Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 243) (1882 03 21)
The text was read from the page scans by machine (OCR), so it has mistakes and its columns may run together. See the pages · About this title · At the Internet Archive
Page 1
{ a. a ss AX plana alla llallal) 4 : | ¥) Tr SW f | OW) MEE w, ‘ul sl hat rw March 21, 1882. $$$ SED Tr le PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS Price, V ol. Xx. ane re No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK, 5 Cents. No. 243. THE DISGUISED GUIDE; or, WILD RAVEN, THE RANGER OF THE NORTH, BAO OOO. E s;, AUTHOR OF ‘'VAGABOND JO,” “THE DUMB SPY,” ‘‘ ANTELOPE ABE,” ‘“‘ KEEN-KNIFE,” “ PROSPECT PETE,” ETC., ETO, SAY ie _ AG Mb uh ff Wi “ pgRHAPS,” SAID THE STRANGER, ‘“you’vVE HEARN TELL OF ME, AND PERHAPS YE HAIN’T; BUT I’M THE RAVEN OF THE NORTH, ‘ THE EAGLE OF THE SOUTH, THE DEVIL OF THE EAST AND THE GIANT OF THE WEST.”
Page 2
The Disguised Guide. 2 The Disguised Guide; oR, WILD RAVEN, THE RANGER OF THE NORTH. BY OLL COOMES, AUTHOR OF “ THE PARSON DETECTIVE,” “‘ LITTLE WILDFIRE,” ‘‘ DASHING DICK,” ETC. ; ETC. CHAPTER I. THE MISSING GUIDE, On a bend in the South Platte river the cheer- ful light of a camp-fire gleamed through the gathering twilight of an early summer evening. Within its circle the form of an elderly female was passing to and fro, engaged in the roman- tic duty of preparing an emigrant seg in the open air. Near the busy dame sat four men— two engaged in conversation, the third in smok- ing and his own reflections, while the fourth was busy in polishing a handsome double-bar- reled rifle of superior workmanship. Arthur St. Ledger, the eldest of the group was a man upon whom the flight of five and forty years had left many perceptible traces. His countenance wes free and open, and from the depths of his dark eyes there shone a light as warm and genial as that of a tropical sun. The man with whom he was engaged in con- versation was nS prc ten years his junior. He was large and well proportioned, with long grizzled hair, and whiskers of many months’ growth. His eyes were black, but rather small for the light of an honest and magnanimous soul to shine through, in case Jake Darle, the guide, possessed such. He was dressed in the style of garb usually worn by the overland guides, and in the capacity of such he was serv- ing Arthur St. Ledger, who had employed him at Independence, Miss: uri, to accompany them beyond the dangers of the Rocky Mountains; for, at the time of which I write, (1849,) at dangers from the Indians beset the route of the emigrant, and to attempt to travel the over- land trail without an efficient guide was a folly bordering on criminality, which many had learned at the cost of their lives. Jake Darle recommended himself, as pong all the knowledge of an experienced guide and hunter, and relying upon his skill and confidence, St. Ledger felt that his family was comparatively safe under his guidance. The third man was a type of a different na- tionality, as the broad face, the humorous ex- pression and loquacious eyes indicated. He was ason of the Emerald Isle—about thirty years of.age, possessed of an inordinate love for his inner man, and a pipe and tobacco. The fourth man was Arthur St. Ledger’s son, who was just entering a glorious manhood— possessed of great physical strength and cour- age—a handsome face and brilliant eyes. The point where the little party was encamped was well chosen to guard against surprise—be- ing a narrow point of land in an abrupt bend of the Platte river. Thus encompassed on three sides by the water, it would be an easy matter _ guard the fourth side against any Jurking ‘oe, When Mrs. St. Ledger had pronounced - per ready, the men gathered around the table, ose pa made by spreading a cloth upon the ound, oe Where is Blanche, mother?” asked Harry St. Ledger, gazing anxiously about him, when seated at supper. ‘*Here I am, brother,” came a sweet, musical voice from the canvas-covered wagon that stood a few yards in the back-ground, and in a mo- eye? ~~ aagy St. Ledger. appeared at the sup- per-table. She was not more than eighteen summers of age, with a rich profusion of ringlets of dark- brown hair, clustered about a brow of alabaster whiteness, and with large, lustrous eyes that would have rivaled the blackness of a summer midnight. Of a somewhat petite but well- developed form—with rosy cheeks, a dimpled chin, and full, ripe lips, Blanche St. Ledger was a model of grace and beauty, upon whom the sharp eyes of Jake Darle would rest at times with uncommon interest. “Why, Blanche, are you having a fit of melancholy that you are away by yourself?’ asked , as she seated herself by his side at the table. “IT won’t answer you, Mr. Harry,” she re- plied, with a roguish mile and a petulant toss of her head. “Very well, eat your supper then,” said arry. ~ Faith, and if yees war as nigh stharved as Teddy Muldoon, ye’d. not be wasting of yer time a-peking of i fun at one anither,” said the Irishman, without removing his eyes from the plate of soup before him. “Td like to know when ye ever did git enuff to eat, Ted, since I’ve known ye,” remarked Jake Darle, the guide, with a sly wink at Mr. St. Ledger, ‘‘ Faith,” responded Teddy,” *‘me’s always gits enough, when me’s gits to the table afore yer riverence does.” Darle made no ply to the Irishman’s joke. Their supper was concluded in silence. By this time it had grown dark, and the necessary arrangements for passing the night were speedily made. The horses were tethered out where they could crop the rich, succulent prairie-grass; a small tent was pitched for the women’s accommodation, and a guard stationed on the ex d side of the camp. According to previous arrangements, the first watch fell upon Teddy Muldoon, but Jake Darle insisted very ‘urgently on taking his place. Teddy yielded very readily to the guide’s wish, for the latter had informed the emigrants that they were in the most perilous rtion of the ore arid as the fore part of he night was ger ly attended with the most danger from the Indians, it was thought that his experience better qualified him for the first watch. So Darle took his station, and the emigrants retired to rest, Mrs, St. Ledger and her. daugh- ter occupying the tent,and the three men the spacious covered wagon. In a few moments all had sunk into a sound sleep, save Teddy, who for some’eccentric curi- osity had remained awake, all the while keep- ing his eyes fixed upon the dark form of the guide, who stood in the shadow of a clump of cottonwood trees, Now and then Darle would glance toward the wagon, but as y was watching him through asmall rentiin the canvas, he was un- observed in his movements by the guide, Presently thé Irishman’s attention was drawn to another object. Far out on the i a tp the river he discovered a dull ight moving to and fro like a pendulum; and occasionally he could dimly see the outlines of a dark, motionless figure between. Teddy Muldoon was naturally a shrewd man —more so than he was ever given credit for— and no sooner did he diseover that the mysteri- ous light had arrested the close attention of Darle, the guide, than he became filled with considerable curiosity, } _- For fully five minutes the light continued its oscillations, then it disappeared enti The next moment the guide turned, and walk- ing to the wagon peered in at the men, Wore- seeing his intention, Teddy quickly veer himself upon his bed, and like one in a deep slumber, gan a sonorous breathing. Finding all were asleep, the guide passed on to the little tent and found its Shinates likewise in Sncotscious that th yi f Tedd nconscious that the prying eyes of Teddy were upon him, Darle Sivanced to the smolder- ing camp-fire, and picking up a burning brand from the embers, walked out to the river-bank. Here he mops, and holding the blazing tse above his head, looked off in the direction that the mysterious light had been seen. In a few moments, Darle, as well as the waichful Teddy saw the light appear again, and at that instant the guide began swinging his torch around and around so swift that his head seemed inclosed in a circle of fire. As soon as he had ceased the performance, the light over the plain began its oscillation again, and then Teddy was fully convinced that the guide was communicating with some one on the prairies, through a stem of telegraphy known only between emselves, A vague suspicion that all was not right, at once arose in the Irishman’s mind, and he was about german 3 his two friends to witness the strange p ings, when the light on the rairie faded away. Darle then cast his torch to the river, and turning, he hastened away down the stream, Teddy watched him until his form bad faded in the gloom, then he took his rifle, climbed easily out of the wagon, and stationed himself as watch during the guide’s absence. Darle’s singular movements had_ completely lexed the Irishman’s brain. Whether his na were actuated from good or evil motives, he was at a loss to understand. But when an hour had dragged wearily by, and the guide did not return, he came to the settled conclusion that he had deserted them. Thus believing, Teddy was on the eve of going to arouse Kir. St. Ledger and his son, when his ear caught the sound of footsteps. _ Supposing it was the guide returning, Teddy turned his eye in the direction the sound had emanated, when to his horror he discovered a hideous-looking Pawnee Indian coming toward him. There was just light enough reflected from the camp-fire to reveal the savage’s features, that were aglow with all the evil ferocity ofa demon. The villain’s eyes wandered first from the wagon to the tent, then back to the wagon again, with a serpent-like ression, and as Teddy was standing in the shadow of a tree, he saw at once that the savage was ignorant of their close proximity, and nging his rifle te a level with the Indian’s breast, he called eut: “Halt, thar, ye red _ mn, and give an ac- count of yersilf, or be the howly Vargin I’ll let her go! Senrcely had he uttered the last word when the savage gave a startled yell, and drawing his knife, bounded like a tiger toward him. Teddy discharged his rifle, but the ball went wide of its mark, and seeing the danger that menaced him, while possessed of no weapons but his empty rifle, he determined to make good use of it by using it as a shillalah, with which weapon he considered himeelf a skillful hand; so slipping his hand along to the middle of the barrel, he raised it above his head, gave it a whirl or two, and then brought the muzzle down upon the tufted head of the advancin red-skin with such a force that he was kill instantly. ‘Oh, be gorra! bad ’cess to yees that tamper with the likes of Teddy Muldoon, ye red blag- ard.’ he Good Heavens, Teddy, what’s the matter?” It was Arthur St. Ledger who asked the ques- tion, and who, with rifle in hand, stood at Teddy’s side. However, before the Irishman could reply, a shrill war-whoep ed out on the niet aie: and the next instant a half-dozen savages came yelling from the gloom of the cottonwood grove teward them. “Och, be the howly Vargin!” exclaimed Teddy, bracing himself, and whirling his rifle over his head, ‘‘come on to yer doom, ye red, murthering vagabones ye; oh, ye screeching hellyons, but yees will git a glorious chastis- ing! Two of the advaneing savages fell dead under the unerring aim of Arthur St. Ledger and his son; but before they could reload, the livin demons were upon them, and a hand-te-ban conflict commenced. Our friends soon found that they had been taken at a great disadvantage, for their empty rifles at close quarters proved of but little ser- vice, save in warding off the blows of the sav- ages; and how the struggle would have ended was a matter of conjecture until anew char- acter, whose deep-toned voice rung high above the yell of the combatants, like the clarion notes of a bugle, appeared upon the scene of action in behalf of our friends. Right into the midst of the conflict he sprung, dealing death- blows right and left upon the tufted skulls of the red-skins, uttering a wild and fearful yell at each blow. In a moment the last sa had fallen, and then our three friends stood face to face with their unknown deliverer, feeling as much sur- prise as though they were confronted by a visitor from the planet sue The man might have n thirty, er hoe might have been fifty years of age, tall and lank; standing fully six feet in his moccasins; swelling out in muscular.proportion at the hips and shoulders; with a small head, covered with long, disheveled hair; a sharp chin, large yet expressive mouth, a hooked nose, and long, shaggy brows, beneath which gleamed’a pa of the most brilliant and wonderful yi od that were indicative of the warmest friendship and the deadliest hatred on the part of their owner. He carried a long rifle, and a belt filled with knives and pistols. ‘‘Faith, and who have we the honor of thank- ing for this bit of help?” asked Teddy, advanc- ing toward the stranger and offering his hand. clear laugh esca the man’s lips, as he seized the proffered hand in a grip that caused Teddy te wince, ‘* Perhaps,” said the stranger, “‘ you’ve hearn tell of me, and perha ye nein but P'm the Raven of the North, the Eagle of the South, the Devil of the Bast and the Giant of the West. I’ve hunted bears through polar snows, and savages in the everglades of Florida; I’ve cut
Page 3
the throats of pirates on the high seas of the East, and scalped Ingins and bufflers on the plains of the West. To-day I’m a hunter; to- morrer a scout. One day a gentleman, and the next a guide. I’ve no home in partik’ler; no relations in the world. Every white man with a pure heart is my eee ery recinen is my enemy, the devil included. hen first I knew myself, I went by the name of Wildmere Ravennaugh; but since then, time and con- venience has shortened it, until I’m known to- day only as Wild Raven; and now, with this bit o’ personal hist’ry, I'll take the liberty of axin’ if thar’s only three o’ you here?” “‘Thrue, Misther Raven, and there’s onl three of us,” quickly responded Teddy. ‘ mean three of us men.” Wild Raven drew himself up te his full hight, and with his flashing eyes fixed upon Teddy, fairly hissed, through his set teeth, “Then Ill be cursed if there isn’t a trattor in this camp!” “But there were four of us, Teddy,” re- marked Mr. St Ledger, as he, for the first time since the excitement ef the fight, noticed the absence of Jake Darle. ‘* Our guide—where is he, Teddy?” ‘‘There, now, ye’s coming at the p’int,” said the Irishman, and freeing his mouth of a huge quid of tobacco, he related all he had witnessed up to the moment of the guide’s disappearance, After he had finished his startling stery, Wild Raven asked: ‘Who is this Jake Darle?”’ ‘Our guide,” replied Mr. St Ledger. ‘The vilest renegade cut-throat that ever plundered an emigrant-wagon!’” respended Ra- ven, fiercely. ‘* And now, friends, 1 advise you to look sharp, for you’re in ’siderable danger. I knowed there war a band o’ Ingins over the peraroers there, and I knowed there war a traitor in this ’ere camp, for I saw their signals ever a mile off, and then I come straight over here to spy ‘round a little; and the rest you know, for bere Iam.” For a moment the emigrants were completely aralyzed with the startling information of iid Raven, Arthur St. Ledger could scarcely credit the report of Jake Darle’s treachery, yet his absence from camp, and the attack of tho savages upon them, fully confirmed the accu- sation. ‘* Well, Raven,” said Mr. St. Ledger, ‘‘ believ- ing you to be a friend, skilled in the Indians’ nature, I appeal to you for advice and assist- ance in our perilous situation.” ‘* You kin have it, friend, free as the air o’ heaven; for it’s part o’ my nater to hejp the needy, relieve ithe sufferin’ and skulp Ingins. Ha-la! the death-groan of savages, friends, is music to'the earse’ Wild Raven! I'm jist in my element when I’m among ‘em, dealin’ out death, red-handed; and now, the first thing that Vi advise, is to move back in this ’ere bend to the water’s edge; draw your wagon along, and we kin use it for a kind o’ breastwork, for I’m sure we'll need sich protection afore mornin’.” “Then you,” said Mr. St. Ledger, turning to Teddy Muldoon, “ will harness the horses to the wagon and draw it in, while Harry and I arouse the women and move their tent.” Teddy laid aside his rifle and started off to where the animals had been tethered out. to grass, while Mr, St. Ledger and his son turned and proceeded toward the tent. . ‘¢1t’s curious that mother and Blanche have not been aroused by the noise of our late struggle. Surely nothing has happened them,” said Harry, as he pushed aside the canvas-door and entered the tent; but as he did so, he ut- tered a cry of horror, staggered forward and fell to his knees. ; Signs of a desperate struggle were in the tent. Blanche er was missing, while her mother, with the blood streaming from her mouth and nostrils, lay unconscious upen the ground. CHAPTER IL PADDY VERSUS RED-SKIN. LirtinG the inanimate form of his wife in his strong arms, Arthur St. Ledger carried her out and placed her tenderly upon a blanket near the camp-fire, Water was hastily brought from the river, and the blood washed from her face, which was greatly bruised and swollen, St. Ledger placed his hand upon her breast. Life was not extinct— there was a perceptible beat- ing of the heart. Brandy was brought from the wagon and poured in her mouth, while ber temples and limbs were being chafed, and her brow cooled with cloths saturated with cold wa- ter. Presently there were signs of returning consciousness, though it was some time before The Disguised Guide. she had sufficiently recovered to enable her to speak; and to add to the deplorable state of .af- fairs, in the mean time, Teddy returned, and with a look of abject disappointment upon his face, reported that the horses were stolen—that he could find them nowhere. Thus deprived of their beasts, the emigrants succeeded, by an effort of their combined strength, In moving the wagon to the desired spot. The tent was moved, the bed in it rear- ranged, and Mrs. St. Ledger placed upon it. By this time she had so far recovered as to be enabled to give the following account of Blanche’s absence: ‘*We were awakened b springiog up, we hastily dressed. Blanche now looked out and saw, by the light of the camp- fire, that you were being sorely pressed by the Indians, and expressed her determination of go- ing to assist you; but at that moment, the dark form of a savage entered the tent, and throwin a blanket over her head and shoulders, lifte her iu his arms and turned to flee; but before he could take a step I sprung forward, and seizing Blanche around the waist, was about tocry out, when the wretch struck me a blow with his fist that felled me unconscious to the ground. And now, Arthur, tell me if our poor Blanche is gone?” ‘She is, Sarah; but cheer up,” said the hus- band, consolingly, ‘‘she s be returned to you, free and unharmed.” Wild Raven, who had been a silent witness to Mrs. St. Ledger’s grief, now broke forth in a vehement and passionate tone: ** As true as thar’s a Ged in Heaven, frien’s; Tll rescue that gal afore another week — ever our heads! I'll doit, sink or swim, if I’ve got to go right into the heart of the Pawnee village. The devil that struck you, ma’am, in the tent, was not an Ingin, for an Ingin never strikes unless it’s with a tomahawk or knife. It wasa white man with a black heart, which I'll have or die. But I kin do nothing to-night to’rds fol- lerin’ a trail with certainty, besides you'll need my ’sistance here afore anuther sunrise, or my name’s not Raven.” ‘‘ Now, Misther Raven, if ye’s done wid that bit o’ a speach, jist tell me’s, if ye pl’ase, what dark o’ject that is moving up the body o’ that three in this direction?’ said Teddy, pointing toward a tall cottonwood tree some distance west of their present camp. Wild Raven looked in the direction indicated, and as his eyes fell upon the object, an excla- wation burst from his lips: ‘*T swear, Irisher, you’ve a keen eye to bis- ness,” he said, clapping Teddy kindly upon the shoulder, ‘‘fur, as I live, that object is a Paw- nee [ngin, and if he don’t drap from there quicker than he went up, Wild Raven’s no skunk-killer.” True enough; all eyes saw the dark form of a savage climbing up the body of a tall tree, which was plainly outlined against the western sky, and which steod about two bundred yards from the camp. The object of the savage’s lofty movement was readily manifested. The point where our friends had pitched their camp was in a low, dry sink or basin, some twenty feet in diameter, and about six feet be- low the general surface around it, Thus, they were securely screened upon all sides from ene- mies upon the ground, and it was very evident new, that the savage was ascending the tree, so as to command a view of the interior of the camp. and pick off the emigrants at leisure. This would have been an easy task for a con- cealed marksman, for the full round moon made a small object perceptible at a great distance. Wild Raven inserted into his long rifle a charge suitable to the distance, then resting the muzzle upon the bank, he took a steady aim upon the savage. There was a vivid flash—a clear whip-like vat nigh followed by a piercing shriek, and the body of the savage went crash- ing down among the branches, and struck the ground, a piece of mangled pulp, ‘Hal hal” burst triamphantly from the scout’s lips; ‘‘sich is the vengeance of the Raven of the North, the Eagle of the South, the Devil of the East, and the Giant of the West. Sich is life on the plains, my friends; and may the Lord spare me to enjoy it until I can see, from yon mountain-tops, the long caravan of future adventurers pouring west toward the silent sun, unmolested by the red marauders of the plain. Then, and not until then, will I feel content to lay aside my rifle, and be called from this t trail o’ life—where I know not, but I hope it’l] not be to the region of everlasting beat, whar the skulpless heads 0’ a thousand Ingi would allers be reflected to my view, and whar the first noise, and 3 the headless ;bodies, of Jand-robbers and. ,sea- pirates go struttin’ about with all the pompos’ty of their former days, s’archin’ for—well, who- ever it may consarn. No, no friends, I b’lieve I was placed, here for some good pues and surely, in fulfillin’ that purpose, Wild Raven’s name will be allowed a corner in the Lamb’s book o’ Life.” “Faith, Misther Raven, and it’s ye what spakes wid the eloquence of an orater, and the sparit of a Christian gintleman. Teddy Mul- doon he’s no gift of gab, yet he always thinks thanks to His holy riverence, for his on r- tion of bread and bit of tobaccy,” said Teddy, as he produced his pipe, and began loading it with very obnoxious tobacco, ‘‘T say, Irisher,” said Raven, drawing a large brier-root pipe from his pocket, ‘' jist give us a load o’ yer weed, as I’m rather short 0’ the kind jist now.” As he drew his tobacco-bag from his pc cket Teddy caught sight of the scout’s pipe, and fairly winced at the enormity of its size, but, = it in Raven's hand, be turned te look or something on which to strikea mateb, At the top of the basin he discovered a flat stone and crawling up the bank, seated himself by it, and struck the match. For a moment he screened the tiny blaze in his hand, then apply~ ing it to his pipe, looking straight down bis pose as he did so, he began to puff out great whiffs of blue smoke; but ere he had removed the blazing match, a bullet, from the rifle of an unseen foe, went whizzing through the air, and striking the bowl of the Irishman’s pipe, shiv- ered it to pieces—even snatching, as it were, the stem from between his teeth. ‘‘Och, and be the howly Vargin!” exclaimed the startled and bereaved Irishman, as he went tumbling headlong into the basin, ‘*me Re me pipe is e, and may me life be spa the loss, and thra shillings to you, dear Misther Raven, for yer tub of a pipe!” Despite the solemnity of the occasion, Mr. and iio St. Ledger could not restrain a smile, while Wild Raven burst into a fit of laughter at Teddy’s PXHRDES However, the moment the Irishman had gained his feet, he seized his rifle, and regardless of the consequences, would haye rushed headlong in pursuit of the despoiler of his pipe, had be not been detained by the scout. . ‘* Hold on here, Irisher,” he said, seizing, him by the shoulder, “‘ don’t let the loss o’ your pipe cost you your, skulp, It would be rashness ta go out o’ this basin, for I'll bet a land title in the vicinity o’ the North Pole, thet. you’d be riddled by a dozen bullets. Be easy, and you can share my pipe while we’re here,’ “ Jist.as ye.say, Misther Raven,” said Teddy, laying aside his rifle, ‘‘but be the how)y Var- gin, it’s going ag’inst the grain to let thet mur- therin’, disthructive h’athing go widout a schastising from :the hands .o’ Teddy Muldoon.” ‘Oh, that’s. nothin’, Ivisher,” said Raven. “When you’ve bad the experience that I’ve had *mong the. red cusses, you'll think nothin’ ’bout such triflin’ mishaps; but here’s my pipe; use it until I go into the tent, and inform your friends as how Ill proceed in rescuing their daughter to-morrow, Teddy took the proffered pipe, and with gun in hand, seated himself to guard the place until the scout should rejoin him, He had been seated about ten minutes, amusing himself by blowing from his mouth miniature clouds of smoke, when he detected a slight noise_in the tall buffalo-grass west of the basin, It was such a noise as a serpent would make in crawl- ing through the grass; and feeling 4 little sus- picious, Teddy mechanically raised his rifle, and pointed it ata little star that hung low in the western sky, As be did 80, be was con- scious of a dark ghjent coming between the star and the muzzle of his piece; and without mov- ing his eyes, he recognized the object to be the tufted head of an Indian, who was sspgeer 4 trying to get a view of the interior of the li fort. cs) ; As Teddy was dressed in dark clothes, and sat within the shadow of the tent, his form was blended in the darkness of the bank beyond; consequently, he was unobserved by the savage, who with gleaming eyes continued to rise slowly up. Motionless as a statue, Teddy sat with his rifle leveled, and the instant the savage’s breast came in range of the muzzle, he fired. A yellof mortal agony followed the reportof the cifle, and with a spasmedic upthrowing of the arms, the savage sprung forward and fell dead at Teddy’s feet. Startled by the noise, the inmates of the tent rushed out to learn the cause of it.
Page 4
4: an rn ‘Hangnation, Irisher, what the de’il’s the matter out he-ar?’ asked Wild Raven, somewhat nettled by the disturbance. In reply, Teddy coolly pointed to the body of the savage, at the same time removing his pipe from his mouth, and blowing out a perfect cloud of smoke. At -_ of the dead savage, all the wildness of Wild Raven’s nature became aroused to its highest pitch. ; ‘Painters and polars!” he exclaimed, ‘Tl swan to nature, a ginuine dead Ingin! Irisher, owre a trump, you’re a jewel, you’re a cuss rn with eyes ekel te an owl’s in the dark, and a coolness of nature ekel to a polar iceberg. You're jist sich a man as I’d like to tramp the len and breadth @’ the Ingin nation with, sendin’ death into every red marauder’s heart, from the sunless region o’ the North te the brink o' Rio Gila, Tell us how you winged the bird, Irisher?” oa Faith, and it was easy enough, whin the red varmint came a-’ayesdroppin ’round, and sthuck his dirty nose into the muzzle of me gun.” “ Hist !” saddenly commanded the scout. “ What—what now, Misther Raven?” asked the Irishman, in a whisper. “Dida’t you hear that splashin’ in the river jist then?” “Thave heard it several times,” said Harry St. Ledger. ‘* Bless yer sowl, and I’ve been a-hearing av it for the list half an hour, Misther Raven.’ “Waal, now, if I’m not mistaken—and I don’t think IT am—thet sound is made by Ingins thet’s tryin’ to ketch us asleep; howsumever, I’m goin’ to see into it, and in order to do so, I’ve got to leave this basin.” “But dare you leave here?’ asked Mr, St. iy SY “Tl try it,” said the scout, “‘and you fellers must keep your eyes open till IT return. Jist let thet de in lay in the basin, for 1 may need him yit—no tellin’.” Upon his hands and knees the scout crawled from the basin, and was soon lost to the view of those who, in a great measure, were depen- dent upon his superior knowledge of the red- man. Arthur St. Ledger remained in the tent with his bereaved wife, while his son and Teddy stood guard without. Anxiously the return of Wild Rayen was awaited. The moments dragged wearily by, and the red streaks of morning dawn began shoot aslant the eastern sky. Slowly the moon tier ye up the misty hillsides and down the dis- nt dewy glades, now lingering on the broad rivers and the mountain-tops, now floating in liquid seftness over the billowy plains and the id mountain gorges, now paling away in the depths of the somber western sky before the glare of the open day. CHAPTER II. CAUGHT IN HIS OWN TRAP. Just as the sun looked ever the eastern hills, Wild Raven made his appearance in camp with a fine antelope swung over his shoulder. He found the emigrants stirring busily around, Mrs. St. Ledger ‘had recovered, somewhat, from the shock she had sustained, and was busily engaged in preparing breakfast. But there was a blank look, that portrayed inner sorrow, upon each face, One loved form, a familiar face and voice, were missing from the little group. Depositing bis game upon the ground, the scout removed his cap from his head, and run- ning his long fingers through his hair, said: ‘All are safe and looking well.” “Thanks to a merciful Providence, and your help, we are,” said Mrs. St. Ledger. ‘* An’ the same to yoursilf, Misther Raven,” said Teddy. “Why shouldn’t I be, when I’m always up with mornin’ dawn, breathin’ the fresh air o’ heaven. ‘hen I wash myself in the mornin’ dew, breakfast on wild game fresh from the hunt, and slake my thirst at the mountain streams. Ho, good Irisher! Wild Ruyen’s life is oné o’ the wildest joy—o’ never endin’ yet éver-changin’ adventure. It makes no differ- erica, as the Raven of the North, the Eagle of the South, the Giant o’ Kast and Devil o’ West, Pm king o’ a host, and that host is myself.” ‘But what discovery did you make in regard to that sound we heard in the river during the night?” asked St. Ledger. “Wal: friend, I made quite a diskivery. One that'll surprise you a leetle when you hear’t, and that’ll convince you that I kin distinguish a sound made by Ingins from a seund waade't by a animal. Now then, you see that this basin is not over five steps from the bank o’ the river—” ‘“Asily to be seen,” interrupted Teddy. The Disguised Guide. ‘‘Wal, now,” continued the scout, ‘if you war standin’ over on the other bank, you’d see that this bank is shelvin’—that is, the water has washed the bank out at the bottom, leavin’ it ty gpg ever the water at the top several eet, so at this moment wejre not more’n five feet frem the edge o’ the water and—” “Faith, and what av that?” again iaterrupted Teddy. ws Ho, ho!” laughed the scout, leaning forward and speaking in a low tone. ‘‘ Why, friends, at this very moment a canoe, containing six savages, is moored under this very bank! Think of it; at this time you are within six feet, at least, of six as mean-lookin’ Ingins as ever lifted a human skulp!” For a moment the emigrants seemed paralyz- ed with the scout’s startling information. 4 St. Ledger let fall the knife with which she was engaged in slicing dried venison, and uttered a little cry of horror. A shadow of fear clouded the brow of her husband, as his mind reverted to his poor child who was then being carried further and further from them, while the very shadow of death lingered across their owm path- way. Oy Now, be the howly Vargin! thim rhed, murthering vagabones are what made the noise in the river last night, eh, Misther Raven?’ asked Teddy, evincing some uneasiness. “The same,” answered Raven, ‘‘ and they’ll stay there till they’ve a chance to steal in on us and rub us out, if possible; but I don’t cal- kerlate they’ll git the chance.” ‘What do you prepose doing?” asked Mr. St. ae “Wal, I calkerlated to go in search o’ your gal this mornin’, but I swan to nater, I can’t go off and leave you folks till you’re safe, and that'll not be till we kin git them Ingins from under the bank and git their canoe. en you kin take it and boat all your things, but your wagon, over onto an island in the river, half a mile below here. Then you'll be safe, fur a while at least, fur the island has quite a wth o’ young trees, and is liter’ly kive with brushwood and undergrowth. It’s a good place to catch fish without ex savage rifles, and if you'll jist keep on a sharp look-out, you'll have no trouble. Once onto the island, you kin remain there until I return with your gal and hosses, and then you kin resume in’ yourselves to your x Journey “Your plan is a good one,” said Mr. St. Ledger, ‘‘and I pra eaven will assist us in carrying it out; but 1 can not see how you can, with safety to poacese disledge those Indians from under that bank and obtain their canoe.” ‘*Wal, I'll explain, friends, arter breakfast, how I’ll draw the reds out o’ there. I want to make a little ’rangements, fust.” In a few moments breakfast was announced, and the little party seated themselves at the table, which, as at supper, was a cloth spread upon the ground, and partook heartily of the prepared viands by the skillful hands of Mrs, St. Ledger. While they were thus engaged, Wild Raven detected a slight noise behind him, and turning his head, he beheld, to his utmost surprise, the head and shoulders of a savage protruding from ahole in the ground in an arm’s reach of him! How he had come there—con- jured up from the bowels of the earth, as it were, likea spirit of evil—was readily perceived by the scout and his friends. As we have before said, about five feet of earth separated the six is ne from our friends in the dry basin, and with their knives, it had been a matter of time and patience for the former to dig a hole upward, through the bank under which — were concealed; and, as it happened, whether intended or not, they had succeeded in opening the passage at the north side of the basin, while our friends were at the south side, It was evident that the red-skin, who had taken upon himself the perilous duty of recon- noitering the situation, was unconscious of his close proximity to his foes, for he evinced as much surprise as did the scout, and attempted to withdraw, but was not quick enough, for Wild Raven swung his long arm around and clutched his bony fingers into the Pawnee’s glossy scalp-lock, and held him firm and fast. Thus caught in his own trap, the savage made known his capture to his own companions by a series of discordant yells; and at once a deter- mined struggle began for the possession of him —the Pawnees under the bank ing to pull him back through the opening, while Raven prevented them very easily by pulling the other way. Despite their surroundings, the emigrants could not refrain from laughing at the ludi- crous situation of the yelling red-skin, and the comical expression of Wild Raven’s face as he clung to the long hair with both hands, ‘‘ Painters and polars!” yelled the scout, “this is what I call bisness on a new scale. a! hat ha! yell, ye red hellyon; I'll let your friends stretch ye car ’cross the river, or pull ye out o’ your hide afore 1’ll let go. The Raven o’ the North never lets the chance for a skulp slip— ’specially when it’s in his fingers! Oh no, red- skin, sich comes 0’ pokin’ your head into white folks’ affairs.” ; ‘‘Oh, be the howly Mother!” cried Teddy, im an ecstasy of joy, ‘“‘ this is the most fun Teddy Muldoon ever saw! PYase, dear Misther Raven, let me’s take a lift at the red vagabone’s hair, fur jis’ like as not he’s the murthering divil what brakes me pipe—oh, swate ven- geance!” Wild Raven allowed Teddy to relieve him in his hold upon the savage’s head, and then mo- tioning Mr. St. Ledger aside the two conversed a few moments in an undertone; then St. Ledger turned and entered the tent, and the scout re- turned to Teddy and his charge. ' By this time the savage hac ceased his noise, having been exhausted with fear and pain, and seemed reconciled to his fate, although the sav- ages under the the bank still clung ento his heels and Teddy to his hair. ““Lookey here, red-skin,” said Wild Raven, speaking to the savage in the Indian dialect, * bein’s you haven’t done us any direct harm, as I know on, I’m goin’ to give youa chance for your life on one condition; do you hear?’ The face of the savage brightened ap, and & treacherous light, which the scout did not fail to see, ssentnen in his small, black, serpent-like eyes. as he replied: eS Monnageh hears the great Raven creak, and will hearken still for his life, though he is not afraid to die. Let the Raven speak, Monna-~ gah’s ears are wide.” ‘“Wal, now, if you'll promise to leave here with your companions as soon as you are re- leased, and bother us no more, I'll give you @ int, of ‘fire-water’ and the chane of your ife, ‘‘ Monnagah has heard the Raven speak,” said the Indian, “and will do his bidding. Give fire-water, then leave. I have spoken the truth. “ Raven can trust in Monnagab’s word.” At this moment Arthur St. Ledger appeared with a bottle filled with brandy, which he had brought along from the States for medical pur- ses, and which was destined to serve in an important crisis. aking the bottle in his hand, the scout gave it te the savage, saying, as he did so: ‘( Here, now, is the fire-water; begone Ke Then, to Teddy: ‘‘ Release him, Irisher.” But Teddy did not Yet go his bold on the red-skin’s hair until he had delivered himself of the follow- ing threat: ‘Now remimber, you rid naygur, if yees don’t make yerself sca’ce around here, according to agrament, I’ll pounce onto yees till there’ll not be a smithereen o’ yees left. Now ge,” and re- leasing the savage, the scalp lock glided out of sight quick as a serpent, and the the hole was blocked with a log of driftwood. Searcely a minute had elapsed after the re- lease of the savage when the ears of our friends were greeted by a mocking and revengeful yell from the throats of their foes under the bank, showing to what extent the promise of the sav- age had been carried. But, Wild Raven was too well experienced im the Indians’ true character to be omy nap- ping with his eyes open. He knew the Pawnees were a notoriously treacherous set; and in the resent case, he knew the savage would stick to is promise onl until he was out of sight. But he wished to obtain on of their canoe, and was compelled to resort to stratagem to ef- fect his purpose. And in allowing the sava to go scot free with the gift of a pint of brandy which he knew they loved, was only to carry destruction to his comrades, for the brandy was: drugged with a powerful narcotic! CHAPTER IV. WHERE IS HE? ; WILp RAVEN had decided upon an entirely different plan for dislodge the savages from under the projecting bank, from the one which circumstances induced him to ome afterward, and which promised to be the safest and mest expedient way; so he had nothing to do but to wait and watch for the coming events. The savages continued their jeers and yells of vengeance upen our friends for some time, then, with a mocking laugh, in which the words “‘ fire~
Page 5
water” and ‘cheat pale-face” were distin- guished, the noise subsided; and then our friends knew that the bottle was being passed. In a few moments more they heard the words— evidently intended for their ears—‘‘ Waugh! heap good fire-water,” and all became silent again. “Bad ’cess to yees rhedmurthering blaw- gards,” said Teddy. ‘‘ And it’s meself that’s thinking as what ye’ll soon. be laughing out 0’ the ither side o’ yer mouths.” Our friends now seated themselves around the breakfast-table again, for their meal was but half finished when the savage made his appear- ance in the quietude of their little fort. After breakfast had been dispatched, Wild Raven concluded to look after his savage ene- mies, who had grown perfectly quiet under their shelter, and no doubt under the influence of the potent drug, althoughit had been scarcely time for it to operate; and besides, it was ex- pected that the savages would make some noise or sign of pain. But as Raven could hear noth- ing, he crawled from the basin.and approached the river-bank, and as he did so, a-shout of triumph escaped his lips. ‘* Here, friends, all of you,” he called, “come and see our triumph over our enemies.” The emigrants hastened to the scout’s side, and to their great joy, bebeld a large canoe, eee the bodies of six savages, floating at the will of the current about fifty yards below where they stood. ** Sich, my friends, is life.on the plains,” said Wild Raven, explanatorily. ‘‘In them red varmints ye behold the future fate o’ the Ingin nation, and [ hope my life will be spared to bring the last one to grief.” ‘You seem to have a deadly hatred toward ‘the Indian,” said Mr. St. Ledger. ‘“T know’t. I am.an exception to all God’s ereaters. Ilove no one in pertikler, yet every- body with a true heart is my friend. To me the world is nothin’ but a great play-ground— the people its players in the game of life, of which there are but, two sides, one Right, the other Wrong;—but Tm digressin’, as the preacher says. That canoe must be secured before it gets beyond reach.o’ the shore!” So saying he hastened to a point opposite the «canoe where the bank sloped gradually to the water’s edge, and by means of his long rifle, succeeded in drawing the canoe to the shore, Then stepping into it; he paddled the canoe back to the camp. Then, by the scout’s orders a craft was constructed of floating logs and ‘brush, and on it the six soundly-sleeping sav- ages were laid, well secured from any overflow of the flood. The raft was then towed out into the swift middle current and set loose. In a few moments it was gone, with its burden of profound sleepers. When they would come out from, that lethargic repose, many miles indeed would have been put between them and their foes! Immediate preparations were now made for embarking to the island spoken of by the scout, Such articles as the emigrants had in their wagon, were stowed in the canoe, and as Wild Raven was-an with the oar, the duty of running the boat down to the island fell upon his shoulders. In a few moments all had been arranged, and the canoe put out from shore, and turned down the stream. In the meantime, in order to facili- tate the embarkation, the emigrants followed along the shore, but owing to the vast amount of drift-wood that was lodged in among the sickly cottonwoods that lined the banks, their progress was slow; so that when Wild ven bed: reached the island, they were a quarter of a mile behind. The Platte river is a stream remarkable for its width and shallowness, yet there are points where it is both wide and deep, and one of these points was where the little island in question nestled down in its bosom. The island was small—not more than eight rods long and five wide. It was covered with a dense growth of willow and small cottonwood trees, while a great amount of drift-wood was lodged npon it. Although it was within rifle-shot of either shore, it was an admirable place to guard against the sudden attack of the savages; and conse- quently, it was well suited for the retreat of our friends. : Landing on the upper side of the island, the scout hastily removed the articles from thc canoe, and placed them a few steps inland; and then, in order to facilitate his movements, he removed his belt and small-arms, and placing them and his rifle along with the emigrants articles, he sprung into the canoe, seized the oars, and started on his return for the emigrants, The Disguised Guide. who were still about three hundred yards dis- tant above the island, and hidden from view in the undergrowth. Scarcely had Wild Raven got clear of the island when a small canoe, containing two In- dians, glided noiselessly around from the oppo- site side and stood in directly between. the scout and the island. Raven was not slow in discover- ing their presence, and a pang of the deepest regret smote his breast as fe saw that the say- ages were between him and every weapon he possessed—having left them on the island— while they were well armed. The scout was in adilemma. To attempt to recover his weapons would be folly, and to try to escape in his canoe would be utterly impossible, for the savages in their feather-like craft could easily have out- stripped him in a race. He gazed toward the shore, hopeful that. the emigrants had discoy- ered his danger, and would contrive.some way to aid him, but nowhere could they be seen, and there was but one alternative, tor already a rifle was leveled at his breast, and in another minute the Raven of the North would be a dead man. Quickly measuring with his eye the distance that was between him and his enemies, the scout sprung to his feet, but, ashe did so, his canoe, rocked violently ; the savage’s . rifle cracked; the scout reeled, uttered. a cry of mortal agony, staggered forward and fell from the canoe and was swallowed up inthe silent waters of the river! CHAPTER V. RED WOLF. BLANCHE St. LEDGER was a girl possessed of great.presence of mind and. strength and cour- age for one of her sensitive nature, and the mo- meat she felt herself lifted in a pair of savage arms and carried from the tent, she endeavored repeatedly to draw from her. dress-pecket. a small silver-mounted revolver, in the use of which she was no nevice.. But every attempt was in vain; her arms, were pinioned fast, and her struggles were like those of an infant in the arms of its nurse. She tried to cry out, but ber voice was stifled in the folds of a heavy blanket which almost suffocated her. Poor Blanche! she saw how useless it was to spend her strength in vain struggles for escape; there was no alter- native but to submit to ber abductor’s will, and trust to a merciful Providence for asafe restora- tion to her friends. : After her abductor had carried her something like.a mile from her friends, he placed her upon her feet and removed the blanket from her head, taking good care, however, to tie her hands be- fore doing so. She looked around her, A look of bewilderment rested upon her fair young face, as her eyes wandered dreamily over the eat,unbroken plain that was rendered deso- ate by the soft light of the great full moon, Not a living creature, save her captor, not a tree nor shrub was visible—not a sound broke the melancholy silence of the place until the savage spoke: “Does White Dove know where she is?” he asked, Blanche started at the sound of his voice. She glanced first at his form, then at his paint- ed face, and lastly at his head, that bristled with feathers of a gaudy plumage; but in the outlines of his person she discovered nothing that corresponded with the familiar tone of his voice—a voice which, had she been fully ac- quainted with the proceedings of the last two hours, she would not have hesitated to con- foond with the savage form before her, strange though it a red. ““The White Dove seems frightened,” said the savage, seeing the effect his words, first spoken, produced upon Blanche. ‘‘She need have no fear so long as she is the willing captive of Red Wolf; the great Cheyenne chief. He will carry you to the lodges of his people in safety; and there he will make you his wife, and then you will be queen of all bis tribe. Your gentle coo- ing will soothe his heart when oppressed with the duties of his tumultuous life, ana—” ‘Silence your serpent-tongue, wretch!” inter- rupted Blanche, with an indignant flash of her eyes. Through the savage’s voice she had made a startling discovery, which set at defiance all her previous fears; yet, through the bitter in- dignation and scorn that rankled in her heart, she allowed not the least sign to betray her sus- picion to the savage chief Red Wolf. “Waugh!” said the Indian, “the White Dove must not croak likethe raven. Theraven is not a bird to wate with Red Wolf.” ‘‘Nor is Red Wolf fit to mate with any but the carrion crow,” defiantly returned Blanche, pe 5 all the gentle tenderness of her features relax- ing into stern rigidity. . ‘Oh, my pretty dove must not flutter so fiercely, or I will have to clip her wings.” . ‘‘ You threaten a helpless woman, do you, wretch?” how ‘‘ Waugh! a helpless woman must not trifle with the anger and wishes of an Indian.” ‘« 4n—Indian!” hissed Blanche, scornfully. ‘What is an Jndian more than a buman beast? and what is a—” She did not finish the sentence upon her tongue’s end. By a: mighty effort of self-con- trol, she forced back the words that would have betrayed the discovery that she had made to her savage captor, “Why does not the White Dove speak on? Are her feathers beginning to droop?” asked the chief, with a taunting leer upon his fact. , Blanche made no reply, but had she possessed the use of her hands at that moment, she would have drawn hér concealed revolver and shot the wretch dead, As it was, however, she deter- mined she would not reply to, or heed his vile threats again, as it only induced him to mock her Relaeoinees, a Dies dum, ‘*My pretty dove must not grow contrary to the will of her king,” said the chief. a retticn scalps thal yours ornament the lodge of Red olf. Blanche shuddered, and turned her back neon the monster to hide the emotion of horror that surged across her brain. As she did so, she caught sight of two horsemen upon the crest, of a gentle swell in the prairie, riding swiftly to- ward them. <A mental prayer of th to Heaven escaped her lips, for she supposed, they were her friends coming her rescue, The horses she readily reeognized as those belonging to her father, yet they were too far off to, re- cognize the riders; but she had no doubt, that they were her father and Jake epee es: ide, Plainer, each moment, grew the sound of the animals’. feet, nearer and. mearer. they ap- proached, and Blanche St. Ledger turned to- ward her savage captor to watch, lest be bury a hatchet in her brain, and flee the vengeance of the approaching horsemen. But instead of fear, a cold sardonic leer of trium upon his fiendish face, for he had hopes and thoughts of his captive by her emo- tions; ‘‘Ha-ha! he-he! _ Not yet!” he topkingly laughed, so close to her face that his hot breat fanned ber cheeks. P Blanche was startled with wonder at his strange manner. And that laugh! how it echoed through her memory! What could he mean by his defiant coldness in the face of ap- hs gg, ge The mystery was soon solved, e horsemen drew rein before t é True enough the horses were Arthur St. ger’s, but the riders—they were hideous-looking savages. For a moment it seemed that poor Blanche _ would fall under the blow of this bitter disap- polvimen’; but her self-control soon d he mastery of her depressed spirits, and - ing her courage, she determined to face her enemies calmly and bold ly. seg After a hurried consultation, in the Indian _ tongue, of which Blanche knew notbing, the two savages dismounted from the stolen ani- mals and gave the reins te the chief, who turned to the captive and said: “The White Dove must now ride on one of the dead pale-faces’ horses. . My braves will free her hands and assist her to mount. ‘“‘ Dead pale-faces’ horses!” repeated Blanche to herself, as a pang of sorrow pierced her heart. ‘‘ My friends ail dead? Surely not! I be- lieve the savages are lying, or they would not evince so much uneasiness. They have stolen father’s animals, it is true; but I feel confident they drove the snvAROy big Se Then mother has made known my absence from the tent, and there is no doubt that at this moment ‘he | ide, Jake Darle, and some or all of my friends are in search of me. At least I ean hope 50,11 One of the savages unbound the captive’s hands and assisted her to the back of one of the horses. Blanche was a skill strienne, and found no difficulty in keeping her seat upon the animal’s bare back. The moment her hands were free, Blanche thought of the tiny revolver in her pocket, but the odds were against her, and besides, her hands and arms were weak, and nervous from the painful position in which they bad been. bound. She concluded, thero- fore, to wait and watch fora more favorable opportunity to attempt her own escape. fter giving his red allies some instructions, Red Wolf mounted the other animal, and tak- ‘
Page 6
ing the reins of Blanche’s, ‘he two sci off at a brisk gallop toward the south-east, leaving the two Indians to follow on foot. After they had ridden some distance, Blanche gazed around them on all sides, and seeing they were quite alone, she mentally said; “Now is my chance to send a bullet through the villain’s head, and may Heaven give me strength for the ordeal!” CHAPTER VI. A RETROSPECT—-WHO WAS THE MURDERER? In one of the loveliest rural districts in the vicinity of St. Louis, Missouri, stood a beauti- ful fesidente surrounded by all the luxury that taste and wealth could acquire, and its owner, oe ur St. Ledger, was considered as possessing t One pleasant summer day two persons were seated in conversation within the summer-house that stood in the furthest extremity of the beautiful grove that surrounded St. Ledger's residence. One of these persons the reader is already acquainted with: it was Blanche St. Ledger. The other was a young man a few ban oi her senior, and possessing all the attri- tes of a handsome and noble man. “Then you will marr your father’s anger subsides, and when he has bad time to learn the true character of George Barker?” ' “Yes, dear Gilbert,” replied Blanche, “ then I will be your wife; but should that time never come, rest assured, Gilbert, you and only you, have my heart. But sooner than obey m father’s wish in marrying Georse Barker, will take my own life. It will be far better than a life of misery.” “No, no, Blanche,” replied Gilbert Brainard, “* you must not do so. You will wreck my life, as well as destroy your own. If your father stlll insists on your marrying Barker, come to me. Wecan be wedded despite his opposition; and if lama _ young mechanic, we can live happily together without his aid.” it’s true, Gilbert; I would rather live ha and toil all my days, than live in sorrow and be surrounded by luxury. But I hope time will change my father’s stern will toward you, Gilbert—that he will prefer you as my husband to George Barker.” “T hope so, too, dear Blanche, and with this wee cab Giles will be compelled to leave you,” said Gilbert, as he arose to depart. “Oh, Gilbert!” sighed Blanche, with tears in her eyes, ** it seems as though we were about to part ver. “Nothing but death will do it, Blanche,” said he, as he bent over and kissed: her warm lips, then turned and hurried away. Scarcely was Gilbert Brainard out of sight when the foliage behind Blanche was pa and a man stepped out and stood by her side. It was George Barker, a tall, dark-eyed, dark- haired, evil-expressioned looking individual, of some thirty years. Blanche started with an expression of scorn on her face, when she saw who the intruder was. ‘You here, George Barker?” she exclaimed, a ta “And why not, my dear Miss St. Ledger,” he returned, with a sneer. “ Aren’t you glad to see me?” ““Yes—out of my sight.’ I hate you, and I bid you leave me!” she haughtily replied. “Not so cruel, my little Blanche, I have just come from an interviow with your ‘good papa, who has given his consent to our tinion; and now I want you to set the day, my dear, ag happy ceremony that will make us one es me, Blanche, when “Never—never will I marry you, George Barker! I love but one, and him I will marry, despite you and all the powers ef earth!” “Then in your own emphatic language, Miss Blanche, I will say: Never—never shall you marry Gilbert Brainard!” and, with a fearful oath, Barker turned on his heel and walked wis t ith a troubled heart, Blanche went into the house anfl sought her father in the library for consolation. She made known her grief to her parent with all the confidence of cpildish sim- plicity. But he was a stern and hard-hearted man. He bade her dismiss Gilbert Brainard from her mind forever, for he declared that she should marry Barker. He cared nothing for his child’s happiness, only the reputed gold of George Barker was the object of his mind’s éye now; he was deaf to all other protestations. ' Findimg no sympathy io her father’s heart, poor Blanche sought the solitude of her own room. Her mother and brother were absent from home on a visit to friends in the East; so The Disguised Guide. there were no others to whom she could confide the troubles of her soul. Slowly the day wore away, and night came on. Blanche retired early to bed, but not to sleep. Hour after hour passed on with leaden feet to the poor ae She could not sleep, nor did she weep, but a feeling of vague horror rested upon her heart. Suddenly, as the clock in the room below chimed out the hour of twelve, she was startled by calls for help and the cry of murder, issuing from her father’s bedchamber. Springing from her bed in a paroxysm of ter- ror, she rushed from her room, in her night- robe—down-stairs—along the hall—into her father’s bedchamber, where a sight of horror Ups Wis Ved alsiand nl pon his e and motionless as a corpse lay Arthor St. Ledger, with his life-blood flowing from a terrible h on the head and one on his right side: eady the snowy pil- lows and sheets were streaked and dyed with the crimson tide; and all this sight of horror Blanche witnessed by the light of the moon that shone in through the open windew. With her face as white as the spotless robe she wore, Blanche rushed into the hall and gave a piercing shriek to arouse the servants. Ina few moments several of them stood by the bed- side of their master. A surgeon was summoned and upon examination, it was found that life was not entirely extinct. The wounds were speedily dressed and stimulants be pers to re- kindle the vital spark that remained in the body of Arthur St. Ledger. He did recover, however, but it was many long weary weeks of suffering ere be could be nursed back to consciousness. During his illness, the great questiom that agitated the public mind was, ‘‘ Whe attempted the murder?’ Suspicion hinted ceed at George Barker; but there was no evidence to convict him, so was released from arrest; and so the matter was allowed to rest until Mr. St. Ledger re- covered. Then to the surprise of all, he stated that he recognized his would-be assassin, when he attacked him, as Gilbert Brainard. The officers of the law were at once set upen Brainard’s wack, but by some means he _ wind of the accusation made against him by St. pes ey and fled the country, and after several w ’ fruitless efforts, the search for him was relinquished. During the illness of Mr. St. Ledger, the true character of George Barker naturally betrayed itself. It was found that he was a penniless adventurer, instead of a wealthy gentleman in search of a home in the West, as rumored. Of course, this news to St. Ledger naturally laced a barrier between Barker and his daugh- r,and he obstinately refused to have any further intercourse with the penniless George; so after awhile, the latter gentleman pulled up stakes and left for parts unknown, not, how- ever, before seeking revenge on St. Ledger by attempting to fire his barn, after having appro- priated one of his fastest horses for own purpose in facilitating his flight. During the latter part uf the same year, a romising ulation was offered to Arthur Bt. ger; and eager to invest therein, he mort- gaged all his personal property and real estate to raise the necessary money. But, alas! the dazzling tion proved a complete failure, and the total bankruptcy of St, Ledger. The Se was closed on land and property and m left almost penniless. » This great loss of his home, produced a great change in the life of Arthur St. Ledger. His are iron will was completely broken. His ard, selfish heart was softened down to the same warm and Naps, ee temperature of his duty-loving wife’s. e sought enjoyment in the bosom of his little family instead of the outer world; and was a bappier man in his pov- erty than in his wealth. But his spirit was restless. His mind became attracted by the hidden wealth of the Pacific’s shores, and the summer following his great loss, we find him pushing westward with his family toward the land of yan His journey had been one of un- molested and romantic enjoyment, despite the dangers that beset the way, until the night that we meet them on the banks of the Platte river. What befell them there the reader already knows; and with this brief retrospection, we will take up the main thread of our story again. CHAPTER VII. A HAPPY MFETING. On, on, deeper and deeper into the solitude of the great plain, Blanche St. Ledger and ber grim captor continued to ride: Nota word passed be- tween either—not a sound, save the clamping of their animals’ feet, broke the silence of that mid- night ride. Holding to the rein with one hand, with the other Blanche beld her revolver beneath the folds of her dress, ready for instant use when- ever she could catch the wily chief off his uard. : Mile after mile was passed over, but fatigue was beginning to tell upon the animals, that were unaccustemed to such speed. Blanche, too, began to feel tired with long riding and watching the chief, whose eyes seemed to rest constantly upor her. Presently, a dark line, like a belt of timber, rose up before them against the western sky. Red Wolf pcinted to it and said: “Look, my White Dove! Do you see that black line resting along the horizon there?” Blanche made no reply, but elutched her re- volver tighter in her hand. “If you de,” continued the chief, ‘‘let me in- form you that it isa range of the Black Hills, in one of the deepest recesses of which is situ- ated the village ef the Cheyenne Indians. Once there, my pretty Deve, and you are forever safe in my pewer. The village is approached only —— narrew canyon where a score of my braves keep constant watch, and they alone could repel a hundred times their number.” “Tt seems te me, Mr. Red Wolf,” said Blanche, no lenger enabled te keep silent, “ that you speak lish very fluently for an Indian.” ‘““Yes; it all comes of my having a pale-face wife, my little Dove.” “T don’t know,” replied Blanche. “I have goed reasen to believe yeu a white man in dis- guise. oon dees my White Deve think so?” he asked. ‘‘Because yeu talk like a white man; and besides, you are the meanest-looking specimen of the Indian I ever saw.” “Waugh! Red Welf isa great chief, White ete fa ing off helple : ume so, in carrying © SS women and children, and stealing horses.” ‘The White Dove will change her voice when she is in my lodge.” “But you will never see me there, fiend!” she fairly hissed, as she drew her revelver from the folds of her dress, and leveled it at the head of the savage chief, whose face at that moment was turned away. “My White Dove—” he began, but he never finished the sentence. The revolver that Blanche St. Ledger held cracked, and with a ery of mortal pain, Red Wolf tottered and reeled for a moment upon his animal’s back, then clutching wildly at the open air, he rolled like a log to the ground. Blanche gee replaced the revolver in her ket, and seizing the reins of the riderless orse, she whirled their heads and dashed away in an opposite direction from that they had been traveling. Asshe did so, she glanced back over her shoulder, and to her horror she saw the supposed dead Indian chief stagger to his feet, and start in pursuit of her. The tiny bullet had only, grazed his head, stunning him for a moment, and having recovered from the blow he began raving, cursing and threatening a terrible vengeance om the author of his misfortune. But Blanche heard none of his savage threats: —she was far beyond his reach—each moment doubling the distance between them. Whither she was going she knéw not, but her success in escaping from Red Wolf had encouraged her to hope for a speedy deliverance fron: all dangers. hen the fugitive maiden had placed a mile or more between her and her enemy, she halted to listen and give the horses a few minutes’ rest. Far away behind her she discovered a faint rumbling sound, resembling distant thunder. It seemed to grow nearer and plainer each moment, and whi'e Blanche was medita- tively considering what it meant, a distant savage yellfell upon ears. Then all was fear- fully distinct. Red Wo!f had been joined by a band of mounted warriors, and they had been sent in pursuit of her. It was the sound that their animals’ feet made upon the ground that she had first heard. E However great had been the maiden’s hope, it now seemed utterly crushed. Her horse was almost exhausted, while in all probability those of the Indians were fresh. Her revolver would be of little or no use whatever, against any odds; she was as helpless as an infant, with no possible avenue of escape open to her. But determined to make an effort for life, she galloped on as fast as her jaded animal could travel. Each moment the noise of the pursuers grew louder, and it was evident, from this fact, tts aoe se — ~-m A
Page 7
a FF” -. ae~ = = we Sew CY See mile behind. As the fugitive sped on over the boundless expanse, she noticed that the country began to grow hilly, with now and then a clump of artemisia bushes, or wild sage, and occasionally a patch of sickly cottonwoods, which induced her to believe she was in close proximity to some stream of water. This belief was soon verified. From the summit of a high bluff she saw, not more than a quarter of a mile distant, a small stream, winding like a silver thread ropes a narrow valley, bordered on either side by a chain of rugged hills. Dashing down the face of the almost ppvee- dicular bluff, Blanche soon found herself in the valley. A yellfrom behind startled her with renewed fear. Looking back, she saw on the summit of the bluff, outlined against the sky, a dozen or more mounted Indians. And oh blessed sight! At this moment, as she swept around the base of the bluff, the light of a camp- fire in the center of a small grove flashed before her. Within the circle of light she saw the solitary figure of a white man, dressed in a hunter’s vba leaning en a long rifle, To him she would flee for help. As she approached, the sound of the animal’s hoofs caught his ear, Bending forward, he shaded bis eyes with his hand, and peered out into the gloom beyond the radius of light. ‘* Help! help! in the name of Heaven! help!” shouted Blanche, in a tone of the most implor- rag Nene mingled with despair. . The hunter grasped his rifle, and started back as though he had been confronted by a ghost. The light shone bright in bis face. A cry of joy escaped the fugitive maiden’s lips, as she urged her animals forward. She recognized the hunter. It was Gilbert Brainard ! In a voice of the wildest emotion she cried: "Gilbert! Gilbert! Oh, my wronged love, it is you!” Blanehe had urged her animal within the circle of light, and it required but a single lance for Gilbert to recognize her features, ne beund and he was at her side, and, lifting her from the animal’s back, be clasped her in his strong arms and kissed her time and again, to himself that all was reality. ‘* Blanche, my darling, what fate has sent you to me, here in this wilderness of danger?” he asked. Yn a itself, dear Gilbert,” she replied, for- getful of the danger that was momentarily a roaching them. ‘‘We were on our way fo California, and at dusk to-night we camped on the banks of the Platte river. Along in the night we were attacked by Indians, and I was carried off a by their chief, calling him- self Red Wolf. An hour ago I managed to escape with both the horses stolen by them from our camp; but at this moment, Gilbert, the chief and several mounted warriors are in pur- suit of me.” “Yes, I hear them now—they have discov- ered this fire—your horses will aid us too.” ‘tNo, Gilbert, they are tired out. We can go faster on foot.” ‘“*Then we will leave them and cross the river. I have a canoe close at hand, Come, they are almost upon us!” and drawing her arm in his, the two hurried away toward the river, The country, at this point, presented a wild and rugged appearance. The valley narrowed off almost to the water’s edge, and frowning rocks and rugged bluffs, thickly wooded with stunted pine and hemlock-trees, reared their heads a hundred feet above the stream.. ‘*A short way up the stream, Blanche, is a cavern, wherein I have made my home for the last year,” said Gilbert. ‘‘Once there and we will be safe, for awhile at least; and then we can talk over the last year as connected with our lives.” ‘* Yes, indeed, Gilbert,” replied Blanche. ‘I have much to tell you.” After a few minutes of brisk walking, the lovers halted at the base of an immense rock, whose craggy summit hung far out over the silent waters of the river. Wild vines and bushes mingled together and concealed the face of the rock from view, as well as the yawning mouth of a apres eee up tue aide. “Yes, fifty feet above us in this rock, m dear, is my zoenes said Gilbert. shined “But how do you get up there!” asked Blanche. ; “Two ways—that is, you can get.up to it from here, and down to it from the top, and both ways by only a rope-ladder”” ¥ Really, sould taink it was asafe place,” that they were fast gaining, although still a The Disguised Guide. 7 ——" replied Blanche, smiling. ‘‘ But what puzzles i how you ever found the cavern in the ace, ‘7 didn’t find it. An old hunter named Raven, a epenyerton of mine, found it.” ‘““Then you have a companion?” “Yes; but he’s absent now over on the Platte river.” “Oh, [am so glad to hear that you have not been entirely alone.” ‘(In one sense of the word, dear Blanche, I have been alone and miserable ever since the minute et informed me that your father had stated that I was his would-be murderer and begged me to flee. I was alone, because I could not be in your society, and miserable because I was looked upon as a murderer. I was always afraid public opinion would influence your mind against me, and that you would discard my love for another’s, Had it not been your wish for me to conceal myself, in hopes that the real criminal would be brought to justice, J would have given myself up to the law and taken my chances for life, knowing that I was innocent of the crime. But altering the subject, what induced your father to start to California? And what has become of my friend, George Barker? “To your first question, I will say, total bankruptcy; and to your ot*er, George Barker was soon found out to be a penniless adventurer and having stolen a horse from father, he fled the country, and I never heard of him again until to-night.” “* To-night?” ‘Yes, dear Gilbert, the Indian chief, Red Wolf, in whose power I was to-night—he who carried me from my mother’s side, was none other than George Barker in disguise,”’,. ‘‘ Heavens! then you will be hunted down by the villain and his savages. We must lose no time in ascending to the cave. He can not reach you there, Come,” Turning aside, Gilbert parted some bushes, and revealed the foot of the rope-ladder, which he instructed her how to climb with ease and safety. “ At the top of the ladder,” he said, ‘is a wide table-rock; when you reach it you will drop a pebble in the river, and then I will fol- low. The mouth of the cavern opens on the table-rock, and is screened by wild vines. Go, my dear, and may Heaven give you strength and courage for the perilous ascent.” Withdrawing her arm from Gilbert’s, Blanche caught hold of the ladder, and began the ascent swiftly and fearlessly. Gilbert could not see her, for she was hidden by the bushes and trail- ing vines, but he could hear the sound each step produced vibrated along the ladder. Presently all became silent and then he knew she had reached the table-rock, A moment later and he heard a pebble drop into the river, and then he began his ascent, with an ease and swiftness that could have been acquired only through much practice, and careful experience. In a moment’s time he was safely landed upon the table-rock; but where was Blanche? Bre was nowhere to be seen or heard. ‘¢She must have gone in here to give me a lit- tle scare—just like the little rogue used to,” he mused, smilingly, as he moved toward the mouth of the cavern, but ere he could reach it, two dark figures sprung from the shadow of the rock, and seizing him roughly, bore him to the ground and pinioned his arms before he could offer the least. resistance, CHAPTER VIII. A SUDDEN REAPPEARANCE. ‘ Teppy MULDOON was the first to discover the danger that. menaced Wild Raven from the two savages that had sosuddenly glided from around the island and having called his friend’s notice to the fact, he raised his rifle and would have fired at the red-skins, had Harry St. Ledger not checked him with the i: formation that they were far beyond range of his gun—being over three hundred yards away. For a moment the emigrants were paralyzed with fear for the scout’s life. From where they were they could render him noassistance, what- ever; and to attempt to get within range of them, the savages would discover them, and in all probability hasten the death of their friend, and escape to the opposite shore. But ere they had much time for thought, they saw Wild Raven spring to his feet, and simultane- ous with the crack of the savage’s rifle, saw him drop from his canoe into the river and disap- pear beneath the waves, _ “Och, be the holy Vargin!” exclaimed Teddy, in a tone of great emotion, ‘there goes both i man and pipe. May the devil git the rhed murthering spalpeens!” “Great heavens, yes!” replied St, Ledger, ‘Cour friend is killed. Keep silent, or the sav- ages will bring death upon us next!” “ But can’t we defend ourselves against them two, father?” asked Harry. “ Yes: but if they see us, they will burry and bring others down upon us,” the father very sensibly replied. ‘But what are we to do, Arthur? our things are all on the island; the scout is dead, and our r child, GOd knows where she is,” said Mrs, t. Ledger, in a voice of the deepest sorrow, ‘Let us hope for the best, Sarah,” replied the husband, consolingly; ‘‘ when the Indians leave here we will manage some way to get to the isl- and, and then some of us go in search of Blanchie.” The emigrants, from their concealment watched the savages, who, the moment Wild Raven fell into the river, drew their knives— drove the canoe forward, eager in their wild excitement to tear the sealp from the scout’s head the moment he arose to the surface. But to their disappointment the — of their great enemy arose not. They looked behind, on each’ side—watched every bubble with a hopeful gleam in their small, serpent-like eyes, even glanced toward the shores and the island to make sure. he had not escaped alive by swimming under the water—but nota trace of him, dead or alive, could they discover. Triumph, excitement, wonder and disappointment were depicted upon their savage features as they gazed inquiringly into each other’s faces. To them no victory was gained, even had they known certain the scout was dead, To the American Indian, the victory over an enemy consists in securing his scalp. Wild in their disappointment as they were a few moments previous in their triumph, the two savages gave up their search for Raven’s body and headed their canoe toward the point where Arthur St. Ledger and his friends were con- cealed. ‘Rasy, my friends!” cautioned the elder St, Ledger; ‘‘they are coming. Make ready, and the moment they are within reach, fire upon them, I will take the one at the oars.” “Och, and be the howly saints!” exclaimed | Teddy, ‘and their death-cry will be music on the air, the bloody spalpeens.” Closer and closer approached the canoe with its doomed occupants. The dip and swash of the oars grow plainer and plainer, and the waves chafe the shore with a sullen rebound of their murmnrings. Suddenly, while the, canoe is yet a few feet from the shore, the report of our friends’ rifles ring out, and louder rings the agri 24 of the two Indians as they spring to their feet and reel and totter and fall into the river. No shout of triumph escaped the emigrants’ lips; their hearts were mute with the loss of their friend, the scout; only that painful death- ery of the savages spoke their triumph. For a moment the smoke from their rifles hung between them and the victin s of their aim like a blue mist. When ic cleared away, each face became blanched to an ashy whiteness, e form seemed changed to a statue of marble. Within the very canoe from which the sav- ages had fallen, sat Wild Raven with two reels ing scalps in his hand! i ‘Oh, howly Mother, presarve us!” exclaimed Teddy, startled with sudden terror, ‘* The divil himself—ole Satan is aftherus in the skin of poor, dead Misther Raven!” . “Ha! hal ba! Sich is life on the plains, frien’s,” laughed the scout, holding up the reek- ing scalps, forgetful in his triumph that they were presented to female eyes. At the sound of the scout’s voice, the emi- grants recovered from their sudden stupor and fright. There was no doubt now, it was the scout in spirit and flesh, well and unharmed, with the scalpsof the two Indians who had sought for his a few minutes previous, ' ‘© Och, bedad, and it’s Misther Raven himself!” exclaimed the Irishman, ever on time for the first word, ‘bad ’cess to the rhed, murthering b’athens, yer most riverend honor,” ‘Ho, good friend, you are safe, thank God,” said the elder St. Ledger, advancing closer to the shore. ‘¢- Yes, with the exception of that,” replied the scout, placing the tip of his finger upon a blood- red welt upon the side ot his face, where the savage’s bullet had grazed it when he plunged into the river. ‘I say, friends, it war a clever trick I played on them reds.” ‘OT seems to have been, though we are en-— tirely ignorant of the way in which it was ac- complished,” replied St. Ledger. **Oh, wal, I’ll explain,” said the scout, driv-
Page 8
8 The Disguised Guide. ing the canoe to the shore with a single stroke of the oars. ‘‘ You seo, asthe reds didn’t kill me, I plunged into the river, and havin’ previ- ously measured the distance between me and the savages with my eyes, swam under the water toward them and managed to poke my head out directly under the prow of their canoe, which, you see, is rounded at the extremities and kind o’ flarin’ at the top like a bell, so the rim projected out over my head and hid it from view; and while the reds were lookin’ around, I war under their canoe, holdin’ on to the bottom ©’ it. Soon as the,two gents died with a sudden rush 0’ blood to the brain, I slipped into their eanoe, and securin’ one 0’ their knives, lifted their hair in a systummatical style, and here I am, good for another century’s work.” The emigrants complimented the scout highly on his success in outwitting the red-skins, and expressed their regret of their inability to com- pensate him for the risks he was running in their behalf, In a few minutes Wild Raven recovered the large canoe and conveyed his friends safely over to the island. A spot of a few feet square was cleared of the underbrush in the center of the island for a camp, and all their articles laced there. The place was an admirable one guard against surprise by a lurking enemy, tor while they were completely screened from view of any person upon either shore, that per- son could be easily seen by them. The scout instructed Harry St. Ledger how he could obtain fish from an eddy at the lower side of the island by a peculiar process, which would enable them to procure food without ——. the island. He instructed the elder St. Ledger in the manner he should adopt in guarding against a surprise in the night, and in he many cunning devices. the Indians would probably employ to entrap, them unawares; and having seen to their comfort in general, ‘Wild Raven took his departure in search of Blanche, obstinately refusing the company of any of the emigrants. he scout instinctively supposed that Blanche had been carried off on one of her father’s horses, and that her abductor had appropriated the other. Actuated by this supposition, he struck the animals’ trail, and set off to follow it. The impressions of the iron-shod hoofs were deep in the yielding soil upon the plain, despite the resistance of the grass, which immediately — its upright position after being trodden wn. As he had expected, the trail lay in the direc- tion of the Black Hills, and as it was easily fol- jowed, the scout moved on with long and rapid strides. That he was now in his element could be easily seen from the unusual glow upon his face, and the brilliant gleam in his eyes. One arm was swung over the end of his long rifle that rested upon his shoulders, while in the other hand he carried his cap, or rather ovens it back and forth, now and then giving himse an impatient rap upon the leg with it, as if to .give emphasis to some mental resolution. It was toward the middle of the afternoon -that Raven came to a point where the trail pre- sented a different aspect. With another party of horsemen that had come from the west, the two that he hati been following turned abruptly to the left and proceeded eastward. In the vicinity of the angle, blood was discovered upon the grass, and for once the scout was totally at a loss to understand the cause, not only of the appearance of the blood there, but the a change in the course. “Painters an lars! this gits me,’ he mut- -tered, as he rested his chin upon his hands that were over the muzzle of his rifle. ‘‘ Who it war that came from the west, and why it is that they all go east together, is the question. It might be that those who come from the west war a party o’ mounted trappers or hunters, and have rescued the gal; but that’s hardly robable, or they’d have taken her back to her m’s. Howsomever, Ill follow ou and look into the matter more carefully.” ; So saying, he drew his cap down in front— «which act denoted his perplexity—shbouldered his rifle, and moved briskly forward upon the CHAPTER IX. A TERRIBLE MOMENT. It required but a single glance for Gilbert Brainard to see that he was in the power of two savages, while his ears were greeted by the voices of several others that were in the cavern. He had been caught in his own retreat. The savages had watched him, and learned by what means he had reached the cavern; and then, when he was absent, they ascended the rope ladder and hid themselves away in the cavern until his ead To offer resistance, Gilbert knew was folly, for a single effort might provoke the savages hurl him from the table-rock into the chasm below, or bury a tomahawk in his brain; so he allowed them to bind him without a struggle, though in his submissive demeanor, he showed no humiliation of spirit. Having secure] und him, hand and foot the savages carried him into the cavern, an placed him upon the ground. A fire was burning in the center of the cavern, its light piercing the gloom of the re- motest corner of the spacious chamber. Weird and fantastic figures of light danced and shifted upon the walls that had been niched and fluted by the gradual wear of ages. Overhead, the many pendent stalactites pointed down from the great dome like so many fingers of fire, and large stalagmites with points like crystal rose’ up around like miniature light-houses. Aft the further end of the cavern, where the wall was less scarped and fluted, could be seen petrifac- tions of lizards and other reptiles, which, as the light shifted over them, seemed aquiver with life. There, too, a tiny cascade poured down in ribbons of foam, and as it caught the re- flected rays of light, prewabey the appearance of the rainbow in all its grandeur and varie- gated beauty. - Almost the first object that met Gilbert’s eyes, was Blanche St. Ledger, sitting on the opposite side of the fire, with her hands tied behind her back, while at her side and around the fire stood half a dozen grim and stalwart Indians. No look of pain nor fear rested upon her pretty face, but her eyes moistened with tears when they met those of her lover. ‘Your safe retreat proved to be one of dan- ger, Gilbert,” she said, in a mournful voice, ‘‘Yes, dear Blanche; but don’t give way to sorrow,” he replied, consolingly. ‘There is hope as long as there is life.” ‘That is true—” . “Ugh! pale face must quit talk. Cut tongue out if don’t,” threatened a brawny savage, as he unsheathed a long scalping-knife, as if to give force to his words. , Thus being refused the privilege to converse with one another, by their captors, there was no alternative but to obey. After a few moments of perfect silence, broken only by the voice of the little cascade, the red-skins gathered around the fire, and lighting their pipes, began to converse, now and then casting a glance toward the prisoners, who were well convinced, thereby, that they were the subject of their conversation. All of a sudden a wild yell from the sav that was standing on guard atthe mouth of the cavern rung through the rocky vault, echoing and re-echoing from chamber to chamber with a hollow sound, The savages around the fire sprung to their feet, and, leaving the prisoners, hurried to the entrance. A yell from the chasm below greeted their exit on the table-rock. An- other party of savages had arrived. The captives, who had taken advantage of the sav ? absence to converse in a low tone, were thrilled with horror as they recognized a voice among the new-comers. It was that of the chief, Red Wolf, or, as the reader already knows, George Barker, in disguise. A look of a ae and despairnow man- tled the face of Blanche, though she did her ut- most to keep up her courage. She knew that the demon of Barker's soul was aroused within him against her—that the chains of her cap- tivity were momentarily tightening about her. “Oh, Gilbert! Gilbert!” she sobbed, clasping her hands tightly over her breast, “ there is no hope for us now!” : The sound of ap epetiths footsteps prevénted Gilbert from re ving. ed Wolf, or George Barker, as we will hereafter call him, and his party of savages had climbed the ladder, and were entering the cave. In a moment they were before the captives, and Barker, with a demoniac leer upon his face, confronted Blanche. , “Ho, ho, my pretty dear,” he tauntingly ex- claimed, ‘‘so I have you again. That was a nice, clever trick, you played me out on the prairie; aren’t you sorry about it, now?” ~ ‘Sorry !” exclaimed Blanche, with an indig- nant flashing of her eyes, and a scornful curl of lips; ‘‘ sorry? es, George Barker, I am sorry —sorry that the shot did not kill you!” ‘“Heigh-cigh! then you @o know your old sweetheart, despite my pretty disguise?” the villain asked. ‘‘Why, when we went a-mas- querading over the prairies to-night, I supposed you considered me a genuine Indian.” “1 knew you from the first, wretch,” replied the maiden, with all the fire of her soul aroused. “A villain, thief, liar and murderer like you can not disguise himself. Your meanness and heathen principles are stamped upon every fea- ture of your face that paint will not hide!” ‘Whew! You possess all your old-time fire my pretty Dove,” he said, advancing toward her, ‘‘and for fear you should make another ugly scratch like that,” pointing to a fresh and bloody wound upon the side of his head, ‘‘I will relieve you of your weapon.” He stooped and took the revolver from the maiden’s pocket, and, as he turned to examine it by the fire, his eyes met those of Gilbert Brainard. For a moment the villain’s soul seemed to shrink with terror from the earnest gaze of the captive’s flashing eyes; then, when he saw that Gilbert was helpless, his cowardly bravado returned. ‘“‘FWates and. furies! if here isn’t Mr. Gilbert Brainard, my old rival; a fugitive from justice, a would-be murderer. Ho-ho, my Dove,” turn- ing to Blanche, “‘ vengeance is sweet! To-mor- row I shall have your sentimental lover exe- cuted for the attempted murder of your father. You know it is justice to whom justice is due, Crime must not go unpunished.” “Tt does,” hissed Gilbert, ‘* or else you would have been bung long ago, fiend incarnate!” “Tongue-thrusts, Mr. Brainard, do not hurt—” **A coward!” interrupted Gilbert. ** Have it your own way, Mr. Brainard, for I will give you only until to-morrow evening’ to say what you have to say, and settle your earthly matters,” said Barker, as be bent his head to examine the revolver. Neither cf the captives made any further re- ply to the cowardly taunts and threats of the renegade chief; and, after a while, Blanche laid down upon a bed of furs to rest. Oh! eould she have conversed with Gilbert! His voice, al- ways full of love and hope, would have fallen like oil upon the tossed watérs of her soul. She felt in hopes her friends would come to their rescue, but those hopes weuld soon vanish, when the troubled reflections of her mind would pic- ture them all dead—lying with pale and ghastly faces upturned in the moonlight where she had last seen them on the Platte river. After some parley, all the savages, except two that were stationed at the entrance as guards, including Barker, stretched themselves in various attitudes about the fire, and sunk into a sound sleep. With the first streaks of the morning light, all were astir. A supply of fresh venison was brought in and roasted for breakfast, the cap- tors sharing with their captives in the meal. It was toward the middle of the afternoon that the savages began making preparations to leave the cavern. As the captives could not be trusted to climb up the top ladder, from the mouth of the cave to the main rock alone, ropes were constructed by which to draw them up, by fastening one end around their waists. he the removal from the cavern occupied an hour or more, it was well on toward evening ere they set off on the journey up the river. The coun- try as they advanced, grew more rugged and mountainous. Deep gorges and yawing chasms intercepted their way at every few ‘Everywhere the silvery voice of cascades could be beard, mingled with the rush and roer of the river, as it swept wild.y through some dark eanyon hundreds of feet below. ria? Presently the party came to a balt at a point where two gigantic, scarped and fluted rocks, a hundred feet high, lacked but a few feet of forming a natural bridge over the deep-blue waters of the river. A gloomy and desolate si- lence seemed to pervade the atmosphere of the place—the dense foliage of the stunted pines shutting out every ray of the sun. A silence, analogous to the place, came over the savages; they spoke only in a low tone, and glanced vary about them with superstious awe. Some dark legend was connected with the place, and it was only in obedience to their renegade chief that the savages did not flee away from it. Barker took Blanche by the band, and leading her to the edge of the precipice, bade her look on the depths below. , To satisfy ker own curiosity she did so, A yawning chasm, black as a wolf’s mouth, was presented to her view; and dizzy with the sight, she sprung back with an esclamation of sur- rise. are How would you like to hang, head down- ward, over the chasm, my dear?” asked Barker, with a fiendish leer. — “JT wouldn’t like it very well, though I’m certain I would not turn my hand to aid you, _— 4
Page 9
= bebe you suspended there,” she replied, haugh- % I presume not, my dear; nevertheless, it is the fate I have fixed upon for Gilbert Brainard,” he said, slowly; and turning to Gilbert he con- tinued: ‘‘ And now, young man, my time. for revenge on both you and Arthur St. Ledger has come. You shall die, while I live to enjoy the blessings of life. Revenge is sweet, and, in fact, I have been enjoying it for over a year, for it was I who attempted to kill St. Ledger and the crime upon you! In the first, I failed, in the latter | was successful, thereby foreing you to flee from the law of your coun- vy 7? ** Ah, villain! I always knew it was you who attempted to take the life of Arthur St. Led- ger,” said Gilbert, reproachfully; ‘‘ but mind, murder will out.” “Really, 1 bave just confessed my guilt of the little affair, but then, you see, I am beyond the reach of justice now. But we are losing time.” Amd turning to his savages, be ordered them to bind Gilbert’s hands at his side in such a manner that he could not move them. This done, a long rope was fastened to his feet, and then he was dragged to the edge of the preci- pice. No fear of death blanched the young man’s face; not a muscle relaxed in its strength. He asked not for mercy from his enemies, for he knew there was no mercy in their hearts. Not so with Blanche. She, poor thing, in the wildest despair, fell upon her knees and im- plored Barker to save Gilbert. But the human devil laughed a Satanic laugh, and turned away. Overcome with sorrow and despair, she sunk unconscious to the ground. Gilbert was now lowered, head downward, twenty feet below the — of the precipice by means of the rope attached to his feet. And there, in that awful, dizzy hight, he swung to and fro like a pendulum. He could net strug- gle nor move a muscle. The blood began to pour from his mouth and nostrils, and trickle down among the green leaves of the trees, that interlaced their boughs over the dark waters of the river. To his downward gaze the chasm grew darker and darker as his eyeballs started from their sockets. Life with Gilbert Brainard was but a momentary object any longer. He had ceased to swing toand fro, and now whirled round and round like a top. All the horrorand suffering of an adventurous lifetime seemed compressed into that’ short space in which he was suspended over the dizzy hights of the pre- «eipice by a single thread, as it were. upposing him dead, Barker fastened the end of the rope which he held in band to a tree, and walking to the edge of the rock, he looked down at bis victim. But bark! At that moment the dull report of a rifle came up from the depths of the dark chasm; the rope is cut in twain by a whizzing bullet, and Gilbert Brainard goes whirling down, down, into the silent water of the deep river, eighty feet below! CHAPTER X. WHITE PLUME, THE SIOUX. Waen Arthur St. Ledger and his friend be- came safely and comfortably located on the island, and felt that their most imminent danger was over, they realized, with a most poignan sting, the loss of their idolized Blanche; an many and fervent were the prayers of the be- reaved to the great Protector, for her safe res- toration to them. Since they had received from Teddy a full account of Jake Darle’s sus- icious actions, and considered them in connec- ion with his desertion, they could come to no other conclusion than that he was in league with the Indians. And yet, they might possibly be mistaken. The guide may have been p mma innocent of the accusation. The signaling wit fire might have been to direct some person that was lost on the plain, and in leaving the camp, it might have ene to look after their—the emigrants’—safety, and he unluckily have been captured or murdered by the Indians. But circumstances were very strong agaiust him, and it would require trustworthy evidence to exonerate him from the emigrants’ suspicions. At noon Harry caught several fine trout in the eddy at the lower side of the island, as instruct- ed by Wild Raven. A fire was then struck, the fish Areas and fried to a crisp-brown by Mrs. St. Ledger, whose skill in the culinary art was Surpassed by few. A sumptuous dinner of the luscious and savory trout was served, and eaten with t relish. After the table had been cle away, the fire was put out, so that the smoke might not attract attention from shere. Teddy, having retained the scout’s pipe until his return, now seated himself for a smoke, \ . The Disguised Guide. while Mr. St. Ledger and his son set about making arrangements for passing the night. Rifles and pistols were car y examined and leaded, and as it was neccssary for two of them to stand guard after d rk, a path, making the circuit of the island, was cleared of brush and drifted wood, so that the guards could move with ease and caution. To the emigrants, in their great anxiety for the safe and speedy return of Blanche, the day wore anion away and night came on apace. At dark Teddy Muldoon and Harry took their respective stations as guards at opposite points on the island, each one pacing half the circuit of the island amd back, starting so that when one was at the ip side the other was at the lower side, chus bringing all points under their vigilance, The moon was shining brightly, flooding the landscape with light. The sheres, with every object that appeared upon them, were plainly outlined, and the river, above and on each side of, the island, ap ed like a bed.of molten sil- ver. It seemed utterly impo sible that any creature, however small, could reach the island from either shore without. being discovered by the wary yet inexperienced guards. In twe hours Teddy was relieved from his watch by Mr. St. Ledger, and permitted to take twe hours’ sleep, when; he, in turn would relieve Harry. ‘The moment, almost, that the Irishman touched his head to the. ground, he fell asleep, and slept soundly until he was areused by Harry. ery reluctantly he arose and began pacing sluggishly to and fro upon his watch, rubbing bis half-epen eyes with both nds, and mumbling: , ‘‘Botheration! If this getting up in the mid- dle of a mp isn’t like tearing one’s heart-strings out, jist tell me av it! Begorra, Pve a notien to shlape a leetle on me post, come to think av it. Pm sure there’s no Ingins within a, mile “ Ugh p It was a low, guttural sound that greeted-his ear, and a heavy hand that he felt upon his shoulder. “Tormint yees, Harry—” But it was not Harry; it was a lar e, muscular-looking savage that confronted the Irishman, _‘‘ Me friend; me White Plume,” said the In- dian, as Teddy stepped back and raised his rifle. There was such a strange fascination in the savage’s voice, that it caused Teddy to lower his rifle and look closely into his face, which, like no others he had ever seen, was devoid of paint, He was and powerfully built, with a broad, henest oval face, and clear black eyes, that were free from th \t cunning and _serpent- like light so uliar to his race. His head, large well-defined and intellectual, was covered wit. long, glossy hair and surmounted with a snow-white eagle-plume. He carried a knife at his waist and a bow and quiver at his back, His clothes, which sat close to his muscular limbs and chest, were dripping wet, showing that he had been in the river. ‘Faith, Misther White Plume,” said Teddy, scratching his head with a quizzical expression on his face, ‘“‘have yees anything to suow that yees are a friend?” “Nothing but word,” replied White Plume, “Yes; but how do me’s know whether yees tell the truth?” “‘ Trust me,” said the Indian. ‘‘What’s the matter, Teddy?” called Mr. St. Ledger, hearing the Irishman’s voice in conver- sation. ‘Faith, and I’ve a big rhed Inging around here,” “* A—what?” ‘‘ Come rhound, yer honor, and see.” In a moment St. Ledger was in the presence of esc: and the Indian. A conversation im- mediately sprung up, in which Mr. St. Ledger became fully convinced that WhitePlume wasa friendly Indian, and invited him to their camp. “What tie a you here at this time of night, White Plume?” asked St. Ledger, after having a fire struck, that he might get a better view of the pretended friendly Indian. 6 Come,” said White Plume, “‘ to bring white uaw. ‘* Where is she?” =~ “There,” and he pointed toward the shore. ‘Is she a captive ?” asked Mrs. St. Ledger, as she thought of Blanche, “She was, for five long summers, but free now. Me take ber here and wait till father git her,” replied the Indian, thonghtfully. ‘Where is her father?” ‘* He comin’,” said the Indian, evasively, as he took an arrow from his quiver and thrust the point in the fire. SP 9 ‘* What’s that for?” asked St. Ledger, suddenly growing suspicious. ’ The Indian made no reply, but ge 205 he plucked the blazing arrow from the , and applying it to his bow-string, he sent it whirring up into the air, far above the tree-tops. ‘‘Treachery!” cried St. Ledger. ‘He has signaled to his friends!” and the click of three rifles was heard. ‘‘No,” said the Indian, laughing, me tell Rena tocome. See!” and he pointed out toward the west shore. The emigrants, half ashamed of their hasty act, lowered their rifles and looked in the direc- tion indicated. Out from the shadow of the bank they saw a tiny canoe, with a tiny occupant, dart like a bird—the paddles flashing in the moonlight like snow-white wings. But hark! Clear as the warbling lay of the lark—sweet and mournful as the wild strains of an Eolian harp—the voice of that eanoe’s tiny occupant floats over the water to the ears of our friends, as she trills; “ Wild roved an Indian girl, Sweet Alfaretta, Where sweeps the waters of The blue Juniata,” in. plaintive cadence. The Voice was purely Saxon, and; there was no doubt, now, as to White Plume’s truthfulness, In a few moments the canoe had reached the island, and springing asbore, the maiden parted the bushes and advanced shy as a plover, to the side of White Plume. : She could not. have been more than sixteen summers of age, was small, vet fully developed in form and features, and as quick and graceful as the timid fawn. Her teatures,though bronzed by exposure to the sun and wind, were as fine and regular as those of a sculptured Madonna; her eyes were large, black and mournful, and looked at you with a holy light shining from their depths with sweet and tender fascination. she was dressed in a short frock’ of some green material, bound round the skirts with yellow fringe, while her feet and limbs were incased in beaded moccasins and buckskin leg- gings. Around, her neck and waist were in- numberable strands of white beads and tiny pals shells that flashed like opals in the fire- ight. ‘The maiden’s eyes wandered softly from one of the emigrants to the other, until finally they rested upon Mrs, St, Ledger, with a gentle, childlike adoration, ‘* What is your name, my little lady?’ asked Mrs. St. Ledger, advancing and patting her under the chin, ‘*Rena,” replied the maiden, in a clear, musical voice. ‘“Rena,” repeated the good woman; ‘that is & pretty name, but haven’t you another name? Rena who?” The maiden was about to speak when White Plume placed his finger to his lips, enjoining silence. Mrs. St. Ledger saw him, and read the meaning of his gesture, and at once changed the subect which the Indian wanted to remain secre ‘You are tired, Rena,” she said, turnivg to- ward the tent; come with me inte my tent and rest. Rena followed ber into the tent, and having seated themselves on a pile of blankets, Mrs, St. Ledger asked; ‘Have you traveled far to-day, RenaY’ “Yes, ma’am,” she politely repli , ‘we have come a long ways.” ‘And where are you going, Rena?” “Here, to this island. ‘You have been a captive, have you, ameng the Indians?” “Yes, ma’am; five years ago, pa and mother and White Plume were on this very island, when the Indians came and killed mother and took me and White Phime prisoners, and carried us off to their village. “White Plume escaped from them, but I was kept until a few days ago, when he rescued me from their power. He tells me that papa is alive, and is to meet us here in a few days. Oh, I am go anxious to see poor papa!” and the tears arose im her great, mournful eyes. ‘““What is your papa’s name, Rena?” asked Mrs. St. Ledger, as she smoothed the maiden’s disheveled ringlets tenderly. Rena raised her tearful eyes and saw White Plume sitting near the door of the tent, appar- ently taking no notice of her, but with his fin- ger pressed significantly upon his lips, and turning to Mrs. St. Ledger, she said, sweetly: ‘“Ob, good lady, please don’t ask me that, for I can not tell you papa’s name yet,” ‘Pardon me, Rena,” said the good weman, ~
Page 10
10 The Disguised Guide. “ for troubling you with so many questions that are ful to you. have a daughter who is in the hands of the Indians new, and I am in constant trouble about her, and scarcely know what I say half the time. But you are sleepy, and must lie down here with me and rest.” The guards resumed their watch, Harry laid down again to sleep, while White Plume, in true Indian fashion, sat down near the tent and began smoking, blowing the smoke through his nostrils in great whiffs. Thus an hour passed, in silence, when the In- dian arose, and looking into the tent to see that his tender charge was safe and asleep, as he passed, he walked out to where Mr. St. Ledger was, and signified his willingness to take his lace. Of course, St. Ledger readily yielded is post to one whose skill and vigilance far ex- ed his, and retired to rest. However, he had scarcely fallen into a doze before he was aroused by the friendly red-man, with startling intelligence. **Ugh! Ingins come, pale-face!” St. Ledger sprung to his feet and followed White Plume to the 3! aed side ef the island, where, parting the undergrowth before them, they scanned the river before and on each side ef them. They saw nothing, yet the dip of oars was plainly heard descending the river at no eer distance. An abrupt bend in the river d the unknown voyagers from view. “How do you know, White Plume, that In- dians are coming? It might be friends,” said t. Ledger. * No—not friend,” pop bed the Indian, with a shake of the head; ‘‘ it enemies—Jngins |” “But bow can you tell! You can’t see them.” **No; me hear ’em, Tell by dip of oars. Ugh ~—there come!” True enough, as White Plume spoke, a large eanoe, with a dozen savages in it, appeared from around the bend, in full view of the two wate The canoe was not more than one hundred yards distant, and whatever was to be done to repel the attack must be done speedily. But the surprise of our friends was somewhat appeased, when all of a sudden they saw the canoe turn at right angles, and move briskly toward the east shore, which, as the reader doubtless re- members, was covered with a light Ad = of cottonwood and undergrowth, thereby afford- ing good protection to enemies who might feel dis to lay siege to the island. radon oe Ao ve age by ee TT 0 ger, as the canoe disappeared under the shadow of the bank. " White Plume shook his hea@, gave utterance to twoor three guttural exclamations, and then replied: Pisa Ingins! Mean mischief. Me go steal their canoe, else they make us trubble, ea St. r suppressed a smile at the Indian’s anger, as he turned and glided back to the tent, peered in, passed on to ths lower side of the Jand and halted at the water’s edge. St. Ledger followed him, and in‘a moment he was at his side, “What are you going to do, White Plume?” “Swim to shore—s bad Ingins’ canoe—be back soon—mebby not,” and as he concluded, hé plunged into the water, and struck out for the shore. CHAPTER XI. THE SIOUX STRATAGEM. WHEN White Plume reached the shore, it was at a point three hundred yards below where the Jndian canoe had touched. Crawling up the bank, he moved back into the shadow of the trees, then turned and moved, with cat-like stealth and caution, up the stream. In a few moments he came within the sound of voices, which he recognized as those of his natural enemies, the Cheyennes, he being a Sioux. Seating himself to watch their meve- ments, and learn from their conversation, if ssible, their future intentions, he was suddenly induced to quit his point of observation very unceremoniously. ‘The Cheyennes had struck a light within a feet of him; so selecting another look-out, he was now enabled to make out their number. There were ten grouped around the fire. Their conversation was carried on in a low tone, yet the practiced earsof White Plume drank in every word. As he had expected, the Cheyennes had laid a plan by whieh to surprise and capture those on the island, and had he not learned how it was to be accomplished, they would, in all proba- bility, have succeeded, As the attack was not to be made until the latter part of the night, White Plume had ample time in which to pre- pare to meet them, besides to carry out the object which he had left the island for, that of stealing their canoe; and in doing so, it would probably defeat all their well-concocted schemes, So, having learned all he wished to from his ten enemies, the brave Sioux moved back into the timber aways, and then, by a circuitous route, reached the river some distance above the camp. Climbing down the bank into the water, he submerged himself to the chin, and with his hunting-knife between his teeth, he began moving down the stream, keeping well under the shadow of the bank, now and then stopping to listen. So cautiously did he move and breathe, that he seemed an inanimate being, moved only by the sluggish current of the river. It was several minutes ere White Plume came in sight of the coveted canoe; but what was his pee) 4 Gt cay when he did, to find two savages seated in it. The Sioux wasinadilemma. He could not spring upon the two enemies and put them out of the way without bringing the others upon him; and to try to steal the canoe with two Indians in it was impossible. So he had either to go back without it, or else wait until the savages had left it. He decided upon the latter course, although it might require hours of tience; but that quality the American Indian invariably possesses. White Plume was determined to have the canoe, or a Cheyenne scalp, and both if it were possible. For one long hour he stood in the water without moving a muscle, watching the two Indians with a dog détermination, It seemed curious to him that they never moved nor spoke a word; surely they were not asleep, and yet it might be possible, he thought, for all they were sitting bolt upright; but that would make no difference; if an Indian wants to, he can sleep just as well sitting or standing as tying down. bite Plume made a slight noise; still the Cheyendes moved not. He advanced to the side of the canoe, and raising himself slightly, he looked in their very faces. Sure enough, they were both sound o£ with their guns lying at their feet. A smile passed over the Sioux’s face asa novel idea entered his mind. He would steal canoe, Indians, scalps and all! The victory would be complete. The ten Cheyennes on the shore were not more than ten steps away, and it would require some caution, even to escape them; but not to be delayed, White Plume crept to the front end of the canoe, and cut the rope that fastened it to the shore. This done, he pushed it gently out into the river, and then, king it in tow, set off for the island, swimming with the most extreme caution. Arthur St. Ledger saw the canoe approach- ing, and luckily discovered the trick the Sioux was playing on his enemies, in time to prevent Teddy from firing upon them. The Sioux succeeded in reaching the island with his two sleeping savages, without arousing them from their slumber, but in ste pping from the water, he made a se splash which reached their practiced ears, hey awoke, But before they could collect their sluggish thoughts, and realize their critical situation, White Plume sprung into the canoe, and seizing a tomahawk that lay at their feet, buried it in their bemud- dled brains. His double victory was achieved. How soon the ten Cheyennes discovered the loss of their canoe and friends was not known. Even had they made the discovery at all, they were silent in their rage at being thus outwitted by an unknown enemy. When White Plume rejoined his white friends at the fire, he related the conversation that he had overheard at the Cheyenne camp, of the intended attack upon the island, and cautioned them to be upon their guard: although he thought that the loss of their canoe might frus- trate their plans, The Sioux again resumed his post as guard, not feeling safe in trusting their safely entirely in the hands of the inexperienced whites; yet his own knowledge of savage life was soon brought to a severe test. Some distance below the island, on the east bank of the river, be discovered a dull light moving to and fro, with a slow and regular mo- tion; sometimes it would remain stationary, then entirelv disappear for a moment, and ap- pear in a different place again, - ; White Plume knew that the moving light was a system/of telegraphy among the Indians, but asa general thing, the signals of one tribe were unknown by the others, consequently the Sioux was unable to read the message that was being communicated to some other point. He looked warily about him in all directions, bh ing to learn by a return signal, the location of the party, or individual that the message was intended for, but he could see nothing. But hark! His practiced eurs caught a faix* ripple in the water, on the west side of the islaad, and witb the silence of a phantom, he glided to- ward the point. Parting the bushes that skirt the island, he red out on the river, and to his utmost indignation he beheld, about balf- way between the island and the main land, a Cheyenne in the identical canoe that he had stolen an hour before, rowing swiftly toward the shore. So far as stealing the canoe was concerned, the Sioux felt that he had gained nothing, only in diminishing the number of his enemies, But what was Teddy about, that he had not dis- covered the Cheyenne before he got beyond their reach? His path in passing to and fro on his guard ren within three steps of the canoe. The Sioux drew back and waited for his ap- proach, and an explanation. But Teddy did not come. A minute—two minutes passed, and. still he was absent. The Indian listened. for his footsteps, but he heard them not. But from over the river, in the direction {of the canoe, came the startling cry: Pa mnogu hilp! hilp! murther! Hewly Var- It was the voice of 'l'eddy Muldoon. In a moment Arthur St. Ledger and Harry, aroused from their sleep by the Irishman’s cries, were at White Plume’s side. ‘‘What is the trouble, White Plume?’ asked St. Ledger. “Ugh! Heap trouble! Look!” commanded the Indian, pointing out toward the canoe, with a cloud of indignation upon his face, Alleyes were upon the canoe in an instant, and in it they beheld Teddy and the Cheyenne engaged in a deadly struggle. How the former got there was a mystery to our friends, They dare not attempt to shoot the Cheyenne, for fear Teddy would prove the victim of their aim; and to attempt to approach them would prove fatal, for several Cheyenne savages were standing upon the bank, witbin thirty yards of the combatants, watching the struggle. Loud and sharp rose the cries of the strug- gling men, as they swayed to and fro with the rocking canoe. Bright flashed their pan A weapons in the moonlight, as they struck quic and wildly at each other. Now they were up, now down upon their knees, then up aga swaying toand fro, new reeling over the canoe’s side and back again. Now Teddy was upper- most, now the savage. Their strength and dexterity were equal, and only the advantage would determine the contest. This, by superior endurance, the Cheyenne at last was gaining, when all of a sudden, the canoe rocked vio- lently, and the two combatants rolled out into the river! For a moment they were lost to view beneath the waves, then they arose firmly clinched im each other’s grasp, still beating and striking, and yelling as wildly asever. Again they sink beneath the waves and are seen no more, Our friends watch in breathless anxiety to see them. rise again, but their watching was in vain. The empty canoe floated away at the will of the current—the savages on the shore withdrew into the timber, and all became silent again. , With a feeling of sorrow for their lost com- panion, our friends retired to their camp-fire. Two of their little party were. now gone, and dangers seemed momentarily gathering around. them—dangers which, despite their vigilance, would craw] as noiseless as a serpent into their midst, and mark their trail with blood, White Plume now took the entire watch upon bimself. He would trust his white friends’ in- experience no longer, for he knew tbat the cun- ning Cheyennes would make every effort with- in their power to capture the island, and mur- der its occupants. Mr, St. Ledger readily yielded to the Sioux’s will, for he saw how hopeless would have: been their defense, of the island were it not for the friendly red-man, White Plume now fully understood the signal that he had seen down the river, and resolved not to be caught again in the same way, so he crawled up into the bighest tree on the island and secreted himself in such a position that he could command a view of the river on all sides, The night wore slowly away without any further demonstration on the part of Chey- ennes. As the last weary star paled away be- fore the glare of the open day, the friendly Sioux descended from his Jook-out and aroused his friends from their slumber.
Page 11
——— Rena, looking greatly refreshed with her rest, chatted with the emigrants. quite merrily. She bestowed more than equal attention upon Harry, even in assisting him in catching fish for breakfast. While Mrs. St. Ledger was engaged in pre- ring ty meal, she suddenly turned to her usbat d said: “ Arthtir, de you know that we left our iren kettle, one of our best cooking vessels, at the wagon, yesterday?’ ‘That is true, Sarah, though really, I had not thought of it until you mentioned the fact,” replied the husband. ‘But I presume the sava have it by this time, for the wagon and all with it were left at their mercy.” “Well, we can get along witbout it, though I would, on account of the old ‘fireside’ asso- ciations connected with it, have liked to keep ms the matron, with a smile, resuming her i, CHAPTER XIL THE LIFE SHOT. ARRIVING at the top of the bluff overlooking the narrow valley, and the grove in which Blanche St. Ledger met her lover, Wild Raven halted, and with his eagle-eyes swept the coun- try before him. r away to his left, the valley gradually widened into a great plaia, while at his right it narrowed off to the river’s edge, with moun- tainous bluffs, pierced by caverns, and cut and diversified by deep gorges, yawning chasms, and roaring canyons. Here and there, a small grove dotted the yal- ley, and as the scout’s eyes rested upon one of these, he saw animals emerge leisurely from its shadow. At first he took them to be buffaloes, but upon examining them with a small spy- glass, which he always carried, he discovered they. were horses, which, from the description given him previously, he recognized as those be- longing to Arthur St. Ledger. Descending the bluff into the valley, he carefully approached the animals, which at sight of him pricked up their ears and whinnied piteously, ‘*Wherr, wherr, wherr,” whistled the scout, coaxingly. The animals, with their limbs stiff and swol- _ len from hard riding, hobbled up to the scout and licked his hand and rubbed their noses against him in mute appeal. ** Ah! if you could only speak, ye dumb crit- ters,” said the scout, caressing” em kindly, ‘“‘perhaps you could tell me o’ them I seek. But go on, crop the grass, and may be I’!l1 come for you again, when your limbs are not stiff. Go-long, go-long, ponies,” and he moved on, leaving the noble animals sare 4 after bim. He bent his footsteps toward the grove from which he saw the horses emerge. In a moment he had reached its outskirts and found himself face to face with a tall, powerful savage. A gleam of recognition flashed in their eyes. The savage cate. Mvvare with a low cry, and seizin ild Raven by the arm dragged him into the shadow of the grove. In a momenta low cry, a savage yell and a shriek resembling that of a female came from the depths of the as, 2 then all became silent as the grave. n half an hour Wild Raven appeared on the opposite side of the grove, free and unharmed; but there was no victim’s blood upon his hands —no reeking scalp dangled at his belt, but upon his features rested a smile of triumphant joy— such as seemed to agitate his soul with a new- found happiness. sf mt or the cavern,” be muttered, as he moved with elastic step up the river. Oh! if ican pit find Gil and the girl there! As he hurried on, a smile would now and then pass over his face, or he would check himself from humming an old-time song, only to com- mence whistling it, Now and then he would turn and glance back toward the grove, then ress forward again. Presently he halted on the bank of the river, just opposite the cavern in which he and Gilbert Brainard mado their home. Draw- ing a small bark canoe from under some willews, he was about stepping into it to cross to the opposite side of the river, when the sound of voices reached his ears, coming from the other shore. Stepping back a ways he parted the willows and looked across. ‘To his horror and surprise le discovered a savage standing on the table-rock in front of the cave, which he supposed was known ‘only, to himself and Gilbert Brainard, his companion, In a moment his rifle was leveled at the say- age, but fortunately before he could fire, sey- eral other Indians that were in the cavern made their exit on the table-rock, leading Gilbert Brainard and a young woman whom he knew must be Blanche St. Ledger. The scout saw the great propriety of keeping his proximity to his enemies a secret, yet a cloud of silent rage overshadowed his features and a light of impatient revenge flashed in his eyes, as he lowered his deady rifle. ‘‘Oh, curse the devils!” he fairly hissed be- tween his set teeth, ‘‘ they’ve found our ‘nest’ at last, but some of them shall repent it, or I’m no judge of small matters. h, they’re leavin’.” True, the savages began to ascend the rope ladder to the summit of the rock, drawing the captives up by means of long ropes fastened around their bodies. After all the party was up, the ladder was destroyed, and then they set ° Sp rae stream. “‘V’ll foller them to the end o’ creation,” mut- tered the scout, as he stepped into the con- cealed canoe and headed it up the river. By using a little caution was enabled to keep within hearing of the boisterous party, which he knew would follow the course of the river some distance, Only one accustomed to every danger that beset the stream could navi- gate it at all, but this Wild Raven had often one—he knew the dangers of every canyon through which it rushed, where every sand-bar would compel him to drag his canoe; and with this knowledge he felt no reluctance in ascend- ing the stream, t was the scout’s intention to follow the sav- ages until they encamped for the night, then endeavor to rescue his friends by whatever chance was offered. But alas! this intention was suddenly nipped in the bud when, from the top of a gigantic rock that projected midway over the river, be beheld Gilbert Brainard sus- pended head downward over the stream. A speechless horror thrilled the scout’s veins, He saw, with distended eyes, his fellow-com- panion swinging over the awful hight, while he was powerless to aid, yet within speaking dis- tance of him. The sight was too much; the scout could not look upon the suffering man, and be turned his eyes away. As he did so, an idea flashed in his mind, and raising his eves again, he measured, by.sight, the distance that intervened between Brainard and the river’s surface, It was as much as eighty feet. “Tl try it,” he mused, as he thrust two ad- ditional bullets into his rifle. ‘‘The fall may kill him, but if it does, then his sufferin’ will be over. As he concluded, he raised his rifle and took a steady aim at the rope by which Gilbert was suspended from the top of the precipice, and fired. Trug to the mark, the bullet went home. The rope was cut in twain, and down, down came Gilbert. Brainard, down through the in- terlaced boughs of the overha nging trees, down into the river, striking the water, feet down- ward, and sinking from view. Wild Raven watched yntil he rose to the sur- face again; then, driving his canoe forward, ho seized the unconscious form and lifted it from the water. ‘Not dead yit, by a long shot,” muttered the scout, as he placed his hand on Gilbert’s breast and felt his heart throbbing, quick and strong. *“‘Only overcome with. terror at his hellis treatment,” and placing him in the bottom of the canoe, the scout tore open his sbirt and began chafing his breast and temples. In a few moments Gilbert opened his eyes and gazed vacantly about him, like one in a delirium. “Ho, ho, boy!” spoke the scout; “ you’re safe, heels down’ards, too.” The voice of Raven acted like an electric shock npn the nerves and senses of the young man. e rose toa sitting posture, looked his preserver in the eyes, and faintly articulated: ‘Raven, you have saved me from an awful death.” ‘*So I perceive,” the scout replied, as he un- fastened that part of the rope which was at- tached to his feet. ‘But how did hight?” “T shot the rope in into the river, my boy.’ ‘« And the fall did not kill me!” “Of course it didn’t. Don’t you see you're alive? Them branches broke the force of your fall, and besides, your feet struck the water first.” i “Tt was a miraculous escape. Wild Raven, and to you I owe my life,” said Gilbert, grasp- you reach me at that great two, and you drapped ing the scout’s brawny hand, “ but I shall still. claim your assistance. A friend of mine, a young woman, is in that accursed renegade Chief’s power, and 1 want you to assist me in rescuing her,” The Disguised Guide. . See eee ee a ae ee a 11 Se eee ou know about her?” t. Ledger that I’m searchin” fur, I left her parents on the Platte, this morn- pO “Thank God!” exclaimed Gilbert, starting up: ‘then let us lose no more time here,” “Don’t be in a hurry, boy; it'll do ne Sit down and tell me what you know about that. renegade chief, Red Wolf.’ Gilbert sunk back to bis seat, weak and nerv- ous from the effects of his late ordeal, ‘‘] know him,” he said, ‘to be a white man with a devil’s heart. It was he who fixed the crime of murder upon me, of which I have often spoken to you. The villain admitted his guilt of the murder before he attempted to murder me, afew minutes ago—” ‘But his name when you knowed him in the States?” : ‘“‘ George Barker.” ‘George Barker!” repeated the scout, as a fierce scowl settled over his swarthy face; ‘and may Heaven spare my life until he is in my power one minute! Then he will suffer, for I uill have his beart’s blood!” “Has be ever injured you, Raven, in any way ¢” asked Gilbert: somewhat surprised at the scout’s strange demeanor, , ‘‘Never mind that now, lad,” replied the scout, evasively; ‘‘ it’s time we were leavin’ in search o’ Miss St. Ledger. We must get her before Red Wolf reaches his village with her, less we'll never set eyes on her alive,” ‘““Very well,” yt Gilbert: ‘shall we leave the river and follow their trail?” ‘Not furawhile. You are too weak to wall yet, and as the savages are likely to follow the river, we can follow them in the cance. It’s very a Bip they'll camp at nightfall, and — then will be our time to act, So saying, the scout headed the canoe wu stream, and the pursuit had commenced again. CHAPTER XITIL LIFTED INTO LIFE AGAIN. WHEN Blanche St. Ledger recovered from the swoon into which she had fallen at the mo- ment that Gilbert was swung from the preci- pice, she found herself in a canoe on a narrow river. Dark, frowning and rugged bluffs rose from the water’s edge, excluding every ray of the moon—for night had long since settled ever the land—from the deserted valley. The maiden’s first thoughts were of Gil Brainard, There were several dark forms sit- ting in the canoe;—was Gilbert one of them? No, no! the cruel remembrance of bis horrible death at the precipice came crowding upon her half-distracted mind with all the excruciating in of the torture rack. No, no! she could see im, cold and lifeless, while she—worse, far worse than death—was being carried away into endless ‘captivity by his murderer, Geo Barker, an outcast from civilized society, the meanest of all mean and wicked white men—« white renegade, wearing without shame the in- signia of chief among a people whose hearts know nothing of mercy. And, too, thoughts of her parents and friends being dead weighed heavily upon her heart, that was bleeding her life away through the deep wounds of poignant sorrow. Where, ob where, could she turn now for help? To whom could she flee for words of love and consolation? To whom could she flee for life and happinevst Alas, to whom ? Thoughts of self-destruction were in her mind, but that seemed as impossible as escape frony the savages with her life. The eyes of Barker were constantly upon her, noting every move- ment of her body and every gleam of her eyes, “But, the time will come!” she mentally ex- claimed; “the wretch shall not triumph over my helplessness and sorrow long,” and her spirit gathered strength and courage from the resolution. When Barker saw that Blanche had recov-~ ered from her swoon, and had risen to a sitting posture on her pallet of furs, he lost no time in opening a conversation. : ‘You are feeling better, are you not, Miss St. Ledger?” he asked. Blanche saw, from the first, that the wretch was aiming to prey upon her sorrow and bring her in humble resignation to his cowardly will; but she resolved to mask her feelings, and show . him no humiliation—meet his questions with scorn, and his boasted power with rebuke and defiance. ‘‘Indeed,” she replied, “I feel very well.” io you enjoy our little ride?” he again asked,
Page 12
12 ‘* Very much; the air is so cool and bracing, and then it is not often that one gets a boat-ride with a crew of the noble red-men under such a gallant chief,” she answered. “‘Really, you flatter me, Miss St. Ledger,” ‘Barker replied, in a voice savoring of real senti- mentality. “Flatter you?” she said, sneeringly. ‘‘ Do you suppose that I would waste words in real flattery on such a miserable outcast as you are, George Barker? Why, one of these savages is more de- serving of flattery than you, for, as far asa white man is concerned, you represent him only in form, while the Indians possess a—” ‘*There, there, that will do,” interrupted Barker, his cowardly passion beginning to rise. “TJ would rather not hear such lectures, espe- cially from my own captive.” “ Your own captive /” Blanche fairly hissed, wlth derision. ‘‘ You may have occasion to whistle another tune before daylight.” “Pm sure Gilbert Brainard will not be the cause of it,” returned Barker, with a fiendish leer upon his face. _ The heartless and cowardly taunt cut deep into the captive’s troubled breast. Her heart was too painfully stung to reply to the villain. She spoke not, but a sigh of anguish escaped her lips, as she turned her head away, pretend- ing not to hear his tantalizing allusion to her lover; but, the quick eat of the renegade caught the sigh that came from her heart, and he de- termined to follow up the advantage gained over her rebellious spirit. “You will, Miss St. Ledger,” he continued, ** find out that obedience to my commands will save you from all those petty sighs of grief, for Tam determined to humiliate your proud spirit. You need not think of escape, for you are with- in the impenetrable fastnesses of the Black Hills, ‘where no one but my friends dare venture with their lives. And to ease you upon one subject, I will tell you that your parents are alive and well; and [calculate to inform them that you are in my power, so that I can torture them for the way they denounced me when I was honor- ably aspiring, to your hand,” _ “Oh, I tell you, Miss St. Ledger, revenge is Sweet to me! ou see, the time was when you were, in one sense, mistress of me; now, lam master of you.. Gilbert Brainard stood as an object between us then; now he hangs between two bluffs, an object for the buzzards, and so the world jogs on.” ** Indeed!” sneered Blanche. gaining her usual calmness. ‘‘Had youlived during the feudal ages ot would have made quite a mark.” “ Really, [am making quite amark in this modern age. The name of Red Wolf is pretty extensively known throughout the West, as a great warrior and terrible avenger, and woe, woe to the man that crosses my path or runs counter to my will, You are not the first cap- tive, Miss Blanche, by a long ways, nor do I suppose you will be the lastone. Five years ago a great, double-fisted wretch had the impudence to knock me—Red Wolf, chief of the Cheyenne nation—down, for ordering him to leave our hunting-grounds—” i ‘He served you just right,” said Blanche, in- dignantly. ‘ You think so, of course, but J didn’t, and to cut a mare ag short, I will just say that the lossy scalp-locks of his high-spirited little wife ang in my lodge, and that his daughter, who is now budding into womanhood, is a captive in my village. The man, whose name I never learned, escaped my fingers, and I presume is living yet, if he hasn’t died with torture. At least, if he be living, Ihope he knows that I have his daughter in my power, and intend to make her my wife some day. She will be your companion until we are married.” “Tndeed!” replied Blanche, with an inward shudder of terror; ‘what is your other cap- tive’s name?” ‘** Rena is all the name she would ever tell me, though I have coaxed, threatened, and even romised her her liberty if she would tell me, ut tono purpose; she is stubborn as a mule, However, Rena is all the same without any other name.” Blanche made no reply to the renegade’s re- marks—in fact she did not hear them, for her whole soul was absorbed in watching a dark figure moving along the shore some distance in rear of the canoe. That it was aman, there was no doubt, but the form was so deeply blend- ed with the darkmess that she could not tell whether it was that of a savage or white man, or only imagination. The boat moved on as fast as possiblé against the resistful current of the stream, and still Blanche saw the shadow following after; but The Disguised Guide, presently it came closer, and finally passed on in advance of the canoe, so that she was com- lled to turn her head in order to watch it. ut fearing that she might arouse some suspi- cion by thus watching with her head turned, she feigned an excuse that her position was painful, and was allowed to change it so that she could see ahead. To her wonder, she saw the figure not once after She had changed her position. It had van- ished and left her as helpless as ever, with an additional feeling ofa vague presentiment of some new terror resting upon her mind, In watching the reappearnce of the mysteri- ous figure, Blanche saw, at the distance of one hundred yards, a point where the river seemed to abruptly end, or flow from a dark cavern; but as they neared the point she found that she was mistaken in both cases—that two recks of immense size arose up on either side of and jut ting out over the river, lacking but a few: feet of forming a natural bridge. -As she sat with her eyes upon the rock, Blanche discovered a dark object upon it moving athwart the sky, but before she could take a second glance, their near approach brought the lower side of the rock between her and the object. In another moment they were beneath the rock, moving through the dark, tunnel-like passage, damp and dismal as that of a’subterranean river. They were about half-way through when sud- denly Blanche felt her waist encircled by some- thing resembling the coil of a rope, and she was lifted up through the space intervening between the rocks, and placed, half-fainting, upon the top. R Easy, quiet, my little dear,” was whispered in her ear, as she felt the rope loosed from about her waist. She looked up. A tall figure was bending over her. It was Wild Raven, the scout—a true friend, indeed! Before she could speak he turned and touched a large stone, which rolled with a crunching sound over the rock into the river. In ah in- stant a crash and a hollow groan came up from the depths below. Wild Raven looked over the edge of the rock. He saw nothing but the mangled bodies of his savage enemies floating on the river. Ashe had intended, the stone had struck the canoe and its inmates, and he felt that at last his vengeance on George Barker was wrought. “You need have nomore fears of George Barker, Miss St. Ledger,” the scout said, turn- ing to Blanche; ‘‘ they are all smashed into a lump.” ‘“* A thousand thanks to you for rescuing me from that villain’s power,” said Blanche, risin to her feet; ‘‘but you have the advantage o me—” _‘*Why so, Miss St. Ledger?” he asked. “You know me, while you are unknown to me, “Wild Raven’s my name, and bymeby you'll know a great deal more about me and my friends. Please ask me no more questions now, Miss St. Ledger, but foller me; I’m your friend, and in a few minutes you'll be with—I mean in a place o’ safety. Come.” be scout turned, and, followed by Blanche, descended the rock to the river. The maiden was so impressed with the novel manner in which she had been rescued, or rather lassoed from the power of the savages by the scout, that she could not doubt the sincerity of his friendly intentions and blunt assertions. Having reached the river, the two turned and proceeded down its course. In a few minutes they came to a halt, when Wild Raven drew from under some bushes a canoe, which he im- mediately launched, and, with Blanche, em? barked therein. Aided by the force of the current, the scout drove the canoe down the river at a rapid rate. Neither of the voyagers spoke a word; Raven was too intent at the oars, and Blanche was too deeply engaged in studying the strange charac- ter of her rescuer, for conversation. When they had reached a point half a mile past the place where Blanche had first seen the flit- ting shadow that had followed Barker’s canoe, Wild Raven turned the canoe abruptly to the left and ran it under some foliage and vines drooping over the water’s edge. Rising to his feet, the scout parted the branches about his head, and revealed in the rock that rese sheer up from the water’s edge, the mouth of a cavern, through which gleamed a stream of light from a ruddy fire within. “Come, Miss St. Ledger,” said Raven, turn- ing to Blanche; ‘‘here we will remain till mornin’.” _ Blanche arose and allowed her companion to assist her into the cavern, and then the two wended their way to the fire that was burning at the opposite end. The first object that met the maiden’s notice was the form of a man wrapped in a blanket and lying near the fire. ‘Ho! ho! my frien’,” exclaimed the scout, “so you are asleep.” The man sprung quickly to his feet and glanced wildly at the intruders. Blanche ut- tered a cry and sprung toward him with out- stretched arms. It was Gilbert Brainard in flesh and spirit! CHAPTER XIV. ANOTHER RESURRECTION. THE deepest gloom rested upon the hearts of our emigrant friends upon the island, for an in- evitable death seemed almost upon them. Wild Raven had not returned after a day’s absence; no tidings had been received of their daughter and sister. And, too, the humorous face and loquacious voice of T:ddy Muldoon were net only missing from the breakfast-table, but from their hearts. White Plume, reserved and silent, seemed plunged in deep thought, while Rena, uncon- scious of the St. Ledgers’ silent sorrow, talxed and sung as though no beart was sad. Ths hours dragged wearily by. It was high noon, and our friends were seated at dimmer, when the distant report of a rifle reached their ears, coming from up the river. White Plume hastened to his look-out, and scanned the coun- try on all sides, but saw nothing. He resumed his seat at the dinner-table, but had scarcely done so when the report was beard again, plainer and nearer than before. It seemed to come frem around the bend in the river just above the island. ‘“‘Waugh!” muttered White Plume, with an ominous shake of the head. ‘‘ Mischief comin,” and he sprung to his feet again, and mounted his look-out in the tree. This time he was more successful. He saw, crawling along the east bank of the river, in the grass, two Cheyennes with their faces turned toward the river, evidently watch- ing some moving object with which they were keeping pace. Presently they stopped, and fired at the object of their stealthy movements, then crawled on again. White Plume now turned his eyes to the river, on the surface of which he discovered a black object, larger than a man’s head, floating down toward the island. It was this at which the Cheyennes had been firing. The friendly Sioux was somewhat perplexed in his mind. He gazed at the floating object until a mist came over his eyes, yet he was un- able to make out its real nature. There was not a doubt in his mind but that it was some human artifice—probably a trick of the Cheyennes to entrap those upon the island. White Plume was not always to be caught napping by his enemies, so he descended from the tree and made his discovery known te his white friends, hoping that they might be able to throw some light upon the floating mystery. Arthur St. ger and the Indian crawled to a point of observation at the upper side of the island. By this time the floating object was within fifty yards of them, and the Cheyennes secreted along the banks, kept up a continua firing at it, without any perceptible effect. The moment Arthur St. Ledger’s eyes rested upon the object, a smile passed over his fea- ture. He knew what it was. It was Mrs. St. Ledger’s much treasured iron kettle, spoken of by her in the morning, and which had n left in the wagon; but, for the life of him, he could not tell what invisible power kept it afloat, mouth downward, upon the surface of the river. St. Ledger informed White Plume of the real nature of the object, and then asked: ‘* What do you think about it, White Plume?” ‘‘Ugh! Think Cheyenne head under it!” re plied the Indian, eying the vessel for a mo- ment. At this moment several shots were fired at the kettle, the bullets glancing harmlessly aside with a metallic ring, and striking in the water several feet away, while the relic of ‘fireside associations ” floated on, unbarmed as before. **T do not 2 our knowledge of vour own race, hite Plume,” said St. ger. ‘But I think you are mistaken in a Cheyenne being under that vessel; if so, why would his friends on shore’be firing at him?” White Plume made no reply, but fixing an arrow to his bow-string, drew it to the bead, and sent it whizzing through the air at the ket- tle. True tothe mark, it struck, but glanced
Page 13
—_— we off with a clear ring, and fell in the river twenty feet beyond. *‘ Arrah, there now, sthop thet, for it’s me’s thet’s coming, bedad!” It was a deep, sepulchral voice that spoke— the voice like one speaking from the grave, yet Arthur St. Ledger recognized it with a mingled feeling of poy and mysterious awe, It was the voice of Teddy Muldoon, without e@ doubt! ‘* White friends there!” exclaimed the Sioux, pointing at the floating kettle, then giving ut- terance to a whoop that thrilled the bleod in the emigrants’ veins. ‘*What is the matter, Arthur?’ asked Mrs. St. Ledger, in a whisper, as she crept cautiously to her husband’s side. **Do you see that, Sarah?” asked the husband, pointing toward the reversed kettle, floating within a few feet of the island. “Yes! Why, Arthur, it’s my kettle!” re- sao the matron, with a smile lighting up her ace. ** And do you see the agitated motion of the water around it?” “ Well, itis caused by Teddy, who is swim- ming with his body beneath the surface of the water, while his head is clad im your soup-pot.” And Mr. St. Ledger’s face became flushed with joyful excitement. ‘ But how do you know it is Teddy?’ the wife questioned. “T know—” the husband began, but before he , could finish the sentence, the iron kettle rose up frem the water on the shoulders of the subject ef their conversation, Teddy Muldoon; in an- other instant the supposed defunct Irishman, with a whoop and bound, landed on the island amid a shower of whistling-bullets from either shore; and had he not stumbled and rolled headlong into the thiek undergrowth at the feet of his friends, his body would have been riddled with the leaden messengers of Cheyenne vengeance. ‘Ho, friends!” exclaimed Teddy, drawing his head from the vessel, and rubbing his eyes like one just aroused from aslumber. ‘‘ Me pipe’s gone, but be the blessed Vargin there’s a dhra of blood left in me veins. Arrah, now, didn’t give it to the red blawgard, though?’ “Teddy, we had given you up as dead.” Tt was Arthur St. Ledger who addressed him, though he was scarcoly able to repress a smile at the serio-comical expression on the Lrishman’s face. **Och, and bedad! and it was meself that give Teddy Muldoon, Esq., “ore dgad, yer honor,” replied Teddy, rising to bis feet. f * J Well, at any rate you had a narrow escape, eddy. “ Paith, and a sphake the truth mighty leudly, Misther St. Ledger.” ‘But hew came you away from the island?” “There, now, yees are comin’ to the p’int; but, afore I tell yees about it, I would like a bit e dinner, please,” said the Irishman, as his eyes caught sight of the deserted dinner-table near the tent. “Certainly, Teddy, certainly,” replied St. itr ‘*Come new; dinner is ready and The rey, returned, and with Teddy, seated themselves at their half-finished meal. Thoy were soon joined by Harry and Rena, whe had been watching at the lower side of the island, and were totally ignorant of Teddy’s return until they saw bim at the table, ea as Vo- raciously as a half-famished wolf, CHAPTER XV. FLOATING. - THE first thing that Wild Raven did on awakening from his night’s rest, was to crawl to the entrance of the cavern, and reconnoiter the situation before venturing out. Finding the coast clear, he dropped himself down into the canoe at the entrance, and by means of & simple contrivance, sueceeded in catching seV- eral fine trout. With these he re-entered the cavern, and joined Gilbert and Blanche. A fire was already burning, and in a few mo- ments, Wild Raven, with ‘the assistance of Blariche, had the trout dressed and broiling on the hot coals. As this took some time—to broil the fish without burning—the scout opened a conversation with his young friends, “ You seem quite strong this mornin’, Gil,” he said. “and exceedin’ly cheerful.” ; “ Why shouldn’t I 80, after running such fearful risks of my life yesterday?” askea qi. be re. ‘ “ . cheerfulness is the life 0? m persons, air pilieve you are one o’ that oak The Disguised Guide. aa replied the scout. ‘‘ You shouldn’t be gloom and morose at heart because you didn’t git killed by George Barker—curse him! Excuse me, Miss St. Ledger, for my impoliteness,” he said, turning to Blanche, ‘‘ but that fiend has cast a cloud over my heart.” ‘*In what way, or how, Raven?” “Hist!” commanded the scout, evasively, as he bent his ear in the attitude of listening. » What do you hear?’ asked Gilbert, in a whisper. ‘*] was sure I heard a noise in the river; however I’ll go and see,” and rising to his feet, he glided toward the mouth of the cavern. True enough, the first object that he saw was an Indian, crawling along the edge of the water, under the ledge, evidently intending to steal their canoe. Picking up a large stone that lay at his feet, the scout awaited the near approach of the red-skin. ; In a moment he was alongside the canoe, and the next instant his head was crushed-for his temerity. But scarcely had the stone left the scout’s hand, when a rifle on the opposite side of the river cracked, and a bullet whizzed past his head, and was flattened against the rock be- hind him, Withdrawing himself a pace or two back into the cavern, Raven scanned the opposite bluff. Near a clump of wild sage he saw a puff of white smoke hanging on the air, and through it he saw the evil face of the savage that had fired the shot. In a moment the scout brought his rifle to bear upon him, but with what effect he could not ascertain; at any rate, he saw nothing more of the red assassin, and returning to his friends, he said: “I tell you, friends, we’re in close quarters, or will be, unless we git out o’ here soon, The red devils have diskivered our retreat.” ‘‘Well, I am sure there is nothing to detain us but breakfast,” said Gilbert. ‘‘And that is all ready for eating,” said Blanche, cenaing: with the pride ef a royal cook, at the crisp-brown fish that lay smoking on some large green leaves. The trio seated themselves and ate heartily of the savory viands, and when their hunger was appeased, there was some fish left, which was saved for future use. It required but a few minutes to prepare for departure. Wild Raven went in advance to re- connoiter their situation; but he found the way clear, and in a short time they were all seated : the canoe, and journeying rapidly dewn the ver. In two hours they reached the cavern where Gilbert and Blanche had been surprised and ca by the savages, the day previous. halt of a few minutes was made here, to procure some skins and blankets that had escaped the savages; then they centinued their journey down the river until they came toa int just opposite the grove where Gilbert and lanche met the night before the last one, and where the scout had seen the two horses, be- longing to Blanche’s father, ing grass in the valley. Here they left the river and took to the plain. d They had traveled but a short distance when, te their _— joy, they discovered the two herses not more than half a mile distant from the greve wherein Blanche had left them and fled with Gilbert. A few minutes’ walk brought them to the animals, The bridles were still upon them as when Blanche left them. hen the maiden put out her hand and spoke the dumb brutes pricked up their ears and ad- vanced toward her with almost a human look. Poor Abe and Dolph,” she said, patting them kindly; “they are kind and gentle to me, although I used them hard.” a and Blanche mounted the animals, a preferring to walk, and then turn- ing their faces due north, set off for the Platte river, twenty-five miles distant. WenAPIER XVI. HO IS WILD RAVEN? Arter Teddy had finished his dinner, and lamented for seme time over the loss of his bor- rowed pipe, be was induced to narrate his ad- ventures during his absence from the island. Faith, and when I see’d the red devil,” he began, ““ceme and shteal Misther White Feather’s condeet niver sed a word but dbrap- ped me gun, 8 lipped into the wather, and swum afther the spalpeen, who was so excited that he niver knew I was afther him, till I war to the camoe. int Oh! how me’s wished for me ould shillalah then! But wishing did no good, so I dhrew me knife and went in rough and tumble, jist as: me’s used to do at Donnybrook: but, the howly Vargin, the red imp began to git the up- per hand o’ me, sol jist managed to fall out into. the wather, and I tell yees, we war hugging each other tighter than bears, We sunk an rose in the wather, then sunk ag’in. This time we become parted, and thinking discrition the betther part of valor, me’s cut a bee-line under the wather for land, Mind, now, there’s but a few that kin ixcel Tedy Muldoon in shwimming on the wather or under it.” ‘* When I reached shore I found that I was on the main land, inshtead of the island, so I fell back into the grove, and shpent the night in a three-top, and this morning me’s crept round to: the wagon and shpent half a day there, thryin to study some way to git back to the island. At lasht, me eyes fell on Misthress St. Ledger’s blessed soup-kettle, and having consithered its impenethrability, I concluded to hide me body under the wather; then turn the kittle over me head, and shwim to the island. “The resht of me shtory yees know, though E will jist say that when the bullets came rattling ~ oe the kittle, 1 felt the wather freezing along me back like polar icebergs.” rE Fndoed, you had quite an adventure, Teddy,” said St. Ledger, as the Irishman swe ed off his story with a lamentation for nis pipe. : ‘“Indade I had, yer honor; but me life war saved by that dear old kittle.’ The day wore slowly away. The Cheyennes: were seen no more; still a heav: vee hung upon the St. Ledgers’ hearts. No tidings h yet been received of Blanche, and hepes of her recovery were fast fading from their breasts. The sun was — bebind the distant moun- tain-tops, throwing long bars of amber light over the plain and woodland, when, all of a sudden, a canoe containing three persons, came in view around an abrupt bend in the river, just below the island. A cry of Joy escaped the emigrants’ lips as they recognized Blanche and Wild Raven as two of the occupants. ‘‘Oh, there comes my papa! there comes my papa!’ shouted Rena, inting toward the canoe, almost frantie with joy. a is your papa, child?” asked Mr, St. “Why, don’t you see him? The scout, Wild- mere Ravennaugh, is my Soy “Sarah!” exclaimed . Bt. Ledger, with sudden emotion, ‘do you nacggunee that third person? It is that v lain, Gilbert Brainard!” and all the old-time anger flashed in his eyes. At this juncture the canoe touched the d. Blanche sprung ashore into ber mother’s arms. Rena clasped her arms about Wild Raven’s neck in a fond embrace, while Arthur St. Ledger confronted Gilbert Brainard, saying: ‘* Assassin, how dare you come near me?” *“T come with a clear conscience, and bands stained with nobody’s blood, Arthur St. Ledger,” responded Gilbert, totem me 48 “Then why did you flee ven the law when I accused you of murder!” ‘“‘T went at the humble protestations of your daughter, not through fear or eal ‘Father, I bear witness to Gilbert’s truthful assertion,” said Blanche, coming to Brainard’s assistance. ‘‘It wasI who begged him to flee It was George Barker who attempted to kill you.” ‘‘How know you this, daughter?” asked St. r. ‘George Barker told me so yesterday, in a fit of revenge. He is a chief amon the Indians, and it was he who carried me from the tent and struck mother to the ground; but he is dead now.” Arthur St. Ledger did not doubt his er ter’s word. ~ A pang of remorse pierced his heart as he realized the ip J he had done Gil- bert Brainard, and taking the young man by the hand, he said: | ‘Forgive me, Gilbert, for the wrongs I have done you, as you would wish to be forgiven. My heart tells me you are innocent.” ‘I forgive you freely,” replied Gilbert, wringing St. Ledger’s hand warmly. “J must admit, Gilbert, that I have been blind in reason, and that, in the case of George Barker, I have been the victim of misplaced confidence; but, thank Ged, I have lived te cor- rect the greatest error of my life,” said St. Ledger, penitentially. “And T thank God that I no longer bear the name of murderer,” replied Gilbert. “Here, Miss St. Ledger,” called Wild Raven; nce of tempted
Page 14
14 — “there is my darter Rena, ef whom I was tell- ing yes a bit ago.” Blanche advanced to Rena and embraced her, as though she had been a sister, while the scout looked on with admiration. ‘How does it come, friend, that you did not tell us that you had a daughter, when you were telling us of your past life?’ asked St. Ledger. “For the reason that I did net know she was livin’. Five years ago, friends, I camped on this very island, with my wife and child, and this friendly Sioux, White Plume. I was a hunter then, on my way to Fort Laramie, During the night we were attacked by a band of Cheyenne Ingins under Red Wolf, better known as rge Barker. My wife was killed, and Rena and _ White Plume were captured. 1 alone escaped. The next morning, after the Ingins left, I come back to the island and buried my poor, mur- dered wife. She sleeps beneath that tree on which you see the letters ‘M’ and ‘R,’ rudely carved. So this island, my friends, is a sacred spot to me. Five long and torturous years passed by, in which I have been searching for my child, and never, until yesterday, did I see her. I met her and her faithful friend, White Plume, in a grove twenty miles south of here, ‘White Plume had rescued her—after n- in’ his own liberty—while that devil, Red Welf, was absent from the village. I sent them here —told them that you were kere, and I also told Rena not to tell you whose child she was until Icome. I merely wished to make the explan- ation that I have, so that you would have no rounds to consider me the singular being that appeared to be, when I first met you.” “Then that accounts for Rena’s refusal to tell her full name,” said Mrs. St. Ledger. “Exactly,” replied the scout. ‘‘ Her name is Rena Ravennaugh. Mine is Wildmere Raven- naugh, though I prefer Wild Raven.” The whole tone and texture of the scout’s voice had changed, from the rude language so common to backwoodsmen, to that of a man of educated mind, which facts our friends were not slow in observing. ‘* What about Jake Darle, the sear 3 guide, Raven?’ asked St. Ledger. *“*Did you hear or see anything of him during your absence?” ‘*No,” replied the scout, *‘ bué we recovered your horses; they are over in the grove yon- “ A thousand thanks, Wild Raven,” exclaimed St. Ledger; “you bave more than befriended us in our moment of peril. Come to our camp; I know you are all tired and hungry. We will have you a sumptuous supper in a few mo- anand the party d 1 saying, the retired to camp, leaving White Plame and Teddy on guard, for night was fast settling over the land. CHAPTER XVII. oi _ A WINDFALL. AFTER the friends had related his adventures of the last two nee arrangements were made for ing the night. 2u9 Gilbert Brainard and White Plume were sent over to the main-land to guard the horses, while Teddy and Harry were stationed as jards ‘upon the island, for Wild Raven pre- ted some trouble from the ‘red-skins betore morning. : Gilbert and White Plume led the horses to an opening in the forest where grass could be ob- tained for them, and then withdrew to the shadow of the trees, and having separated, took their positions at opposite points at the of the clearing where the animals were tethered. 2 Somewhat fatigued in mind and body, Gil- bert seated himself at the foot of a low, scrubby tree, and leaning his head against the nk, gave way to his own reflections. He re- viewed his past life, which had been thickly strewn with the sharpest thorns, and overcast by the darkest clouds of misfortune; yet, there had been enough of sunshine to infuse into bis soul a desire for further continuance of the life so bitterly begun. An hour—two hours passed by,and not a sound had disturbed the young man’s reverie, save pe cha nae solemn sound of nature that is always in. the forest after nightfall. Gilbert had begun to congratulate himself upon the co nae ~~ being. eee poy the mo ages, when the snapping a near by caused him to start up and his rifle. Through the pees he vered two dark figures moving ard the opening where the animals were grazing. They were, evidently, supper had been served and each of The Disguised Guid ignorant of his presence, for they moved so close to him that he had no trouble in recognizing them to be two white men. Filled with some curiosity to ascertain their mission, and whether they were friends or eaeeeaens Gilbert remained quiet and watched hem. They moved on until they reached the edge of the opening, then, with an exclamation of sur- prise, they stopped and sprung quickly back into the shadow of the trees. ‘Lord, Harry! What’s that, Belzy?’ asked one of the worthy pair. Gilbert started. He felt his heart rising in his throat. He clutched nervously at his gun. That voice bad startled him with a feeling of revenge and horror; it was the voice of George Barker. However, y a mighty effort, he suc- ceeded in keeping back the storm that was rising within him—bent his ear and listened to their conversation, which was quite audible. ‘* Ghosts, as I live!” responded the individual addressed as Belzy. ‘*Ghosts, the devil! Take a second look, my brave friend, and you'll see that it’s a pair of horses tethered there at grass—the same ones — I toted that gal off on,” said Barker, for he was. ** So it is—so it is,” replied Belay, coming out of his sudden fear; ‘‘but Tl bet all of old Wilson’s buried treasure that more than one pair of eyes are watching them animals.” ** So will I,” thought Gilbert. “Well, what of it?" gruffly asked Barker. ‘‘Humph! well, what of it? Suppose we go into that opening to look for the gold, and git a bullet apiece into our carcasses—what of it then, worthy friend?” “That bullet hasn’t been cast that kills me, Belzy, but for fear of trouble, wo had better not venture out into the opening to-night.” ‘“‘Are you sure thisis the place where the gold is buried, Barker?’ ‘“‘Well, les me see. The description found upon the dead man’s body, taken in connection with the story of the fellow we hung, fixes the opening about this point upon the river.” ‘* But what’s it say ’bout the trees?” ‘*It says a tall cottonwood stands outa few feet in the opening alone, on the east side, while another stands out all alone .on the south side. “Good! There is a tree just ahead of us that will answer for the one on the south side, and over yonder stands one on the eastside. Ha-ha! So much for the buried gold!” ‘Sb, Belzy! Your eyes are extraordinary good; but confound your tongue, it’s like a “epgee ina bell. Don’t talk so ioud.” “Thank you: Quitea compliment,” said Belzy, lowering his voice, but not below Gilbert’s hearing. ‘Let me see,” the worthy continued, ‘“‘what does the description say do, after the opening and the trees are found, in order to find the exact point where the gold is cached?’ Gilbert had become greatly interested in the two villains’ colloguy, and bent his ear atten- oe to catch each word. “Well, it says, when the sun rises in the morning, draw a line along tho south side of the shadow cast by the east tree, and:at exactly noon, draw a line along the east side of the shadow cast by the south tree; then, at the very point where the two lines crosseach other, the gold was, or is buried. Now do you under- stand, or will I have to repeat again, so that if there is any one about, they will know as much of the gold and its cache as we do?” ‘Oh, certainly—certainly,” replied Belay, ‘‘I understand to a t’s eye.” , “And so do I, my wortby villains,” thought Gilbert. ‘*Well, if you understand, then, and have no more questions to ask, suppose we make tracks from here—" ‘‘ Until when?’ interrupted Belzy. . “That depends on circumstances. If the emigrants continue their journey to-morrow, I must attend to that other little affair; I can’t give up that gal without another effort. In that case, | might be absent only a day or two, and may be a week or a month.” ** Oh! oh!” groaned Belzy, ‘‘ so long.” | ; ‘‘ Yes, so long; and while I am gone, I want you to hoof it back to the Cheyennes and stay there with them till I come back.” ‘*Ho-ho! So you're afraid that Ill dig up the treasure and cut dirt, eh, while you’re gone? There might be such a — bappen.” ‘Do it, if you dare, a rh foller you to pareatony but what Vil catch you and cut your “Well, I guess we'll have no trouble about that, Barker; and now, if we’re goin’ to pros- — —— pect any, let’s be at it: if not, let’s Jean out for camp.” wb think we had better let the gold be te- night, and goback to eamp.” 2 All right, Suppose we take the horses and ride. *‘ Suppose we don’t. Come, still your bell- clapper.” So saying, the worthy pair of villains turned about and moved briskly away toward the south-west, leaving Gilbert in the deepest men- tal speculation over the subject of their con- versation. Could it really be pessible that any gold was buried in the opening? Ifso, hadn’t he as good right to it as the renegades? Such were the thoughts that went surging across Gilbert’s mind, and he resolved to take advantage of the villain’s description of the burial-spot of the treasure, andif there was any Pang Shere, he would appropriate it for his own use in ease the rightful owner did not come up and prove his property. Slowly the night wore away, and dawn ap- proached. Just as the sun looked over the eastern hills, Gilbert and White Plume met in the cpouine: Gil related his adventure to the friendly Sioux, and then proceeded to mark the shadow . the east tree according to Barker’s descrip- on. The shadow reached quite across the opening, and was marked by the young man by means of small poles laid along ihe ge of the shadow, and fastened there by driving forked sticks over them at each end. This done, the pair took up their rifles and set out to join their friends at the island. Arriv- ing there, they found them all up, stirring about. Nothing had occurred during the night to molest the quietude of their slumbers, eonse- quently they were all looking fresh and vigor- ous but Mrs. St. Ledger, who was cou toe her bed with a violent headache. Gilbert took Wild Raven aside and made known te him the fact that George Barker was still alive, and the conversation he had heard between the renegades during his watch in the night. ‘Curse bim!” exclaimed the scout, ‘‘ it seems as though that devil wasn’t made to be kille for I made sure of him the other night thought. But, the buried gold—we will go over at noon and complete the search you have al- ready begun. If there is any gold there, [ would like to know how it come there.” “From what I could gather from this. con- versation,” replied Gilbert, ‘t I supposed that two returning miners were encamped: here- abouts, and being plosely pressed by a party of savages under Barker. they were compelled te eonsign their gold to the safe-keeping of the earth, and flee for their lives, but eventually fell into the savages’ power and were killed, the renegades having forced from them such in- formation’ as would lead to the recovery of their gold.” “In that case,” said Wild Raven, ‘‘you would be as much entitled to the geld as the renegades, in case you can find it.” Their conversation was here brought to a a by Blanche St. Ledger announcing break- ast. ' On account of Mrs. St. Ledger’s illness, the continuance of the emigrants’ journey was de- ferred until the next day. This would give Gilbert and the scout time to search for the and replied: ; ‘“‘T can’t see any signs of the ground having been disturbed here, though that is no evidence it has not, for if the miners were shrewd men, they would have replaced every spear of in order to coneeal the cache froma the eyes o. the Indians.” Down upon their knees sunk the two men, and with a huating-knife and tomabawk, began loosening the earth, which they removed with their hands. Their progress was slow and te- dious, yet they faltered not an instant. Down, slowly down they went into the earth. Sud- denly the point of Wild Raven’s knife grated upon something hard; a shout of joy escapes EE
Page 15
--~s---—- - -- his lips as he digs away and finds it is an iron buckle upon some leathen article, which, as they continue to dig, they find is a pair of sad- dle-bags. * Bureka!” shouted Wild Raven, as, with a Herculean effort, he seized the bags and drag- ed them from the hole; and as he did so, Gil- bert discovered another pair beneath, and seiz- ing hold of them, he drew them to the top, also. Their search had doubly rewarded their efforts. Hastily — open the saddle-bags—which were in a g state of preservation—they found them to be filled with gold bullion of the value of erenty thousand dollars each. There was not a word nor a letter by which they could tell aught of the original owners; so peg rape to all customary rules of the past, the right o ownersbip fell to them. Refastening the saddle-bags, the men slung bk eir shoulders and returned to the island. Quite a scene took place when (they related their discovery to the emigrants. Despite his refusal, Gilbert’and the scout forced Arthur St. Ledger to accept half the gold bullion; while eon divided the remaining half between them- selves, Thus every thing speedily assumed a new phase in consequence of finding the treasure. Arthur St. Ledger had sufficient wealth now to keep him above want, in case he used it judi- ciously; and what need had he of leading his family into further dangers now, far from the enjoyment and social and moral influence of civilized society. He could see none, and seconded in his resolution by his family, Gilbert and the scout, he resolved to turn about and re- turn to the States; and with this intention, they began making preparations for departure on the morrow. CHAPTER XVirII. THE MISSING GUIDE. THE morning came with its sunshine and lory and song of birds. Now all was joy and aughter, hurry and bustle, for our friends on the island were eager to be off on their-return eastward, : : Breakfast was speedily dispatched, and then the party bid farewell to the island, and crossed over to the mainland. , Fortunately they found their weer unin- jured, save that it was stripped of its canvas covering. This, however, was easily replaced by Indian biankets. Teddy hastily harnessed the faithful animals to the wagon—the women were seated comfor- tably therein—the men, with their rifles on their shoulders, took their position behind the team on foot—the driver cracked his whip, and the vehicle rolled away. ‘ White Plume was to accompany them until they reached the overland road, which the emi- os had left. on the night of their first trou- les, two miles to the south in order to procure and water for theiranimals. Raven tried texindnat him to go with them; but no, he could not, he would not leave his native haunts, with its vast plains, murmuring rivers, roaring rapids, singing cascades and rippling brooks; beyond these the world had no charms fer him; besides, he had a terrible vengeance to wreak upon his enemies, the Cheyennes, for the injury reeeived at their hands, and all use he was a friend to the whites. . The emigrants had hardly left the timber two hundred yards behind, when all of a sudden a potent: . shout for help, mingled with the lood-curdling yells of Indians fell upon their ears, Turning abcut they saw, issue from the tim- ber directly on their trail, a white man, whom they at once reco, as Jake Darle, the missing guide, ranning toward them at the top of his speed, closely pursued by half a dozen savages. ' ‘Help! help! friends,” mer the eppar el ove ently exhausted fugitive. « p! for the “0 oe IT am about goin’ under—help! e. friends were so taken by rise, that they had no time to question their late suspi- cions in to the guide’s treachery, but all rushed to his assistance. The savages saw them coming, and beat a hasty retreat to the timber, while Darle stag- oa on, and fell exhausted at the feet of his gj pring { Heaven, Darle! what d nthe name of Heaven, 6! what does be all mean?” St. Ledger asked, bending over Prostrate man. It was some time before the guide could re- cover his breath, to reply, in gasps Gilbert’s heart, had not Wild The Disguised Guide. —from the you are— “Tt means—that I—have es—ca a devils’ power—; thank 'e! 6a. . ne bh an ab ee ee jack tatizer, eying the guide closely, ‘‘and are eaving tie place. We had ee to the conclusion that you had deserted us, and sent the Indians down upon us.” ‘‘ Faith, bedad, and it’s me’s thet thinks so yit,” said Teddy, who had left the team with ro women, and joined the men at this junc- e. “‘ Who dares to accuse me of treachery?’ ex- claimed Darle, fiercely springing to his feet with all his usual agility and strength, and boldly confronting the Irishman. ‘‘ Me’s, yer honor,” coolly replied the little Irish Jehu. ‘Teddy Muldoon, if it wern’t for the little- ness and meanness o’ the act, I’d larrup you within an inch o’ your life for sich a bold, false and uncalled for accusation,” said the guide, considerably exasperated. “Had I come to ou in any other way than I did—pursued by a nd o’ bloodthirsty savages, and sufferin’ with all the pain o’ cruel treatment durin’ my cap- tivity—I wouldn’t have blamed you for accus- in’ me 0’ bein’ a traitor then, but as ’t is it goes *g’inst the grain; however—” “The only grounds upon which we were led to doubt ‘your fidelity, taken in connection with your prolonged absence,” said St. Ledger, com- ing as an umpire between Teddy and the guide, “arose from certain signals that Teddy saw you make with fire, in answer to other and wag) signals made by some one across the ver. “IT deny the charge o’ making a single signal o’ any Ieined,” the guide exnpbatioaliy “ieciared, with a slight tremor in his veice. Wild Raven who had hitherte remained si- lent, now stepped forward, and laying his hand upon the guide’s shoulder, said: ‘Your denial of the charge, Mr. Darle, has fully establisbed your guilt, for J saw you make the signals myself !” “* And I will prove further, that this person calling himself Jake Darle, is an unmitigated coward, traitor, liar and murderer!” exclaimed Gilbert Brainard, and springing forward like an enraged tiger, he seized the guide by the beard, and tore the cunning mask from his face, leaving the pale abject features of George Bar- ker revealed to the astonished gaze of his friends. ‘Curse you, devil!” hissed the unmasked vyil- lain, drawing a long knife. ‘‘ You have foiled my oe bed me of the gold, but you shall not live te enjoy it!” Tbe wretch would have driven the weapon to Raven been on the alert, and hurled the villain to the ground, and with the assistance of White Plume, wrenched the knife from his grasp, and bound him hand and foot. “Oh, murderer!!” hissed the scout. ‘* Youll not escape me this time. I thought the stone had crushed your vile life out the other night, but fate has kept you for a worse punishment, Ha! ha! my time has come! Do you expect mercy after murdering my wife and carrying off my child? Surely not. The mills of the gods grind slow, but exceedingly fine. My eart cries out for your blood!” “ Kill me if you wish, lam in your power,” said. the villain, Barker. ‘But let me tell you that your child lives, and in case you murder me, vou will never see her again. I’ve some yA a in knowing that, even if I am to 8, ‘‘Ha!l ha! ha!” laughed the scout, trium- hantly. ‘Know you not, devil, that my aughter is already rescued from the power of your minions, and safe in that wagon yonder?” “Who rescued her?” gated Barker, a spasm of hopelessness convulsing his abject features, ‘‘ White Plume!” returned the scout. “White Plume,” sneered Barker. ‘ A dog of the pale-faces,” ite Plume heard the renegade’s insult. A low cry of vengeance escaped his lips, and drawing ascalping knife, he bounded toward the villain, and with a single flourish of the weapon, tore the scalp from his head: then, bending low, he thrust the reeking blade into the wretch’s heart. With a n of agony, George Barker sunk to the e and expired. His daya of evil were ended as his crimes deserved, Leaving the body te the mercy of the wolves and vul , Our friends continued their journey. At the overland road they parted with White Plume, having repaid him for his services, with / 15 the present of a handsome double-barreled rifle. They never saw him again, though they often heard of him through deeds of ess rendered the emigrants. Our friends shaped their eastward course to- ward the young and promising State of Iowa, where they eventually arrived without further troubles from the Indians. Here Arthur St Ledger, Wildmere Raven- naugh and Gilbert Brainard began life anew, engaging in agricultural pursuits, with the re- sults that always attend the honest and in- dustrious tiller of the soiland tender ef flocks and:herds, - And now our say is ended. We have only to add that Gilbert and Blanche, and Rena were married, and settled down inte a promising and happy life. Wild Raven, as he still insists on being called, lives with his children, and finds life else than a burden of sorrow and turmoil. He is getting eld, but in the midst of bis grandchildren he finds great happiness and comfort. Teddy still lives, and is in the service of his old employer, enjoying the sweets of single blessedness and his pipe, though rumer says he is soon te be m to a buxom maid, late from his own ‘‘ counthry,” and will settle do on a quarter section of his own. THE END. DIME DIALOGUES AND SPEAKERS FOR SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS AND HOME ENTERTAINMENTS. Dialogues, Nos, 1 to 29 inclusive, 15 to % - lar dialogues and dramas in each beol. Hach vol- ume 100 @ pages. Speakers, Nos. 1 to %3 inclusive. Each speaker 100 pages 12mo, centaining from 50 te 75 pieces. YOUNG PEOPLE’S SERIES, Dime Book of Winter Sports. Dime Book of Summer Athletic Sports, Dime Gents’ Letter Writer. Dime Book of Etiquette. Dime Book o: Dime Ladies’ Letter Writer. Dime’ Lovers’ Casket. Dime Ball-Room Com on. Dime (ee of 100 Games, th : G2" The above books ara d by newsdeal evenrrnare: or M4 be abu, post d, te ad- ess, on receipt, o ce. cen geer- Basis & Apams, Pu ers. 96 William st., N.Y. wry “The Model Family Paper A pure r; good in every thing; bright, brilliant Ao ain , Serials, Tales, Romances, Sketches, Adventures, Biographies, Pungent Essays, Poetry, Netes and Answers te Correspondents, Wit and Fun— . All are features in every number, from such celebrated writers as ne paper in America cap boast of. , What is best in POPULAR READING, that the paper always has; hence for Homs, Sop, Li- BRARY and GENERAL REApDuER it is without a pete hehce its great and steadily increasing on. The SATUKDAY JOURNAL is sold everywhere by newsdealers; price six cents per number; or te subscribers, post-paid, at the follewing cheap rates, viz.: Four months, one dollar; one year, three dollars ; or, two copies, five dollars. Address BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
Page 16
1 Deadwood ween THE PRINCE OF THE Road By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack. By Jos. BE, Badger, Jr. 3 apens Kin aa or, THE Rep Ricut Hanp, By Buffalo Bill ( m.-F’, Oody), 4 The W lld-Hlorse Wunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker. 5 Sem toee Joe, THE Youre WANDERING JEW. Oll Coomes. Double Number, 10cts. 6 Hui BRiddon, Trapper. by E. 8, Ellis. 7 The Piyiea “Xe cast. By.Col. Prea go ee fa 8 Seth Jones. ay award Eilis. 9 Adventures gh Munchausen. 10 Nat Todd. By £ 11 The Two Weenceivens 12 Gulliver's tapes By’ Dean Swift. 13 The Dumb Spy. mes, 14 Aladdin; or, Tue Wouakeenr LAMP 15 The Sea-Cat. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. 6 Robinson Crusoe, (27 Illustrations.) 7 Ralph Roy, THe Boy Buccanrtr;-or, Tae Fueitrve Yacuv.. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 8 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. The Phantom Spy. By. Buffalo Bill. The Double Daggers. By E. L. Wheeler. The Frontier Angel. By edward S. Hillis. The Sea esata. ha Boy Roginson Okvusoxr. Juan By T. C. Harbaugh. By A.W. Aiken, Nick ‘oo the Night. Diamond Dirk, By Colonel P. Ingraham, The Boy Captain. By Roger Starbuck. Cloven Hoof, THz BurraLo Demon; or, THE BorvER Vuurures. By Edward L. Wheeler. Antelope Abe; THE Boy Guipe. Oll Coomes Buffalo Ben,’ THE PRINCE OF THE PISTOL; or, Pxapwoop Dick om Disevisz. B&B. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb: Page. By Capt: F. Whittaker, 80 Roaring, Ralph Rockwood, Tux Recx- Luss Ranerer. By Marry St. George. 81 Keen-Knife, Prick or THE Pasrncee, By Oll Coomes. 82 Bob Woolf, tax Borper Rusriay; or, THE Girt Drap-Saor. By Edward L. Wheeler.’ 83 The Ocean Bloodhound. 8, .W. Pierce. 34 Sragon Sol; er, Nick WuHurizs’ Box Spy By ¥ G. Adams. B5 Wile ee THE Box Supe Dova.; or, THE BreTHernoen or DEATH. L. Wheeler. 86 The Boy Clown. iby mks ‘Finn. 87 The Hidden Lodge. By T. 0. Harbaugh. 8 Ned Wades THE mae | Scour. By Texas Jack. 9 Death-Face, THE ee at By Wheeler. BS BERS KCVHOWKHS we Set Goro WKosd 40 Roving Ben. By J. J. Marshall. 41 Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes. 4 The Phantom ag By E. L. Wheeler. ex Darling, THe Pony Rmer. 43 B t. Frederick Whittaker. 41 Hace @ HMube. By Harry St. George. 45 mg aalinmcne THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR; Gren BRIgann. a 46 Glase Eye, THE Great SHoT oF Tax - Capt. J. F.C. Adams. | i By T. C. Harbaugh. ohn, THE Roap-AGEnT, 49 Omaha Ol, By Edward L, Wheeler. 50 Bart Banker, tHe Trapper. OC. E. Lasalle, 61 Boy REifies. By Archie ©. Irons, 52 he te Buffalo. By ©. E. Lasalle. 63 np An ag ate Jr., THe Bey Puenr; or, oe Rom Edward L. Wheeler. 54 Ned 1. By Capt, J, F. C, Adams. 55 Deadly «- Eye, Tax Unznown eusea or, Tux B Buffalo Bi f Whifiles’ Pet. J, FO. Adams, iwood Dick es. : Pueeaee King ° x Coomes. pe Shadow Cel. \. see ed a Ee milton, oe Patent-leather Joe. 8 Border oe Ane +4 Gold Ri fle. a ward a1. ‘ 70 Old Zip’s Cab J.F. @. Adams. ™ Delaware Dick. rry. 5 The rs ‘Duelist, Abe Oolt, THz CrowW-Kitime. By A; ~ te 4 pe a oh -— Boy Brave; or, Duapwoop Dick's Lasr A By E.L. Wheeler, Blue Dick. By Captain Hayne Reid. Sel Ginger, Giant mn. By A.W. Aiken. Rosebud Rob es or, Nucger Neb, THE Knieut or THE Guion. By Edward’ L. Wheeler. Lishuing Jo. By eee F.C. Adams, Haretoot. By T gy ey, - Bollo, the Boy BApeer, Ol) Coomes. Idyl, the Girl «in >i . L. Wheeler, Buck Buckram, sige 3 F. C. Adams, Dandy Rock. By Waldo Browne, The Land Pirates. , by Gor Mayne Reid. 8 Photograph Phil, raz Boy SLEvTH; or, Rosrrup Ros’s Reappearanesr., By E. L, Wheeler. 89 Island Jim, By Bracebridge Hemyng. ‘ 90 The Dread Rider. aldo Baowne. 91 The Captain of the Club; or, Tar Youne Rrvau AtTsueTes. By Bracebridge HMemyng. 92 Camada Chet. By Edward L. Wheeler, 93 The Bey Miners. By Edward §, Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, THe Roap-AezntT; Tue Boy TRAPPER. MPOOOMOOMD Hekay aFe¥ed Phone ries Sahay or, n. By T. C. Harbaugh. 95 The Rival Rovers. Lieut. Col, Hazeltine, Spree’ Oe TI Tue, Ockan Our. 96 Watch-Eye, THz SHApow. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers. By J. J, Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, THE OvTLAWED Ear_; or, THE Murry Mgn-or Greenwoop. Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos. aldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in LewAville e 3 or, A Srranoe-STROKE FOR LIBERTY. ~ 4 eeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead- ye. By Col. Ingraham. 03 The Lion of the Sea. By Co}. Delle Sara. 04 Deadwood Dick’s Device. Wheeler. 5 Old Rube, THe Houxrer. . Capt. H: Holmes. 6 Old Frosty = Guivz, By T.C. Harbaugh. 7 One-Eyed By James L. Bowen. 8 Daring Davy.” B3 By Harry St. George. 9 Deadwoo ick as Dtection. Edward L. eeler. 0-The Black Steed of the Prairies. A Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingraham. The Mad Huntér. By Burton Saxe. Jack Moyle, Tat Youne SPECULATOR; oF, Tue Roap To Fortuny, . By Hd. L. Wheeler. The Black Schooner... Roger Starbuck. eoece The Wad Mimer. By G. Waldo Browne. © Hussar Captain. Col. P. Ingraham. i ed Die ? THe Sport DrerrtcTivr; a AD-AGmNT’s DavemTER. Wheeler. wall Meuhotne THe Boy Detective. Morris, Mustang Sam, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. The Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont. } Cinnamon Chip, THE Gi. Sport; or, Tue GoLpEN Inox or Ar. Resa, Ed. L. Wheeler. 2 Phil Hardy, Tix Boss Boy, ©: Morris. 8 Kiowa Charley, Tas Wuirz Musranazr. T. C. Harbaugh. ‘Tippy, THe Texan, By George Gleason. 5. Bonanza Bill, hoes. By Ed..L. Wheeler. 6 Pieayune Pete, By Charles Morris, 7 Wild-F ire, Boss or Tne Rodp, By Dumont. 8 The Youn? Privateer. By H. Cavendish. Deadwood Dick’s Double. By Wheeler. Detective Dick. By ee Morris. The Golden Hand, By Geo. W. Browne. The Hunted Hater By Ed. 8. Ellis. Boss Bob, tue Kine er TH: Boora.aocns: or, THE AS 9 ste abet food Ed. L, Wheeler. 34 Sure Shot Seth, Tar Boy Rirteman; or THE Youna Patriots oF THE NortH, By Ol] Coomes. CVS® Aah Swe 3 ae Me chistcuhetplanan WR WR et et tS wee oo 35 - tain Paul, THe Kentucky Moonsniner; ‘HE Boy Spy or THe Mountains. Olark. 6 Night-Hawk Kit. By Jos, E. er, Jr. 3 $7 The Hel less Hand. Capt. Mayne Reid. 8 Blonde ili; or, Drapwoop Dick’s Home Basz. B Edward L. Wheeler. 9 Judge Lynch, Jr. B mm Cc. Harbaugh, 0 Blue Blazes; or, Tat Break 0’ Day Boys of Rooxy Bar. By Frank Dumont. 141 Solid Sam, THe Boy Roap-AeEntT; or, THE Branpep Brows. By Edward L Wh Wheelet, 42 Handsome_ Harry, Tax Dr- TECTIVE. rles érria. 3 Scar-Face Saul, By Oll Coomes. tens f Lance, THE Captain Ae tee THE — Yor Detnc- amet or, Boss Bo: et ete et tt ~ = cl el el el el ee ee ee eh ed ee ee be 7 ha. Som, By J ame of = id 5 or, Deapwoop Dicx's Lance and | eemeny rd Paul, Tax 3 Dauty: Lance TO TEE Raeseve. 2 Black Bess, Wu. Wiprmer’s Rickr; or, Warynive Agémst Opps, By Nal Morris. Dad kt kk ed > Ph Phi a ze Che "= ° <= 53 Eagle Kit, rae Boy Devon. a A Nb 54 The Swerd Hunters. By . Whittaker. 55 Gold Trigger, tux Sport. T. 0. ee 566 Deadwoo B ick of Deadwood Tax Picker Parry. Edward L, 7 he Merry, THe HArsor fon vag 5 He er, Tae Nr Mo Gnt-HAWES oF a Buffalo ttaker. a 68 Fancy Frank of Colora 569 The Lost Captain. 60 The Black 61 ow York Nel}, THz r, OLD BLAKESLY’ ye By 62 win Wildfire fn the Weods, Mertis. 3 Little ‘Texas, tax Youne MvsTancer, A Tale of Texan Prairies. ol Hiekory ay 4 Harry St Asa Scott, Tux fart Boy. By F Wikett, Deadly Dash. Jos. EB. edscr, Jr. Tornado Tom. a arba’ A Trump pe oe er, Wo WiLpring Wins and. ‘Loses. By Charles Morris: a een 4 a vee * itary hunderbo om. Var meerss. Dandy Kock’s Rival, Bob Rockett, Tux Boy idee wt By ier orris, Captain Arizona. By Philip 8. The Boy UD Royo THE Boocasicen oF Tux Bay. Lieut. H. D U.S.N Nebby Nick. of Nevada. £. L. Wheeler. Old Solitary. By Ol! Coomes, Bob Rockett THE Bank RUNNER, Morris. 0 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow WeE.. Karr. By Lieut, H. D. Perry, U, BUN. 181 Wild Frank, THE Bvoxsxin Brivo; Lapy Limy’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler, 182 Little Murricane, tHe Boy Carran, 1 li Coomes. 183 The Hidden Hand. By Chas, Morris. 184 The Boy Trailers. By Badger, Jr, Ne dh eh ee CHF AQUPWW SHWIH , ore 6 64 6 6 6 6 6 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 7 q 8 By. fant. Bey, E. Badger, Ii P ¥-GIRL BL. a , Browne,, BEADLE’S | HALF-DIME | LIBRARY. 5 Evil Eye, Kina or Catrie i tf .VULTURESIOF THE Rio GRANDE. Bye Bare, FP botinee 6 Cool Desmond, By Col. De ¥Y Fred Halyard, tux Lirz Boat Site; or, Tue SMUGGLERS OF THE INLET. orris. Ned reset THE Borprr Boy. Harbaugh. apy THE CraoKsman., By Morris. Darke. By Wm. R. Kyster. Shes My Bil Ke THE Bey BuLUWwHACKER. , Capt. A. B. ers . BA aptain Kit. Lieut. a D. Perry,U.8.N, Captain Mask, Tar Lavy Roap-AegeEnr; or, PATENT-LEATHER Jon’s DEFEAT. By Warne. 4 Buffalo Bills Bet, By Captain Tayler. 195 Deadwood Dick’s ‘Dream., “a Wheeler, 196 Shadowed} or, Bos IGHT FOR Lirz. By Charles Morris. 197 Little Grit, rae Wirp River, By Ingraham 198 BrR A Oe THE Man with THE KNIFE. By T. C, Harbaugh. 199 Featherweight.” By Edward Willett. 200 The Boy Bedoutins, By Whittaker. 201 Fhe Black Hills Tenehe 3 or, Drap woop Dick’s WarD. By Ed ard L. ‘Wheeler. 202 Prospect Pete, oF THE Box BRIGADE; or, Tae Youne OurLaw Hunters. By Oll Coomes. 203: The Boy Pards.. By Jos. E, Badger, Jr. 204 Gold Plume, Tar Boy Banpit.. Ingraham, 205 Deadwood Dicks Doom. By Wheeler. 206 Dark Paul, rae Tiger Kina. By O. Morris, 207 Navajo Nick, Tur Boy Gotp Huntmr. & Tale of Arizona, By 'T.'C. Harbaugh. 208 The Boy Hercules. By Oli Coomes. 209 Fritz, tHe Bounp-Boy Detective. Wheeler. 210 Faro Frank of High Pine, By Eyster. 211 Crooked Cale, TH: Canipan or CELESTIAL Crry, ..By Jos, E. BE. Badger, Jr T. 212 Dashing Dave, THE Danny Derxcrivs. By rris, les Mo 213 Fritz to the Front, By E. L. Wheeler. 214 Wolfgang, tH: Ropner oF THE RaINS, By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 215 Covi Bullet, tHe Rarer Kine. By Harbaugh: 216 Bison Bill, Tae Price or THE RE By Cel, Prentiss Ingraham, 217 Captain Crack-Shot, By E. L. Wheeler. 218 Tiger ‘Tom, THe Texan Terror, By OD Coomes. 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1¢ 1 1 SC SH COSe 2m «£ 219 Despard, the Duelist, By P. 8S. Warne. 220 By Ob Tanner, ScaLawaG AND ScaPeGRacn. Charles Morris. 221 Sugar Coated Sam, By EL, Wheeler. 222 Grit, the Bravo Sport. By Ingraham. 223 Ozark Alf, Kine oy THE Movuntam. “*° Baward Willett. 224 Dashing Dick; or, Trarrer Tomu’s Casi, By Oll Coomes, 225 Sam Charcoal the Premium Dar- ky. By Charles Morris. 226 Snoozer, THE Boxy Snarp. By Edward lL. Wheeler. 227 Busky Darrell, Trarrrr. By EK. Emersen. 228 Little Wildfire. By Oll Coomes, 229 Crimson Kate, tHe Gmt Tramer, By Cel. Prentiss Ingraham, 230 The Yankee Rajah. By C. D. Clark, 231 Plucky Phil, ey Tue Mocuntam Taam. By T. O. Harbaugh. 232 Gold-Dust Dick. By E. lL. Wheeler. 233 et 4 Buck, of Angels, ann His Bey Pard Pav. ee or, THE Tares Wiwp Mes ‘or Eacux Bar, By Albert W. Aiken, 234 me ene: og r ae Ges 399 = oHonar-bueansn. ag or, BENITe, By Buckskin 235 Shadow’ Sam, THe THE MEssExorn Bey; or, Tunnme THE TaBLes,, By Charles Merris, 236 Apello Bil, Taz Trait Tornave. By Ed- ward L, Wheeler. eeler. 237 Lone Star, the Cowboy Ca Moe or, THE arian oe RancuEno. By 238 he Parson ‘Betective or, Lrrris ho Parson. Betectives. or, I By Ol, Coomes. 239 The Geld-seeker Guide; ‘er, Tax Los? Movwram, By Captain Maynd Reid. 240 Cyclene Mit. By Edward L. Wheeler. 241 min Brave and His, Bear Pards. By T. C. Harbaugh. dae xe Twe \Mloede%s or, SHENANDOAR LL AND His Gane. By Oharles Merris. A he Disguised Pmided ay Wap Ravmn, THE RANGER OF THE NoRTH. a dl March fist By tal Slexra Sam THE puns FERRET. Edward L, Wheeler. Ready March 28th, A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by alb Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail om receipt. of six cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York,