground and clacked his heels. ‘ Didn’t I sw’ar as old Betsy’d do it? When the Shanan- doah buzzard talks ther’s fun in the wind. Stir up to ther capting’s office, hoss-flies, and imbibe! It’s my treat, and the feller as don’t h’ist p’izen is goin’ to git his b’iler bu’st, you bet!” Wait till you are out of the woods, my rooster, before you crow too loud,” suggested Frank Frazer, satirically, as he walked forward, bearing the rifle on his shoulder. ‘‘ You can spend as much of your own cash as you want, but I’ve got some say in that stake.” ‘“‘ Why yer ain’t infernal jackass to think as you kin te’ch that thar sapling?’ ‘*T can try,” answered Frank quietl 7 He raised the rifle to his eye, and glanced along its sights. - “ How does it shoot, Hardy?” he asked, “Is there any adjustment to make?” “Not at that distance. Aim dead center. And I hope the confounded wind won’t serve you the trick it did me.” ‘* Jist wait, lads,” winked Bill, ‘‘till our city bucks Yarns which end of the rifle the powder goes in,” ‘*T can show you which end the bullet comes out,” retorted Frank. As he spoke the rifle was raised in the line of the wand. ‘Then fora single instant it rested, the young man standing in a graceful attitude while not a muscle moved. en fire flashed from the muzzle of the weapon. He had shot so quickly, and with so little show of aim, that the most of the spectators supposed the rifle had gone off accidentally. All eyes glanced at the target, but it was no longer visible. It had mysteriously oo ed. “Shoot me for a donkey ef bs boy ain’t rooted the stick clean out of the ground,” laughed his opponent. “ve a notion not,” replied Frank. ‘TI thought you bragged on your eyesight.” “It is the grass that’s hiding the stick!” cried Hardy. ‘The white part is gone, and the grass hides the green.” “By the saints, it can’t be!” exclaimed Old Tom, as he briskly forward. “Tt’s an infernal lie!” roared Bill. “Ts it, my cove? We shall see.” Frank rested his chin on his smoking rifle. me loud cry came from the men about the tar- eae dead center! A dead center! And the stick cut as clean as a whistle!” One of the men ran forward with the two pieces of the target in his hand. The barked portion of the stick was cut from the the re- mainder as cleanly as if done with a knife. Frank’s friends crowded around him with con- gratulations. Bill stood aside, with a look of ye foxy on his face, ‘* Ther’s seme hoy ge ae i he yelled. ‘‘ It’s not in the chap to do it. It’s a put-up job to cheat me out of the pool. Shoot me fur a sereech-owl if I stand it!” | “T think you will,” retorted the resolute judge of the match. ‘‘Maybe it’s a chance shot, but Mr, Frazer has fairly won. The stakes are bis.” ‘‘ Blast me if they is, then! I ain’t goin’ to be wolfed outer my rights. If he wants that cash he’s got to fight a mounting rhinoceros fur it.” Bill flung his coat to the ground, and ad- vanced in a hostile attitude. “You want to fight, do you?” returned Frank. ‘‘Come on, then, if that’s your game.” He handed the rifle to Mr, Smike, and placed. himself in a posture of defense. His somewhat slender frame looked like a mere twig beside that of the burly ruffian, Yet his eyes were fixed on Bill with a look that meant mischief. “Tl take passage in that boat, if there’s no objection,” cried Bart, as he strode up, with his burly form and broad shoulders, ‘* Leave him to me,” exclaimed Frank angrily. ‘* Dve carried bigger mules than this one, befere now. But the threatened fight was not to take place. A rush of the mountaineers parted the combatants. ‘“‘The boy has won fair, and the stake is his,” cried. one of these. ‘‘ You subside, Bill, or we’'ll,settle your hash.” The furious ruffian glared at the determined faces surrounding him. Then, with a curse, and a muttered threat of revenge, he flung his weapon across his shoulder, and strode moodily into the woods. “You must look out for him,” warned Old Tom. ‘‘He is dangerous when he is crossed. He may do you a harm.” **T don’t fear him,” answered Frank. Those present crowded around him with con- gratulations, There was not a rough moun- taineer in the crowd but insisted on shaking bands and drinking with the successful marks- man. ‘* Oh, drop that, lads!” cried I’rank modestly. “*T guess the shot was half chance. And if I were to drink with all of you I would have to be carried out on a shutter. But mind, it is my Bees Make yourselves at home with the uid, They were not slow to obey, Frank quietly received his winnings from the stake-holder, and walked away toward his friends. ‘* Where is Hardy?” he asked. ‘*Over yonder, by the big oak. The poor fel- low is awfully down.” ‘* Here’s your rifle, my lad,” remarked Frank to the gloomy youth. ‘Iam sorry that it was my hands and not yours that it won the prize.” “Tt’s all right,” replied Hardy, quietly re- ceiving it. ‘Fortune is dead against me, It can’t be helped.” He threw the weapon over ‘bis shoulder, and strode sullenly away. : “Be sure and clean your rifle after you get home,” Frank called after him. ‘Iam afraid the barrel is a little foul.” “Ay, ay,” answered the youth, without turn- ing his head. en minutes’ walk through the woods and the adjoining clearing, brought bim to a aevaee, cottage, which stood somewhat outside the village. Behind it was a garden, and at a dis- tance a small, but well-tilled farm. A handsome aye lady met him at the door, She. was very plainly dressed, and the look of hope upon her face changed to gloom when she caught sight of her son’s shadowed ace. ‘ “Don’t worry, mother,” he remarked. “It is all for the best. I did not win the prize, it is true. But Providence will not desert us.” ‘Oh! my poor boy!” cried the widow, ‘ And you went out with such hopes.” “‘The wind was against me,” he rejoined. He seated himself languidly on a stool in the porch. Two little girls came from the house, and looked with silent let has Mes his face. ‘* Let me have your gun,” the eldest, ‘I will take it in. He was roused by this remark, ‘*Mr. Frazer told me to be sure and clean it,” he | said. ‘‘I don’t know why. Nething ai it : “'There’s poate XP it, anyway,” remarked the younger child, who had drawn the ramrod and inserted it into the barrel. “ Semething in it!” he exclaimed, in a tone of surprise. ‘‘ Hew can there be?” ~ e struck the muzzle two ‘or three times smartly on the floor. — ; “There is nothing comes,” he said. “Yes. Here itis,” cried little Lucy, insertin her slender fingers, and drawing out wha’ seemed a thick wad of paper. 1 S 24 tJ ae we A S POs Pook & owed mp
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es The Two ‘Bloods.’ 5 “Mercy on us! what is that?” cried the mother. ‘‘ It looks like bank notes.” The boy dropped the rifle, and with trembling fingers seized the greenish mass, He hastily opened it out. The mother was right; it wasa roll ef bank notes. ; ** Goodness!” she exclaimed. ‘‘ Where could bac 3 ever have come from?” er son had hastily counted them. There were two hundred dollars! “Tt is Mr. Frazer’s money,” he cried. ‘TI He pad right with it. I must take it back to m. ‘*There isa note in the package,” called out the mother. ‘ Read it.” The young man hastily opened and read the penciled note: “Tt was not me, it was your good rifle that won this prize. I place it where it belongs. Take it for your mother and sisters’ sake. ¥, ¥,” ‘‘He gives it to us!” cried the son, with clasped hands. ‘* Heaven bless him, whoever he is!” rejoined the teful mother. ‘His generous heart has saved us from ruin!” CHAPTER IV. A VIRGINIA DINNER-PARTY. Down in the heart of the valley, about ten miles from the town of Sumter, and close beside the current of the Shenandoah river, stood a stone hduse of considerable pretensions, and as solidly built as if intended for a fortress. The grounds around it were neatly laid out, while the green fields and ripening barvests of a cen- siderable plantation stretched far and wide around it. This place was known {to the people in the vicinity as Gordon Hall. It was the residence of an old Virginian family, though now occu- pied .by Mr. Smike as agent for the present greens who had been several years absent in urope. Smike was a good, fellow in his way. He worked the plantation of his employer honestly and skillfully, and asked for only enough to- bacco to keep his lantern jaws.in motion, and a set of “ niggers” who were worth their weight in salt. This “nigger question” was the one bane of his life. . The two city gentlemen, Frank Frazer and Bart Wilson, were visiting him, and on the day after the shooting-match sat down with him to dinner in the richly-paneled dining-room of Gordon Hall. There were several other guests resent, and the dinner-party promised to be a ively one. ““Try a cut of this venison, Mr. Frazer,” de- manded Mr. Smike. ‘‘ You'll find it prime, I ones you. It was cut from a ten-tined buck hat was shot on our own mountains yesterday. There’s no better deer-meat ;between the two seas. ‘‘ A very tender slice then,” replied Frank. **T have not much appetite left,” ‘You needn’t trouble yourself to be tender with me,” cried Bart. ‘Cut deep and wide. I have a hearty appetite for venison.” ‘ That’s clever. It’s a noble roast, and I want you to do justice to it.” **T like your Shenandoah small game better,” rejoined Frank, as he carved away at the breast-bone of a chicken. “Every man to his taste, That’s my motto,” returned Smike. ‘‘ Hope you are all enjoying oe gentlemen. hat’ll you have, ohnson? Pass up your plate for venison.” ‘“‘T did not think that Mr. Frazer was a patron of small game, by the way he brought down some of our large game yesterday,” remarked Mr. Miller, a red-faced farmer. ‘‘ We folks round here don’t look on bragging Bill Bounce as small game.” ; “T do, then,” said Frank. ‘‘ He is very small game,” “None of that, Frank,” cried Bart. ‘‘ He isa deuced good shot, and you know it. By what thundering chance you managed to hit that ed stick I can’t see. Some good angel ked you, for I'll be shot if it was in you.” ‘* All sheer luck,” returned Frank, coolly, as he sliced his venison, ** That cock won’t fight,” answered Mr. John- son, with a doubting shake of the head. ‘‘ Luck be fiddled! I saw the shot. There.was no luck about it. Hang me if I ever saw a rifle handled 60 neatly. “Come, Bart, it’s your turn now,” laughed Frank. ‘I hope you will settle it between you whether I am born to good luck, or am a dead shot. Meanwhile I’ll sample Mr. Smike’s ven- ison. Itis prime, and no mistake.” ‘* Didn’t I tell you so?” cried Smike, delight- edly, “If you like, lads, l’ll give you achance at venison on the hoof. Our dogs can stir up a deer or two in the mountains here to the left, That’s the best way to try if our friend Frazer knows the merits of a rifle.” “Tm agreeable,” answered Frank. ‘* But it is a different thing to shoot at a dead target and at a deer on the jump. I’m afraid I will waste ten bullets for every deer [ bark.” “Ten!” roared Bart. ‘‘ None of your bragging, boy. Jf I can scorch a deer’s tail out of ten bushels of bullets I’ll count myself a prime shot. Why don’t you own up the corn at once. It was a chance bullet that hit that willow. If ou fire at another target I wouldn’t stand with- in ten feet of it for a thousand pounds.” ‘Tf you shoot at one I will engage to stand behind it for ten cents,” retorted Frank. **T suppose so. It would be the safest place you could find. But stop your bragging. You can’t shoot, and that’s an end of it.” A burst of laughter followed Bart’s humorous persistence. ‘All right, my lad,” replied Frank, slapping him jovially on the shoulder. “That point’s settled, anyhow. Now take my advice and turn to your dinner, or we'll make a famine while you are indulging in éloquence.” ‘*Deuced good advice,” muttered Bart, as he looked over the table. - He fell to with an energy that promised to make up for lost, time. Tt was a bountifully spread table, with an abundance of substantial viands, and all the delicacies which that se- cluded district offered. But Bart’s big frame was significant of a hearty appetite, and he quately, showed his intention to make a solid meal. Meanwhile the conversation went on around the table, in a lively fashion. . “T’m blamed sorry be! Tagg 5 didn’t carry off that prize,” remarked Mr. Johnson. ‘*The poor devil needed it much more than the chap that won it. And if he’sin trim he’s the best shot in our county. Tl stick to that.” “T don’t fancy the winner got much good of it,” replied Mr. Miller, with a significant glance at Frank. The latter continued to quietly devote him- self to his dinner, without a hint as to his final disposal of the prize. “Somehow I don’t like to see the Hardy family set adrift,” said Mr. Johnson, ee. “They are well behaved, t onest people. d Tim Hardy was a man to my liking, if he was a fool with his cash. I wouldn’t stop at put- ting up a stake to stave off this trouble from them, if anybody will join.” Two or three others at once agreed to aid in this charitable project. ‘ ‘Tm one in that line,” cried Bart, laying down his knife and fork. ‘‘ And P’ll venture to engage for Frank Frazer.” ‘Slow and easy, my friend,” warned Frank. ‘* That gentleman is bars to speak for himself. I never put my money in a hole till I see what’s at the bottom of it. I got some idea from Hardy yesterday about his trouble; but I’d like to hear the story straighter.” ‘Tt was a bit of foolish speculation, which no farmer has any business to dabble in,” replied Mr. Miller. ‘“ Old Hardy, after a good deal of hard work, bad laid up a few thousands. But he was unlucky enough to have a friend in Baltimore in the brokerage business. The fool put all his money in this man’s hands to speculate with. He was going to pile up a big fortune in a week. And he wasn’t satisfied with his spare funds, but must lay a_mortgage on his little place to raise more. You would have thought he was living in a balloon, by the way his spirits went up. But stocks did not go up so fast.” ““T see,” said Frank. ‘‘The old story. The bottom dropped out of the market.” “Tt wasn’t altogether the broker’s fault,” continued the narrator, ‘‘The money lay in that Baltimore bank, which went up the spout like a whiff of smoke. The one, you know, where the cashier ran away with all the funds.” Frank looked very significantly at Bart, who Eps eating long enough to wink. “The Trades Union Bank?’ asked Frank. “The same.” ** And the broker was Wilbur Branson?” “Just so. I see you are posted.” “But he went under with the bank, Ali his funds were init. He wasn’t to blame.” “Tt was bad for Tim Hardy, anyhow. He went up in a balloon, I say. And he just drop- ped out of that balloon, and smashed up. A paralytic stroke, the doctor called it. But I say if was a drop froma balloon.” | __ ‘And what’s the trouble now with the Hardys?” ‘ ‘(A foreclosure of the mortgage. It’s nota big one, and they only want two hundred dol- lars to make it up. But they haven’t the two hundred.” Frank asked no more questions, but set him- self quietly to finish his dinner. ‘Come, Frazer,” cried Bart. ‘We are all in for this subscription. How much are you going to put your name down for?” “ Nothing,” Frank quietly rejoined, ‘'I am sorry for the poor folks, but I can’t begin the business of helping to pull people out of foolish scrapes. We'd be kept busy if we went into that line.” “But it isn’t their fault. The old man is dead, don’t you hear?” wean right, Bart. I had no hand in killing im.’ This blunt refusal threw a cloud over the festivities of the table. A gloomy silence suc- ceeded, broken only by a few stray words. The guests soon rose and walked carelessly around the room. ‘* Where did this chap come from, Smike?” asked Mr. Johnson. ‘‘ Hang me if I thought be was a shirk, after his record yesterday. And he won a two hundred pool.” ‘He is from Baltimore,” answered Smike. ‘Here on some private business of bis own. It’s city life; that’s what itis. 1b hardens peo- ple.” f “Then Lord save me from city life. I de- spise shirks square through.” ‘““Don’t ask me to meet that man again,” broke in Mr, Miller.” ‘‘ I don’t care to keep up the acquaintance.” Frank and burt’stood at another window, ete out. s at the deuce ails you, Frank?” growled the latter. ‘‘ Il never knew you to play a mean trick before. And don’t you see you've put all these men down on you? Even Smike looks as if bis dfather had just died,” “T thought we'd best - it in the bud,” re- plied Frank, quietly. ‘If we begin we'll have to keep all the poor families in the county. You don’t look ahead, Bart.” ‘Hang me if it ain’t news come to you,” grumbled Bart, as he flung himself y away. A faint smile came upon Frank’s face, as he continued to look out of the window. Five minutes of such quiet conversations, in the corners and windows of the room, did not add to the ete opinion of the guests in regard to Frank Frazer. Mr. Johnson looked partic- ularly disgusted. “ Just ask the nigger to get out my horse, Smike,” he demanded. ‘‘I must be off.” ‘*Won’t you stay for the wine?” ‘*Not to drink with that man.” Poor Smike, with a woe-begone face, moved slowly toward the door. Ere he could reach it, it opened, with a jerk- ing movement. Young Tim Hardy ou the threshold, his face deeply flushed, his breath coming quick, as if with exhaustion. His eyes looked eagerly around the room, taking in the various guests. The next instant he sprung impulsively toward Frank Frazer, who was just turning to see who bad entered. ‘‘Oh, sir!” cried the youth, earnestly séizing his hand, ‘ How can I ever thank you? You were too generous. But I cannot take it—l cannot rob you of such a sum.” : **T don’t know what you mean, Hardy,” re- plied Frank, withdrawing hishand. ‘‘ Youowe me nothing.” ) The other guests opened their eyes, and looked in astonishment toward the speakers. ‘ “Tt was you! You know it was!” persisted Hardy, while a look of discomposure passed over Frank’s face. ‘I can’t help being grateful! What did I find in my rifle, gentlemen, when I got home, but two hundred dollars in bills? This generous gentleman had stuck his prize into the muzzle of the rifle.” : The guests stared at Frank, whose face was still far from se satisfaction. Mr. Smike sprung impulsively toward him... ‘* Why, you infernal humbug!” he ejaculated as he grasped Frank’s hand, and shook it as i he would shake it off. ‘‘You mercenary vil- lain! Is that the way you are cheating us!” “Tt was your money, Hardy,” cried Frank. “ Your rifle won it. You would have won it yourself ply for a stroke of ill luck. Keep it, and say nothing more about it.” He broke loose from his impulsive friend and sprung out through the open window. There was a sudden revulsion of feelin amoug those who remained; they could no think of words suitable to express Frank's gen erous behavior.
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6 “But what ailed him, anyhow?” cried Mr. Johnson. ‘*Why couldn’t he out withit? It’s too much like private theatricals. Ill tell you what, Hardy, we were trying to raise a little subscription for you. ° I’m in for it yet. You'll snore more money than this to put you on your eet. “T won’t take it,” declared Hardy, resolutely. “Yes you will. What say, gentlemen? Shall we make it up?” “Yes,” was the unanimous reply. Five minutes afterward Bart found Frank pacin = = taper down a garden walk. a at ails you, old boy?” he cried. ‘' Shoot me if I see any use in putting on airs!” ‘T have been a fool, that’s all,” replied Frank. **T ought to have warned Hardy. I have been ogee ee foot in it at every step since I came ere. It was our game to keep quiet and not be known, yet I let myself be drawn into that confounded rifle-match; then I tried to put these men down on me, so that they would cut me, but here bursts in Hardy and spoils that ame, It’s all very nice, but I’m afraid our ob’s checked.” “T don’t see how.” “Our man will be put on his guard, that’s all; He won’t fail to hear that there’s a brace o Baltimore sports nosing around. If he gets an eye on us the trap’s sprung, for he is sharp enough to know us at sight.” CHAPTER V. A VIRGINIA BREAKDOWN. SEVERAL days have passed since the event recorded in our last chapter. It is a pleasant night, not too warm for comfort, and the full moon throws a flood of light over the broad ex- tent of the valley. From a house of some pre- tensions, « short distance outside the town, comes an unusual glow of lamplight, while the sound of laughing voices speaks of some merry- making within. Our two friends, Frank Frazer and Bart Wil- son are in earnest conversation as they ap- proach this house from the direction of the town. “Tll give in that I don’t know jist what to make of you,” declared Bart. ‘First you go and outshoot the best shot in the valley. Then you ram your innings into the boy’s rifle. Then you raise Cain because the lad wants to thank you for it. A high old way you have of keep- ing shady. And now you're for digging into this hoedown, where you'll be sure to wake up some new snakes.” “ Can’t help it, Bart,” replied Frank, with a sigh. ‘‘ It’s constitutional with me. I can no more help making a fool of myself than a bird can help flying. “ All right,” answered Bart, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘‘I didn’t want to tell you be were a jackass. But I’ve got no objection your telling acon ah ‘Tt was that bragging bully at the shooting- match that drew me on,” continued Frank, ‘I couldn’t stand him. And then I pitied young Hardy, and wanted to win the prize for him. And you were in it too, for you bet me I couldn’t win.” MS Hang me if I thought you could!” growled Bart. “And how the deuce you did it I can’t see now.” “TI thought I’d settle the matter by getting everybody down on me,” rejoined Frank. ‘‘ But in bursts Hardy, and spoils it all, and now I eras I am the most talked of man in the val- ) “1ll swear you are!” ejaculated Bart. ‘‘ We were going to keep so thundering shady, and to drop down on our man like a ase eg on a field mouse: but you’ve dished all that. If he’s in these diggings I bet he’s heard all about the two Baltimore bloods. And I dou’t see how a are going to help matters by taking part in is hoedown,” \“There’s nothing else for it, Bart. We've got to let on that we’re only after sport. We’ve ot to sail in now with all the dancing, shoot- ing, and other fun that’s afloat. That way we may shut our man’s eye up He will think that we are after smaller fish.” Bart shook his head incredulously. ‘He isn’t a fool, Frank. Take my word for it, our cake’s all dough.” “Tf I could only get a smell at his hiding- place,” answered Frank, dubiously. ‘ But I can’t see ashadow. He’s as cunning as an old fox. having fun in that shanty, for cried Bart, as a burst of laughter came to ‘Let’s dig in and take our share.” It was an exciting scene that met their eyes ‘when they opened the door of the house before SS -the heads of the dancers as if he The Two ‘Bloods.’ them, and went into the well-lighted room whence came the sounds of merriment. It was a large apartment, formed of rough hewn boards, with a ceiling of open and well- smoked joists. But this did not trouble the souls of the happy crowd who were dancing upon the springy floor, with a vim that is never seen in a city ball-room. At one end of the apartment, on a chair that stood on the bottom of an overturned barrel, sat a negro fiddler, his shining black face blazing with enjoy ment as he made his old violin fairly talk. e sawed away at the strings asif he was sawing wood on a contract, while now and then a wild howl of excitement came from his lips, as if his enthusiasm was too great to keep in. The floor was filled with dancers, of all ages and kinds, dressed in what rude Site? f finery they possessed, yet happier than if all the girls were in silks and diamonds, and all the men in broadcloth. For they had come there to have a gree time, and they were decidedly stat hn Beet ll ideas of staid decorum were thrown to the winds. They danced as if hired for day’s work, and the way the heels of the lads twinkled in the air, and the light forms of the lasses leaped and bounded like india rubber balls, would have utterly astonished a city dancing master. ‘* Hi!” yelled the old fiddler, his eyes glowing like balls of fire. ‘‘Let her rip, honeys! Make de dust fly! Whoopee! Sail in, gals! Dar’s no use foolin’!” He played away more vigorously than ever, while laughs and shouts from the floor answered his exclamations. “Yar’s de city folks. Luff ’em’ in, lads. Ain’t dar no gal wants to dance wid de young gemmen? Sail in, honeys!” This ery referred to Bart and Frank. The fun was so ate that they felt strongly inclined to take part in it. And as they found a pair of pretty girls, who had come too late for tners, and were eager for the fun, it was not ong before our friends were in the thick of the glee, The dance was one with so little system that it could be entered at rai point, There had been an effort to form sets, but they had quickly dissolved, and every Me was now dancing without the least regard to order or figure. In a minute the two young men were in the heart of the fun. They had secured lively partners, and any effort to be staid was wasted in that whirling mass. Frank and Bart danced with a vim that was new to_ them, wheeling through the crowd, avoiding a collision at every moment, and making the floor creak as they emulated their lively neigh- bors. In fact, it seemed as if it would break through under Bart’s burly form, as he kicked his heels about in utter abandon. “Talk bout de city folks! Why, dar de best dancers in de crowd!” cried the old fiddler, shaking his woolly head with laughter. ‘Go down, honeys? ip in, little ones! Oh! de marcy! amn’t it fun?’ He rose upright on the rounds of his chair, and sawed away at the same old tune, while his inspiriting cries woke up the dancers to new vigor. ut it was an unlucky move for old Pomp. ‘He had leaned too far over in his excitement, and the unbalanced chair suddenly tilted over forward, flinging its heedless occupant out over ad been shot from a catapult. But game to the last, Pomp continued to play even while shooting through the air, and the last and loudest squeak from the fiddle came at the moment that he came kerswop on the heads and shoulders of three or four luckless dancers, who had not the time to get out of his way. This broxe the old darky’s fall. But at that critical moment Pomp had no thought for him- self. There were interests of far greater im- portance to defend. “Save de fiddle!” he yelled. ‘ Lawsee! if dat dar fi7dle’s bu’sted de fun’s all up! Go’way, white folks, and luff de nig see if de musical in- sterment am absquatulated! Bress my eyes, dar’s on’y one string broke, and we’s good as eber! But I’s a big notion to bu’st dat cantan- kerous ole chair what flung me!” And he gave the mischievous chair a kick which would have annihilated it, if it had been anything less solid. By this time the dance had broken up in a roar of laughter; though some few of the dan- cers had too much steam on to cease so sud- denly, and continued to whirl about, only slowly.coming to a standstill. Several others who had kindly broken Pomp’s fall, were limp- ing around the room, rubbing their heads and shoulders, and growling out anathemas against the old fiddler, whose head they felt strongly inclined to punch. Frank and Bart clung on to their partners, who, indeed, seemed quite set up by the distinc- tion. They were decidedly proud of being chosen to dance by the city gents, and cast looks of triumph on their Jess lucky friends, as they walked through the room leaning on the young men’s arms. “You must be tired and warm,” said Frank, looking with interest into the flushed face of bis pretty companion. © ‘‘ Where is the refreshment room? Cannot we get an ice?” “Get a—what?’ asked the girl, in astonish- ment, ** An ice.” ‘“Why how you talk! Don’t you know ther’ ain’t no ice this time o’ year? Guess you don’t have none in the city, does you?” Frank quietly laughed. The girl was unso- histicated both in her language and her ideas, e explained that it was ice cream he meant, ‘lve heered of it,” she replied. * But we don’t have none sich down this way. We gals generally take lemonade when we're dry. And the men generally take whisky.” Frank laughed again. He had decidedly got among odd people. ‘“‘ Well, as I don’t generally take whisky,” he remarked, ‘‘ I wouldn’t mind taking a lémonade with ae Where are these beverages to be found The girl drew him into an adjoining room, which been set apart as a refresh- ment saloon. A considerable number had found their way in that direction before them, and were engaged much as the young lady had in- dicated. The two glasses of lemonade were soon pre- pared, and Frank was about to take his up, when his fair friend earnestly laid her hand upon his, “You aren’t a-goin’ to drink it that thin way?’ she demanded. ‘‘ Why, it’s only water, with a trifle of sugar and vinegar. You wanta stick in it to give it a body.” “A stick in it?” he asked. It was her turn now to have the laugh on Frank. She was not —— showing him her meaning by picking up a bottle of whisky and pouring a liberal allowance into each glass. “« Now it’s got some taste in it,” she declared. ** You're goin’ to dance the next set with me, ain’t you?” “Tf you will let me,” he replied. ‘¢-You bet I will! You’re a hoss! Here’s your good luck!” and she swallowed her tumbler of er stiff lemonade almost at a mouthful. rank began to think he had got into very strange quarters, or else that he had got hold of a very uliar partner, Her language and tastes hardly suited his fastidious fancies, but he could not deny that she was a lively partner in a dance. Some of the young men had grown warm with their potations, and high words were heard in one corner of the room. At that moment a preliminary shriek from old Pomp’s fiddle ad- monished them that the sport was about to re- commence. Frank and his partner hastened back to tbe ball-room. Sets were being formed for an old-fashioned country dance, and they quickly soughta place, while Pomp was engaged in tuning up his violin, Just then the door of the room opened, and several new-comers entered. Prominent among these was Bill Bounce. He had evidently been drinking. ye ‘*Riggin’ up a dance, hey?” he shouted. “I’m yer donkey. That’s jist my provender. Where's my Sal? Trot out here, ttle one.” He strode about the room, flinging his red sleeved arms uround in a tipsy fashion. Frank’s partner clung close to him, as if in terror. ‘¢ Where's that dratted Sal, Isay? If she’s a- playin’ on Shanandoah Bill, shoot me if some- thin’ ain’t goin’ to git bu’sted! It’s me that’s talkin’.” He stopped short at that instant, with his eyes fixed on Frank and his partner, while an oath of portentous weight rolled from his lips. “Well, I’ve heered of imperdence, but thi takes it down,” he growled, with an aspect of utter astonishment. ‘ That thar city coon a- paradin’ ge Talk about takin’ the rag off the bush! hy, it’s enough to give a gum tree the ager. Drap that bit of calico now, afore the rhinoceros gits his dander riz.” “Who are you talking to?’ asked Frank angrily. “To you, you tailor’s snip!” “Take my advice, and slide from here, you red-nosed blower, before you are hurt,” retorted. erl
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The Two ‘Bloods.’ 7 eR ET A RE POOLS Sa TEATS ie Som Tae Frank. ‘ This young lady is rs partner, and Iam going to dance with her if the house comes down. Don’t get nervous,” he continued to the irl, as he felt her hand tremble on his arm. ‘Bill Bounce won’t hurt you, take my word for that.” . He had thoughtlessly turned his face from the ruffian as he spoke. The latter, reddening with fury, stepped quickly forward, and struck Frank with the flat of his hand in the cheek. The blow was a smarting one, and the youn man seemed slightly dazed as he looked aroun for the source of this insult, There stood the burly ruffian, with a scornful smile on his face. hat followed was so quickly done that the spectators could hardly comprehend it. A hasty op 4 forward. The flash of a white fist. A blow that sounded like the heavy fall of a drumstick. The crash of a burst-open door. All they knew was that Bill Bounce went head- long through that opening, and fell like a stricken ox on the hard ground outside, while Frank Frazer turned lightly back to his tremb- ling Pte and called out to the musician: “Strike up lively, my hearty. That set’s danced out, and we're ready for the next.” CHAPTER VI. FRANK’S FLYING SHOT. We must request the reader to accompany us to the flank of the mountain that rose a few miles to the east of Gordon Hall. It was thickly covered with forest, here open below, there ehoked with dense undergrowth, as the soil which covered the granite rock grew richer and b= 0G e afternoon was clear and sunny, though the sunshine with difficulty made its wa through the close canopy of leaves overhead. Here and there, mostly beside paths that led through the thickets, men were stationed, rifle in hand, apparently in waiting for something in the shape of game. From the far distance the deep bay of hounds could be heard and a crash- ing of bushes as they broke through the clus- tered undergrowth. On a rocky knoll in the heart of the forest stood two men whom we have met before at Mr. Smike’s ag ed by name, Mr. Miller and Mr. Johnson. They held their rifles ready as they listened to the bay of the hounds. “ Nothin ~ yet,” said Miller, shaking his head, ‘“‘and I doubt if the game comes this way, if Smike is lucky enough to raise any. The hounds are trending toward the lower run.” “Just our luck,” replied Johnson, dro ping the breech of his rifle to the ground. op ose city chaps are stationed there. I suppose they will pick up what game’s afoot, or else scare it with wild shooting.” ‘“‘Not much; that fellow Frazer can shoot; there’s no going back on that.” “At a dead mark, I give in. But he says himself that he’s nothing at game on the jump.” ““That’s all gammon,” answered Miller, de- cidedly. ‘‘Havn’t you heard of the sport the other night? How he knocked that big Bill Bounce clear out through the side of a house?” ““Not as bad as that,” laughed Johnson. “Through the door, you mean.” “And what came of it? I didn’t hear all the story. Did Bounce take it quietly? I would have looked for some shooting.” ‘*Quietly enough,” answered Johnson. ‘“ He was knocked out of time. I’m told he was as dead as a log when bis friends picked him up; they had to carry bim away, and Frazer went on dancing as if it was an everyday occurrence, Who'd ever think he had it in him? He doesn’t show it, but his muscles must be all spring steel.” ““ What was the fight about?” “He was dancing with Bill’s sweetheart, Sal Slocum. She’s a pretty girl, you know, but they say she can drink more whisky than Bill himself. She must have astonished young Frazer.” ‘Tam afraid Bill will astonish him worse,” answered Miller, with a dubious shake of the head. ‘Sure as you live the boy will be way- laid and shot, if he stays about here.” “T am afraid so,” agreed Johnson. ‘‘ Ha! do ou hear that, Miller? That’s a new tune. The ounds have struck a covert. That’s the music. But it’s too low down for us.” _ This exclamation was occasioned by a change in the tone of the distant bay. Game was evi- dently afoot. Nearly a mile to the south of where these two men stood, the mountain dipped down till it formed a valley, or wide ravine, between it and the neighboring peak. This narrow way was prettly thickly overgrown, though a wide path ran through it, made more by animals than by men. Beside this th, though somewhat with- drawn into the thicket, stood the two city gen- tlemen. They were armed with rifles, and ap- peared to wait with impatience the approach of ame. ‘“*Tt’s confounded dull work,” growled Bart. ‘*Here we've stood like marble statues for a good hour, while old Smike’s having all the fun down yonder with his dogs. I don’t know which foot I’m standing on.” ‘Not as lively as a Virginia reel, with a wide awake fiddler and a pretty partner, eh, Bart?” “That was @ gay shindy,” answered Bart laughing. ‘A little bit too gay. Where did you ever learn to hit so hard?” ‘* Where I learned to shoot,” answered Frank, ‘That was part of my college education.” ‘“‘Tt all settled in your muscles, then; and none in your brain. Do you know I nearly got into trouble, too?” “*You did?” “Yes. With young Hardy. 1 had his girl, as you had Bill Bounce’s. The young fool got jealous as sin. I could see him grinding his teeth against the wall. It was prime fun, and I stuck to her like grim death. I’ve a notion to keep up the joke, just to see the young fellow squirm.” ** Don’t, Bart.” es bide not?’ “ Jealousy’s the devil when it’s raised. Don’t stir it up.” The music of the hounds now came ringing down the wind, borne clearly to their ears. ‘They are coming this way,” declared Bart. “ Have they a deer afoot, think you? There’s something mighty Ny oe in their tone,” ‘And now they drop off into silence,” re- marked Frank, as he examined the lock of his weapon. ‘I don’t know much about the signs, but that looks promising. They are too busy to el ‘*T am good for one shot, if I fire into a tree- top,” averred Bart, bringing his rifle to a ready. he amateur sportsmen subsided into silence, and waited with some nervousness the result of the chase, Silence reigned through the forest. Now the fall of a nut, or a rustle as if some small crea- ture was pushing through. the leaves, met their attention. At some distance the hammering of a woodpecker could be heard. To the left the scream of a cat bird came —— to their ears. The tree-tops faintly groaned as they waved in the wind. But the huntsmen scarcely heard these sounds. They were waiting for noises of an- other character. Now, from the distance, came the short, im- patient velpof adog. At intervals it was re- peated. It seemed to be growing nearer. “ By Jove, Bart, I believe we are to be in luck!” cried Frank. ‘Sure as you live the chase is heading this way. Smike said, you know, the game was very like to break down this valley, to gain the east mountain. There! did you note that? Itis getting warm.” “Thundering warm!” growled Bart, cocking his rifle. ‘‘ And, hang me, if my nerves ain’t getting shaky. How do you feel, Frank?’ ‘* Sound as a pine knot,” ‘‘That’s just like you. I don’t believe fyou were born with any nerves. I know [’ll split my aim between the deer and that mountain top.” : . Then don’t shoot,” warned Frank. “ Hist! Here it comes!” There was a yelp, that seemed a quarter mile off to the left. But at the same moment there came a crashing of bushes below. The chase had struck the thicket. Half-concealed amid the thick leaves, with finger on trigger the young men waited. A quick patter of feet came up the ravine. Then suddenly broke into full view the form of a noble deer, with broad branching antlers, and head erect, plunging with long leaps down the forest path. Bart shut both eyes in his excitement. His finger incautiously pa the trigger against which it rested. There was a loud report, a flash of flame, and the ping of the bullet as it struck a ers in tree. The rifle fell from his unnerved hands. For an instant the timid animal halted in its path, cast its wary eyes to right and left, and crouched as if to turn and retrace its steps. Then came a long and vigorous leap forward, and it was again in full flight. , Frank had been on the point of shooting. when Bart’s unlucky shot almost destroyed their hopes. With a vexed exclamation he now sprung out into the path down which the flying deer was speeding with mighty leaps. It was a line shot. The animal was flying di- rectly from him. Quick as lightning the rifle came to his shoulder. His keen eyes glanced along the sights. His finger pressed the trigger. The wood again rung with a sharp report. One, two, three more mighty leaps were made by the deer. Was he untouched? Had Frank’s bullet gone astray? No, for in the fourth leap the animal came crashing in a hea to the ground, his antlers striking the soil, an tossing him over and over in the forest path, Almost simultaneously a second rifle-shot rung through the air. But it was not aimed at the deer. For the bullet struck the barrel of Frank’s rifle, not an inch from his hand, and bounded off into the thicket beyond. “The fiends take us, if some hound isn’t firing at you!” yelled Bart. ‘‘Up this way, Frank! The smeke came from the clump here to the left. Let’s salt the rogue!” Nothing loth Frank obeyed these directions. Bart’s strong frame was already rending through the thicket, toward the spot whence the shot had come. Frank followed in the path thus made, setting his teeth firmly as his heart throbbed with anger against the attempted murderer. 4 ‘ As he went he thrust a new cartridge into the chamber of his broach: loaieg e. There = be a chance to return the murderous shot. Very few minutes sufficed for Bart’s power- ful frame to burst through the screen of bushes, and come out into the open ground beyond. He was boiling over with indignation, and it would have been a sorry day for the fellow who fired that treacherous shot, had he fallen then into Bart Wilson’s strong 8. But there was no one visible. The oni ran up the slope to the cluster of utshes whic had concealed the assassin. “Strike for the top of that rock!” cried Frank. ‘It will give us a long sight.” The rock in question was a steep mass, about twenty feet in right. Up its rapidly sloping sides the young men ran, aiding themselves by catching hold of an occasional bush. In a minute they had gained its summit. From his elevation they had a long view throngh the open forest which lay beyond. It was a level slope for several hundred yards. Then it became broken, thickets arose, and rough strewn rocks broke the view. Just on the verge of this broken region the ‘figure of a man was visible rapidly flying for the rocks beyond. He was too far off to be made out distinctly, as some intervening bushes hid the lower part of his body. ‘* Looks like Bill Bounce,” cried Bart, ‘ But I can’t make bim out very clear.” ‘“'There’s one way of telling,” Frank sternly rejoined. ‘I'll mark him, so that we will know him the next time he comes around.” The rifle was already at his shoulder. But he did not make his usual quick shot. He looked long and carefully along the sights, until Bart began to fear that the fugiiive would gain shelter before he fired. The latter, indeed, was on the very verge of a rock, which in a moment more would have hidden him, when the shot came. . He had stretched out his hand to grasp the corner of the rock to swing bim behind its shelter. Suddenly the hand dropped to his side. He was seen to reel for an instant. Then he recovered himself and sprung behind the sheltering rock. , F ccamary quietly proceeded to reload the smoking rifle. “We will know him the next time we meet,” ne rennin hit bim?” ‘ Are you sure you im “‘ Didn’t you see his hand fall?” “Ves,” “He has a mark which he will carry to his grave. I fancy he won’t shoot at me again for a day or two, Let us go look after our game,” CHAPTER VII. A STERN CHASR, Frank and Bart moved slowly down toward their stricken deer, earnestly conversing upon the exciting event which had just happened, Had they known of all that was taking Ayer e to below they might have found it advisa quicken their footsteps, It was but a minute or two from the time that Frank shot the deer until he made his sec- ond shot at his flying foe. The hounds, which had been distanced by the rapid animal, were not yet up, though th uld voice close ‘to the left. Sac sinapee et @ man was bending over the fallen ani- ‘mal, He was dressed in rough homespun, and
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S \ stooped low over the deer. The voice of the hounds, and the sound of persons moving through the bushes, seemed to arouse him. He rose and looked toward the coming steps, revealing a face dark as if ex- posed to many suns, yet with something in its expression that did not belong to the mountain- men. There were marks of a culture which it is not easy to attain, and not easy to conceal. Soon the faces of the young men appeared through the screen of bushes. The stranger started as if in surprise and dread. A look of dismay came into his swarthy face. Hastily turning he darted back into the bushes behind him, evidently not wishing to be seen. What is that?’ cried Frank. ‘I thought I saw something move. And there is a stir in the bushes,”’ ‘* Only the wind,” replied Bart. come! Stir up, lovelies!” This was addressed to the brace of hounds, which at that moment darted, with their noses down, along the forest-path. Then came a long, deep, thundering bay, that made the far aisles of the woodland ring. They had discovered the fallen prey, and were giving their native signal. ‘*Off with you, honey! Off with you, sweet- lips!” cried Bart, pushing aside the dogs, which had thrown themselves savagely on the body of the deer. ‘‘ Back, you sleek villains! There’s somebody else than you lays claim to that bit of venison.’ “ Where is he hit, Bart?’ ‘In the head. ‘Your bullet went through his brain, I fancy. And it must have come out at the throat, for there’s blood oozing there.” *T don’t see how that could be.” Frank bent over the slain buck. ‘By Jove, Bart, that’s a knife cut, not a bullet mark! How came it “Here they _ there?” “‘And here’s the knife,” cried Bart, picking up an ivory-bandled pen-knife, that lay on the ground at his feet. ‘*There’s something mighty curious about this,” mused Frank. ‘‘I told you I saw some- thing moving. But who is it that has been slicing our game? And how came that neat bit of cutlery into the hands of a mountaineer?” “That gets me,” rejoined Bart. ‘I don’t take itin.” “Let me see the knife,” demanded Frank, with a sudden suspicion. . He cast his keen glance on the name plate. His breath came quickly, while a sound that seg half whistle, half exclamation, broke from is lips. “ Look, Bart, at those initials! N. R. By all that’s good it is our man! It must have been og sprung into the bushes when we came ‘*Then he has seen us, and all the fat’s in the fire,” returned Bart. “Not sure. We may overtake him. He got a start and dropped his knife. But he’s oldish and not d tothe woods. We’re young and active. his way, my boy! Leave your rifle here, There’s a nobler buck afoot, but not one to be brought down by a bullet.” Dropping his rifle beside the deer, Frank sprung lightly forward, quickly followed by his companion. In a moment the thick bushes swallowed them up. But the thicket was traversed by paths in various directions, and they made '. their way forward with ease and rapidity. Not a sound came from their lips. It was no time now to waste breath in words. Like gray- hounds they coursed the thicket paths. “Take that way, Bart,” cried Frank, as the path branched. ‘* We can meet in the open.” They separated, and darted off in different directions. The thicket in this direction was wide and close. It filled all the valley, and ran far up the slope of the opposite mountain. But the paths followed by the pursuers led them eastward through the ravine, ‘and deéper into the mountain region. The ground became rough as they proceeded, and they were obliged to move more slowly. Their way was vb- structed by fallen logs, bowlders, and clinging vines, which threw themselves, here and there, across the paths. After Frank had run about a mile be found himself at the mouth of a side ravine that ran southwardintothe mountain. A slender stream . trickled down its center, giving life to a luxuri- ant growth of green bordering verdure. He paused a moment here in doubt, As he did so there came a sound, as of some one ap- proaching fio his left. Frank was on the point ot withdre wing warily into the bushes, when ‘ ‘open. _ The Two ‘Bloods.’ rr O On the burly form of his friend broke into sight, tearing at full speed along an adjoining path. Lire, two ways had come together again at this point. Bart’s face was red as a beet, the perspiration was streaming down bis face, and his breath came in short, quick puffs. ‘‘Laws bless me, if I’ve ever had such a breathing: before!” He snatched off his hat and vigorously fanned his face. ‘‘Such a run!— Seen anything, Frank+—Hang me if I have!— Bless my eyes—I’m most—gone under!” He flung off his coat and threw himself on thé grass to recover at will. Frank could not help laughing at the broken exclamations of his friend. ‘* Yes—you can Jaugh.—A skeleton like you— all steel and whalebone—no wonder you can run.—But shoot me if I’ve been trained fora racer.” “All right, Bart, my boy. Take a rest till you get your breath. He has doubled on us somewhere, and there’s no use running. We've tried our legs. We will have to try our wits now.” ‘Tt would be very easy to try them if we had any,” growled Bart. ‘' But I don’t lay claim to an ounce of brains, and I doubt if you can dis- count me.” Frank continued to Jaugh, while a low whis- tled tune came from his lips, as he looked musingly to right and let through the thicket. Five minutes’ passed, broken only by occa- sional grumbling remarks from Bart, who con- tinued to fan his overheated face. ** Heel better?” asked Frank. ‘* A trifle. Lam beginning to breathe like a Christian and a gentleman.” “Then bathe your face in this water. It’s cool and sweet, and will do you good.” Bart obeyed these directions, and added to them a long draught from the clear running stream. “There! Richard’s himself again.” He rose and put on his coat and hat. ‘* And now, Frank, you’ve been beating your brains; what have you got out of them? Shall we go on, or back?” ‘It’s all blind,” answered Frank, ‘‘we must trust to chance, I wish we had brought the hounds, but it’s doubtful if they would be worth their salt at man-tracking. I vote we try this side ravine and see what it leads to.” “Tm agreeable to anything; as I told you, I don’t pretend to have any brains, and not much legs either.” “You make it up in arms, then,” answered Frank, as he looked at the broad shoulders and muscular limbs of his friend. ‘‘I can hit a sharp blow, but if it comes to a hug, you're the man. My fist and your shoulders may be needed before we get through this job—come on, my boy, if you’re ready.” He led up the side ravine. It was not nearly a level, like the paths they had followed, but stretched upward at along slope. The thicket continued, and the path they followed was hardly broken, so that they had at points. to force their a5 through the clustering bushes; nor was this altogether agreeable, since thorny brambles frequently protruded into the path. The ground, too, was far from level, and they were both well satisfied when, after twenty minutes’ progress, they emerged into a clear spot of perhaps a quarter of an acre in extent, forming a rocky knoll in the center of the bushy thicket, Forward from this knoll the wood was more Before them towered the steep sides of a mountain mass. To right and left ran depres- sions, leading deeper into the heart of the range. “Hist!” said Frank, warningly. ‘‘ There are sounds in the distance, and they seem coming this way. Let us back into ambush. There may be something in the wind for us.” In a minute they had retreated into the } bark as sounded like his old piece. Mebbe he’s took part in old Smike’s deer bunt.” “Tf he gitsa show ata buck, he'll fetch it, you bet,” laughed the other. ‘‘Here comes Seo now, ‘long the path. Like as not it’s ill, They waited while the approaching steps came momently nearer. Soon there emerged upon the knoll the person they had expected to see, the burly figure of Bill Bounce, But he presented a most rueful and woe-be- begone aspect. His face was pale and haggard. He walked heavily, and dragged his rifle asif its weight was too much for him. His clothes were streaked with blood, which seemed to have flowed freely over him. _ His left hand was tied tightly ina large handkerchief, which was now dyed a deep red, whatever was its original hue. He gave a groan of satisfaction on perceiving his friends, ‘““Why, hello, Bill, what’s they, springing toward him. , Bill haited, while a sour.expression over- spread his face, ‘‘On’y a tussle with a b’ar,” he growled. “ But you never see’d such a slashin’ tug. Up and down. Underholt and overholt. Ef it had been anybody but Shanandoah Bill he’d been chawed up alive. But it’s jis) my pro» vender to wrastle with b’ars.” : “Did he git off?” cried the others, looking with admiration on the hero of the bear fight. “Yes, dang his shaggy hide! An’ tuk a bit of me off with him.” ‘“‘ How’s that, Bill? Are you bad hurt?’ ‘He chawed off my little finger, that’s all,” growled Bill. ‘‘ You never see’d sich a tussle, now let me tell you. But I’m kinder weak, fellers, Can’t ye tote me ‘long? Guess I’ve wasted ’bout a bucketful of blood.” The two men hastened to comply, with much show of feeling for Bill’s hurt. ‘“P’m goin’ to git even with that b’ar,” he de- clared, as they moved off. ‘I know his hole, and if I don’t plug him, shoot me! Bill Bounce, the buzzard of the Alleghanies, ain’t goin’ to be chawed up fer nothin’.” “Do you hear that, Frank?’ wrong?” cried whispered art, : ‘IT told you I’d mark him,” answered Frank. ‘¢ And if he knows when he’s well off he’d best keep clear of that bear. It might chaw off an- other finger.” CHAPTER VIII. A PRISONER IN SPITE OF HIMSELF. ‘“‘Hereaway!” cried Mr, Smike, as he came briskly up the glen. ‘‘Where are you, good boys? Speak out, cheery lads!” 1 is lively call was answered by a whimper from the hounds. Directed by this sound the hunter hurried forward, repeating his calls as he did so. Soon he emerged from the thickly-grown path into a more open space. Before his pleased eyes lay the antlered form of the slain buck, beside os hi were stretched the lank forms of the hounds, their tongues lolling, as they breathed hard after their exertions. _ They sprung lazily to their feet, and stood stretching themselves as they awaited their master’s approach. “*Good dogs!” he cried, patting their heads. ‘‘Have you pulled down the buck yourselves? Royal fellows! But I heard shots. And here’s where our city boys were placed. What has flown away with them?” ; He stooped, and examined the game, while the dogs fawned upon him. | i! ‘ you lying brutes it wasn’t you after all! There’s a bullet-hole through the creature’s brain, And you taking a credit that didn’t be- long to you! Shame on you! I wouldn’t have believed that of dogs trained by me!” The intelligent creatures slunk away with bushes, forcing themselves deeply under covert | downcast heads, as if they understood his mean- and arranging the leaves so as to remove the traces of their entrance. From where they la they could readily look out upon the knoll wit little danger of being observed in return. The sounds which had. warned Frank grew uickly louder, Soon two men emerged from the opposite thicket and paused as they came into the open space. Their observers recognized them at a glance as some of the rough fellows who had accompanied Bill Bounce on the night of the dance. Ries. engaged in conversation as they stood there. “What way now?” asked one. ‘‘ Shall we head for the town, and a swig of red-eye? Wonder where Bill is.” “Down that way, somewhar, Ther’ was a i ing. e But what’s become of Frank and Bart? There’s something confounded odd ‘about this. Here lay their rifles, and not a sign of them about. I can’t make it out.” _ Putting his hand to his mouth he gave vent to a succession of calls, and view halloos, that rung far away along the mountain flanks, “Hillo! Whereaway?) Whereaway? Tally- ho-ho-ho!” The shrill cry pealed through the clear moun- tain air, the dogs lifting their long ears, as if ready to start in full course. a3 “Down, lads,” commanded Smike, quietly taking a huge bite of tobacco, which he rolled with satisfaction into hisright cheek. ‘‘ If they are within hearing that will fetch them.” Sa ___ } »
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—~ » ' The Two ‘Bloods.’ 9 fat <n AS a ES RE APES FN RS A OL RE NRA RSS PE OSE SEES AE SN ES RE TT ERE NTS SOE RT ESN NE ST Oe _ A faint, but distinct ‘‘ hillo!” came from afar, in_ response to his call. é Ina few minutes more a rustling sound was heard in the bushes to the left, and soon the forms of Frank and Bart emerged into view. “Where in the blue blazes have you been?” demanded Smike, with spleen. ‘Who ever heard of a pair of green hands shooting a ten- year-old buak, and then straying off into the ushes to pick gooseberries?” “Nobody, I fancy,” laughed Frank. ‘‘ We've been after richer fruit than gooseberries, and nobler game than bucks.” “Nobler game? There is no nobler game!” Smike declared. ‘‘A buck of ten tines, like that! But come; out with your story. What drew you away?” _ “A runaway that left a golden trail,” re- joined Frank. ‘You know our errand here, and wecan speak freely to you, before there are any other ears about. It was Norman Rand himself. We chased bim far through the thicket, but be gave us the slip.” Smike put his hands on his knees; half doubled himself, and gave a shrill whistle of surprise. “Norman Rand! By all that’s ok gan 5 there no mistake, lads? Why, that bit of game would be worth a mountain full of bucks!” ‘“*There’s no doubt of it,” answered Frank, confidently. ‘Sit down here, and we will go over the story.” . Taking a comfortable seat on a fallen log that lay near them, Frank proceeded to detail their adventures, up to the point in which Bill Bounce had told of his tussle with the bear. The Virginian gave another whistle of sur- prise. “Do you want to tell an old coon like me that you took off Bill’s finger with a bullet? And at a long range? Hang it all, Frazer, that cock won’t fight.” “T don’t swallow it,” declared Bart. ‘‘It was the bear bit it off.” ‘*Maybe it was,” answered Frank, calmly. **Tt’s gone, anyhow. Well, to shorten my story, we followed them about a mile further through the mountains. There they broyght up at a hut, built in an open glade, on the east slope of the hills. Do you know the spot?” mike shook his head, “Not me. I didn’t know there was any set- tlement thereaway.” eae tell you about it,” came a voice near em. They hastily turned. There stood the old fel- ' low who had settled Bill Bounce on the day of the shooting-match. It was Old Tom Turnstile, who had approached unobserved. He bore a long-barreled rifle upon his shoulder, and was looking down on the deer. “A neat bit of game that,” he remarked. “Yes,” cried Frank shortly. “‘ But you know that mountain hut! Whose is it?” “]t’s a sort of loafin’ place for Shanandoah Bill and his gang,” answered the old man. ‘A good spot to sample red-eye. When they want to get blazin’ drunk that’s their hole. And there’s worse nor that goes on, I’m afeared.” The conversation continued for some minutes longer, the old man revealing much informa- tion about the lurking-places of the ruffianly There were few spots in the mountains which were not known to him. “JT don’t b’lieve they’re quite saints,” he averred. ‘‘ There’s more than what’s Christian- like goes on among that gang.” ; He was interrupted by approaching steps, as some other members of the hunting-party came up. - Pwhile this conversation continued, other events of interest were taking place in the woods, One reason of the unsuccessful character of the chase made by the two young men was that it had been too rapid. They had overrun their game. A slower and more watchful pur- suit might have proved more successful. ‘ For a pair of alert eyes had watched their rapid progress with a mixture of fright and cunning. The owner of those eyes moved not from his covert until their return. Hidden in impenetrable shade he watched them until they had vanished in the distance. Then, from a dense clump of bushes, in Which he lay couched like a rabbit in its ree mye crept out the fugitive, with a slow, snaky movement. His cheek was pale and his lips trembling, as he looked down the path. **T am pursued even here!” he muttered. “ And by that pair of blood-hounds! I thought I was hidden beyond the reach of danger, and suddenly those two faces break upon me from the thicket. What shallido? ShallI fly fur- ther? They are after me, 1 know. Nothing else would have brought them here.” There was a look of irresolution upon his face, as, with steps that trembled despite himself, he made his way along the mountain path. “Fool as I was, to halt over that deer!” he continued. ‘‘ And that I should try to cut the throat of the poor thing, that seemed to me not dead. I fear I have cut my own throat by my folly. My knife has gone, and may have fal- len into their hands.” He walked on with difficulty. His feet were evidently not used to the mountain paths. An hour afterward his slow walk brought him to that concealed glade in which Frank and Bart had discovered the hut of the moun- taineers., It was a beautiful opening in the center of the forest, covered with a thick carpet of grass, in the midst of which burst out a cool spring, whose clear waters ran in a narrow channel down the dale, One side of this opening was occupied by a log hut, of some size, though very rudely built. Yet its very rudeness seemed in harmony with its surroundings. It had some of nature’s charm of picturesque wildness. In front of this hut were several roughly- dressed and evil-faced mon. Among them was Shenandoah Bill, whose wound had dressed, and who seemed m< re comfortable. The new-comer advanced rapidly toward them, his face full of apprehension. ‘*T have been chased through the mountains!” he cried. ‘ The blood-hounds are on my track! I call on you, gentiemen, for protection. You pledged yourselves that I should not be taken,” “T don’t see as you've been gobbled up yit,” growled one of the mountaineers. ‘And with that rig, and the walnut juice on your face, your own mother wouldn’t know you. You needn’t be afeared.” ‘* They knew me!” cried the fugitive pitifully. “‘They chased me like sleuth-hounds! There is no safety for me, now that they are on my track!” ‘*And what the deuce then takes you flirtin’ round, like a pig that’s lost its cob?” grumbled Bill, as his pallid face put on a sour look. ““Why can’t ye keep shady round yere, ’stead of diggin’ bout whar yvou’s got no bizness? Ef you're goin’ to poke yer old nose inter every fool’s face, you can’t ’spect us to look arter ou, < A flush of anger came into the brown-hued face of the stranger. Somesbarp retort seemed on his lips, but he repressed it. He could not afford to turn these men against him, ‘Who is it that’s on your track?’ asked another of the men. “Is it the officers?” “Yes. The blood-hounds of the law. They had just shot a deer. I was bending over it, when I looked up and saw their faces. I ran for my life, but they chased me terribly. They were in this glen. They may have seen this very spot.” A violent oath broke from Bill’s lips. His face grew paler, as from a twinge of pain. ‘* Fire and blazes!” he yelled. ‘I know them now! It’s the two Baltimore bucks! It’s the chap as won the shcotin’-match, and his pard! May’ the foul fiend fly away with the pair of em! ‘The feller as knocked you to baste at the shindig,” said another, with a wide grin. **None of that, Phil,” was the savage reply. “ Jist take my advice and don’t try that on Bi Bounce. Don’t ye come grinnin’ round this chicken, or you'll see streak lightnin, afore you know what’s what.” He half rose to his feet, with an angry glare. But the pain of bis wound admonished him, and he sunk back with a groan. ‘‘T hoped I was safe here!” exclaimed the pris fugitive, wringing his hands in dis- may. ‘But [must fly See T must seek a new hiding-place. You shal men, for your 2 eipawtonns But I must go on.” A look of odd meaning passed between Bill and his accomplices. ‘* Don’t ye be feared,” said the ruffian; with a cunning leer. ‘“‘Jist keep cool. If them there chaps comes in reach of old Betsy, ye’ll see rank p’izen waked up. Now mind that.” ‘1 must fly!” persisted the fugitive. ‘I dare not stay here!’ “We can’t spare you,” remarked one of the ruffians, in a decisive tone. ‘ We’ve made up be well paid, gentle- | our mind to take keer of you—and your cash.” There was something unpleasantly suggestive in the tone in which this was said, and in the look which passed between the mountaineers. “ But my money is not here,” cried the old fellow, with a pitiful look. ‘I will send for some. I will pay you well for your kindness. Only let me go.” . been | ‘“Mebbe you best,” was the fierce reply. “Ye’re not goin’ back on us. If you don’t tork over, we'll jist plant you in a holler tree and set fire to it. That’s us.’ The prisoner, as he seemed to be, gazed with a emider into the circle of savage faces. ** But it isn’t safe round yere for Mr Rand,” declared another, ‘If they’ve tracked him yere they’ve got the open sights on us.” “*T move we take the old gentleman over to the fox-hole,” advised a third. ‘‘ There’s where they’ll never smell him out.” “Let ’em come yere,” roared Bill. ‘If they want fight that’s jist my provender. The Alle- ghany buzzard aren’t goin’ to take water fer a brace of Baltimore counter-jumpers, nary time.” ‘Take me to the other place!” demanded Mr. Rand. ‘I am afraid to remain here! They have tracked me here! Take me to the other place, gentlemen!” It was finally agreed that this was the wisest course, and one of the mountaineers was sent to conduct their precious guest over the bills to the hiding-place, which they called the “ fox- hole.” The others remained until they could come to a decision as to their future move- ments, ‘‘And if them Baltimore bloods come yere,” declared Bill, “ I’ve got a trigger-finger and a sound eye yet; I’m a-goin’ to plug that slim- built hound if I hang fer it. That’s Shanandoah Bill’s say. Mind me!” CHAPTER IX. ON A BLIND TRAIL, On the morning succeeding the day of the deer-hunt a small procession filed through the woods toward the mountain hut of the ruffianly gang. Old Tom Turnstile led the van, followed by Frank and Bart in Indian-file, while Mr. Smike made up the rear. The latter was say- agely chewing, while the expression of his face showed great dissatisfaction with this enter- prise. “They’re murdering devils,” he complained; ‘‘ they’ll show fight; we might as well poke our heads into a bear’s den at once.” “You don’t fear them, Mr. Smike?” asked Frank. ‘‘Fear them? I don’t fear anything,” ex- claimed Smike, valiantly, “but were not strong enough. If we bad a half-dozen more poet rye now, I’d be very glad to act as rear rd. A laugh at Smike’s idea of valor came from the others. “There are us four and the law,” declared Bart, ‘‘ that’s as good as a baker’s dozen.” “* Less noise,” warned Old Tom. ‘‘ We’re tin’ close up, It’s no time fer cacklin’ when game’s in ear-shot.” This petulant remark silenced them, and they quietly followed for some distance further. After a few minutes their guide halted. “The spot is just ahead,” he whispered. ‘Hang back here while I forge a bit forward and spy ’em out.” Without waiting for an answer he pushed on, and was quickly lost in the windings of the path. The others quietly waited, resting on their weapons and conversing in low tones. Five min- utes elapsed, and then the old scout returned with a dubious look. “I’m afeared they've cut stick,” he declared, ‘It’s like a graveyard "bout there. But it mought be an ambush. If ye’ll step forward to the edge, and cover me, ’' worm in. Don’t do to peg in too suddent on that kind of vermin.” A few minutes more found the party on the edge of the open glade. The sun was shining warmly down. on its carpet of verdure, but no sign of human life was anywhere present. The closed hut stood quiet and solitary. Flinging himself at full length on the ground, old Tom wormed himself forward, in a snaky fashion. He had evidently practiced the same movement before, in his hunting excursions, for he made his way onward with considerable ra- pidity, while his form scarcely appeared above the long grass. | don be was beside the hut. Lifting his head he sought to look through the cracks in the ill- fitting woodwork. His companions, with ready rifles, stood prepared to defend him, should he | be assai’ed by any lurking inmates of the hut. A moment of anxiety followed. They were not used to work of this sort, and knew that they had desperate characters to deal with. A battle for life might be necessary ere they could take their prisoner. Suddenly old Tom sprung to his feet with an assuring whoop. “It’s as empty as a meal-bag afte: a winter's ;
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ges SS ee rl nt ES bakin’,” pe declared. ‘‘The hounds has ‘cut stick. There’s not hair nor hide on’em here. They’ve took the cue and slid, hang ’em.” . At this a peal his comrades came hastily for- ward. Old Tom had meanwhile ows open the door of the hut, and entered. “Slid,” he briefly declared. ‘‘ Vamosed. They’ve either shet up, and gone on a ramp; or else they’ve took your map on to some of their hidin’- laces. They know more nor one, in the mountings.” A close examination of the hut decided them in favor of the latter view. Much of its sparse furniture had disappeared, particularly the bedding. Frank ak 9 a keen investigation, and soon discovered positive evidences that the fugitive had indeed been concealed there. “'Phere’s no mistake about it,” he averred. 1 Bee here, if you want proof of high civiliza- tion.” He held up a well-worn tooth-brush, which le had discovered in an obscure corner. Old Tom looked at it in surprise. “What is it?” he asked curiously. “ Didn’t I tell you?” laughed Frank. “A tooth-brush is proof positive of high culture. Our man has been here.” With a sniff of disgust at such ridiculous fashions, old Tom left the hut. He preferred to clean his teeth on bacon and venison-steak. When they came out they found him, with his - head well to the ground, moving slowly toward the Re Sear side of the glade. They looked curiously at bis movements, not knowing just what to make of them At length he aaiae. his head, with an air of satisfaction. ‘‘Tooth-brushes is very rich,” he remarked ‘but an old hunter’s eyes is good for some’at too, ’Tain’t every greenhorn as can pick up a trail, out of wild tramplin’ like this round here, This’ Agi they went, I’ll sell my head on it.” ted. to where a path opened south- wird Resougt the thicket. Instantly his fol- lowers were on the alert. “Can zo lead us to their hiding-place?” The old man shook his head. “‘Tt’s plain enough here. But it’ll soon strike bare rock, where a dog couldn’t nose it. How- somever, we mought try.” mt ay his rifle to a carry, he strode briskly forwa he others fell into his track. The path they followed was a narrow one, level for some distance, and then sloping up the moun- tain side, And ere they had gone half a mile all trace of undergrowth had disappeared. The forest that clothed the mountain flank, still bent its leafy arches over their heads, but the soil was thin and almost bare. Only an occasional shrub, a few blades of grass, and some mosses and lichens, marked its surface. The scout moved forward less rapidly, with his keen eyes to the ground. Their path still climbed the mountain-side. As they reached a higher elevation the trees became more scattered, and the thin soil was i and there replaced by patches of bare r When the trail struck these it became diffi- cult to take it up again. Little effort had been made to hideit, but the thin, bure soil was al- most as hard as the solid rock. Here a foot- mark, ina oe! of moss, there a broken twig, yonder a P rartin of wet leaves which had been recently disturbed, told the story of the flight, and the pro became slow and laborious. Finally a locality was reached, far up on the mountain, in which the forest ‘ceased. For a considerable distance the rock was utterly bare of soil, and so broken and rugged that passage over it became difficult. “T thought as much,” remarked Tom, shaking his head. “I reckoned they’d strike’ up here. sod don’t keer to be follered, and there’s a mile of this open. And a desp’rat rough it oad I’m doubtful ’bout pickin’ up the tral By adico they rested, while he made his way forward alone. They were quite ready for this. Young as they were in comparison with the old man, they had not been trained to mountain travel, and their morning’s work had been no trifle. But Old Tom s payne forward over the rough rocks as briskly as though his limbs were young and fresh. For an hour they patiently waited, reclining on convenient rocks, and conversing upon their nite eaterprise, ‘and the causes which had e At the end of that time the old scout reap- peared. Not over the rocks, however, but by an easier passage through the lower range of woodland. The Two ‘Bloods.’ ‘No returns,” he declared, shaking his griz- zled head. “ ‘the trail’s pegged out. They’re keen hands, them fellers, an they’ve flung us, That’s the long and short of it.” “By Jupiter, then, I for one won’t stay flung!” exclaimed Frank, springing resolutely to his feet. ‘I will hunt down the villain if he trails me to Texas. Likely enough he has left these fellows now, and struck out for new quarters.” “*No,” answered Old Tom shrewdly. ‘‘ They wouldn’t have troubled themselves to hide their trail. He’s with them yet.” “See here, old man,” broke in Bart. “ You're just the chap for our mone Suppose we put this job into your hands. he hounds can’t be easy. They’ll be digging over the hills, and into the towns. Can’t you waylay and track them? We’ll make it worth your while.” ‘“‘The man you are after is a fugitive from justice?” “e Yes. ” ** And how much will it be worth to me?” ‘*A hundred dollars, if you put us on his track,” said Frank. “Then Dm your man. I goin for the law, flat-footed! And I know these mountings like you knowa book. If Old Tom Turnstile can’t fetch ’em there’s no use anybody tryin’. You can take things easy, getitlernen, But be ready when I give the word.” ‘You can depend on us,” answered Frank. ‘Give us the cue once, and we'll engage to play the play to the end.” Shouldering their rifles they took up their path toward the town. There was nothing more to be done just then. While this search was going on, the object of it was far from being at ease. He had roused that morning after a useless effort at sleep. It was undoubtedly full day, his watch told him that. Yet a dense darkness only broken by the feeble rays of a distant lamp, surrounded him. The floor upon which he stood was rough His outstretched hand touched a wall, He made his way cautiously to- the light. be was, in fact, ina cavern. Nota deep nor wide one, it is true, It was simply a large rock opening, which the gang who occasionally oc- cupied it had christened the “‘ fox-hole,” but it sufficed for the concealment of their precious prisoner. On reaching the light the mouth of the cavern became plainly visible. It was masked with thick bushes, so that only a shadowy gleam of the daylight could penetrate its dim recesses. On a flat stone near the entrance sat the hard- faced man who had guided the fugitive to this retreat. There was a pipe between his lips. He held in his hands the barrel of his rifle, which he was carefully cleaning. ‘Mornin’ ter yer,” he remarked, without re- moving | his pipe. ‘‘ Hope yer slept sound and hearty. Mr. Rand looked cautiousl ** Are you alone?” he asked. “ Reckon so. Nobody else yere, ’cept you.” The fugitive seated himself near his savage- looking guard. ** You rae are not going to keep mea risoner?” he queried, in a wheedling Seat <P ave kept my gain with you. I will pay you well. But ig must go on. I am not safe here.” iS) we can’t look arter you? Ye ain’t tryin’ to insult us, hey?” ‘CA bar; —_— is a bargain,” answered Mr. Rand. engaged you to protect me. I need your aid no longer, and release you from it.” “We ain’t that kind,” growled the man, as he placed the rifle barrel in the stock. ‘‘ We're goin’ to take care of you while—” “ While what?” “While yer pile holds out. Don’t suppose we're fools enough to fling away a bag o’ gold dust, does ye?” “But that is treachery! it is sheer robbery!” declared the indignant prisoner. 4: hag S who said we was saints or gngele, hey? S'pose ye pick yer words a bit better, old man. Old Rand again looked cautiously around, while a cunning look came into his face. “Tt might be worth your while to let me go,” he said. ‘‘ You are alone. What need you care for these men. I will make you rich.” “* And they will kill me.’ ‘*They would have to find you first,” pleaded the old Tugitive, He saw that he had touched a weak point in his captor’s heart. ‘I will give you money eran to enable you to put yourself ent mt Segond their reach. Only guide me from this place to a place of safety. A doubtful look came upon the villain’s face. around him, He rose and walked to the door Nia ae ea oie git acne | wlan a Ai gaan aaa mR | Sey iindil aad Wat WS aly Good, BEAN Sars, the cave. All seemed still without. He came back. ‘* How much?” * A thousand dollars.” ‘Thousand devils! Do you take me for a fool? Say five thousand.” ‘‘T am making you a liberal offer. You want to beggar me,” whined old Rand. ‘Rive thousand or not a cent.” The old fugitive continued to bargain, but his guard was resolute, and he finally gavein. He saw plainly that his present captors intended to beggar him, and that he must escape them at any sacrifice. ‘Ready then. Now or never’s our time, Brace vaniett up, and we'll streak for liberty and fortune. And a fig fur Shanandoah Bill and his cronies.’ A look of joy came upon the prisoner’s scared face. He ran to gather up his few effects. He was hurrying back toward the mouth of the cave, when a warning hiss from his companion came to his ears. A fl of light burst in through the opened bushes, and to the fugitive’s utter dismay the members of the gang streamed into the cave, Bill crying out: “Thought ye mought be havin’ a lonely time of it, and we’d jist Grop round and see ye,” CHAPTER x. THE WORK OF JEALOUSY. A WEEK.passed by. Old Tom was still busy on the task he had undertaken, but no report had come from him. Evidently he was not yet on the track of the gang. The two young men amused themselves as best they could while waiting with some im- patience. They had left Mr. Smike’s, and were now at the hotel in the village of Sumter, so as to be on hand if needed. But they were too full of life to rest easy, and Bart renewed his acquaintance with Sue Wilder, his partner on the night of the dance. She was a ively, whole-souled girl, and he managed to drop around to the front gate of her residence every oy not at all to the com- aah of young Hardy, who was her acknowledged over, ‘‘See here, Bart,” cried Frank. ‘‘This won’t do. Hardy will cut your throat if it goes on. Don’t you see that he is boiling over with jealousy?” ‘** Bless you, I am only after a little pastime,” declared Bart. ‘But you are turning the girl’s head. She has utterly jilted her old lover. It won’t do. He is a good fellow. We must not make an enem of him.” ou’re as bad,” protested Bart. “I saw you chattin with Bal Slocum over the garden gate esterday.” at’sanother matter,” laughed Frank, “Tf don’t care how jealous I'make her lover. I’ve a notion that Bill Bounce owes me no good will now. While they were conversing, the jilted lover was walking slowly along, outside the town, with downcast head, and a very gloom face. He had just met with a decided rebu from Sue, and was suffering all the pains of jealousy. They had, in fact, come to bard words. e had accused her of flirting. She had denied his right to control her actions. One word bad led to another until he had torn away, mad with jealousy and anger, and ready for any re- venge on his rival that might offer itself. In this mood he suddenly found himself face to face with Shenandoah Bill, who was making his way toward the town. Bill’s left hand was closely tied up, but he seemed to have recov- ered his strength. His face was bitter with ge ag om anger. See yere, Tim Hardy,” he cried. ‘‘ Jist pile in what ye know ’bout them city chaps, Is they rootin’ round Sumter, hey?’ ‘* Yes, confound them!” blurted out the angry over. Bill looked up in surprise. “Then ye’re not swimmin’ on their side yer- self, I reckon?” “One of them’s cut me out from from my gal,” acknowledged Hardy. ‘‘And t’other’s goin’ i in flat-footed fer yourn. I don’t like these bloods comin’ here, and makin’ fools of our < “ By the blasted rip-staver!” age Bill, ‘‘I don’t like ’em fur nothin’, You kin bet high on that. Yer ain’t goin’ to stand sich a monkey cuttin’ you out o’ yer gal, hey?” ‘Not if I know myself,” ” declared Hardy, with gloomy resolution. “Come yere, then,” cried Bill. ‘‘ Ye’r’ jist the feller I want. Let’s squat down on this yere stone, and have a chat,
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‘man’s face worked with rage. a Ae The place where they met was withdrawn from observation, and for an hour the hardened Villain and the jealous lover plotted together, both of them desperately bent on revenge, though for very different reasons. At the same time Old Tom walked along the road near which the plotters were concealed. They were almost within ear-shot, yet they might have been a hundred miles off for all he was aware of their proximity. The old fellow was worried and put out by his lack of success. A week’s effort, and he had not yet struck a shadow of a trail. “Tm tempted to throw up the job,” be said to Frank and Bart on meeting them an hour afterward. ‘‘Pve done my level best, but they’re layin’ desp’rat’ low. I’ve tried the mounting’s for six miles round, and ain’t twigged a shader.” “But they must show themselves,” Frank as- sured him. ‘They are not provisioned for a siege. Keep at it, old man. Some of them must show themselves before long.” “Tell you what,” remarked Tom. ‘* Mebbe my old eyes ain’t got the vartue they once had. Vd like to take young Hardy into this bizness, He’s got a nose like a hound, and a pair of eyes like gimlets. There’s mighty good s-uff in the boy. if You can’t get him,” laughed Bart. ‘‘ He is ready to cut my throat now.” “What for?” “ Making love to his girl.” “Then take an old feller’s advice and dro that. You don’t know the lad likeIdo. He’s just a little devil when he’s roused. What do you want with the gal?” “Nothing but to kill time.” “Then jist drop it. Ye’re killin’ more than time. Dll see Tim. But he’s a surly little ras- cal when he gits his back up. I’m afeared he won’t take hold.” It was near the gate of the Slocum residence that Old Tom met the jilted lover. Looking to see that he was not observed he broached the subject to him, told him the character of the et he had in hand, and that he wanted is aid, Hardy listened quietly till he was through. ‘It’s against Bill Bounce and in favor of these city chaps you're working?” Yes,” was the answer. “Then ’m not with you.” “Why ” “Cause I hate them like p’izen.” The young “Pd sooner cut their throats than lift a hand for them!” “What! After all that Mr. Frazer has done for you?” ‘7m not to be bought with his paltry money,” said Tim, ‘It’s a bribe to keep me quiet while they rob me of all I love in the world. You know I’d lay down in the dust and let Sue Wilder walk over me. But here come these fine gentlemen to make a baby of me and to ruin the girl. And they try to buy me! To buy me with their dirty money! If J stood that l’'d be worse than a dog!” “They don’t mean anything of the kind,” protested Tom. ‘‘ That’s all wild jealousy.” “Don’t tulk to me?” persisted Hardy. ‘‘I know them! I know their tricks! I will throw his cash in his teeth! And [ll shodt myself if I don’t get even with the pair of them!” He ran furiously away, too full of bis jealous idea, and his thirst for revenge, to be open to reason, or to listen to the homely good sense of the old man. y Tom shook his head dubiously. “A young fool is the wust sort of fool,” he ayerred. ‘ You mought as well talk, jist now, toa crocodile. There was always a bit of wild- ness in the family, anyhow. The old man had it, and Tim’s took it from him. He’s as crazy now as a March hare, and it’s all with jealousy. Pll go see Sue and tell her what she’s doin’. She’s got sense enough to know which side her bread’s buttered.” Old Tom continued to shake his pate head as he walked on. He did not like the complica- tion of affairs. Hardly had he gone ere the buxom form of Sal Slocum appeared from be- hind a flower bush in the garden, Her face was full of anxious interest. ‘‘There’s more in it nor you see, Old Tom,” she declared. ‘‘There’s deviltry afoot, or I don’t know nothin’ ’bout men’s faces. But they are not goin’ to harm Mr. Frazer while Sal Slo- cum is about. He’s a gentleman, and Bill Bounce is the wust show of a rascal, and he’s got me to look out fer.” rm Two days after the date of this conversation Frank Frazer received a note by the hands of a youthful messenger, It was written on a soiled The Two ‘Bloods.’ piece of paper, which was rather crushed to- gether than folded. He had great difficulty in making out the writing, which was in pencil, and very rudely performed, After some trou- ble he managed to read the following: “T’ve got them nailed at last. Meet me at Bill Bounce’s old hut in the mountains. I’ve got to keep round here, fer fear they give me the slip again, Don’t lose any time coming, for they are slippery coons, Tom TURNSTILE,”’ We have considerably improved the spelling of the document. It was a remarkable speci- men of English as it read. It was now two o’clock in the afternoon. Bart. was absent. He had gone that morning on a business visit to Mr. Smike. But without a moment’s suspicion of anything wrong, Frank left a note for his friend, armed himself only with a small pocket-pistol, and set out alone for the place of rendezvous. It was a bright autumn afternoon, and he en- joyed the clear, bracing air as he walked rapidly along the mountain paths. An occasional rab- bit scurrying over the fallen leaves, or the flash of a bird’s wing in the trees, were the only signs of life. But all was fresh, clear, and pleasant, and he found the walk delightful. Ere long he passed the spot where he had shot the deer, and turned into the paths through which he had so ardently pursued his human game. Up the side-ravine by the flowing rivu- let, and across the low mountain-ridge, and he quickly found himself on the edge of the clear- ing, at one side of which stood the log-hut. ft was his third visit to this locality. All was as quiet as at the time of his second visit. There were no signs of life. ‘‘Olad Tom must be off in the woods some- where,” remarked Frank, to himself. “ Or maybe he is asleep in that palatial habitation, It would be a neat sell if I could catch the old hunter napping.” With a quiet laugh he approached the hut, not ; suspicion of anything wrong crossing his mind. All continued silent. He pushed open the door and entered. There was a man seated by the table that occupied the center of the floor, but to his surprise, instead of the old hunter, he recognized the form of young Hardy. He was alone in the hut, and viewed the entrance of his enemy with a stern expression. “T did not ex- “You here!” cried Frank, pect to see you.” ‘* Where is your friend?” asked Hardy, the wild look of madness in his eyes. ‘*He is not here. What fe you want with him?” ‘*T wanted him for a witness,” was the stern reply. ‘Just count that cash, and tell me if it’s all right.” He pushed a roll of bills toward his visitor. With surprise Frank opened and counted it. There were just two hundred dollars. ‘*We are square on that transaction,” said the young man bitterly. ‘Put it in your pocket, and that will do for receipt.—But, there’s another bizness we’re not square on,” ‘¢ What do you mean?” cried Frank, growing angry in his turn. ‘‘Are you going out of your senses, Hardy?’ He looked, indeed, as if he was, for there was the glare of insanity in his eyes, ‘“‘T mean that you’re a pair of treacherous rascals!” exclaimed Hardy, moving toward the door. ‘‘ You come here to rob me of her I love! ‘You come here to ruin her! You seek to buy me till you can carry out your devilish plot! To buy me, say! ButI fling your money in pe face! Iam clear of you now, and I will ave revenge! By the gods, I will have re- venge!” Flinging the door open he rushed wildly out. rank stood a moment stupefied with amaze- ment. Then with a look of concern he followed the crazed lover to the door. But he was destined to a greater surprise, for at that moment the forms of three stalwart men closed up the doorway, the surly face of Bill Bounce in advance, ‘Not so fast, my young buck!” he sneering] remarked. “ Hardy’s settled his account wit ye, but Shanandoah Bill is got his to settle yit,” and he held up his wounded hand warningly. “Trapped!” exclaimed Frank, retreating a step back, “Wal, it looks that way,” answered Bill, as he and his comrades crowded into the hut. CHAPTER XI. REMORSE FOLLOWS TREACHERY. Two hours after Frank had set out in response to the treacherous note, Bart returned. He Lei tp came whistling into the hotel, and flung his hat. carelessly on a table. ‘“Where’s Mr. Frazer?” he asked, in a cheery way, of the landlord. “G. He left this for you.” one out, this two hours. The rubicund host handed his guest a folded bit of paper. Bart took and carelessly opened it, But his. face grew grave as he read its contents, “Two hours ago, you say?” ‘Yes. Thereabout.” The young man struck up his tune again, but it was not the careless whistle of before, He strolled out into the porch, again reading the. note. ‘*Got word from old Tom, eh? On the track of the rascal at last. That’s comfortable. But, somehow I don’t likeit. Frank ought to have waited for me. He’s a hasty ws Neg and is. just the fellow to jump into trouble. Think ’d est strike out after him,” He stood with one foot on a chair, and his chin on his elbow, his eyes ranging heedlessl down the street, as these thoughts ran thro his mind. Suddenly he started, as a man’s form turned ° street corner near him, and approached the hotel. ; “Old Tom now!” he cried, slapping his knee with energy. ‘Then where is the boy? By Jupiter, I smell deviltry back of all this. Hey, old man!” The old fellow turned at this call, and saw Bart’s beckoning hand. He came quickly up. ‘* How goes the chase?” ‘* All blue yet.” The old man shook his head. ‘* Haven’t struck ile so far.” “Then what did you mean by writing to Mr. Frazer, and telling him to meet yeu at the old hut in the mountains, and that you were safely on their track?” ‘“‘Me? Why, I never writ a word in my life! Laws bless ye, boy, we’ve somethin’ else to do, hereaway.” “The deuce! It is as I feared! Then the boy is in a mint of trouble, and we’ve got to let out like sin. Brace yourself up, my hearty, We must not let the grass grow under our feet now.” ‘“‘ What's afoot?” asked Tom, in surprise. A few quick words amen to tell him, stood cogitating, while the hotel, to prepare for their journe m “Tt’s not Bill as done it,” the old man in- formed him, on his return, ‘They know no more ’bout writin’ than so many screech-owls.” ‘* Who was it then?” “Young Tim Hardy.” ‘“Hardy? The deuce! ‘* Nobody shorter,” persisted Old Tom. ‘‘ You- *ve been foolin’ ’round his gal, and he’s wild with jealousy. It’s none too smart a breed, anyhow. The Gaeey used to have wild spells. The boy was clean daft when I talked to him, t’other day.” i Bart whistled in surprise. “Goodness! A fellow can’t spark a pretty girl around here without setting her lover crazy! That’srich! Come, let’s strike out.” — But we must precede them somewhat in their journey. They were not the only ones whohad the welfare of Frank Frazer at heart, and who had set out for his rescue, Along the mountain-path for which they were striking a sure-footed lass was alread g her way. She was dressed in a short gown 0 strong homespun, which defied the wayside briers, and which left her feet and ankles free to climb the rough acclivity. Her cheeks were fresh and rosy, and she walked with an easy swinging step which only a life in the moun- tains could have given. It was no less a damsel than. Sal Slocum, to whom these paths had been familiar since child- hood. She talked to herself as she proceeded. “Tm goin’ to cut clean loose from Shanan- doah Bill. He’s gettin’ to be an out and out devil, an’ that’s not my sort. He was a prime hunter once; but he’s droppin’ into wuss bizness. He kin cut bis own stick fur me,—An’ I’m goin’ to git Mr. Frazer out of his clutches; for Mr. Frazer’s a gentleman, right through.” Sal dropped into a reverie, which seemed a leasant one, by the smiling expression of her He It can’t be!” oni ‘ Her reflections were broken by a new inci- dent. Inthe path ahead of her, at some dis- tance appeared the figure of a man, whom she recognized at a glance. He bore a rifle on his shoulder, but his head was downcast, and he failed to perceive the <n before him, until the were face to face, had stationed herself directly across the path. art hurried back into |
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“Hold your hosses, Tim Hardy!” she reso- lutely cried. ‘‘Stop right thar! I want a look into that eye of yourn, for I don’t b’lieve it’s an honest one.” The young lover looked up with an expression in which gloom, anger and despair seemed ay ap “Get out of my way, Sal Slocum!” he ex- claimed, ‘‘Don’t you stop me. I’ve got some- thin’ else in hand to day besides idle chatter. Step out now, and let me go on.” ““Not a bit of it, Tim. Do I look as if I’m arter chatter? We gals ain’t all magpies; if you boys is half fools. Let me tell you that!” **] don’t care! Step aside, or [ll put you aside!” “You will, eh?” The girl spread her sturdy form and looked him sternly in the eye. “ Jist try it on, if you want a heave in them bushes! It’s no good you’ve heen arter, Tim Hardy, and well you know it! And I’m goin’ to put a spoke in your wheel, What have you done with Mr. Frazer?” Tim started, and looked around him with a wild glance, like a bird that suddenly finds it- self caged. “I don’t know anything about your Mr. Frazer,” be sullenly replied. “You lie!” she sternly averred. ‘* You lie two ways. He aren’t my Mr. Frazer; and you do know all’bout bim. You daren’t deny it.” * The devil take him and his partner!” yelled the maddened lover, with the look of an insane man. “They’ve robbed me between them! They’ve robbed me of Sue! And they wanted , to buy me off! But [ve flung him back his ‘blood-money! And I’m bound to have revenge on the other!” He started off in a wild pace. But Sal’s trong hand caught his collar, and jerked him “Stand there, you crazy fool, till I’m done!” she commanded, in a tone that seemed to cow him. ‘ Ye’re a fool, say! A crazy fool! No- body’s robbed you of your gal. Pity you ain’t got the wit to see that Sue’s only P ayin’ with this chap. It’s queer if we gals can’t have a bit 0’ fun, without raisin’ Cain like this,” *She’s not! She’s in love with him! She’s I talked with her ’bout cut me dead!” he persisted. “Don’t tell me that! it this mornin’. She says it’s all fun, and that she wouldn’t give your little finger, for the whole of him.” A flash came into Hardy’s dull eyes. Ho gripped her arm fiercely. * Are you lying to me? By the gods, if you are—!” ‘You know what sort of a gal I am,” she contemptuously replied. ‘‘ Slide on, if you don’t b’lieve me. I tell you, ye’re a fool, Tim Hardy. You conceited boys think the gals ain’t got no ht to look over their left shoulders, when ye’re about. Sue’s sound tothe core. But she’s not a baby, to tie herself fast to you with her apron strings.” A quick revulsion of feeling had come over the young lover. He tottered, and his eyes filled with tears. He let his face fall on the girl’s shoulder, as if for sympathy. **'You know how I loved her, Sal.” , ‘*Yes, yes, my poor boy!” she stroked his hair, all the woman in her roused by his emo- tion. ‘ Bat you must quit thinkin’ that gals is babies, to be rolled about in a baby coach.” “1 Joved her so! And I thought she was false to me! I thought these men meant her harm!” “And you sold yourself for a traitor anda villain!” she cried, with renewed anger. ‘‘ What have you done with Mr. Frazer, I say ?” “ Bill has him. Bill and his gang.” *“Shanandoah Bill? Where is he? Lead the “way, atonce! If Bill does him a harm let him look out fur Sal Slocum! If he wakes me up he mought find he’s got a catamount on bis hands! Where is he, I say?” A marked change of feeling had come upon Hardy within the last few minutes, His mad desire for revenge had vanished, and a deep re- morse taken its place, He stood like one stupe- ae until the impatient girl vigorously shook ** Lead on!” she cried, in hoarse tones. Follow me!” exclaimed Hardy, suddenly roused to action. ‘‘ We may be in time yet.” They hurried along the mountain path, up which Bart Wilson and his companion were now climbing, not far from the place where is conversation had occurred. Ié was not long ere they reached the but in ais an hour before, the -crazed lover had victim, in the cruel hands of Bill Bounce 7 ee The Two ‘Bloods.’ A single Jook told them it was empty. The door — wide open, but there was not a soul in sight. While they stood looking blankly at each other, Bart and Old Tom broke from the bushes and into the inclosure. ‘* What’s up?’ cried the former. empty? The birds flown?’ ‘It’s you, you dirty little hound!” yelled Old Tom, fiercely clutching Hardy’s shoulder. ** Yowre at the bottom of this! Tell us where they are, or by the eternal—” “They were here an hour ago!” stammered the bewildered youth. Lead us to them, on your life! If any harm comes to Mx. Frazer, by all that’s good, Pll brain you for a treacherous dog!” ‘I wishI could,” faltered Hardy. ‘‘I wish I knew where to find them.” ‘*Follow me!” cried Sal, with energy. ‘‘ Fol- low me! I’ve a notion I kin take you to the spot.” She sprung forward into the bushes, the others eagerly following. “The cage But, with the reader’s permission, we will leave them on this quest and seek others of our characters. We left Frank Frazer in a delicate and perilous position. It is time we were fol- lowing his adventures to the end. We have already seen that the place to which he had been trapped was empty. The villains, in fact, had quickly abandoned it and taken their prisoner over the mountain flank to a more secure and secluded covert, several mlles distant. This was a narrow opening in the bottom of a oe, ravine, rendered dark by the thick rowth of pines which enveloped it. But on this particular spot arock outcrop had hindered the growth of trees, forming a narrow opening in the forest. It is at a moment of thrilling interest that we epptoeds this secluded scene. The form of ank Frazer is firmly bound to a tree at the lower een of the clearing, his left hand being extend and tied to an adjoining sapling. Opposite him stands Shenandoah Bill, rifle in hand, and a look of deep malignity on his savage face. At one side stand his two hardened com- panions, looking on with curiosity, but without ‘a shadow of human sympathy for the victim. ** Ps told ye, lads,” remarked Bill, ‘‘ that that thar b’ar story were all a hoax. Yonder’s the b’ar as tuk off Bill Bounce’s finger. He’s a prime shot. I'll guv in to that. But we’re goin’ to see what old Betsy kin do ata good mark. Finger fer finger, that’s my law. I'll bet ye what ye dare thatI rip off the little finger clean.” “You can’t do it, you cowardly hound!” returned Frank, with a resolute tone. ‘* You might hit a bit of dead wood, But you haven’t the soul to look a manin the eye and send a straight bullet.” **T'll bet a cow I hit the mark plum center!” roared Bill, angered by his contemptuous remark. **T’ll bet an eagle you can’t,” The lookers on clapped their hands, ‘The fellow’s got grit, anyhow,” one of them remarked. “Goin’ to take in that bet, Bill?’ asked the ther. ‘“* Ain’t I then?” cried the villain, as he raised his heavy rifle. ‘‘Some folks has a notion that the Alleghany buzzard can’t shoot. some on’em to be ’round now. ’Tain’t of’n a feller gits sich a mark.” Frank stood with unflinching face as the rifle slowly came up to the marksman’s shoulder. The villain seemed playing with his victim. But if he thought to make Frank show tbe white feather he was mistaken. **You lubberly dog!” he cried. ‘‘ You don’t give me the chancel gave you. But I'll bet you ten to one you don’t hit the mark.” ‘*Done!” cried Bill, with sudden spleen, as he pressed his finger to the trigger. The mountain sides rung far and near with the loud echoing report. CHAPTER XII. A FLIGHT FOR LIFE. Iv was a critical moment. Despite the in- tense resolution to which Frank had nerved himself, he could not but shudder when that deadly weapon belched forth its flaming mes- sage. But his foes saw no signs of shrinking in him. A scornful laugh came from his lips, Vd. like | “‘ Missed,” he cried. ‘I'll take that stake. I knew the cowardly craven couldn’t look a man in the face and hit him, I’ve seen that kind of braggarts before.” A deadly oath burst from Bill’s lips. He was foaming with rage at his failure, and the con- temptuous scorn of his victim. ‘By the blazes!” he yelled. “Tl make a surer shot, and at a bigger mark than the dog’s finger! We'll see if I can’t sbet up that sassy tongue! Lend me yer rifle, Phil.” Ho: ran to one of his confederates, and tried to wrest the rifle from his hand. But the man re- sisted. ‘*None of that, Bill! murder!” he sternly cried. We won't have no “You kin pay him up fur yer finger, but no murder, Let go my rifle. ou sha’n’t shoot till you come to yer senses.” . He jerked the weapon from Bill’s grasp, and sternly repelled him. ; For the moment the savage’s hate was turned against bis friend. He clinched his brawny fist, and made a threatening step forward. But he hesitated, as the other showed no sign of flinching. ‘‘ Keep yer dirty old rifle!” yelled the furious villain. ‘“Tll feed old Betsy with another bullet. She’s wu’th a dozen of yer new-fangled pieces, anyhow.” He snatched up his own weapon, and com- menced to hastily reload it, his eyes red with fury. But, dur'ng this altercation the prisoner had not been idle. Certain ya movements had taken place, unobserved the wrangling vil- lains. When they again directed attention to him he was in his old position, with outstretched hand. Yet there was a quiet smile on his face that did not soften the temper of his antag- onist. In a minute Bill had reloaded his rifle, and raised it again to his shoulder. ; “The finger, mind you!” cried Phil. ‘We won’t have any murder!” The irate marksman made no answer, but he was evidently aiming at the exposed hand. As if determined to not again fail he took a long, steady aim. He had, for the moment, got all his old nerve back, and was determined to re- gain his credit as an expert rifleman, Not a muscle moved in Frank’s frame. He said nothing, but the quiet, disdainful smile lingered upon his lips. There were no signs of shrinking dread. Again the mountain echoes took up the loud report, Again fire flamed from the weapon. ‘Hit, for a shilling!” yelled Bill. ‘* Missed, for a crown!” came back, in ring- ing tones. And the astonished ruffians saw that their prisoner had suddenly disappeared. There stood the trees to which he had been bound. But to their utter astoundment be had vanished! He seemed to Bill’s amazed eyes to have melted into the air, or sunk into the ground, so unex- pected was this strange event. But the two lcokers-on were less at a loss. ‘He has broke loose! He has dug fer the woods! After him hot-foot!” The speaker Ae ed his rifle to a trail, and sprung forward, followed quickly by his com- penions. The shooting match was suddenly transformed into a wild pursuit. Frank’s escape was not really so miraculous | es it seemed to his captors. A combination of happy chance and of alert energy were alone concerned. By a strange freak of luck the first tullet aimed at him had really cut the cord that bound his hand to the tree. But he was too shrewd to let his foes perceive this, and con- tinued to extend his hand as if it were firmly bound. The altercation between Bill and his com- panion over the rifle had given Frank another opportunity, which he was quick to take advan- tage of. uring the minute in which the were too much engaged to observe him, he had, _with his free hand, drawn a pen-knife from his ocket, opened its sk st blade, and rapid! eect the somewhat endde cords Shin. fined him. In less than a minute he wasfree. But it was not yet the time to strike for liberty. He quick- ly resumed his former position, and when the attention of his captors was again directed to- ward him, there was no indication that he had moved. He waited, indeed, with steady resolution while his skillful foe took deadly aim at his ex- posed hand. He waited until: he saw Bill’s finger press -the trigger. Then, as the rifle Nalthiat: forth its charge, the outstretched hand was hastily withdrawn, the captive slipped
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a a a a a eS around the trunk of the tree to which he had been confined, and with .one bound gained the shelter of the bushes behind him. __ Only his ringing response to Bill’s exclama- tion told that astounded individual that he had not truly melted away into nothingness, The forest, otherwise open, was thickly un- dergrown at the spot of Frank’s escapade, This gave him a momentary advantage. By the time his pursuers had run round the screen of bushes, through whose heart he had broken, he was a good hundred yards in advance, and was flying, with the speed of a deer, through the open wood. A stern chase is proverbially a long one. Much as his pursuers were accustomed to mountain travel, Frank’s youth and agility made him a match for them. He darted light- ly from stone to stone of the rough spaces, while in the smoother reaches he steadily gained on his heavier pursuers. “Drop him!” cried Bill.‘ He is leading us. Wing him, or he'll give us the go-by.” ‘*‘No,” answered Phil. ‘That’s only a spurt. He ain’t got the bottom of us mountain chaps. We'll run him down in half a mile more.” Bill set his teeth in anger. He was not at all satisfied with the behavior of his companions, and commenced to reload his rifle while running at full speed, a trick which he had long before taught himself. *Ye’re gittin’ so desp’rat’ thin-skinned that I s’pose ye'll be wantin’ next to put him in a cradle and rock him tosleep. Only jist wait till old Betsy speaks ag’in. She won’t talk out three times fur nothin’, you bet.” The chase continued ‘until the bottom of the declivity was gained, and pursued and pursuers came out into the open ground below, that ran round the mountain foot. Here the trees were more scattered, and there was no undergrowth, But at no great distance in advance a screen of bushes arose, forming the southern edge of the thicket, of which we have already spoken. Straight for this covert Frank bent his steps, with no signs of a loss of speed. He had more poet than his pursuers had given him credit or. Now came a hard chase. With set lips and squared elbows, the hardy mountaineers thun- dered on behind the alert youth, whose form had the graceful ’slenderness, and whose move- ments the agility of a flying deer, He had gained on them since the commence- ment of the chase, and was now from a hun- dred and twenty-five to a hundred and fifty ardsinadvance. They were running obliquely ioward the screen of bushes, from which he was now but some twenty yards distant. Turning with a quick movement, the fugitive darted directly toward this covert. “That’s yer game, hey!” muttered Bill, be- tween his teeth. ‘It’s about time fur old Betsy to sing out ag’in. We'll see ff a bullet can’t out- e.” he came to a quick halt, raised his rifle with a rapid action gaan with lightning quickness along the sigh , and pulled the trigger. It was a critical moment for Frank Frazer. Many a deer had fallen by such a snap shot from that rifle; and in the marksman’s haste he had taken a mortal aim. Yet the renowned Betsy was destined once more to fail. For at the very instant_of shooting the rifle- barrel was tossed upward, and its bullet went whistling harmlessly through the tops of the ‘At the same instant there came a keen report from the shelter of the thicket. It was a bullet that had struck Pill’s rifle and made him drop it so hastily from nis stinging bands. Here was an unexpected change in the state of affairs. The pursuers halted in alarm. Frank checked his rapid flight. Out from the shelter- ing bushes sprung several forms. A loud voice ed out: ‘“‘Hold your hosses, neighbors! wants to have a finger in this pie.” The smoke was yet rising from the muzzle of the old man’s rifle. With a sudden op eye! of fright two of the ursuers turned and fled away asrapidly as they Pad come. Bill had the same desire but not the same chance. For he unexpectedly found him- self caught in so vigorous a hug that it seemed vd him as if his arms were being crushed into ribs, “Let up!” he yelled. ‘‘Let go! Who's a- buggin’ me? In fa bar?” “It’s a b’ar with a t,” answered whose m arms had clutched the in a vise-like grasp. ‘‘ You murderous dog! I’ve Old Tom -a mind to squeeze you till I break every rib The Two ‘ Bloods.’ under your dirty hide! What» say, Frank? Shall I squeeze the dog into a jelly?” “No,” answered Frank sternly. ‘‘ Leave ae to me. I havea settlement tomake with im. “Let him loose,” cried Old Tom, who had re- loaded his rifle. ‘‘If he makes a move to run, down comes his house.” The discomfited villain stood with downcast head, his lowering eyes glaring on the circle of enemies who surrounded him. A look of spleen came into his eyes as he recognized young Hardy, among his captors. “It’s you, is it, you cryin’ baby, that’s done this?’ was his sneering comment. “You made a fool of me, Bill,” answered Hardy, quietly. ‘‘Il’ve come back to my senses again.” ut Bill paid no attention to him. His surly eyes had continued their inspection, and he started violently on perceiving the face of one of his foes, “Sal Slocum!” he yelled. “By the piping kangaroo, you ain’t gone back on me Sal? Sm ain’t goin’ to fling Shanandoah Bill over- sard? ‘““Ye’re out of my books, Bill Bounce,” an- swered the girl, resolutely. ‘‘I used to like ou, but I don’t like no cut-throats nor thief- iders. I’m done with you. And [I’m done with swillin’ whisky, too, as you taught me to a rou and me isn’t the kind to hitch carts, ill. The villain — bis head. These words seemed to have cut him to the soul. ‘‘Tt’s my turn now,” cried Frank, stepping quickly forward. ‘‘ This man has been having some rifle practice on me. It’s my chance, now. But I won’t do anything unfair. Give him a rifle, Place us fifty paces apart. He brags on his shooting. We will see who is the best shot.” “No, no!” muttered Old Tom. ‘Yow shall not do it,” declared Bart, ‘*Won’t I?” asked Frank, resolutely. ‘‘We shall see. Load up, Bill Bounce. I will give you a chance to see who is the best man. d no treachery, mind you! You know I shoot quick as lightning.” The look of surly hatred deepened in Bill’s eyes. Without a word of reply he commenced to load his rifle. Frank took Hardy’s rifle in his hand and quietly stationed himself. Bill looked fartively around him, as he slowly continued to load. ‘*Stand back, gentlemen!’ commanded Frank. ** Are you ready?” “Pretty nigh,” muttered Bill, his eyes drop- ping as they met the clear orbs of his antago- nist. He wasevidently cowed. He had had.too much experience of Frank’s skill with the rifle. Suddenly, with a covert glance, he dropped his weapon and made a mad plunge for the thicket, which was only a few paces distant from him. “Stole away!” cried Frank, with a ringing laugh. ‘‘Took water! I knew it. I could see it in his eye.” “ ‘‘Then why did you let him go?” demanded art. “Because I wanted him to. I wanted to make the hound show the white feather. There’s a trailfor you, gentlemen. These fellows will make straight for their hiding-place. Come Tom, you can’tsay you have notrail now. An you, Hardy; you can follow the other two.” “What am I to follow them for?’ asked Hardy, doubtfully. ‘Because they are harboring an escaped thief! They are hiding a runaway bank cashier! And, by the way, there’s some of your own fa- ther’s money in his pocket. What say you to that? Will you take the trail?” ‘*Yes, if it leads to Florida,” answered the young man, with sudden energy. CHAPTER XIII. A DOUBLE TRAP, THE HR place of the fugitive held but two tenants, the\same two whom we saw there on our last visit to the “fox-hole.” On that occa- sion although the attempted escape of old Rand had been prevented by the unlucky ar- rival of the gang, yet the latter had not sus- ted the truth. There was no loss of faith in their confederate who had so nearly betrayed them. The old defaulter had. put himself into bad hands. There was tio’ bt but that these fellows would take care of him; at least until they had squeezed him dry of all his stolen ' =. 18 that he had of these re- funds. He cursed himself bitter] committed a crime for the benefi morseless villains. He had been shrewd enough to conceal the stolen cash, or they probably would not have wasted much time in relieving him from all further care of it. He had made one effort for a night esc from the cave; but a vigilant guard occupied the entrance and he was obliged to creep back to his cot again. On the present occasion, however, Bill Bounce and two of his comrades had set out from the cave several hours before, leaving three men in charge. “ ; Two others had just gone out, with the hope of getting a shot at a deer, y one man re- mained, and he was the one who had already consented to take a bribe. The face of the shrewd old fugitive lighted up with hope. ‘‘ Keep wide-awake, Mike,” his comrades had warned this guard. ‘‘ Look out that the old coon don’t salt your eyes.” ‘Maybe you'd best come with me, and leave Jake back,” one of them suggested.’ ‘‘He’s our best watchdog.” ‘ “Git out with you!” cried Mike, ‘Do ye s’pose I don’t know B from a bull’s foot? Slide arter yer deer. The old coon won’t git away without me,” ' Thus reassured, the two hunters set out, leaving Mike in charge of the cave. A cunning leer came upon his face as he saw them disap- ar. ‘‘Ye’re a smart pair 0’ fools,” he grinned. “TI didn’t say he moughtn’t git away with me. Ther’s a good two hours’ start, and dang me if I don’t strike for it.” The prisoner crept up to where his guard was thus meditating treachery. The sharp eyes of the old rogue eagerly scanned Mike’s face. ‘‘ We are alone,” be said, in an eager whisper. “Five thousand, you know. Five thousand hard dollars for a ax work.” — Mike looked up in the face of his tempter. “‘Sw’ar you won’t go back on me. ‘““T swear,” answered Old Rand. “Put me safe out of the reach of these men and the money is yours.” , * And if you go back on that. I'll brain you; or hand you over to the perlice,” Mike shrewdly replied. ‘‘ Git: yerself up, now. If we’re goin’ to make tracks ther’s no minutes to w in blowin’ soap bubbles.” “You will do it then?” “You bet I will.” “ The old man hurried gladly back for his few effects. Mike straightened himself up, and ex~- amined the charge of bis rifle. 2 ‘(Pll be a rich man,” he muttered to himself. ‘‘T kin snap my fingers at those fellers, They’re not my style, anyhow. Guess I'll streak fur Californy, and buy out a gold mine.” In Jess than five minutes more the precious al emerged from the mouth of the cave, old nd trembling with hope and excitemen while Mike’s quick fd searched every sign the surrounding locality. “The coast’s clear,” he announced. “Strike out lively. Every minute counts now, fur they’ll be arter us like blood-hounds,” oon deep silence fell on the deserted spot. The fox-hole was empty of its foxes. A half-hour passed, der which the birds, and the dropping leaves had itall to themselves, Then, with a crash through the rending bushes, there broke into view the sturdy form of Shen- ancien Ra een it ea a running, and his savage face disto: wi rage . sa the tarnation pipers, if I don’t git even with that chap, then ther’s no vartue in lead and powder!” he blurted out. ‘‘ But whar’s the fellers? Looks kinder lonely round yere.” In a moment more he was in the cave. A deep suspicion came into Bill’s mind when he saw that: there was nobody on guard. Snatch- ing up the Stops which still burned near the en- trance, he ran to the depths of the cavern, “ Empty, by the eternal jabers!” he roared, inafury. ‘It’sadead sell, But curse me fur a blind monkey, if I don’t get even! Ill make ’em dance, like a coon up a gum-tree, ’fore I’m done with ’em!” He dashed violently out of the cave, just in time to face his two comrades, who had at that moment made their appearance. _ ‘* What’s the matter?” asked Phil, noting his perious aspect. ‘Which way did you come? Down or up?” ‘‘ Down,” was the reply. ) : “Then down’s the word, They’ve struck off for the low level. Arter me} nail ’em ’fore they git out of the hollow.” “ Nail who?” . ;
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14 The. Two ‘ Bloods.’ ** The dirty dogs that’s run off with our gold mine. Old 's gone and the boys with him. But if I don’t make ’em dance on hot plates ’m a oe hee e rushed down the glen too furious to ob- serve whether or not he was followed. But the others were not slow to follow his lead. They were as furious as himself against the at- tempted treachery. eanwhile the escaped prisoner and his guide were making their way down the ravine, which became narrower and more difficult the deeper they descended. It was little to the mountaineer, but his city- bred companion followed him with great diffi- star 9 stumbling at every step. ‘Give me yer hand,” cried Mike, ‘‘Ten min- utes more ’ll fetch us to the level. Don’t guy out, fur ye’ve got to try yer muscle hard ’fore the day’s over. a They went on for a quarter of a mile further down the broken path. Soon daylight showed ahead. They were near the clearing at the bottom of the ravine. At this moment Mike stopped with a bitter oath. “The dog’s dead,” hoe declared. ‘* Yander’s the two boys ahead of us. And they’re strikin’ fur the holler.” we ly to be done?’ asked the trembling fugi ive. Take to the bush,” rejoined Mike. ‘ Lay low till they strike past. Then we kin wax out like fun.” Just here the bushes thickly clothed the sides of the ravine, and in a minute the fugitives had crept deeply within them with as little disturb- ance to their formation as possible. Hardly had they thus vanished from view when steps were heard at the mouth of the ravine. The two deer-hunters came up, con- versing loudly, without a thought of trouble above. ‘We'll strike the side path that leads off to the right,” said one. ‘‘And then over to the goose-pen. I’ve a notion we may find a buck thereaway. ‘Hey! what’s that? It sounds like a bull in the bushes.” This exclamation was caused by loud sounds in advance, The next minute there broke into view the form of Bill Bounce followed by his two comrades, and dashing wildly down the rock-strewn ravine. In ten minutes they had covered as much Agpeoc as old Rand had been able to pass over half an hour. ‘Caught! by the rip stavin’ roarer,” yelled Bill, on seatai the two men before him. ‘‘ Down with yer rifles, or Vll bore yer, ye divil’s hounds!” **Hold yer own!” cried the men in alarm, as Bill brought his weapon to his shoulder. ‘* What's loose in yer brains?” ‘‘ Whar’s the old man? What have ye done with him? Quick, fore I make crow’s meat of the od of ye.” ‘The old man?’ They looked at one another in surprise. ‘“Ye’re not sayin’ he’s gone? We left him in Mike’s care.” “You did? You blasted idyots! You mought ha’ knowed he weren’t safe. Wait till I git my ten fingers on the red-wooled traitor! Did he come out below?” ‘*No. We've been down that way ever since we left the cave.” “Then he’s took to the bush. We've got ’em caged, fur a cat couldn’t climb these sides. Make fur the bottom, Jake. You streak fur the Phil. The rest on us ’ll beat the bush. Won't I sell out Mr. Mike! Well, it’s queer if I won’t!” The fugitives were caught in atrap. And it was not a comfortable one, for they were within easy hearing of Bill’s well-laid plans. But there is such a thing asa trap within a trap. In their furious pursuit of the fugitives they had lost all thought of the fact that they were fugitives themselves. Nor were they aware of the fact that two keen-sighted pursuers were on their trail, rapidly tracking them through the mountain woods. Sal Slocum had left the of pursuers, after first giving them some valuable informa- tion about the haunts of the gang. A remnant of feeling for Bill had caused her to withdraw. But they had been reinforced by Mr. Smike and several friends, who were on a hunting trip h the wood, and whom the sound of rifle- shots had attracted. A few minutes sufficed to acquaint them with what had happened. Hardy and Tom had _ already disappeared in the woods on the trail of the fugitives. But Sal’s information enabled the others to take a more direct course, They made straight for the mouth of the ravine, of which she had given them the bearings. It was not long after Bill and his comrades had darted furiously down the ravine ere Old Tom and Hardy appeared at its upper ex- tremity. Their paths had come together some distance back in the mountains, and the trail was a well-defined one which a child might have followed. So they had made their way almost as rapidly as the fugitives. They failed to discover the cave. The evi- dences that men had oe descended the ravine were so marked that they pushed reso- lutely on, convinced that they were on the right course. At about the same time the remainder of the party reached the mouth of the ravine. The villains were caged. But Bill Bounce and his companions had little heed of this, The short time which elapsed since we last saw them had made a decided change in the situation. Then they had just commenced to beat the bush for the fugitives. Now the old defaulter lay in their midst, rece. Sr the ground, while Mike stood with his hands tied behind him and a rope around his neck, the other end of which was flung over the stout limb of a tree above him. . “You treacherous dog!” hissed Bill. ‘‘ You thought you’d git away with us, hey? Didn’t know who you was foolin’ with, I reckon. Haul away, boys. The rope and the limb fura traitor!” Mike was deathly pale, but not a word came from his lips. He saw no relenting in those savage faces. At this moment Phil dashed down the hill. ‘*Make tracks,” he yelled. * They're arter us! They’re comin’ down the hollow.” The next instant Jake dashed up hill, ‘* Scoot, lads!” he shouted. ‘ Ther’s a gang of ’em below. Streak out!” te “Td hang this traitor first, if all Virginny was thar!” roared Bill, in reply. ‘ Haul away!” In a moment the unhappy wretch was dang- ling between heaven and earth, his body writh- ing in agony. ‘Make all fast, and let him kick!” cried ill. ‘‘We’re trapped, and we’ve got to fight for it.” His words were drowned by the report ofa rifle. Down with a thud dropped the strug- gling wretch. The bullet had cut the rope, CHAPTER XIV. THE END OF THE CHASE. Ir was an exciting moment. In the center stood the ruffianly gang, surrounding old Rand, and the wretch who had just been providently saved from death. Above them in the ravine age the two scouts, rapidly descending. Below stood the remainder of the pursuers headed by Frank Frazer, from whose rifle had come the shot which had cut the hangman’s rope. ‘Fur yer lives, boys!” cried Bill. ‘‘ We’re in a cage, but we'll fight our way out. Let ’em have it lively.” He snatched up Mike’s fallen rifle, and lev- eled it with deadly aim. “Hold!” cried the voice of Mr. Smike. ‘“ We're two toone. If there’s a shot fired, we will mow you down. Surrender yourselves, or it will be worse for you.” ‘* Surrender be hanged!” roared Bill, pressing the trigger of his piece. He was fortunately jostled at that minute by old Rand, who was struggling to his feet. The bullet, aimed at Frank azer, went a foot above his head. The shot was answered from among the pur- suers. Just who had fired was not evident, but the old defaulter staggered, gave a groan of sea and fell in a limp heap to the und. he bullet had struck him, instead of the man at whom it was aimed, “ Let ’em have it!” yelled Bill, his blood fully up. ‘‘Are ye goin’ to stand yere, and be shot down? Peltit into ’em!” But his comrades did not see matters in the same light. They were considerably outnum- bered, and it was utter madness to enter into a struggle for life and death. Only two men cut off —— PP the hill, and they turned and dashed in this direction. Bill, with an oath of fearful. o>» iby reluctantly followed, his eyes glaring wit roe: They left behind them the two prostrate men, the one gr with his wound, the other recovering from his partial strangulation. The two scouts firmly closed the path. ‘Hold your level!” cried Old Tom, “T'll bu’st some of ye, if you come a step nearer!” But beside the narrow path was a thick eda of bushes, of some ten feet in width. nto this the foremost fugitives sprung, hoping to Au their opponents. ropping his rifle Hardy grappled with one of the fugitives. Tom sprung forward and dealt another a heavy blow, that hurled him prostrate in the center of the path. Then uickly aiming he sent a random bullet after the others. A ery of pain attested the fortune of his shot, but the three remaining fugitives kept on, with- out a pause. Several other shots came from below, as the men at the foot of the ravine rushed upward in pursuit. As they came up Mike sprung to his feet and joined them. ‘‘ Bill Bounce tried to hang me!” he cried, grinding his teeth. ‘‘ We'll see if Mike McGin- nis dan’t bounce him.” On he dashed, over the man whom old Tom had knocked prostrate, and past the spot where Hardy was still stru Bite, Sabine his opponent. Hardy’s rifle lay where he had let it fall, and Mike seized it as he ran furiously on. Several of the others followed, with equal energy. “Take them alive, if b can,” shouted Frank. ‘ But wing them if they won’t stop.” The furious leader ground his teeth. He had a debt of revenge against Bill Bounce. At the point which they had now reached the sides of the ravine were less precipitous, and the undergrowth reached almost to their sum- mits. Two of the fugitives were visible, slight- ly in advance, running at full speed up the open path. But Bill had disappeared. _He was either tearing through the bush, or had concealed himself, with the hope that the pursuers ‘would overrun him. But Mike was too old a bird to be ceugh® by any such chaff. He halted, his little keen eyes shrewdly running over the thicket with the acuteness of an old hunter. The others ran on, leaving the age si ruf- fian vigilantly reading the signs. His effort was not in vain. Soon he detected a light wav- ing of the bushes far up the steep side of the ravine. The next minute the shaggy head of Shenandoah Bill appeared. Catching the up- per edge of the hill the alert ruffian flung him- self upward, and in a moment more was stand- ing erect, far above the heads of his pursuers, his burly form outlined against the sky. A hoarse laugh attested his triumph. ‘“Ye mought as well try to nab an eagle as Shenandoah Bill,” he shouted back disdainfully, as he prepared to dash away through the woods of the upper level. , It was his last moment of triumph. From below there came a flash, a keen report, the hands of the fugitive were flung wildly upward, as his form tottered on the brink of the hill; then, toppling over, he came crashing down- ward, rending like a stone through the bushy owth, and striking on the stony bottom of he ravine with a sickening surge that dashed every remnant of life out of his torn frame. ‘*A bullet’s as good as a rope,” muttered Mike, as he lowered his smoking piece. ‘I don’t think ye’ll try to hang Mike McGinnis ag’in, soon.” Bill Bounce’s career had ended, and by the hands of one of his own’ confederates. He lay stone-dead in the path, a warning to all lawless ruffians. gp one his rifle Mike stole cautiously down e ** Reckon I’d best make tracks,” be muttered. * Mebbe they’ll be fer hangin’ me ’cause I shot Bill Bounce.” That was the last of him seen in that region. He succeeded in escaping, and thenceforth re- lieved that part of Virginia of his unwelcome presence. There were two of the party who had taken no part in the pursuit. and Bart had stopped on coming to the: prostrate body of old Rand, leaving their companions to continue the chase, They looked at each other significantly. ‘*Tt’s the end of a long game,” remarked Frank. ‘‘And I am afraid we will only have a nae! a to take back. He has got it in the or Tt th he pe ‘It’s the money we want, not the man,” re- plied Bart. as 6 The old man was groaning with peer Blood oezed from a wound in his chest. ik kneel- ed down and lifted his head from the hard Bence The dying man opened his eyes, and ocked up into the face that bent y over
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= * him. He seemed to recognize Frank, and a shudder ran through his frame. ‘“‘Is it you?” he asked, ‘Have you pursued me to the death?” “Yes,” answered Frank, resolutely. robbed me and my friend, Norman R we possessed in the world layin the bank under your charge. You ran off with our fortunes, and those of many poorer souls. We swore to ursue you, if it was tothe end of the world. e have fulfilled our oath, yet I am sorry to see you in this state.” ‘Tam a dead man!” was the despairing reply. **T cannot enjoy what I sold my soul for!” “Then restore it to its true owners,” cried Bart. ‘‘ You may smooth your way into the world to which you are going.” The old man shut his eyes, and seemed to hesitate, “There is a poor family in this valley almost starving for lack of the mney, ou took from them,” continued Frank, “ it you die with their want on your soul?” ‘‘No, I dare not!” shuddered the old villain. **You will find the money—in the Martins- burg and other banks—deposited by—Joseph Carrol. The papers are here.” He laid his hand on the slender package beside him. ‘‘ And there is—some of it—sewed—in my clothes.” These words were pronounced with great difficulty. The effort to speak proved too much for him. As he ended a gush of blood came from his lips, his head fell back limp and life- less, the old defaulter was dead, Frank gently laid down the head he had sup- ported, and rose to his feet. “‘Our mission is ended, Bart,” he said. “He is gone to expiate his crime before a wiser and greater judge than we.” ‘* And it is lucky for us that he put us on the track of the money before he died,” answered Bart, less feelingly. ‘It would have been mighty uncomfortable for two chaps brought up like us to have been left beggars. I have no otiection to play the ‘two orphans’ with you, but don’t care to play the beggarly orphans.” Gradually the pursuers returned. One of the fugitives had escaped, but Old Tom brought back the other. ere was something of the lion in the old man as he brought his captive down the ravine, with an iron grasp upon his collar. Of the other two, the one Tom had struck la insensible in the path. Hardy, with some aid, had overcome and secured hisman. Thus of the gang they had three prisoners, two had escaped, while the leader re corpse in the ravine, and the old criminal whom they had engaged to conceal and had sought to plunder, likewise had breathed his last. We need not dwell long on the remaining phases of our story. The reader must already shale the true errand of the two young timoreans to this secluded valley. They had each had a large amount of cash ge for safe-keeping in the bank of which orman Rand was cashier. The latter, having lost healy. of the funds of the bank in specula- tion, had laid violent hands on the trust funds and on what ready money of the bank he could seize, and had made his escape in disguise. A year had since passed, during which he had contrived to remain concealed. During this period the bank had failed, the stockholders losing all their money, and the depositors most of theirs, y The two young men had also been stockhold- ers to a considerable extent, and had no fancy for being reduced to poverty. Certain _infor- mation, received from their friend Mr. Smike, had given them reason to t that the fugi- tive was hidden in this locality, and they had accordingly come hither—with what result the reader already knows. We may briefly eonelude. The papers which they found in dead man’s pocket showed that he had deposited the mone , in moderate sums, in various banks, under the of a western drover. A considerable quantity also was found coneealed about his person. this was eventually restored, with the result of put- ting the brokem bank on its feet again, and of repaying the losses of all its patrons. As for our friends of the vi of Sumter, young Hardy is safely married to Sue Wilder, and is cg ashamed of the time in which he let himself become crazed with jealousy. Tho money lost by his father in the bank has been reeovered, and the family are im comfortable cesagain. — ; Sal Sloeum is also married, and to a man worth a dozen of her old lover. Old Tom Turn- stile still survives, the same honest old soul of yore, and is proud of the fact that the twe city ‘You All The Two ‘Bloods.’ 15 entlemen, in their occasional visits to Mr. Smike, never fail to call on Old Tom, for a day’s shooting in his company. $s for the captured rascals, they served a short term of imprisonment for their conceal- ment of a criminal; and have since departed to parts unknown. Sumter, happily, knows them no more. THE END. Saturday Jouna **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, Wit and Fun— All are features in every number, from such celebrated writers as no paper in America can of. 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BEADLE’S | HA Deadwood Dick, THe PRINCE OF THE RoapD By Edward L. Wheeler. Yellowstone Jack, Kansas King; or, Tae Rep Riest HAnp. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). | By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 1 2 3 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe, THE Younc WANDERING JEw. | By Oll Coomes. Double Number, 10cts. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper. By E38. Ellis. 7 The BKlying Vankee; or, Tux Ocean OvrT- cast. By Col. Preaotiss Ingraham. 8 Seth Jones. By Edward S&S. Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen. 0 Nat Todd, 1 The Two Detectives. 2 Gulliver’s Travels. By Dean Swift. By E. S. Ellis. By A.W. Aiken. 1 | 1 13 The Dumb Spy. By Ol Coomes. 14 Aladdin; or, THE WonpderruL Lamp. 15 The Sea-Cat. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. (27 Illustrations.) 17 Ralph Roy, tue Boy Buccaneer; or, THE Fueitrve Yacut, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 18 Sindbad the Sailor, His Seven Voyages. 19 The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers. By FE. L. Wheeler. 21 The Frontier Angel. By Edward S. Ellis. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, Tot Boy Rosinson Crusor. By Juan Lewis. Nick o’ the Night. By T. C. Harbaugh. Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. The Boy Captain. By Roger Starbuck. Cloven oot, THE BurraLo Demon; or, THE Borprer Vuuitures. By Edward L. Wheeler. Antelope Abe, THE Boy Guipg. Oll Coomes Buffalo Ben, Tse Prince or THE PISTOL; or, Drapwoop Dick in Diseuise. E. L. Wheeler. The Dumb Page. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THe REcz- Less RancerR. By Harry St. oe KMeen-K nife, Prince or THE irIzS. By Oll Coomes. Bob Woolf, THz Borper Rurrian; or, Tae Girt Deap-Snor. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Ocean Bloodhound. §&. W. Pierce. Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wusurrigs’ Boy Spy By Capt. J. F. CG. Adams. Witd Ivan, THE Boy CLAupge Duva_; or, THE BROTHERHOOD OF DeatH' By Ed. L. Wheeler. The Boy Clown. By Frank S. Finn. The Hidden Lodge. By T. C. Harbaugh. Ned Wylde, Tae Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. Death-Face, THE Detective. By Wheeler. Roving Ben. By J. J. Marshall. Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes. The Phantom Miner. By BE. L. Wheeler. Dick Darling, THe Pony Express RIDER. a4 Capt. Frederick Whittaker. attling Rube. By Harry St. George. Old Avalanche, THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR; or, WirLp Epna, THE Grr Brreanp. FE. L. Wheeler. Glass Eye, THE Great SHOT oF THE WEST. 2 Capt. J. F. C. Adams. ightingale Nat. By T.C. ere ow Black John, Tue Roap-Aaent. By Badger. Omaha Oll. By Edward L. Wheeler. Burt Bunker, rae Trapper. C. E. Lasalle. The Boy Rifles. By Archie C. Irons. The White Buffalo. By ©. E. Lasalle. Jim Bludsoe, Jr., tae Boy Paenr; or, Tarover to Dears. By Edward L. Wheeler. Ned Hazel, By Capt. J.f. C. Adams. Deadly - Eye, THz UNKNOWN Scour; or, THE BranpeD BrornerRHoop. By Buffalo Bill. Nick Whifites’ Pet. Capt. J. F. C. Adams, Deadwood Dick’s Eagles. By Wheeler. The Border King. By Oll Coomes. 59 Old Ses By Harry St. George. 60 The White Indian, Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 61 Buckhorn Bill, By Edward L.. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship. By Col. P. Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood. W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Hurricane Bill. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr 66 Single Hand. W. J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe. By ee 8S. Warne. 68 Border Robin Hood. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle. By Edward L. eeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin. By Capt. J. F. C.’"Adams. 71 Delaware Dick. By Ol! Coomes. 72 Wad Tom Western, By W. J. Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, CaLamrry JANE, THE Herorme oF WHOoP-UP. By Wheeler. 74 HWawk-eye Harry. By Oll Coomes. 75 The Boy Duelist. By Col. P. Ingraham. 76 Abe Colt, Taz Crow-Kriter. By A. W, Aiken. 77 Corduroy Charlie, THE Boy Brayo; or, Drapwoop Dickx’s Last Act. By E. L. Wheeler. 78 Blue Dick. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, Giant TRAPPER. By A.W. Aiken. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nucaet NED, THE Knicut or THE GuLcH. By Edward L. Wheeler. 81 Lightning Jo. By Captain J. F. C. Adams, 82 Kit Marefoot. By T.C. Hesheng. 83 Koillo, the Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes. J 31 32 Cam ao aannhhs BP BR PRREROOWE GB CW S30 Gr SCHHKSLSSY © or CHHKHSCOCMPeF a Bw $4 Idyl, the Girl Miner. By E. L. Wheeler. °65 Buck Buckram,. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 36 andy Rock. By G. Waldo Browne. 87 The Uand Ptrates. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 irre had Phil, toe Boy SievrH; or, Roszzup Ros’s EARANCE. By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim. By wag mein Hemyng. 90 The Dread Rider. By G. Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club; or, THe Youne Rivau Arsurres. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 92 Canada Chet. By Edward L. eeler. 93 The Boy Miners. By Edward 8. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, THe Roap-AGent; Tue Boy Trapper. By T. C. Harbaugh. 95 The Rival Rovers. Lieut, Col. Hazeltine, or, 96 Watch-Eye, tur SHApow. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 Whe Outlaw Brothers. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, THE OvrLaweD Haru; or, THE Merry Men or Greenwoop. Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Viger of ‘Taos. By G. Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A STRANGE STROKE FoR Liserty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway. in New York. By sracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Wye. By Col Ingraham. 103 Whe Lion of the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device. By Wheeler. 105 Old Bube, tar Hunter. Capt. H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, roe Guipe. By T. C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim. _ By James L. Bowen, 108 Daring Davy. By Harry St. George. 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler The Black Steed of the Prairies, A Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. The Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingrabam. The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe. Jack Hoyle, THE YouNG SPECULATOR;, or, THE Roap TO Fortune. By Ed. L. Wheeler. a -~ ce i ae — ee ia Mustang Sam. By Jos. &. Badger, Jr. Whe Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont. Cinnamon Chip, THE Girt Sport; or, THE GOLDEN Ino. or Mr. Rosa. 1d. L. Wheeler. Phil Hardy, Tur Boss Boy. By C. Morris. Kiowa Charley, Tax Warre Mustanaer. Ry. T. C. Harbaugh. Tippy, THE Texan. ‘By George Gleason. Bonanza Bill, Mixer. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Picayune Pete. By Charles Morris. Wild-Wire, Boss ortrne Roap. By Dumont. The Young Privateer. By H. Cavendish. Deadwood Dick’s Double. By Wheeler. Detective Dick. By Charles Morris. The Golden Hand, By Geo. W. Browne. The Hunted Hunter. By Ed. 8. Ellis. Boss Bob, THe Kine or THe BooTsuscks: or, THE PAWNBROKER’s Pitot. Ed. L. Wheeler. Sure Shot Seth, Tre Boy RivLeman; or Tre Youne Patriots oF THE Nortr. By Oll Coomes. Captain Paul, THE Kentuoxy MoonsHIner; or, THe Boy Spy or THE Mountars. By Clark Night-Hawk Kit. By Jos. E. ger, Jr. The Helpless Hand. Capt, Mayne Reid. Blonde ill; or, DeEapwoop Dicx’s Hom Base. By Edward L. Wheeler. Judge Lynch, Jr, By T. C. Harbaugh, Blue Blazes; or, THe Break 0’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. By rank Dumont. Solid Sam, THE Boy Roap-AGEnT; or, THE BranDED Brows. By Edward L Wheeler. Handsome Harry, THE Boorsuack Ds- TECTIVE. By Charles Morris. Secar-Face Saul, By Oll Coomes. Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport. By Badger. Captain Ferret, taz NEw York Deresc- TIVE; or, Boss Bon’s Boss Jos. By Wheeler. Silver Star, THE Boy Knicar. y Coomes. Will Wildfire, Tae THoxovessren; or, THe Wrynine Hann. By Charles Morris. Sharp Sam. By J. Alexander Patten, A Game of Goldj or, Deapwoop Dicz’s Bie Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler. Lance and Lasso. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Panther Paul, THe Prarie Prrare; or, Dainty LancE TO THE Rescur. J. E. Badger. Black Bess, WiLL Wivprime’s Racer; or, WINNING AGainst Opps. By Charles Morris. Eagle Kit, Taz Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes. The Swerd Hunters, 7 . Whittaker. Gold Frigger, THe Sport. T. C. Harbaugh. Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, Tue Pickep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. Mike Merry, tHe Harzor Poxice Boy; or, Tue Nieut-HAWKs oF PHILADELPHIA. Morris, Fat Frank ot Colorado. Buffalo Bill. he Lost Captain. By Whittaker. The Black Giant, By J. EF. Badger, Jr. New Work Nell, THe Boy-Giru DErecrivE; or, OLD BLAKESLY’S Money. By E. L. Wheeler, Will Wildfire in the Woods. Morris. Little Texas, THE Youna MustTanGcEeR. A Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes, Dandy Rock’s Pledge. By G.W. Browne, Billy Baggage, THe RarRoap Boy; or, Run ro EartH. By Charles Morris. WMickory Marry. By Harry St. Geor Asa Scott, Tar Steamsoat Boy. By Willett, Deadly Dash. BY Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Tornado Tom, By T. C. Harbaugh A Trump Card}; or, Wm. Wi.prirg Wins AND Loses. By Charles Morris. Ebony Dan. By Frank Dumont. ThunderboltTom. By H St. George. Dandy Rock’s Rival, By G.W. Browne. Bob Rockett, THe Boy Dopeer. By Morris, Captain Arizona. By Philip S.Warne. The Boy Runaway; or, THz BuccaNEER OF THE Bay. Lieut. H. D, Perry U.S.N. Nobby Nick of Nevada. £. L. Wheeler. Old Solitary. By Oll Coomes. Bob Rockett, THz Bank Runner. Morris, 80 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow Wett Kept. By Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.8. N. 181 Wild Frank, THe Bucxsxm Bravo; or, Lapy_ Lity’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler. 182 Little Hurricane, tax Boy Capram. Oll Coomes, 183 e Hidden Hand. By Chas. Morris. 184 The Boy Trailers. By Badger, Jr. 14 The Black Schooner. Roger Starbuck. 15 The Mind Miner. By G. Waldo Browne, 16 The Mussar Captain, Col, P. Ingraham. 17 Gilte-Edged Dick, THe Sport DETECTIVE; or, Tok Roap-Acent’s DavucuTer. Wheeler. 18 Will Somers, THE Boy Detecrrve. Morris. P| 2 2 we ReOwWKwwNNNN CHeKCOFHAMe WH KOOCD Ook — ai mm RO WHW & & “= SCO Bic ee ee ee tw CC fe PP Pe =—S CO BH Tew we anu oO Ame a a} eFe¥eEsFsF4F “AIAHAAD SH AAD AHA COs HaPOdOeH SOBUD Te WH HOOw dh eh el oad aa eTere) LF-DIME | LIBRARY. 5 Evil Eye, VULTURES OF THE Rio Granpe. By F. By Col. Delle Sara. Kina oF CATTLE THIEVES; Or, THE Dumont. 6 Cool Desmond, 7 Wred Halyard, THe Lire Boar Boy; or, THE SMUGGLERS OF THE INLET. By C. Morris, 8 Ned ‘Temple, THE Border Boy. Harbaugh, 9 Bob Rockett, THe Cracksman. By Morris. 0 Dandy Darke. By Wm. R. Eyster. 1 Buffalo Billy, THE Boy BuLtuwHacker, By Capt. A. B. Taylor, U. S.A. 92 Captain Kit. By Lieut. H.D, Perry,U.S.N. 93 Captain Mask, Tue LApy Roab-AGEnT; or, PATENT-LEATHER Jon’s DereaT. By Warne, Buffalo Bill’s Bet, By Captain Taylor. Deadwood Dick’s Dream. By Wheeler. } Shadowed} or, Bon Rockert’s FIGHT For Lire. By Charles Morris. Little Grit, THe WiLp River, By Ingraham. Arkansaw, THE MAN wiTH THE KNIFE By T. C. Harbaugh. Featherweight. By Edward Wilett. The Boy Bedouins, By Whittaker. Whe Black Hiiils Jezebel; or, Drap- woop Dick’s Warp. By Edward L. Wheeler. Prospect Pete, or tie Boy BRIGADE; or, Tre Youna OuTLaAw Hunters. By Ol Coomes, Whe Boy Pards. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Gold Plume, tue Boy Banpit. Ingraham. Deadwood Dick’s Doom, By Wheeler. Dark Paul, THE Tiger Kine, By OC. Morris. el pe gos Nick, THE Boy Gop Hunter, A Talé of Arizona. By T. C, Harbaugh, The Boy Hercules. By Olli Coomes. Fritz, tae Bounp-Boy Detective. Wheeler. Faro Frank of High Pine, By Eyster. Crooked Cale, THE CALIBAN oF CELESTIAL Ciry. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Dashing Dave, tHe Danny Detective. By Charles Morris. Fritz to the Front. By E. L. Wheeler. Wolfgang, THE RospBeR oF THE RHINE. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. Captain Bullet, tur Rarer Kine. By T. C, Harbaugh. Bisou Will, tHe Princk oF THE REINs. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Captain Crack-Shot, By E. L. Wheeler. Tiger Tom, THE Texan Terror. By Ol Coomes, Despard, the Duelist, By P. 8S. Warne. Tom Tanner, ScaLawaG AND ScaPEGRACE, By Charles Morris. : Sugar Coated Sam, By E. L. Wheeler. Grit, the Bravo Sport, By Ingraham. Ozark Alf, Kine oF THE Mountamy. By Edward Willett. Dashing Dick; or, Trapper Tom’s Castle, By Oll Coomes. Sam Charcoal, the Premium Dar- ky. By Charles Morris. Snoozer, THE Boy Smarr. By Edward L. Wheeler. Dusky Darrell, Traprer. By E. Emerson. 228 Little Wildfire. By Oll Coomes. 229 Crimson Kate, THE Grru TRAILER. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 230 The Wankee Rajah. By CO. D. Clark. 231 Plucky Phil, or raz Moonrain Tram. By T. C. Harbaugh. 232 Gold-Dust Dick. By E. L. Wheeler. 233 Joe Buck, of Angels, anp His Boy Parp Paul POWDERHORN; or, THE THREE WILD MEN or EaGLe Bar. By Albert W. Aikén. 234 Old peoky® *¢ Boyees 3”? THE Youna Horsz-BREAKER. Sam. 235 Shadow Sam, THE MESSENGER Boy; or, G@ THE TaBLES. By Charles Morris. 236 Apollo Bill, tHe Traw Tornapo, By Ed- ward L. Wheeler. 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 or, BENITO, By ‘Buckskin 237 Lone Star, the Cowboy nptain or, Tur Mysterious RANCHERO. By Colone] Pren- tiss Ingraham. 238 The Parson Detective; or, Lrrrmzt SHOCKY, THE RANGER OF Raven Roost. By Oll Coomes., 239 The Gold-seeker Guide; or, Tar Loer Mourrain. By Captain Mayne Reid. 240 Cyclone Kit. By Edward L. Wheeler. 241 Bill Bravo and His Bear Pards. By T. C. Harbaugh. 242 The Two ‘ Bloods®; or, SHENANDOAE BiLt anD His Gane. By Charles Morris. 243 The Disguised Guide; or, Wi? Raven, THE GER OF THE NorTH. By Ol! Coomes. Ready March 2ist. 244 Sierra Sam, THE Fronticer Ferper, By Edward L. Wheelér. Ready March 28th. A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is:for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.