Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 24) (1878 01 07)
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— a (ar) (am 4 AKC Bs i Copyrighted in 1878, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. df “Le a neh a ot a a dl a ad lal a ali an No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. Dirk; The Mystery of the Yellowstone Diamond OR, BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, AUTHOR OF ‘‘THE FLYING YANKEE,” ‘“‘ RALPH ROY, THE BOY BUCCANEER,” ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I. THE DEATH-SHOT, A CURLING column of blue smoke floated lazily upward from a little clump of timber, overhang- ing the clear waters of Trail creek, not many aie from the great and wonderful valley of the Yellowstone, whose mysteries are known to | but few men, and Whose marvelous beauties will become the theme of the historian, the traveler | and the poet. . Through the trees glim- mered a cheerful fire of huge logs, and around it were grouped half a dozen men enjoying the blazing warmth, for a light snow lay upon the ground, and a cold wind he half reclined upon a folded serape and puffed silently away at a cigar. Upon his right, seated-upon a log, was a man of slender form, swarthy face, and quick, nervous manner, while his dark eyes seemed ever flitting from face to face. His hunting-snit was faultless, his nationality evidently French, and his manners easy and those of a thorough man of the world. Upon the left of the Englishman was one who in any land would be recognized as an Amer- ican. He was a man of striking ober! dressed half in buck-skin, half in military attire, for he wore his fringed leggins stuck in cavalry boots, and his dark, curling hair was sheltered by a proad-rimmed sombrero encircled by a golden cord, and ornamented with a pair of crossed sabers of gold. His form was faultless, graceful, and his face not only a very handsome one, but every fea- was blowing up with the ap- proaching night. In the Seomerodiill of the camp-fire were two tents and behind these, sheltered from the wind by the canvas walls and thick foliage, were a dozen horses, or rather In- dian ponies, those hardy lit- tle animals that climb the mountains like a goat, and scour the prairies with the speed of an antelope. Hanging to the limbs of the trees were saddles, bridles and other accouterments, while leaning against the trunks were several rifles, ready at hand for use. It was a cheerful camp- scene, and those about the fire seemed greatly to enjo it; for they were idly watch- ing the movements of a ne- gro, as he skillfully prepared a most tempting supper of buffalo-steaks, prairie veo. onions, roast potatoes an coffee. Another negro was busy bustling about the tents, spreading blankets and pre- paring for the night’s rest, which soon all would seek, The four remaining per- sons were strangel¥ unlike in appearance, and two of them seemed wholly unused to a wild life upon the plains. One of was evidently an Englishman—tall, well- formed, handsome and stern- looking. He was dressed in the suit of a huntsman, and wore a soft slouch hat that cast his face in deeper shadow, while Diamond Dirk drew rein suddenly forcing his steed back upon his haunches, 5 Cents. | ture was stamped with fearlessness, determina- tion and intellect. At the time he is presented to the reader he was engaged in polishing the silver mounting of his Evans's rifle, which held in its slender stock thirty-four leaden messengers of death. Upon the other side of the fire, meditative, sat a prairie-man, for suc tire and appearance indicated. His buck-skin suit was worn, yet fancifully fringed, and trimmed with quills stained red and blue. He wasa man of herculean build, about forty ie of age, yan Pontoon a face weather-beaten | and scarred, as if from eg to rough usage of the elements, steel and lead. ¥ Around his waist was a buck-skin belt, hold- | ing a pair of serviceable revolvers, and a long knife, whose blade was dented from hilt to point. A faded, stained sombrero covered his head, and at his side, as if from habit, was his rifle, a seven-shooter. As the shades of night crept over the encampment the snow began to fall heav- ily, and the party of four gathered around the repast set before them by the ne cook—those four were Englishman, the Earl of Lochiel; his comrade, Jules Vernon, once an officer of the French army; Captain Leo Markham, from Fort Ellis, and to whom the English noble had brought letters of introduction from friends in New York, and who had ac- cepted the invitation to join the party for a hunt in the Yellowstone valley. The fourth man was Tra per Dan, the scout and gui of the expedition, and said to be the only man who had ever gone alone into the un- known land which love of adventure and sport had in- fluenced the Earl of Lochiel and Jules Vernon to explore. At Boseman the expedi- tion had been fitted out, ponies, pack-mules and other necessaries purchased, and with a ape ger" guide and Pompey and Jake, the two negro servants, the dari little party had set fo upon their adventurous trip— venturous, because around them were bands of hostile Indians, and they were going into a country where few white men and.no red men uiet and his at- An eis land where ing waters were side by side and silvery streams bound over precipices a thousand feetin hight. Where dark caverns pene- trated the mountains, and deep canyons sent forth ten
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2 thousand echoes from one sound—where weird, spectral beings were said to dwell, and which the Indians called the home of the Bad Spirit. But undaunted by superstition and strange rumors the daring party pushed on, and left be- hind them their fellow-men. As the snowy flakes fell around them and shut out all the world except about their camp-fire, and the winds howled mournfully through the tree-tops, the party crouched closer to each other, and more logs were thrown, upon the fire, for they could not but feel a dread, a loneliness, that would not be banished. Then, from his shelter in the tent, a large, gaunt hound arose, sniffed the air, and from red mouth came forth a long and piteous howl. Thrice it was repeated, and Pompey, the cook, said, in subdued tones: ‘Now jist listen ter that durned dorg—he’s tryin’ to skeer us.” ‘Yas, an’ he needn’t skeered now,” announced Jake. Whether Lord Gilbert, the Earl of Lochiel was impressed also by the dog’s pitiful wail, I know not, but he said sternly: “Down, Noble! down, sir!” “Yas, my lord, or his cussed rackit ’ll fotch Ingins lookin’ for us, an’ then some on us will git er bullet inter our hearts,” said Trapper Dan. Then he arose, and continued quietly: “ll just scout round the camp a leetile, an’ then we'll turn in, for I is very tired, an’ [’se got a heavy feelin’ heur.” As he spoke he laid his hand u his heart— the last act of his life, for from the gloom of the trees came a whirring sound, and Trapper Dan fell heavily to the ground. Leo Markham was the first one by his side, and a cry of horror burst from his lips: “Good God! an arrow is buried in his heart!” CHAPTER, IL. ON THE TRAIL. SEVERAL days after the departure of the party of Lord Gilbert from Boseman City, a stranger arrived in town, coming from Sterling. He was well mounted, well dressed, and well armed—a slender, graceful parath, seeming scarcely more than dala and yet with a face strangely sad and strangely stern commingled, His features were bold, and most regular, his eyes large, full of fire, and even restless, while upon his mouth rested a look of almost nervous- ness, though his manner was cool as an iceberg, and his hand as steady as iron. “Stopping at the best tavern in Boseman, he at once sought the host and asked: ‘Have you entertained an English nobleman and a Frenchman here of late?” “Yes; they left several days ago upon a fool- hardy trip to the Yellowstone.” A shade of Seanpeninens crossed the face of the stranger, and he said, slowly: “To the. Yellowstone?” ‘‘Yes—they have gone on a hunt there; but I think the Injuns will soon drive ’em back.” “How many were in the party?” “The Eng n, the nchman, Captain Leo Markham, an officer from the fort, Trapper the , and two niggers.” ff, head Song risky, I should think: but it is absolutely necessary that I should follow this rd, and I would be glad if you would direct me to a guide.” ‘You ain’t a-going alone, stranger? You'll be nabbed, sure.” “Tl be glad to have you tell me where I can get a guide?” asked the stranger, unheeding the remark of the host. . ‘‘There is none of the boys in, now—” ‘“‘'Yas—there’s several as has jist come in from Alf Slade’s old ranch,” volunteered a bar-room Joafer, and he added, with a view to earning a drink, “Tl go and tell ’em yer wants em. “Do so, my man,” and the stranger handed the loafer a shinplaster. s e@me a room, and when the men come send them up—also have dinner for me in an hour.” , The stranger was shown to the best room in the house, for there was something in his man- ner and appearance that commanded xt. With an air of weariness he threw himself no more, ’kase I’se into a chair and covered his face with his hands. ee For some moments he sat thus, and when at length he removed his hands titten the ond.is,camingatter 1 As end is g—after long ya end | ost here—a. few more days and Gil- bert, Earl of Lochiel, Jules Vernon and myself weilietiaes rates face to face—meet, not as we |J once did, ; his face was very but in the American wilds where I Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. have tracked them—Ha! here.comes the guide. Come in!” he called out as a knock was heard. “Here is several of ther boys, in, an’ they’s teams, you bet, ef yer want fellers as is on the shoot at the drop o’ a hat,” and the messenger thus introduced four men, who entered the room with him. Four men whose appearance was certainly border-like, and who looked as though they were all that they had been represented—tall, mus- cular, rough-looking fellows, with long beards, and longer hair—men who held their lives in their hands, who dwelt upon the open prairie two-thirds of tife time, ond were in some devil- ment the other third. They were dressed in frontier garb and were thoroughly armed with revolvers and long knives. ‘Be seated, gentlémen—T sent for you to talk business—here, my man, have glasses, liquors and cigars sent up.” The loafer disap and the men threw themselves into chairs, and gazed upon the mere youth before them. Then the loafer returned, accompanied by a servant bearing the required drinkables; behind the two came another perscusme- 4 tall, splendidly-formed man, of perhaps twenty-five, with aface strangely handsome, a blonde mus- tache that a Broadway exquisite would have been proud of, long golden curls that a,woman would have dasiede and. dark-blue eyes, fringed with the lon lashes. His was a face that if sssed by a woman would have won men’s hearts by the score—as a man’s face, it was the admiration of both men and women. He was dressed in a new suit of the finest buck-skin, ornamented with symbols worked in blue, black and red quills, and beads of various colors. He wore moccasins, and his step was as light as an Indian’s, while his head was sheltered by a dove-colored sombrero, pinned up on one side with a small, gold dirk, in the hilt of which glittered a diamond of rare size and purity. Around his waist was, a sash of red silk, half concealing a pair of large silver-mounted pis- tols, and a gold-handled bowie-knife, while at his back slung one of Evans’s thirty-four shoot- = rifles. e looked more like anexquisite,—dressed for a masquerade, than a frontiersman—yet there was something in his darkly browned face that proved he had seen rough service. As he took a seat near the window, and bowed to the stranger, he smiled pleasantly, the act dis- playing even rows of the whitest teeth. “This heur is Diamond Dirk, sir, the boss of ther prearie, an’ ther whitest man in these heur S. ; Such was the loafer’s introduction of the new comer, who said, pleasantly: ““My name is Dudley, sir—on the plains my friends call me Dirk Dudley, and Diamond Dirk, on account of a whim I have to wear this pin in my hat. Whisky Sam heur says you desire to speak with me. . There was something in Diamond Dirk’s manner that at once drew the stranger toward him, and he returned with respect: “My name is Belford, sir, and I am glad to meet you. I sent for a guide to the Yellow- sens, and pee here, = eee ed ee gentlemen—he ourselves, please, and then we will falk posineen” ; The four first comers at once obeyed the invi- tation, and oor’ while W y Sam, the loafer, sidled up, to the table and dashed off a quantity of brandy that would have served a cinal P the Yellowston@, you said?” “Yes—a of six persons left here several days ago, for that country, and it is my desire to strike their trail—I wish a competent guide, and as many men as ee eee take for protection— you be that guide “Yes—the Yellowstone is a country into which few white men venture, and seldom is a red-skin found in the vicinity: I will guide you there, sir, and my four comrades, here, will go too—will you not, boys?” . ‘Oh yas we'll go anywhar for tin,” said Powder Bob, so called from his powder-burnt face. “You shall be liberally paid, all of you—to you, Dudley, I leave the out of the ex- edition—here is money—and I desire to start | with to-morrow’s sun.” *‘ We will be ready, sir—are you well mount- ed yourself?” . ‘Yes, and thoroughly armed—if you wish two more men, besides our four friends here, get them, for the service I am going on, I warn you, is no child’s play—I wish men to face any danger that I dare risk.” b- “We're ther boys ter dance ter yér'musick, vou bet,” said Prairie Pete, one of the worthy quartette. “s “That is what I wish—he who skulks, quar- rels with me—let the boys have some money out of what I have given you, Dudley, to get any- thing that they may need: but mind you, no spreeing—he who gets drunk I will leave be- hind,” and Burt Belford spoke in an earnest manner that proved he would not be trified with. ; A moment after he was alone with his seem- ingly gloomy thoughts: but with the break of day he was in the saddle, and with Dirk Dudley, and six stalwart frontiersmen, rode away out of Boseman, and struck out upon the trail of Lord Gilbert and his party. CHAPTER II. A STRANGE DELIVERANCE. Wuen Leo Markham beheld the arrow im- bedded in the heart of Trapper Dan, he lost no time in vain regrets, but with more courage than prudence, bounded at once into the timber, running in the direction from whence the shot had come—he was maddened at the cowardly assassination of the-poor guide, and was deter- mined to avenge him. ’ He had gone but a few rods, when a tall form was dimly seen flying before him. With increased speed the young soldier rush- ed on, firing several shots at the retreating form: but apparently with no effect, as the assassin sped on with undiminished vigor. Dimly seen through the falling snow, and shadows of night, the fugitive looked strange- ly weirdlike and spectral, for he was clad from orgs to foot in white, and seemed of herculean “Ha! Tam gaining be him—he is a tremen- dous fellow, but I will try my strength with him,” cried Leo Markham, and with increased speed, he rushed on—rushed on to the next in- stant be confronted by the pursued—he had suddenly turned upon his pursuer. ickly the young officer raised his revolver and pulled the trigger—the cap snapyed, and ere he could offer more resistance es was in the arms of a giant. Leo Markham was the crack shot, rider ‘and gymnast of the fort, and his strength was con- sidered marvelous; but he suddenly found him- self powerless to struggle even, ‘in the arms of the being who then held him in his powerful grasp. Could it be human? he thought—this huge, brute-like being, robed in the skin of a grizzly bear, tall, muscular, and almost a giant? eyes glared in the darkness, and it seem- ed that by their light almost, the young sol- dier discovered that masses of dark hair hung to his adversary’s waist, and a beard, knotted and rough, reached to his belt, in which was a long, double-bladed knife. The hard run after the wild-looking man, caused Leo Markham to pant for breath; but he noticed that he who held him thus powerless to move, breathed naturally; the race had been nothing to him. With gigantic efforts Leo Markham struggled to ‘free If—to at least raise his revolver, or draw his knife—it was impossible—the man held him in a clutch of iron, while he hissed forth in a voice hoarse with passion: “You have followed me to your ruin, boy— come, come to my dominions; you will make rare sport for me in my home of the damned.” “Good God! I am in the hands of a madman —the strange stories told by hunters and In- dians are too true,” thought Leo Markham, and with d te energy he made another ef- fort to free self. But in vain the struggle; the madman held his arms in his clutch of steel, raised him from the ground and strode swiftly away through the timber, muttering unintelligible words in his , hollow voice. A mile perhaps he had gone, and then he ushed aside the thick foliage of a thicket, as if thread his way through, yet still holding the soldier in his iron grasp. As the thicket parte there came a loud roar, a heavy blow, and Leo Markham felt the blood spurt from a wound in his head. : With a scream of rage, a demoniacal shriek, the madman hurled his prisoner from hin with terrible force and sprung forward, ' ia ¢
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ti / : Oe —- - SO VO See Leo Markham’s head struck the trunk of a | ee, and the fall half-stunned him; yet though | devil.” una le to rise, he witnessed the terrible scene that followed. The thicket’s foli was shoved violently | aside, and from it, with angry growls, stalked a huge reared upon his hind-feet, mouth bear. open, and fore-claws extended—a monster of'the | clouds h forest, disturbed in his lair, and turning upon him who had dared to intrude upon his nap. But he, who in his bear-skin attire, seemed scarcely less brutish than the great monster, drew his gleaming knife, and, with a terrible rushed to the attack. ith terrific force the man and brute came pe Rr ig Dy then began an awful struggle, with the -stunned soldier as an au- nce Over the snow-clad earth, crashing through | the thicket, trampling the ground, crushing the | = and with sa growls and fierce cries deadl combat—struggled until the growls of the meant became weaker and weaker, and | the cries of the madman fiercér and louder. At length the two fell heavily to the ground— | gone to cate a-fierce moment of combat, and the human be- ot lie tative tone bik tiie’ his. kage ea. of joy rom his uge - | drenched knife raised above his head. Then Leo Markham, still weak and benumbed, attempted to prepare for the death-struggle, which he expected would come, for mad with | blood he feared his captor would turn upon him, | With a t effort he to raise his revolver; but ere he could fire there burst from | the madman’s lips a | of demoniac laughter, and with the speed of a deer he bounded away and disappeared in the timber. cn Thank God! he has forgotten my very ex- istence—now, Leo Markham, if Pi. prize life, you had better strike the back.trail for camp, or you may yet see that devil’s dominions,” So saying, the young soldier shook himself to- | faking as best he could, staggered to his feet, and ing the track they had come.and which was | plainly marked through the snow, he walked on | with all the hh and speed he could sum- mon. : As he proceeded he gained new strength, and a. halt an hour came in sight of the camp- re. A moment more and he threw himself down before the burning logs, his head and face red with blood, from one of the sharp claws of the bear in his first blow, and his appearance that | at once, and retreat up of a man who had seen somnenes terrible. The “Well, you met and punished the slayer of the guide,” cried Lord Gilbert, hurrying anx- iously toward him. “Tmet him—it was the Devil himself,” and | Leo Markham fainted away from loss of blood | and exhaustion. CHAPTER IV. MORE MYSTERY. Diamond Dirk. With the of day the camp was astir. The snow onde to fall, Put dull, leaden rty. Leo Markham, though weak, was seemingl fence wrapped In the bark of the tree at the head of his grave Jules Vernon skillfully carved Oe name | the man and the brute struggled in the the three white men sat down to the breakfast which Pompey had red, The hae seat dnished when Jake dashed ashen with fright as he “Oh, Lordy! oh, Lordy!” ‘What the devilis the matter, man? Speak out!” cried Lord Gilbert. **T dunno; I dunno.” “You do not know? Well, what are you frightened about, you black scamp?” “T see’d a ghost—’fore the Lord I did,” cried | the negro, ‘* A ghost! nonsense. You have been fright- ened at your own shadow, Jake,” said Markham. ‘*No, sah! I don’t hab no shadow. when. de sun don’t shine. I was out yander, an’ I heerd a noise, an’ a hoss went by me like lightnin’, an’ on he back was a gal.” ** An Indian, or a white girl, Jake?” ‘““How_I know, sah? She went flyin’, I tell you, an’ I made tracks fur camp.” Leo Markham was about to reply, when from tee saptaif of a hill near by came a loud, clear 00. All started, and turned their eyes in the direc- tion from whence came the sound; but they _ could see no one, | Again was the halloo repeated, and in his ringing voice Leo Markham shouted back in _ answer. our trail—strike camp Yellowstone, valley, will not follow you there.” @ voice was clear, distinct, girlish, but the speaker was invisible. Who pang she be? None knew, none. could guess, and in wonder- ment they remained Silent. “T have warned you—you have no time to lose—the red-skins are not far away,” again called out the voice. ‘‘ The Indians are on _ Lorp Gilbert was considerable of a surgeon | can easily follow it thrGath the snow, and I in his way—in early life he had seen h ser- vice in India, and more than once felt a y's / knife or bullet seeking his own life, hence he at _ once set to work to dress the cut in Captain | ; Markham’s head, and stanch the bleeding. This done, he soon revived the young soldier, time to lose.’ who had fainted from loss of blood, and in an | hour’s time Leo Markham was able to Ten ecomene of rs de adventure an y deliverance a beast, scarcely more | wild than the Bo thas - “Now, what is to be done ? Tree Dan lies over there, under yonder tree, dead—the arrow pierced his heart, and we are without a guide,” said Lord Gilbert. “True, and I am not enough of a plainsman to actas guide—were the snow off the ground, I could doubtless do well enough; but my limited teed knowl of ceases at this dif- ficulty—we w: ve to retrace our steps,” re- plied Captain Markham “Tt is too bad; but I will get other guides and return—I will not be disappointed of my hunt in these wilds. Will you be wel] en to ride pe aged Tl be all right in th : yes; rig e@ morning. We will dren bury poor Dan and return to the fort for guides—I am anxious to solve this mys- tery of mad a he is not else— I was a mere child in powerful clutch.” A few moments lo party laid to the two dogs of the ex- pedition asta? as sentinels, and Pompey a arge logs r conversation and the | ve a cided to follow the strange time- or she might. ake placing. themselves between two | they carried into their tent, for the purpose, as the latter remarked: | come, they Our guide was killed last night. We know not the way,” cried Leo Markhaen “Then come to this strike my trail—you will lead you to a place of safety.” “Who are our we “Your guide.” * Are you man or w ?’ “Tt ma’ not, mn, for you have. no A short consultation followed, and. it was de- guide, where he What could they do?” They were without a guide far in the wilder- feo and like drowning men they caught at a Ww, The ponies were quickly saddled, the tents struck and packed, and then the moved away from the encampment, by the grave of Trapper Dan. Leo Markham led the way, and upon. reach- Lg eta ae one ML ie, yreee had discerned the tracks of a pon evidently an unshod m ae The trail had come from: the timber where Jake had been to catch the stray pony, and led down from the hill into the valley. But the pony and its mysterious rider were had_ disappeared, ked trail. ut hesitation they followed the tog 3 was a pushed on in the trail of their unknown an 3 them to safety, and yet who kept so mysteri- ously out of their sight. Each one of the little party had the same by, Tactile they being led to safety or eath? CHAPTER V. FATHER AND SON. From the wilds of the American frontier, where the red-skin and coyote alike nangot the trail of the white man, to the pleasant old England, the kind reader is to a scene of rare beauty where wealth and cul- tivated tastes have made a lordly home all that man could desire. Fronting the restless sea stands a grand old hom , where generation after generation of a noble name have sprung into existence, lived their allotted of years, and found a ing-place in the ily burying-ground, ex- cepting a few brave. spirits who have fallen on the field of battle in foreign lands, ar gone to a deep grave beneath the sea. In a magnificently -furnished chamber of this lordly home, some eighteen years before the opening of this story, were two persons, whose faces and forms were strangely alike, though there was nearly two score of years difference between their ages. The one was a haughty-faced, handsome man of sixty-five, with erect, graceful form, although his hair and were. snow-white, He was attired in dressing-gown and slippers, sat in a large easy-chair, and upon his face rest- “toto a age oe tena & t respect- ore e roud- e ful, stood his youthful counterpart, bis son. A little framed, perhaps, than his fa- ther, yet srenerty, Eke him in face and form. His eyes were dark, his features regular, and altogether, clad as he was in the uniform of a cav- ary. officer, he was.a splendid-looking specimen o otnen you positiv: ws | refuse to peel é the Lady Rosine, sir?’ asked the elderly gentleman sternly. ““T do, father—as I told you, my hand must go with my heart—and my heart is already P to another.” *“Nonsense—the Lady Rosine is beautiful, an heiress, of the best blood of England, and you are a fool not to jump at the chance of becom- ing her husband.” “T admit, father, that she is all that ycu say; bret am aay rane ancetet and will not m w er. WS And that cther is—” : “*T would prefer not to name her, sir—when I return from India, if I am not killed there, I hope to make her my wife.” “Of course she is a pauper?’ sneeringly said the old nobleman. ‘She is little better, sir—her father is very r. ae thought it; but I command you to tell me her name. hee me officer was silent a moment—then “Do you remember, father, that. when my acht was wrecked a year ago on the coast below ere, a young gir) saved my life at the risk of her own-—came out alone in a life-boat and took me from the wreck, ay, and half a dozen ““Yes—her father was a reduced gentleman, and I repaid the deed by getting dim Santon, as keeper of the light-house on the point: below.” “True, sir; but the deed the daughter did for me can never. be repaid. I love , and she loves me.” The old man was upon his feet in an instant— “You love the daughter.of Luther Lawton?’ ‘“* Yes sir—I confess it frankly.” “You, the heir to my name, title and estates, make this confession— t you love a poor, un- “Ho =p sp she is poor, I admit: but her to no lady’s in that a woman -h im humble | regs her father ven. her every advantage, an is every respect t equal of the lovely The YOUNG s0RR spoke warmly, yet with per- fect respect in tone and manner. “You are a fool, boy to » the name of da of Luther Lawton—him, I know of. io danttion tak chip of veg ae carry news Lady Rosine you offered her your " —I will tell her what I please now, and I warn
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“k Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ou to remember that upon your return from india, Ishall expect you todo as I wish you to— marry the oneI select for you. Youhave but an hour to catch the train for Liverpool, and your ship sails to-morrow—aud remember, my son, although we are parting sow, you to go upon a dnugerous service in a far-away land, | am very angry with you.” “T am sorry, father—farewell,” and the young man held forth his hand. : The old noble bowed low, refused the offeréd band, and with a pale face the son turned away. The carriage, with its liveried coachman and footmen, was at the door, and around it was drawn ascore of servants to waft the young master a good-by and God-speed. The young officer passed hastily down the line, with a kind word to each, sprung into the carriage, and ~vaved an adieu to his father, who ~ stern aid unforgiving at the open win- ow. The old nobleman bowed stiffly, the yes man bit his lips, either in anger or sorrow, an the carriage rolled away rapidly toward the station. CHAPTER VI. THE LOVERS. Wuew the train dashed up to the station, the young officer sprung on board and quietly took a seat near the car door. Half an hour after there was a halt at a small town and the officer stepped out on the plat- forms called to a waiting carriage. and said e uietly. Wi Driver, I wish to go down to the wharf.” Ten minutes after the carriage drew up on the wharf, and the officer beckoned to a sailor to approach, My man, I wish to charter a trim little craft = a sail of a few days—have you such a ves- sel? “*T have, sir—the neatest in the harbor—she was once a gentleman’s yacht; and I got her at a bargain, for my trade, sir, which is that of a fisherman; but I have not yet had ascale on board of her.” ‘*Good! when can she be ready?” * At once, sir.” ; “Very well, I will accompany you—here driver, carry this to the telegraph office,” an taking his pencil the young man hastily scribbled upon a piece of paper the following lines. “To Colonel Decatur Melton, Com’d’g —th Dragoons, Steamship Hindoo, Liverpool. “Am detained; will meet you at mouth of chan- nel. Keep bright look-out for red flag, or red light, at mast-head of small schooner-yacht. MELRosE.” “Be sure that this goes at once, driver, and keep the change. Now, my man, I am ready.” e hackman drove off, pleased with his lib- eral fee, and the officer followed the seaman to a dock, 0 ite to which lay a graceful schooner- yacht of thirty tons burden, “There’s the beauty, your honor,” and the seaman “yo with pride to his vessel. “She is a beauty, indeed. Now, get a cre of half a dozen men, and provisions for a week’s cruise,” and ged oe gone a ‘roll of notes in the hands of the sailor, who at once called to,a tleman'on board the comrade to row the gen yacht, while he departed to get ready for the vo 5 : Tale an hour afterward the little vessel, under a cloud of canvas, was flying down the coast. An hour’s run, and a point of land, dotted by a large light-house came in sight, and just at the anchor was dropped close in shore. Upon the beach stood two ons, watchin the approach of the vessel—the one, a man o fifty-five, perha plainly in a suit of blue-flannel, and with a face marked with sad- ness. At his side stood a maiden of eighteen, neatly attired, and with a face of rare uty, and a form of yielding wes ‘Father, it isthe captain. I felt that he would not sail without seeing us,” and as the maiden spoke her face turned crimson. “You are right, Ada; it is the captain. Let us meet him as he lands.” As the officer sprung asHore he was warmly~ by both father and daughter; but as soon as the’ welcome was over, he said earn- estly : The ta#ion. an interview with my father convinces me’ that he will never consent to my. anion with your daughter; hence I am deter- mined to act for myself, and have come to ask Ada re my wife this ve et A baer priest lives near you; send for him, and wil make your daughter my bride.” The with secret joy, while the maiden hung her head in confusion. ‘low Then Luther Lawton said slowly: *“You wish this marriage to remain a secret, I STEROP, until you desire to make it known?” ‘Yes, it isbetterso. Ihave bidden my father farewell, and he now believes me to be on my way to Liverpool to join my regiment; but T telegraphed my colonel that I would meet the steamer off the mouth of the channel. Now, Ada are you willing to become my wife secretly, an on this.short notice?” yor Ry d ‘Then I will at once hasten and fetch Father Carter. Ada, see the captain into the house,” and Luther Lawton, with a tical joy at his moseh hurried away, and the lovers were left one. That evening, in the cosey little parlor of the light-house, a quiet wedding ceremony was held, and the lovers me man and wife. Tn the seclusion of the lonely little home sev- eral days passed away in perfect joy to the young ee and then the young officer bade is beautiful wife good-by, for a long time— perhaps, forever—and embarked on fis little | yacht to head off the India-bound steamer. By good luck the Hindoo was sighted a few hours after, and having bribed the crew to se- crecy, regarding the voyage of the yacht, the young officer sprung on the deck of the steamer, and was greeted with a loud hurrah from his brother soldiers, for he was the favorite of the whole regiment. Then, while the little yacht sped back toward the shores of old England, the soldier-laden Hin- doo sailed swiftly away for the far-off land of India, then rent with the shock of battle, CHAPTER VII. | THE BRIBE. SEVERAL months after the departure of the | oung officer for India, a liveried carriage drove | uriously along the beach-road, leading to the | pooner home of Luther Lawton, the light-house | eeper. ; / At the window of her pleasant little home, sat _ | Ada, the young wife, and her face turned pale | as she beheld the carriage draw up at the door- way, and the stern old father of her husband | dismount therefrom. ‘Father, the Earl of Lochiel is at the door— what can he want?” cried Ada, in alarm. The face of Luther Lawton became livid, and | a smothered curse arose to his lips; but he hastily went forward to meet the nobleman, and ted him at the door. + “Lawton, I have come to see you upon a | matter of deep import to you and to me; I would see you in the presence of your daugh- | ter,” and the Earl of Lochiel spoke ‘sternly, and looked as if both troubled and angry: Walk in pe a this is his lordship, | the Earl of iel.” Ada bowed low, and the nobleman turned u sot ing a glance of the closest scrutiny, while he said: “Lawton, a poor Ms gece 7d of a sailor came | to me this morning, and made a most startling | disclosure, for which, of course, he wishes to be liberall id.” 3 that disclosure, my lord?” quietly said “ce An Luther Lawton, while Ada sat as white and still as a statue. ‘Was that ticed my son Melrose into a secret marriage—” “ Tt is false, my lord—” “Thank God!’ “Hold, my lord, and do not misunderstand me—I say it is utterly false that my daughter and myself enticed your son into a secret mar- a And I say thank God!” ‘‘Hear me, Earl of Lochiel, your son’s life was saved through the courage of my daughter, | and between the two there sprung up a friend- | ship that ended in rong more, as you seem possessed of the facts, I will sa that ere your son sailed for India, he came hither in a small yacht and was married to my daughter.” **Ah! curses on you, Luther Lawton, for al- this act of infamy.” . : ** Act of ihfamy, my lord—explain yourself.” | “Do you not know that Melrose is already married?” It was a hard shot, and poor Ada fell with a | ory of despair u the floor. nstantly. her father sprung toward her. ‘Let her lie there, she has only swooned, and | now hear me.” The alarmed father obeyed methodically. * **Tasked you did you know that my son al- ready had a wife?” *“T do not believe it, my lord.” | “Fool that you are—he has dragged your | daughter down to infamy, and—” ou and your daughter had en- . | I will now of | face, browned almost “ Have you proof of this, Earl of Lochiel?’ ‘What! is my word doubted by you, sir—by | you, whom years.ago I rescued from shame and dishonor, and can to-day send to—” “Hold! my lord, for God’s sake do not recall my embittered past,” cried Luther Lawton, in an agony of grief. way “Then doubt not my word, sir.” For a moment there was silence—the stricken | father kneeling by the side of his unconscious daughter, the nobleman cold and stern before him, At length the Earl of Lochiel spoke, and his tones were strangely stern and determined: ‘* Luther Lawton, it was your ambition that urged you on to allow this marriage ;, forgettin, the past, you have done me a great wrong, an you should be punished for it, for well you know I hold that against you which—” ‘“‘T know it—spare me, here in the presence of my child,” groaned the unhappy nian. cs m one condition.” - Namé it, my lord.” “You love gold, if L remember aright?” Luther Lawton gave a low moan, and the Earl of Lochiel continued: “* As your daughter is disgraced, she will not care to remain longer here. As your vay here is small, you will desire to better your condi- tion, so I offer you the following terms—leave England at once for America, go. at night, go secretly, cover up your tracks, so that none may know where you have gone, and swear that neither you or your daughter will, ever make known your whereabouts to my son, and ive you five thousand pounds.” “ And if Y retiree “my lord?” “T have certain little Poets that I will at once place in my attorney’s hands.” ) The man trembled, and then said, slowly: “Were I not a poor man, Earl of Lochiel— were I alone in the world, I would let you do your worst; but for my daughter’s sake I ac- cept your terms,” ‘And you will at once leave for America?” “ Yes.’ “ Leaving no trace behind you?” **T promise.” “You will in no way communicate with my son—you or your daughter?” ‘**T promise.” ss will you swear it?” “T swear it.” “Good—within a short while my agent will pay you the money, and to-night I will send my yates for you. Go on board, and catch the American-bound vessel, steamer or sailer.” “So be it, my lord.” iB > 4 you deceive me I will be revenged, Luther n ““T will keep my word, sir.” Without another word the nobleman turned away, and the wretched father bent_over his still more wretched daughter, who was slowly recovering conscioushess... . “Oh, father, was what he said true?’ cried the miserable young wife. ‘*He would scarcely lie to us, Ada.” ‘*Oh, father! let us go far away from here.” “We will, my ge ter. We will leave to- night for America, where none know our shame where none can ever find us, There we will live for each other. Are you better, Ada” “Yes, at the thought of going aver from here: but my heart is crushed—my life is a blank,” “ Then nerved to the task before her Ada arose and aided her father in packiri their household effects, and at early dawn the follow- ing morning they went on board the Earl’s yacht, and on the evening of the same day were in the cabin of a clipper-ship, bound for the port of New York. CHAPTER VIII. TOO LATE, Two horsemen were riding slowly along a broad trail leading from a station on the Over- land Stage Route, to Fort Hall, The one was a pale-face, the other a red-skin, The white man was mounted on a bay mare of rare beauty, and. possessing every indication and bottom, e was dressed in a suitof buck-skin, wore top boots, a soft black hat, and was armed with a rifle slung on his back, and revolvers and knife in his belt. His form was tall, e, and elegant, and his the hue of an Indian, was exceedingly handsome, : His companion rode a way mustang, with bear-skin saddle und rope bridle—was attired in
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the full Indian costume, and carried, besides a long rifle, a pistol, knife, tomahawk, and bow and arrows, ) , Quietly the two rode along, the Indian slight- ly in advance, and coming to a small clump of timber they drew rein, as though to halt for rest But ere they could dismount there broke on their ears half a dozen wild yells, and up from their concealment sprung as many painted sav- ages—the wild Sioux. Instantly the white man whipped out a re- volver in each *hand, drove the spurs into his willing mare, and bounded forward, with but one word upon his lips: ** Come!’ But in vain the effort of the Indian to follow him—the Sioux threw themselves forward, dragged him from his pony, and a glance be- hind him proved to the white man that his red companion was already dead. : ; But the savages shrunk back from the ring- ing revolvers, and the pale-face passed on, a slight wound in his arm from an arrow, and his steed bleeding from a like wound in the neck. Instantly at his heels came a crowd of pursu- ers, yelling and firing: but the swift mare dis- tanced them within ten minutes, and the rider kept her at an easy gallop along the broad trail. ire stn set the welcome walls of Fort Hall loomed in sight, and riding into the inclosure, the horseman asked to see the commandant. An orderly at once led him to the rooms of the officer in command, who greeted him pleas- antly, at the same time gazing upon him with admiration in his looks. ‘** Colonel, I have sought you, sir—” ‘But you are bleeding, sir—your arm is wet with blood,” interrupted the officer. ‘*A mere scratch, sir—received an hour since from one of your red savages.” “What! have you come alone through this country, and been attacked thus near the fort?” ‘“No, colonel—I had an Indian guide from a station on the Overland Route—he was killed in an ambush which we rode into: but, sir, I have sought you to make inquiries re; ing a large emigrant train, which cam here several weeks ago, and was seeking a spot to settle in this country.” **Yes—they pressed on against my wishes, nay, against my orders, for they said they did not fear the Indians—were well armed, equip- ae and hal a score of good fighters among hem—do you belong to the party?” “No, sir: but there are those’ in the train whom I seek—whom I have sought for four years, and only a month ago got on their right track.” ‘Can T ask who the parties are?” “ Certainly —a gentleman and his daughter— his name was Luther Lawton.” ‘“VYes, I remember him, and especially his daughter and her beautiful child—”* ‘Her child! Had she a child then?” asked the stranger, with great excitement. : “Ves, a dear little thing, Portas five years old—and, it me to say, for I saw much of the child, that she greatly resembled you.” The stranger seemed deeply moved, and for some moments was silent, then he said, in his calm, deep tones: , “Colonel, that was ny wife, and my child— six years ago, and a few days after our mar- riage, I parted from my young bride, and a - Gruel fate took her from me; but I have tracked her for years, and now, thank God, am near her once more.” “ But, sir, they have gone into the country to the north of here—a country trailed by bands of hostile Indians, and you cannot follow them.” “Colonel, were the whole Indian race between me and my wife, I would seek her—a few years ago I served in India against a people whom you will admit are as cruel, if not as cunning, as the American red-skin, and I know something of bush life—besides, 1 have been a year on your frontier, from Texas to this tyre am superb- ly mounted, well armed, and after a day or two of rest, will continue on my way.” The colonel felt that he was talking to no or- dinary individual, and he at once invited his visitor to remain his guest as long as he desired. The stranger, whom the reader has ere this doubtless recognized as the young English offi- cer, the husband of Ada Lawton, accepted the tality of the commandant for several da’ and | He gay all remonstrances, de upon the trail of the emigrant-train, determined to find his lost bride. For days did the determined man follow the tril, his heart heavy with sorrow, as here and there, at an encampment, he came upon a lone- ly mound, the last resting-place of some poor Diamond Dirk. unfortunate who had fallen beneath an Indian’s | deadly aim. One evening he entered a lonely valley—a very Eden of uty, and the trail before him was so fresh that he felt those he sought could not be many hours ahead. » Then his heart fore him he beheld a wagon, and feeding upon the rich grass of the valley was. a stray horse. Spurring forward, his eyes flashing with de- light, he suddenly drew rein, then his face be- came livid, and he reeled like a drunken man in his saddle. ‘ Before him was a wagon it-was true; but around it lay half a dozen forms—dead, bleed- ing, pralpedt e of these forms he recognized as the body of Luther Lawton. In a frenzy of despair and fury, he rushed on —here his eyes fell upon another wagon, there upon a dead horse, and again upon the mangled body of a man, woman or child. In wild frenzy, he searched here and there— one loved form was yet concealed from him: but only for a while, as his eyes beheld a white robe, and long golden hair. In an instant he fell upon his knees beside that - form—a bullet wound was in her breast—a long, Iden scalp-lock had been torn from her head— the eyes stared wildly at the sky—one arm was clutched closely around a tender form—blood- stained and bedraggled—her child. It was Ada—his wife—and she was dead! He had come too late. With a moan of bitter anguish the strong man fell forward, and consciousness forsook him. CHAPTER IX AT BAY. «¢ AT a pace as rapid as they could go, with their pack-horses, Lord Gilbert and his party rode on, Pompey and Jake showing great anx- iety to lead the retreat. n hour’s ride brought them to the river at a seg not very many miles below Yellowstone e. Here the beautiful valley widened, with roll- ing hills, extending back some distance to the mainrange, and Leo Markham was anxious to press more swiftly on, for, if they were attacked there, they had little chance for protection. Ever and anon behind them was heard a wild shout, which proved that their enemies were still on their trail. Toward noon they came in sight of some re- markable looking Jedges, of erent colored stone, nearly a hun feet in ‘hight, and from fifty to sixty feet apart. ‘0 light snow led, and in a short while the little party found a shelter among the friendly ledges, tween which coursed a small rivulet. Here they lost the trail—it went to the very bank of the rivulet, and there it ended. Where had their mysterious guide gone? Around them the sheet of snow was unbroken, and their guide had Mey 1 Romi like magic. But they had no time to conjecture upon their de’s mysterious disappearance—behind them e cries of their pursuers drew nearer and nearer, CO tireless way, but like baying hounds on the track, a certain sign that’ they knew the num- ber of their foes, and were confident in their own stren: gth. “Here we must fight them—thatis evident; | ificent position, and © our | give us plenty of fire- | Leo Markham spoke coolly, and at once set to | we have certainly a m our horses can a y protected, while rifles and shot-guns will | arms. — to select a position, and prepare for de- ense. P He felt the d ration of their situation—he knew that the Indians must outnumber them ten to one, or they would not press on as they did; but he also knew well the Indian nature— he had sae them often before—and he was determined to fight them to the bitter end, for surrender to the Sioux was certain death. Tn a few moments the horses had been placed — in a sheltered position, a kind of rocky cham- ber in the cliff, and getting out their sprees . for defense, arms, as well as those they carried the little party stood at bay. “Now, Pompey, you and Jake must do your duty—those fellows coming are not ghosts; but pay the make ghosts of you if you don’t aid us | to t them off. When you yer oh ag ; but e Teo Mark- | both eyes, and blaze away at the ood aim and kill every time,” and am placed the two negroes in good itions, while Lord Gilbert remarked: ror ve a great leap of joy—be- | | upon the these the solitary trail through the on, not in their usually noiseless, | ! 5 ‘Wor every Indian you kill, boys, I will give _ you ten dollars.” | “*P’m gwine to git rich,” said Pompey, brave- ly, while Jake asked, demurely: ‘“Ef de dam’ Injuns kill me, how much you gwine to gib me, Massa Lord Gilbert?” “Give you burial—that is all; and if you show the white feather I'll kill you myself,” eed said Jules Vernon. Both Pompey and Jake felt that they were in close quarters, and at once settled themselves with the determination to do their duty. “Oh, Lordy! look a-yander!” It was Jake who spoke, and all eyes turned in the direction in which he pointed. | Was it a wonder that the brave faces of those three white men turned pale, that their fearless | hearts throbbed quickly at what they saw? Out from the shadow of a distant hill, follow- ing closely upon their trail, came a large band of moun undred strong. Was it not madness to attempt resistance against that force?” ‘“ It gulght be, but they would sell their lives early, “*Had we only been able to reach Emigrants’ | Gulch we would be safe. Beyond that point no Indian dare come. They will not intrude into what they superstitiously call the Devil’s Home,” said Leo Markham, “*T wish we could have reached it; but, as it is, we have’ but one chance—to fight it out,” said Lord Gilbert, quietly. “We were silly to come with so small a y,” returned Jules Vernon. t.is useless to bewail our errors now, gen- tlemen; we must fight. See, the Indians are preparing for an attack, for they doubtless now we are pidden here. Fools! do they think a couple of scores of warriors can dislodge us?” and Captain Markham laughed, as he saw a small band of Sioux separate themselves from the main body. Mounted upon their hardy ponies, the detail of warriors came dashing on toward the ledges, yeni fiercely as they rode. As if confident of an easy victory, they swept up in solid mass, until only two hundred yards separated them from the little party. “Now! all together! fire!” As Leo Markham’s stern order rung out, five shots pealed forth, and down went several In- dians and ‘ponies, for even Pompey and Jake had not thrown their fire away. Then, in the confusion that followed, the rat- tling of the repeating rifles was heard, and war- rior and pony went down until a dozen lay Meg and the demoralized Sioux turned with wild cries, and rushed back toward the shelter of the distant hills. “That has taught them a lesson—now, they will attack us in full force,” quietly said Cap- tain Markham, hastily reloading his matchless Evans's rifle. : It was at once evident that Captain Markham spoke truly. The whole band at once moved out from the hill. ‘* They are dividing into four parties, and will attack us from as many points simultaneously,” said Jules Vernon, 7. . off, warriors, fully two “ “Yes; that is bad. We must keep them or all is lost. If they fail this time to break our line, they will await until night.” And turning to the negroes, whose teeth were chat- tering with fear, arkham continued: _ “Boys, you did well before—now do better— ha! here they come.” Like an avalanche the warrior bands swept on, coming from four directions at the same time, and Pinoktestitine fgattenst death to the little Pen My lord, I will take the * pln in our front, you the one on the left, Mr. Vernon the band on the right, and Pompey and Jake, you blaze away at those fellows who are trying to turn our position. Instantly, at long range, the repeating rifles opened, and, in a number of instances, with deadly effect; but, confident in their numbers, the Sioux rushed on, r Nearer and nearer they came, their wild war- cries making the valley echo again, and their hideous faces growing more and more distinct. “Tt is useless—they will ride us down; but fight to the last,” said Leo Markham, sternly, as the rushing, howling Sioux were now not a hun- dred yards away. surprised! turn and defend “Ha! we are yourselves,” rung out Captain Markham’s stern order, as a score of dark forms bounded into the rocky fortress from behind them, ‘Hold! on your lives fire not—it is our guide,” | he cried, as a slender form, a girl, sprung to his
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6 —— side, and her clear voice rung out with the cheering cry: ‘*Banack braves, yonder are your enemies, the Sioux—beat them back !” CHAPTER X. THE GIRL GUIDE. In spite of their very desperate situation, the small ee of gallant defenders of the es, t eir gaze upon those who had come to | their aid so unexpectedly, and especially upon the leader of the grim warriors, who ng the os order, threw themselves behind eve- ry available point of rocks and poured in an un- erring fire upon the charging Sioux, now not thirty paces distan t. The crisp cry to the Banack braves came from tho lips of a young girl—a maiden scarce- ly more than sixteen, wi ectly molded, and as graceful in every move as a deer. Her hair hung in luxuriant waves adown her back, and reached below her waist, while a head- dress of bead-work and gay feathers kept it back from her forehead. Her face was nut-brown in hue, every feature perfect, and fearless determination mingled with Sho tooth s rfect, th large, da teeth were ec 6 eyes large, dreamy, and yet full of 7 as they turned upon the pe vancing Sioux. Her dress was a tight-fitting bodice of buck- skin, slabaraealy. beaded and worked with stained quills of blue and red; a oma peacning to ber knees, was fancifully embroidered, an ggins of the finest dressed buck-skin were le m her small feet, and about fringed down the outer seams. Moccasins wereu her waist was a of buck-skin dyed vartous colors. In this sash were a revolver, of medium size, a knife, and a quiver of arrows, while at her back was she along bow, and in her hands, and fired with coolness and precision, was a small, silver-mounted repeating rifle. Those who had come with her were warriors of the Banack tribe, and me. enemies of he Sioux, whom, as a nation, they greatly They were now not in war-paint, but in hunt- ing trim; but bey see. with a desperation be- gotten by a long of their foes, Throwing themselves into the front, three- score Banack braves poured in a fire coming Sioux which caused them to recoil for an instant; but with wild cries they again pressed and reached the rock ‘ en the whites opened fire with their revol- vers, desperate conflict.ensued, for several moments a fierce le for 4 But suddealy Leo Mar: called to Jules Vernon and Lord Gilbert to follow him—as for iba al ledge,” he cried eomba: vance beheld a sight which caused him to quick- ly fall on one knee and throw his rifle forward. He was just in time to save the life of the young gir’, who would have been brained the next t by the tomahawk of a huge Sioux shot came, to her feet the boast- ed rulers of the prairies turned_and fled, leay- ing one-fourth of their number dead and dying them. ig, loud and deep, rung out the triumphant war-cry of ie Depacks, aiid the whites joined with them in thelr shou: of victory. As Leo Markham and his companions descend- ed from the ledge, they saw two dark forms creep out of a crevice in the rocks—they were mpey and Jake, who upon the arrival of the jacks, had considered t ir services no longer ae and accordingly sought a place of “You saved my life—I am most thankful to you for it.” of the little service I did—I would have shot the Sioux anyhow: but to you a slender form, per- | | @ some’ | | } } | | | | m the | Banacks with rifles and arrows, and a | reachin | there, it had st then Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. we owe our lives, and deeply do we feel all that you have done for us.” The maiden’s face flushed, as she said quietly : | ‘‘T was riding up the valley, saw the Sioux, and coming en your camp warned you, and guid- ed you hither, the best place I knew of to resist | an attack, Then I sought the camp of these | brave Banacks, who haye been hunting here the pen weeks, and they came with me to your | ‘* And ean I ask the name of one who has done | us this favor?’ and Lord Gilbert gazed with ad- | miration upon the young girl. ‘Yes, lady, we would know thesweet name of | our fair guide and preserver,” remarked Jules Vernon, politely raising his hat. ‘‘Remember me as the girl guide,” archly re- plied the maiden. “TL knew of no settlement in this valley; can it be ible that there is one? and yet there | must be, as we find you here,” and Leo Mark- ham gazed with increased admiration upon the | maiden. “No, there is no settlement in the Yellow- stone—Bartlett’s Ranch, below here, is the verge of civilization in this direction—more 1 cannot tell you—farewell.” As the maiden spoke she bowed, waved her hand, and glided away among the led, with in her manner that forbid their de- taining her longer. Watching car with interest they saw her en- ter asmall ravine, and thenextinstant reappear mounted upon the back of a snow-white mus- Another wave of the hand and she bounded away and disa from view. Then the disappointed whites turned to the , ingeniously made of strips | Banacks for further information: but these | worthy warriors could ‘tell them little—they | belonged to a hunting-party of their tribe, and were encamped in the valley above. Several times had the maiden been seen by them and they deemed her half-human_ half-spirit; | when she came for them to beat back the Sioux, their homes in the Gallatin valley. This was all they knew. Leo Markham thanked the warriors for their timely service, distributed a few presents among | them, and then mounting their horses the proped fortes, on, w at of tan eae ” 1 re = | owing the solitary e e, for | they were determined to place themselves out of | the immediate vicinity of the Sioux, and also to know more of the mysterious maiden who had so | cleverly eluded them. CHAPTER XI. THE TRAILERS. . SEVERAL days after the fierce battle with the Si a secon encam for the night | upen the very spot ere ronan Dow bast ost e. It was Burt Belford and his comrades steadi- ly pressing on in the trail of those who had and back ; mond Dirk wou cope before them. i‘ ; ve ei ll to tinking-=h ow had e Le 4 eo Dan lost his en the heavy trail of the Sioux band was discovered, and they felt that those whom they followed had been attacked be the Indians. “Tf they found no place of shelter, where they could stand a siege, our trip will be useless, cap- tain,” said Diamond Dirk, addressing his em- ployer with the above title. ‘ grant not. No, it cannot be that Lord Gilbert can die until I meet h No, he must not die thus, Yet still, they are in : arent dan- ger, and we must on,” said Burt Belford, with considerable feeling. “They are doubtless in trouble, sir; if not dead they had but one guide, and there he lies, Cap- tain Markham is as brave as a lion, yet I fear he is not enough skilled in prairie-c to guide party back. e will camp here to-night, and poets on at day-break; but we must keep a right look-out, or we may lose our own hair,” and Diamond Dirk gave orders to two of the men to at once goon a short scout around camp. It we not yet sunset, but the RE ction they. ator ti on. early mo , an ey at once wen into camp, lassoed their animals out. to feed, whole antec thee trip theg "Burt Belford had proven himself a fearless fellow, silent al- horses were ‘apidly most to moodiness, yet ever kind to his compan- ions. Toward Diamond Dirk he seemed to be par- ticularly drawn, often asked him about his wild frontier life, and soon discovered that the guide was a man of arherir abilities, education and evidently led the life he did from a love of freedom and saning sibresieers, Yet of his early life Burt Belford could not get the guide to speak. He was as silent upon that — as was he himself regarding his own past, and this but the more increased inter- est felt in him. : When, at sige around the camp-fire, Dia- d break forth in a rich, beauti- ful tenor, singing some pretty ballad, or snatches from different operas, Burt Belford would draw nearer to him, as if deeply impressed by the | song, and longing for acloser friendship between them, there in that frontier land. From the discovery of the trace of Sioux in their neighborhood, the potg ned been more watchful, and when Powder Bob came in from | his scout and reported that he had followed the | trail of the red-skins until he was confident that they were tracking the English party, it caused all to dread the more that a terrible fate had befallen those whom they were trailing. With the sunset Prairie Pete came hastily into camp, and his news quickly created a stir—he had discovered a leoge band of Sioux coming down the river, and they were bearing a num- ber of wounded with them—there had evidently been a severe battle above, and if they had cap- tured the whites, or slain them, it was only after a on we struggle. Instantly the was ka out, the horses sad- died, and mounting quickly, Diamond Dirk led the way into the timber. “ Guide, we must know what has been the re- = of the combat—those Sioux will soon camp, ‘‘ And I will find out what the result is—we will now seek a camp a few miles above, and then I will strike the trail of the Sioux and fol- low them to their encampment—they will not go far to-night, loaded as they are with their wounded,” “My life is of no more value to me, captain, thanis Prairie Pete’s to him—‘risk nothing gain _ nothing,’ you know, and I prefer to see for my- self this of Sioux, and if I can get near | enough to to hear their conversation, I Shall soon know all that has happened, for I speak their lingo well, and Indians are great people to talk over their deeds, and will have a grand pow-wow around the camp-fire to-night.” Diamond Dirk spoke lightly, yet Burt Belford well knew that he was going to face some terri- ble danger, and seemed y nervous about his going. But he knew the character of the guide too well to attempt to dissuade him from his purpose, and simply said: “If you will insist upon going, do be careful —remember the grave of the other party’s guide —Trapper Dan—and let us not have to carve the name of our guide upon a head-board and leave him here in this wild wilderness.” “T shall be careful, captain, and will be back as soon as I can,” So saying, Diamond Dirk mounted his horse and rode slowly out of ing joking the back and with a sigh, Burt Belford w him- self down to rest upon his blanket. CHAPTER XII. DIAMOND DIRK’S ADVENTURE. Arter a ride of several miles, Diamond Dirk came upon the broad left by the Sioux band in their retreat down the valley. Dismounting, he examined the tracks careful- ly, and then muttered to himself: hey are on the back track, with heavy hearts, for they carry their dead and wounded —they were handled roughl Gilbert’s party; but how have they , I wonder?” eens 5 the scout pressed on until the traces of the trail proved to him that those he followed were not far in advance, and in fact, shortly after dark set ol he came upon the glimmer of camp-fires—the Sioux had halt- ed for the night, as md Dirk had sy they ee oe t not at the spot where the two eS 0 versation, and then more, until darkness had thered around em. Concealing his horse in a clump of timber,
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Diamond Dirk advanced cautiously on foot to- ward the Indian encampment, and as noiselessly as a snake crawling through the grass he ap- proached until he was within two hundred aces of the fires, around which were grouped ands of excited warriors, as the scout could see by their gestures, though he could not hear their voices, ‘“Their sentinels must be near here—ha! yon- der stands one against that tree—how easily I could pick him off with my revolver, for he is not twenty paces distant,” muttered the scout, and then he scanned the timber upon either side to discover the next Indian guard. After a long search he discovered the next sentinel to the right, and some fifty paces dis- tant, and one as far off upon the left. ““Tt’s a risky business, but I must do it, for I will then have a chance to creep closer to camp. 4 rl try another game, if it costs me my ife!’ The scout spoke ine strangely determined tones, and it was evident that he intended some desperate move, for, relieving himself of his rifle and belt of arms, he seized his knife, and again he began moving slowly forward, and in an. oblique direction from the position he had lately occupied. After a long time he gained a point that placed a large tree between him and the Indian sentinel, and then his movements, though ex- ceedingly cautious, were most rapid, and a sec- ond’s time placed him within arm’s length of the red-skin guard, who, little dreaming of deadly danger so near him, was leaning against the treé@, his hands crossed upon the muzzle of his rifle. Around the tree there quickly came an iron -arm with a hand that had a clutch of steel, and the red throat of the savage was grasped with a power that prevented all outery. Then the other hand of the scout, holding firmly his knife, gave a sudden upward thrust, and the keen blade grated through the ribs into the Indian’s heart. Without a moan the life left the body of the -red-skin sentinel, who the next instant lay dead at the feet of his destroyer. Without a moment’s hesitation Diamond Dirk at once threw around him the aparece of the dead Sioux, placed — his head the eagle-feathers, and walked boldly toward the camp-fires, little over a hundred paces distant. Approaching to within easy ear-shot, he se- lected the base of a large tree, and, wrapping his blanket about him, threw himself down to rest, near several other prostrate forms, too tired, or morose, to join in the discussion ani- matedly kept up around the camp-fires by the greater number of warriors. , Though apparently asleep, the ears of the scout were open to every word he could catch, and almost forgetful of his danger he listened attentively to the different statements of the chiefs, who were telling over and over again the scenes in which they had so lately been actors, Though the scout knew that a score of eyes had doubtless seen him, yet he felt secure in his bg Sag for the present, and drank in every word that came from the lips of the savage Speakers, — ? e , . Thus lying there, within the very circle of the Sioux, and su pone by those who had seen him throw hime down to rest, to be one of their number, Diamond Dirk learned how the red-skins, confident in. their ‘numbers, had pur- sued the small party of whites up the valley and driven them to seek shelter in some rocky ge . e first charge of a small number of war- riors, its disastrous result, and the attack of the entire force, and the coming of the Banacks to the rescue of the pale-faces, the scout also heard told over and over in. The hd pews: were friends of the _ whites, and he could account for their aiding Lord Gilbert and his ; but here was one thing that Diamond Dirk could not account for any more than the Sioux could, and that was that the Banaks were led by what the red-skins called a white spirit, ; Though the speakers each seemed to differ in their idea of thi: i they were all certain of one point—that it was a young girl, and that she bore a charmed life, for no arrowor ball had touched her, and one chief said that his comrade had near enough to strike the strange be- ing down with his tomahawk, but when he lift- ed it above his head to deal the fatal blow, he had instantly ace in his tracks. . Diamond Dirk was aware that the Sioux be- lieved the Yellowstone valley haunted by strange spirits, and that twas a tradition among Diamond Dirk. the tribes that a devil lived in the mountains, and he set much of their conversation down to their superstition, yet felt certain that the Ban- acks had had some strange leader; but, if a young girl, and a pale-face, who and what could | she be, he wondered? Having learned to his satisfaction that Lord Gilbert's party, with the aid of the friendly Banaks, had driven off the Sioux with heavy loss, the scout determined upon retreating from his perilous position. He accordingly became very restless, tossed about, and muttered in the Sioux tongue, until rising suddenly as though unable to sleep, he folded his blanket a, his form and stalked away from the firelight, passing several sleeping forms as he walked along. Without suspicion he reached the tree where lay the dead sentinel, pried took the scalp-lock of the fallen brave, and throwing himself again upon the ground, began his cautious retreat to the spot where he had left his rifle and revol- vers. Once more armed with these he glided rapid- ly back to the spot. where he had left his horse, and then halted suddenly, for through the woods rung loud shrieks in a stentorian voice, and the next instant there bounded into view a giant monster—a thing half-human, half-brute, and | clad in white, hairy attire. Waving his long arms above his head, still giving vent to his wild shrieks, the strange crea- ture passed on with the speed of a deer, and dis- appeared in the darkness. nce, twice, thrice, the startled scout fired upon. the flying form, yet with epparenty, no effect, and then he quickly mounted his horse and headed back to his own camp, now fully convinced that the Sioux had seen a.strange be- ing leading the Banacks, for he had just beheld a being far more weirdlike’ and wonderful, he felt. convinced. CHAPTER XIII. LOST, ALTHOUGH Burt Belford threw himself down 7 none could solve the mystery of the strange being thus discovered, and over the bordermen fell a feeling of superstitious dread that evil would yet befall them. But Diamond Dirk seemed light-hearted, and after breakfast, the trailers mounted their steeds and pressed rapidly on up the valley, Before long they came to the battile-field, strewn with its dead—man and beast, Then they went to the rocky ledges and dis- covered nearly a dozen graves. 0 were be- neath those mounds? That questidh was quickly answered by Dia- mond Dick; they were the graves of the slain Banacks—no pale-faces lay beneath. Where were they? None could tell. ‘We will halt here, and scout for discoveries from this point; boys, we will go into camp,” said Diamond Dirk. The frontiersmen instantly set to bie lasso- ing their horses, and getting ready for er, while Burt Belford strolled off alone. He had been gone but a few minutes, it seemed, whena wild cry, and several pistol-shots were heard in rapid succession. Seizing his rifle, Diamond Dirk rushed in the direction of the shots, followed by three of the men, while the others hastily set to work to se- cure the horses and prepare against attack. Arun of afew hundred yards, and Diamond Dick came upon the scene of a struggle, the light snow was trampled down, here and there a | crimson stain, and a revolver, with three bar- to rest, shortly after the departure of Diamond | Dirk from camp, he slept but. little, for he was most anxious for the safety of his guide. But when, with the first peep of dawn, Dia- mond Dirk rode into the encampment safe and sound, Burt Belford was almost boyish in his expressions of pleasure at his return, and cried | your safety.” ‘*T was safe enough, but Iam almost starved; Prairie Pete, show your skill now in cooking, for we are in no da r, as the Sioux have re- treated from this valley heavy at heart, I as- sure you, and it is not likely they’ll enter it soon in,” said the scout, cheerfully, and Burt Belford rejoined: “You have seen them, then?” “Of course; this scalp looks like does it not, captain?’ and the guide held @ gory out: _ would rescue him or “Thank God you have come—I feared for rels discharged, lay upon the ground. The weapon was at once recognized as the property of Burt Belford. But who had been his antagonist? None knew, none could tell. From that spot Burt Belford’s tyacks were not even to be seen; but there was a trail leading away from the spot—and a strange one. Huge tracks, heavily made; and fully eight feet_apart, led toward a hill, a few hundred yards distant—if made by a human being, he was of immense size, and had been springing, rather than running, over the ground, Whether man or beast, it was certain that Burt Belford had most mysteriously disappeared with him. Withsuperstitious dread the trailers returned slowly to ey would mount their horses and follow that huge trail to the bitter end—they would solve the mystery of their comrade’s stran born ‘tua RPE canal io with him. Such was Diamond Dirk’s determination, and in it he was at once seconded by his followers, who he | knew would be as true as steel to him. scalp-lock of the Sioux sentinel, while al] now | crowded around to hear what he had to say, for that he bad met with some adventure they felt confident, In a few words the guide then went on to tell how he had struck the trail of the retreating of Trapper Dan, and then push on for afew miles and go into camp, atte which he crept upon the sentinel, and then went near enough to hear all that was said by the excited warriors. When he spoke of the spirit seen by the Sioux, Prairie Pete said: “T has allers heerd.o’ sich a critter bein’ in these diggin’s, an’ yer bet she’s skeert them In- jins purty nigh ter de’th.” Several others of the party also referred to CHAPTER XIV. FOUND. AFTER a hasty meal, Diamond Dirk and his companions took the trail leading away from the ledges, and which they ho would bring them up with Burt Belford and his captor, who- ever or whatever he might be. Arriving at the hill they found it cut into innumerable ravines, as if it had been raked down with some gigantic rake. I Into the bottom of these gulches or ravines, the snow had not penetrated, and at. the mouth _of one of them they lost all trace of the trail, the _ tracks of which up to that point had been the Sioux, saw them halt temporarily at the grave | same wide distance apart, as though the person making them had kept up his bounding run. Separating, each man took a different field of operations, and devoted himself earnestly to the work of finding the lost trail, but after an hour , they all returned to the spot where they had left rumors they had heard of strange beings who | haunted the Yellowstone valley; but had be- lieved it Indian talk. ‘Well, it is not Indian talk or superstition for if I did not see a fair ig I saw the Devi himself,” said Diamond Dirk, firmly, and he went on to tell of the monster-creature that had by him, and upon which he had fired sev times, All were astounded at this intelligence; but none doubted it, for they knew Diamond Dirk | _ ther captain wa’n’t no oie, ; : too well to feel that he had been frightened at | a shadow or mistaken a grizzly bear for a hu- man being of giant size. ‘‘T guesses it was the Devil,” su Prairie | their horses. All but Diamond Dirk—he yet re- mained absent. “Tguesses as. how he’s struck a lead, and is follerin’ of it,” said Prairie Pete. ’ ‘“‘ Yas; but I hopes ashow he won’t strike ther *tarnal critter alone, *kase he mout git wusted— an’ it seems as how he’s bin done for,” returned Powder Bob. ‘“‘What in durnation’s that?’ cried another of the scouts. Instantly all sprung to their feet and listened. For a moment, no sound broke on their ears, and 0 ’s came a long, distant halloo. Dirk, boys, Come, we'll git that thar way,.you bet.” ; ily the men. moun steeds of Burt Belford and D and leading the Diamond Dirk, they rode rapidly away, in the direction from whence come the hail, ' A rapid ride of half a mile, and, they came to Pete, with a glance over his sh > | a spot of open country, There in the edge of a “Devil or not, ll not leave this valley until I | champ of timber Diamond Dirk, a strange have had a closer scuaence with the mon- , look upon his face. ster,” said Diamond Dirk, with determination. | ‘Boys, I’ve found the trail. it, goes The stran story of the scout had been listen- across this open | and more—I saw who ed to by all with breathless interest, and yet | made it,” he said, in his quiet way.
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y U iy H ‘ Y ae ae Sa OE ASRS REE Be a —- 2S 2 we ws are ‘ : ' : 4 2 “Ver did?’ cried several voices. ‘*Durnation!” exclaimed Prairie Pete. “True; but I would not risk a shot and so shouted for you. Come!” Throwing himself into his saddle, Diamond Dirk dashed away at a swift gallop, followed by his comrades. Over the shallow snow they pursued the bounding trail, through valley and up and down hillsides, until miles had been left behind them. Emigrant’s Gulch was passed, and then before them were visible vast volumes of white smoke, it seemed. ‘‘Durnation! the earth’s on fire, you bet,” | said Prairie Pete. . - “No; we are nearing the geyser region. That is steam from the boiling spring,” said Diamond DK and he urged his splendid animal on still aster ‘‘Ha! yonder is our game. Come!” They had come to a small hill, and were look- ing down into a valley. : a mile away was a huge form bounding swiftly along. It was the madman of the Yellowstone, and in his arms he held Burt Belford. Beyond the valley there arose volumes of Now, we will follow him. | white vapor—the steam from the hot lakes—and | directly toward this cloudy mass the madman was bounding, with the same mighty, untiring leaps that marked his trail throughout. “That thar is the Devil, an’ he’s pew 8 ’ tracks fer his hell-hole, sartin,” said Powder Bob. ‘Ef he ain’t, I’m asinner. I say, boss, we’d better lef that thar rooster alone—he’s ther Devil,” called out Prairie Pete to Diamond Dirk ins yonder smoke Be Come on, you fools! if he . a : e guide, as he we will lose him,” called bac bounded on. “We wants ter lose him, we does—don’t we, boys?’ said Powder Bob. universal assent followed. They would fight ang hing human; but when it came to the Devil himself, that was another question, and they came to a halt and called loudly to their comrades to return. But Diamond Dirk was of a different metal— he feared nothing earthly or unearthly, and as yy his steed swiftly on in pursuit. t then became a hot race, and the horseman steadily gained upon the fugitive: but a few more endous bounds carried the madman into the mists, arising from the boiling springs, and he disappeared from view. The next instant Diamond Dirk drew rein, | suddenly—forcing his steed back upon his haunches—he was upon the brink of a rocky basin, from which was hurled into the air hun- dreds of tons of boiling water, which fell back to the earth with heavy thuds that shook the rocks and gave forth a roar like thunder. Slowly, up and down the spot, did Diamond Dirk ride, forcing his steed even into the hot mists; but nowhere could he see aught of the monster fugitive—he had disappeared most mysteriously—perhaps rushed to his death in the seething fer ah of water. Then the guide slowly retraced his way to- ward his comrades, who still stood on the dis- tant hill watching him most anxiously. As pe gone along, his igen spe te te eye caught t ofa e snow, ding sles og base of the hill. Beckoning to his comrades to follow, he struck the fresh tracks, and soon discovered that he | the infernal regions, as they called lakes, the companions of the guide hastily overtook him. “Well, boys, I chased the Devil home—but Captain ord, I fear he has gone to his - I’ve struck a new lead.” * vas 16 looks like the old trail.” . “Tt is the one we were following, and it is fresh—we will go into camp near here, and then solve Fe pd I will spe ee i ag dead or alive. e a de- termination that proved Bint he meant all that he said. ' aameemepow ris, bee tt Gc Oe se an’ it a nice young man, as was tlie ciletg bo hey ter go ter the devil, so suddint-like; but he’s got him sure.” ‘Not so bad as that, Pete, I hope; but there is certainly some great myster. in all this—that fellow was the same one that fled by me when I recognized them. ocr. that they were not going in the di- rection 0 e the boiling some where here—see, the a an A mile more, and through the timber. fe: That is the party we are looking for—yon- der is Captain kham.” “Yas, we’ve found them,” replied Prairie hey saw men and horses ete. ‘* An’ hev lost ther man as was lookin’ fur ’em,” answered Powder Bob. ‘““Yes—lost the one who was searching for those whom we have now found; but I hope all will come round right in the end—yet I fear for the captain,” and the guide’s voice was full of sadness, for he had become deeply attached to Burt Belford in the time thev had been to- gether. CHAPTER XV s IN A QUANDAR ~, WHEN the party of Diamono Dirk had first been discovered, Lord Gilbert aad his compan- ions at once placed themselves on the defensive, bea Pompey and Jake sought secure hiding- "eS But Leo Markham soon discovered that they were all white men, and, shortly after, recog- nized Diamond Dirk, whom he had often seen at the fort. “They are friends—yes, I know them all: but what can have brought them here?’ ‘Doubtless heard the firing yesterday, and ee followed our trail,” suggested Lord Gil- rt, “Tt would be just like Diamond Dirk to come to the aid of those in distress, yet I cannot un- derstand what*can have brought them into the Yellowstone region—had they been a scouting y from the fort I would have known of it; ut we shall soon know— Ho! scout; we are glad to see you: but what brings you here?” cried Leo Markham. “We have found what we came for, captain, and I am glad to meet you as we were in search of you,” and Diamond Dirk threw himself from his horse and grasped the soldier’s hand. ‘* Anything wrong at the fort?’ ‘*Oh no—our business is unofficial—in fact I do not know what it is: but we came as a body-guard to—to—what in thunder is his name? boys do you remember the captain’s name?” 5 ‘“‘Nary—never heerd, as I knows on,” replied ete. “Strange, I should have forgotten it: but to explain—shortly after you left the border, a young gentleman rode into town—there’s his orse—and asked for a guide and men to follow you—he was most anxious, for some reason or other, to meet with Lord Gilbert.” ©. With me?” and the Englishman stepped for- ward, ‘Yes, sir—he said he would go to the ends of the to meet you, and hence we started on your trail.” ‘* And where is he now?” “God only knows—we camped at your old battle-field early this morning, and he walked off alone—shortly after ‘three shots were heard in rg succession, and we ran to his aid. “The ground and snow were tranipled and bloodstained, and but one trail led from the spot. Pi That trail we followed, and an hour since came in sight of the boiling lakes, and the fugi- tive, a monster, human-shaped and of great size— “The madman!” cried Leo Markham, and then he quickly continued: Go on, guide, I have met the same monster.” hild. th carried in —# po as bee de mere ¢e e captain, an peared in the mists not a hundred yards ah of me—whether to die in the boiling waters, or into some den known to him alone, God only knows, for I could find no trace of him.” ** And you say this man was in search of me?’ oy, sir.” “* And for what reason you cannot téll?”’ “No, sir—he gave no reason—only seemed most anxious to find you.” “ And you cannot recall his name?” “For the life of me, I cannot: I heard it out once, and we only called him captain.” “ Was he an officer?” “That I do not know, sir—I learned nothing of him, excepting that he was not an American and traveled much.” : “Describe him, please,” and Lord Gilbert seemed deeply interested and greatly puzzled. “He was a slender-formed, agile man of eaonreeneearat—pmnenipnditijatisreilaialiaiineenstnsdene depdnanaadeanantllge pam 2 ese twenty perhaps— an almost womanly face, and seemed of a rather sad nature. “He was ‘well mounted, well armed, rode passably well, was utterly fearless of danger, and most liberal with his money, for he gave me ample to fit out-for the trip. -, ‘“ A mere boy, you say?” “Tn looks, yes, yet not in manner—he looked twenty, he acted forty—he was a fine fellow, and I liked him immensely.” “This indeed is remarkable—I can think of no one whom I can place in his position—can you Jules?” **None—a friend would hardly have gone to such trouble, expense, and danger to find you,” replied the Frenchman. ‘ And I know of no man who would track me _ from hatred—there is a deep mistery in all this.” “So it seems—this land is full of mysteries: But now that I am hereI am determined to solve some of them.” **From the Indians I learned that you were aided in — fight, by an angel—” ‘Ha, ha; and so she was, guide—a pretty lit- tle sunburnt angel in buck-skin petticoats—she led us out of danger, to a good place for defense, and then, when we were about to be wiped out, brought some Banack braves to our aid—” ‘*T was surprised to know that there were Banacks up here?” ““Yes—a hunting-party—but they did not come above Emi t’s Gulch; we left them at the battlefield and came on here after the angel, following her trail to this piece of timber,” said Captain arkham. s ** Was she an Indian?” “Oh, no; but nearly as brown as one—she was a utiful girl, and when she had saved our lives, slipped through our fingers as nicely as you jease—but she leaves a trail, and hence cannot be an angel.” ‘**And dwells in close vicinity to the Devil’s dominions, captain,” and Diamond Dirk point- a toward the vapory clouds from the boiling akes. Then he continued: “Well, this is another ‘mystery that needs solving—an angel to be found, the Devil to be captured, and our captain rescued. We will at once seek a pleasant and safe camp, and set to work.” ‘Agreed. I am delighted that you have come, and our united parties need not fear In- dians. Lord Gilbert, my friend Diamond Dirk is the crack scout of the border—we are lucky to have been found by him. Now let us at once seek a permanent camp—the horses are jaded and need rest—then to rescue your friend from that madman’s power—first insnare the Devil, and we will then be worthy to entrap an angel. Guide, whither shall we gor” Diamond Dirk glan quietly around him, and soon took in the nature of the country. Then-he mounted his horse, and followed by the whole party, set off for a distant range ot An hour’s ride brought them to a most delight- = ng ws re a 74 Se with plenty of rich grass for the horses, cool runnin streams filled with delicious trout, and the tine ber the haunt of big and little game. Here theetents were soon pitched, a rustic cabin built, the horses hoppled and turned out to feed, and Pompey and Jake, grown brave with numbers, set to work with a will preparing a substantial meal F From that point the party were to solv- ing the mysteries of the woutéefal and teautitel land of the Yellowstone. CHAPTER XIV. DIAMOND DIRK TRAILING. At an early hour that night the whole party retired to rest, excepting Powder Bob and Prairie Pete, who were on guard Diamond Dirk, worn out with his loss of rest and fatigue, was sleeping peacefully; but a slight touch aroused him at once to Well, Pete, what is it?’ he asked, for the plainsman bent over him. ‘*That’s what I wants ter know.” Diamond Dirk hastily threw on his clothes, buckled his belt of arms around him, seized his rifle, and walked noiselessly from the brush eabin, or rather shelter. “Tn be utp ‘ tell yer—I was on the onder. an’ durn eer I didn’t see ther De ait hia ed right by me.” Was it the same fellow we trailed?’ 2 Re his i hag, he Wan trot along, an’ went down it wa and Prairie F pointed toward the boiling lakes. P
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‘* Very “well, I will follow him; the moon is rising, the snow is crusty, and I can trail him “‘T don’t like ter see yer go alone, pard, an’ I’m durned ef I wants ter go with yer—let_ me git some other feller as isn’t as wicked as I is, some one as ther Devil don’t want as much as he do me—say Captain Markham—he’ll go to hell with yer, an’ ho’s kinder acquainted with ther Devil, yer know.” “No, I will go alone—I hope to_ be back b ‘ast; keep a bright look-out, Fete, and call out if you see anything suspicious.” - “T will, pard, and ‘God bless yer, ef yer is goin’ inter the Devil’s ed Ha 7 0 ’ Diamond Dick laughed 49 —then took the trail of the being who had found Pete’s beat—it bee the same track he had followed the day be- ore. Where would it lead him now? at, he was determined to see, and at a swift pace he sped along, the crisp snow cracking be- neath his feet. . , the trail led him directly As he had e toward the boiling spring. The roar of the falling waters was before him, and as he drew nearer the ground trembled beneath his feet—the mists boiled up into the air in volumes, and the hiss of the seething cal- dron was distinctly heard, while the m ight fell upon all, an neuen’ to his mind the thought that he seemed indeed to be approaching a very Hell on earth. Straight toward this spot the trail led, until the heat of the steam melted the snow, and the tracks were no longer visible; but, undaunted, the brave scout pushed on, and entered the blinding mists. Feeling before him, with astick he had picked up in the timber, he went forward to the very brink of the boiling lake. For an instant he stood there, the hot spray falling in showers upon him, and then he moved slowly to the right. Cautiously he advanced, until the roar of the falling waters proved to him that he was pass- ing between two of the boiling caldrons. ‘Ha! Iam making a discovery,” he muttered, and he again moved forward, until gradually the mists were less dense arid cooler, and after awhile he passed out from the vapor into open air. Even ype ad to ie ri “ ant See rose volumes of misty clouds, an ore him was a high, abrupt, and rocky hill. * ea crescent, with each point against the hill, circled the boiling lakes, or basins, and Dia- mond Dirk did not doubt but that he had through the half-circle of boiling springs by the onl that existed. oF Now I am in Satan’s dominions, I must find out if his majesty is at home,” he mutte age! and he walked straight forward tow: e rocky hill. It rose toa hight of two hundred feet, was some half that number of # bape in width, and over its summit tumbled a small stream, falling into a huge bow] at its base. To this bowl, or basin, there seemed no bot- tom, for the waters poured down into the earth with an almost deafening roar. The face of the cliff was broken here and there with ravines, and gliding into one of these Diamond Dirk found a comparatively easy way of ascending the rocky hillside. He had gone up about half the distance, when he came suddenly upon a shelf of rock, the back- d of which was an entrance to a cavern— Ts ng and forbidding, it looked. “Here is the Devil’s den—now to enter and see who I am to meet,” and the scout drew a box of matches from his pocket. “Too bad, too bad—the steam has Ney ps them,” he said, as match after match ed to i gnite. ‘“T dare not go in in the dark—I will push my discoveries outside, and leave this cavern for to- morrow.” So sa , Diamond Dirk looked around for some sy? further up the cliff, To the left of the cavern he found a narrow shelf, scarcely more than a foot in width, lead "fins path led him beneath th pa ea e torrent. and into a small cave, as high psy but very arrow; but he saw light ahead and p on and soon came out upon a thicket covered hillside—above him towered higher po below i lay a small valley, beautiful in ‘ve found two ways of getting into “ or camp,” | one Pe ae at a lively gait down the hill- | loud voices, and sp: 9 e hills, at the same time bending in the direction of the encampment, when he heard the rapid clatter of hoofs. Instantly he bounded into the shelter of a convenient thicket, and awaitéd. Who could it be—this midnight rider? Or could the steed be riderless? Such were his thoughts; but he would see what more mystery the Yellowstone was to dis- Ply. e next instant a horse swept into sight, and almost upon him. A horse and a rider—that much he saw, and a heavy cloud swept across the moon and dark- With a bound D d Dirk sprung forward, ith a bound Diamond Dir ‘orw one hand outstretched to catch the bridle rein— the other presenting a revolver, while there was upon his lips a cry for the horseman to halt! But as his hand clutched the rein, as his pistol was raised, as his lips parted with the stern order to halt—there came a blow upon his head, and Diamond Dirk fell heavily to the ground, while the horse and rider passed cn. CHAPTER XVII. THE WARNING. WHEN Diamond Dirk recovered from the stun- ning effects of the blow he had received, the moon had paled before the light of day. As consciousness slowly came back him he felt almost another presence near him—his eyes seemed to open upon a form at his side. But when his scattered senses fully returned, and he raised himself to a sitting posture, he was all alone. Yet his head was wet, as if saturated with water—and more—a bandage was about his forehead. Hastily removing the pram he felt a in his head, a cut over the left temple—it had bled freely, a small pool of blood was upon the ground; but it had carefully dressed. y whom? was the question that floated through the scout’s yet er Heber Then he glanced around —his pistols and — were at hand, his matchless rifle lay by his side. Who had been the one whose capture he had attempted? . Certainly a most generous foe, he thought. Then his eyes fell upon a small stick, one end in the ground, the other containing a piece of white pane. Instantly he seized it. It was a leaf from an old note-book, and upon it, written in a bold, yet feminine hand, was the following: ‘*One who has your good at heart warns you to at once depart from the Yellowstone—you and your friends. “T saved them once, and in return they fol- lowed my trail, and have now come further into this unknown and mysterious land—for I know where you are encam *“* And one other knows who will drag you all to death—he is on your trail, and I warn you, for he knows no mercy. “ You attacked me; but oe sp’ from our covert I was warned danger my orse, and I struck you down—I am glad that you are not hurt seriously. “Take my warning, a and your friends, and leave this valley, where only death awaits you. THE GiRL GUIDE.” Diamond Dirk read this warning over twice, and then places it away in an inner et. . “You do not know me, fair girl; the ter the danger, the more I risk it; the greater the mystery, the more determined I am to solve it. I will yet track you to your Eden, fair angel!” So muttering, the scout arose and slowly con- tinued on his way back to camp. An hour’s walk and he arrived, to find all astir and most anxious about him; in fact, Lord Gilbert and Powder Bob had gone off in search of him. Ina pe words, ae poe ras ne of his strange adventures, and exhibi e W: missive he had received. — “She was as quick as li sang i ia me down before I could seize her b rein. Tl yet track that girl to her home; but who or what she can be I cannot tell. Now, I must t some rest, for I am used up,” and Diamond irk threw himself down upon his blankets. Late in the afternoon he was awakened by ing to his feet, he found that Lord Gilbert ust returned, and Pow- we Bob vres ace with a 4 ; e Englishman was pale and haggard look- ing, and his story was soon told. They had ps to the springs in search of Diamond Dirk, had entered the misty clouds —_ apm and suddenly he had missed Pow- r i In vain had he called to him—in vain had he searched for him; nowhere was he to be found. Then, after hours of struggling, he had at last found his way out, weak, wearied and sor- rowing for the loss of his companion, and after some time had discovered the way back to ‘““He was by your side, my lord, “you say ’ asked dDiamon when you entered the vapor?” as Dirk. “Yes—not two feet from me.” ‘Then he fallen into one of those seeth- ing caldrons and instantly perished, or—” ‘Or what, scout?” ~ “Has been seized by the madman and carried off. Poor Bob! I hope we will yet find him; but aneey the a, the girl guide is ing fulfil Elda E* an, the captain, and owder Bob. is too bad, too Who will follow me to that madman’s cave?” “T, for one,” said Leo Markham. ** And I, for another.” “T also,” said Lord Gilbert and Jules Vernon in a breath. ‘“‘T’d like to be in at ther death o’ ther devil but I ain’t ther boy to go an’ look him up,” said Prairie Pete, and it was evident that his super- stitious comrades ed with him. ‘“We are enough, Pete; four of us can cer- tainly overcome one man, giant though he be. Now, let us be off, for we have no time to lose,” and Diamond Dirk set about his preparations for the dangerous work before him. Half an hour after the four men set out, and soon disappeared in the misty clouds at the boiling springs. _ They went close <, sed in Indian file, with Diamond Dirk in the lead. Coming out int® the opening soon, for the guide had led the way unswervingly, they crossed the space, entered the ravine and ascended the steep side of the cliff. At len the shelf was reached, and with his rifle y, Diamond Dirk stepped into the open cavern. But he started back with a cry of horror. Across the opening, a deep knife-wound in his side, lay Powder Bob—dead. ‘* Poor Bob—he has gone—who next?” said the guide, and he sprung fearlessly over the dead y and entered the cavern. Around him was a rocky room. Once per- haps it had been the monster’s abode; now it was empty, and the dead body left to guard the entrance. The weapons of the slain man were gone, and he lay stark and cold—a frenzied expression upon. his bold face. “He has slain him and fled. Come, we will bear poor Rob away and bury him. ‘“To-morrow I will lay for this monster and kill him, or he will kill me.” So saying, the scout raised the dead body, and aided by Leo Markham, bore it fae L back to camp, where their arrival but added to the superstition of the bordermen, and scared Pompey and Jake almost out of their wits. now “ CHAPTER XVIII. THE MADMAN AT BAY. A STRANGE-LOOKING being brute-like, out of a thicket, where sleeping upon a mossy was of herculean build, fully seven feet tall, broad-shouldered, full-chested, and dis- pare in legs, arms and body wonderful muscu- ar development—in fact, he was a very giant. His h were large, bony, and armed with long nails, almost wn into claws—his feet were immense, and incased in bear-skin mocca- sins, while his body was robed in the skin of a y bear, the hairy side out, which gave i a brute-like appearance. Upon his head was a huge bear-skin cap, from beneath which hung masses of unkempt, Semegrey hair, reaching to his waist, while a belt, . — " gray, 7 eet, a his in which was a weapon—a long-bladed knife. es eeping out from the masses of hair over his left der, was a bark quiver, containing a score of graceful arrows, while in » himself, e had been hand he held a bow, nearly as long as himself, as well as a weapon. Shaking himse ther, the man glanced around peseem sunlight falling full in his wild, brow was massive, yet a wreck, the eyes and which served . a
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cunning, deep-set, and full of restless fire, the other features good, yet stamped with a look of fierce despair. Altogether he was a magnificent specimen of manhood—yet his brain was gone—he was mad. Suddenly from his lips burst a wild yell—half shriek, f howl, and his eyes became fixed by <9 an object moving through a thicket near | A moment after the object came in view—a bear of thedargest size, With an angry growl the man strode forward to meet the beast—it was his nature to kill, and he knew no fear. The bear at once prepared to meet his human | foe half-way—raised upon his hind feet, and with a fierce howl of rage extended his huge paws. But the madman was as cunning as was the brute—he evaded the rough embrace, sprung nimbly into the air, and came down with ter- rifie force upon the bear’s head. . Down went bruin, and as he fell the keen blade of the madman crunched into his side. Then the two clutched in the death-grapple— the bear wounding the man with his sharp claws, the man driving his knife again and again into the brute. At length the bear weakened—the blood flowed in streams from his wounds, and the madman staggered to his feet, his triumphant ell breaking forth and ringing through the val- ey. But he reeled like a drunken man—the blood streamed from innumerable cuts in face, arms, | and breast—he had meta monster brute, and ae he had subdued him, bitter had the tri- umph been. or a moment he seemed as if about to swoon | i pele to fall and die: but he recovered | himself, and bent his ear to listen.” There was a sound of crashing twigs, angry wis, and then came from the thicket a she ear—the mate of the slain monster. At her feet trotted two cubs—too small to be dangerous, large enough to do mischief. e eyes of the new-comers fell upon the | crimson-stained body of the dead brute—then turned upon the slayer, and cries broke from her the gleaming jaws of the mother and cubs. But the madman moved not—his was not a nature to fly, though he was as swift of foot al- | most as a deer. An unearthly 7 met his foes half-way—he had slain one brute, he would meet those that remained. Maddened with rage and sorrow, the bear rushed Ae aoe her fos, and as she seized him in her | powerful arms, the two cubs gnawed and tug- ged at his feet. But, with a strength that was marvelous, the madman seized her by the throat, and held her at arm’s length, while his cruel knife was buried savagely into her hairy hide. of A keener bite than usual ee his leg caused the giant to raise his foot, and with telling force it fell upon one of the cubs. A stifled howl, a crushing of bones, a burst of plood from movth and nostrils and that little bear died young. But the mother was not as easily conquered— the gleaming knife had dealt her savage blows, but not yet had it reached a vital part, while | the remaining cub still tugged at the muscular legs of his foe, until he was knocked out of breath and time by a savage kick of the huge foot of the giant. ; Then the madman clutched more closely his brate antagonist, and, as if to end the struggle, tter- by a gigantic effort, hurled her to the Over and over upon the greensward, sca’ ing the earth, . sit a furrows, pretie J the grass, growling, shrie giving and re- ceiving blows the man and brute struggled, fought, writhed on—each growing weaker, but the man’s str h failing him more rapidly than the bear’s; but he was human, though a t and a he had just had one terri- le combat and conquored—could he be victor in a second encounter equally as terrible? Per' the brute recognized that her foe was herent ls of rage fi er grow: ercer. A tee more moments and she ‘vould be the victor—and_ still more, the stunned cub was rallying and coming back to life. But a clatter a hoofs ~ meg Bi form sprung to the ground from the of a mnowrownite mustang, a pistol cracked, and with a yelp the cub tumbled over dead. n the form glided up to the writhing com- batants and a chance soon offered and a bullet of lead pierced the brain of the brute. The hairy arms relaxed at once, the blood ell broke from his lips, and he | , for her blows became more savage, and — Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. stained mouth ceased its fierce growls, the eyes of fire dimmed and the savage was dead. The brute dead, and the madman, more me- chanically than with strength and thought, still _ raising his bloody knife, and endeavoring to | drive it into his enemy. ‘The bear is dead—come, unloose your hold, and let me care for you—you need it badly.” It was the girl guide who spoke. But her words fell upon deaf ears—the mad- man had swooned away—or, was dead, which, the maiden did not know. CHAPTER XIX. THE DEVIL AND THE ANGEL. Wir a strength that one would not believe possible, the girl guide dragged the form of the giant madman into a comfortable position, plac- ing his head and shoulders upon the body of his late brute foe. Then, with the skill of a surgeon, she set about dressing his numerous wounds, binding them up with bandages torn from her own clothing, an bathing them with water, brought in a skin pouch that hung to her saddle, from a brook not ten paces distant. hen the bleeding was stopped, and the wounds dressed, the girl guide bathed the hag- gard face, and head of the madman, and then | poured water between the tightly closed teeth. For the first time the madman now began to show signs of returning consciousness—his frame quivered, his lips twitched, and a kind of growl came from between his shut teeth. A few moments more and his eyes opened—at first with a wild savage stare—then they soft- ened, while he said in his hoarse voice. ‘Who are you!” : ‘“One who_ has aided you—I found you strug- yee: a bear and ended the fight.” “Yes, [ remember—you saved my life?” “ Yes. ” ‘You have done wrong—it had been better had I died—J am mad.” This was said with an inexpressible sadness of tone, and it touched the maiden’s heart, for she said softly: “ No—it is better as it is: but you are sorel hurt—you need rest and care: my pony is small | but strong, he will bear you to your home—” ‘“Home—I have no home—the valleys, the mountains, the crevices of the rocks, the sunny rairies, are my home—the birds only are my riends, they sing me to sleep, they waken me to the world—once I had a home: but that was lon, te ago—” “ But you havesome place of abode—I have seen you often go toward the boiling springs.” A look of cunning came over the man’s face— he would not trust even her. After awhile he said. ‘*T have seen you too—you are an angel and I | would not disturb you—nor yours—I have | never trailed you—I have seen you flit along | the valley and over the hills by night and by | day: others are my game—cruel men who have | ever been my foes—they maddened me—red and white alike: but I have been avenged—ay, I _ have been avenged—” “T am but a simple girl—you will do as I wish--come, snow-cloud.” The white mustang trotted up to the side of his mistress, obedient to her call. “Come, you are not able to walk—mount Snow-cloud, and he will bear you—will you do as I wish?” “ Yes. ” With difficulty the man arose, placed his knife in his belt, and then mounted the mustang, who _ seemed impatient at his heavy load. _ With slow step the m moved away, the Girl Guide following, and the madman direct- = way. mile was thus gone over, and the rider turn- ed up the side of a high hill, dotted with great rocky bowlders. | Near the summit the madman drew rein— ptepped slowly to the ground, and said simply: |) “Come.” | “Stay here now, Snow-Cloud, I will soon _re- turn,” and with a caress the maiden followed, _ The giant glided between two large rocks, as- | cended a number of artificial steps, and came to a cavern entrance. Behind and below them was a grand view of valley, hill, river and distant lake, but the mad- man entered, and the Girl Guide followed in the | dim obscurity. | A moment after they came out on a roc | shelf—it looked down upon the boiling lakes—it | looked down upon the cavern which Diamond Dirk had found; but it was far above all, | At the other end of this rocky shelf was a cave, and without a word, and staggering from weak- ness, the giant entered it. Then the Girl Guide found herself in a rocky castle—corridors led hither and thither, and chambers of various size were upon either hand, while, by some means, a quiet light fell into the beautiful cavern, doubtless through apertures in the rocky sides, One of these chambers was the abode of the madman—it was his mountain home. Clubs, a few knives of various sizes. a rifle, bows and arrows, bear, elk and wolf-skins adorned the walls, while a bed of furs occupied one corner. A rudely-madé box, contained a quantity of dried meat and fish—his only food. This was the madman’s home—the fit abode for one almost as wild as the wild beasts who roamed the forests. But the young girl showed no surprise—she said stmply: ‘*Lie down on your bed, and I will return ere long and bring you something that will make | you more comfortable; now keep quiet.” The man silently obeyed, and the Girl Guide left the cavern. Two hours she was gone, and then she re- turned, bearing with her a heavy bundle. She quickly unrolled it, and from its contents at once set to work to redress the man’s wounds, after which she gave him some food she had brought with her. “Now there -is water for you,and you have food within reach, so do not move from here. “To-morrow I will return and see you again —now I must leave you.” “You have been good to me—no one has been rood to me for long years; but there is one other would have you care for—one who is wounded and must not die until the moon is full.” ‘One other! have. you a companion?” asked the maiden, in surprise. “T have one whom I brought here—here to my home; sometimes I think Iam the devil and that this place is hell—my home; but it cannot be hell, for angels do not go to hell, do they? and you are here,” “No, this is your home—you have had sor- rows that have driven you from your fellow- men—think no more of it; but who is this other one that you speak of?” “Go on through that rocky passage, keep to the Tight, and you will find the one of whom I speak.” The fearless maiden at once obeyed. She fol- lowed the rocky passage-way until she came to a large and pleasant chamber. It had two ope and by the light that streamed in, she saw a form lying upon a bed of skins. ‘‘ Have you come to save me?” said a faint voice. “Yes; the madman said I would find a hu man being here who needed aid.” “T do—I am wounded—almost dying; I have e to die. But where is the madman?” ‘In his cave, and badly wounded. He hada terrible fight with savage bears; but how came you here, and who are you?” “The madman seized me near my camp, some days ago. I did not see him until he was upon me, and in trying to fire upon him I wounded myself. I came here, with others, to see a man whom I will track to the ends of the earth. I feel now that I will not die until I have met that man face to face.” : ; ‘Who are you?” again asked the girl. “My name is Burt Belford, and the madman has said I shall die See, Iam bound hand and foot, and the madman has said that I shall die when the moon is full.” ‘“-You shall not die; I will save you: keep up good heart, for I will soon return with one who will take you from here.” So saying, the maiden retraced her way to the other cavern c r. The madman was asleep, and she glided softly out of the cave, es her steed, and mounti in haste s away like the wind, her face aglow with excitement, CHAPTER XX. SEEKING AN ALLY. WHEN the Girl Guide rode away from the madman’s cavern, she wended her course to- ward the encampment in the canyon. she drew near the camp, she rode more slowly, and her eyes were earnestly bent upon the timber ahead of her. She had barely entered the woodland when a tall form stepped out from behind a tree and confronted her, Snow-Cloud bounded quickly away; but a strong pull upon the rein and a word from the maiden restrained him, and once more she faced
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the ome who had so unexpectedly appeared in | her th. aie dais “Tl was see you, sir.” ~ It was Diamond Dirk before her. “Seeking me? how strange! to.endeavor to find you.” “ Why?’ “To ask your aid. I intended to strike your trail and follow it until I found you. Now that I have found you, let me thank you for a kind- ness done me.” “When?” ‘* When I was hurt, and—” ; “T struck you down. I did my duty only in dressing the wound I had made. But how can I serve you?” “You know the madman who haunts this | all excitement wi "hes ““Yes—I have just left him.” “Ts he aught to you?” “He is a human being—though mad.” ‘Do you live with him?” “Oh, no—I have seen him often: but_ always feared him. This morning he was nearly killed in a fight with grizzlies, and I arrived in time to save his life, and he is now in his cavern in yon- der hill—I left there to come here and tell you that he has a prisoner with him.” ‘Ha! a young man?” “Yes—a youn and he is wounded—he says his name is Burt ford.” : God! it is the captain.” ‘*He accidentally wounded himself in trying to kill the madman: but the giant bore him in his arms to his cavern, and is rt. him there, intending to torture him when the moon is at its full, for the poor, crazy being believes | himself at times to be the Devil.’ “Ts the captain badly mounted?” “‘T think not—he was bound hand and foot: but I severed his bonds and came to inform you —he must be rescued.” * Assuredly, and at once—I will go with you —wait until I return to camp for my horse.’ So saying, Diamond Dirk, in a long, swinging Indian started for the encampment. In twenty minutes he returned, accompanied by Leo Markham, whom he presented to the irl Guide. madman. It was sunset ere they arrived at the vicinity | of the cave; but the young girl was a perfect trailer and soon stood in the éeitrémce 40 the cavern.” “T will first enter and see if he sleeps—if so, you can glide th ‘hh into the inner chamber.” So saying the girl entered the cavern—to re- turn in a few moments and tell her companions to follow her. I just left camp | Diamond Dirk. gent gumnins halted suddenly—he saw an obstacle in his path. | It was bright starlight, and each man distinct- ly saw the other—the one crouched, rifle in hand, upon one knee, the other towering boldly | erect, as savage as a brute. | | | | | | | | CHAPTER XXI. THE MADMAN’S STORY. For an instant the frenzied maniac paused, and the two men glared at each other—the one rage—the other calm and fearless. ‘Who are you?” howled the maniac. ‘‘One who means you no harm,” quietly said the scout. ‘You are a man?” “cc Yes. »” ‘* All men mean me harm—are you here to | rob my home, or to take my life?” ‘Neither; Iam here to care for you in your distress—the maiden sent me—you are wounded and suffering—return to your cavern and let | me care for you.” | ed the comin ‘*Liar! you are no friend—once I had many friends, but the best friend of all betrayed me; but I had his life and I will have yours.” With a shriek of frenzy the madman rushed forward, and Diamond Dirk as rapidly retreat- ed backward. “No, I will not kill him—he is doubtless weak- ened by his wounds—I will grapple with him.” Throwing aside his rifle the brave scout await- of his huge antagonist, who sprung upon him with the howl of a wild beast. Diamond Dirk had never met his equal in strength—he now felt that he had met his su- rior, and as the madman clutched at his knife- ae he knew there was but one thing for him to do. That thing he did—he bent his revolver muz- zle up toward the giant’s heart and fired. A stream of hot blood gushed over him, a low | moan was heard, and with a heavy thud the Then the three set out for the cavern of the | madman fell to the ground. “God knows I am sorry; but it was in ¢elf- defense—ha! he still lives.” ‘You have killed me.” The tones were harsh, yet in them was no malice. ‘* Yes; I fired in self-defense.” “You have done me a favor—I have long wished tc die.” “Your voice is strong, perhaps the wound is ’ s 11 “ Years avy had a home, far out on this frontier. I a loving wife and a dear little boy, and I had a friend as well. “That friend loved my wife. He told her of his love. She scorned him. He was a border- man, and he went to the prairie to drown his love in hunting the red-skins, he said. “Two mon after, a band of Indians at- tacked my home, left it in ashes, killed my boy, shot me down and carried my wife away. “T recovered from my wounds, but I was a madman. YetI had brain enough to find out that my rivien led those Indians and carried my wit thither T a ye er I sou er. grave. She had died by her own hand. “‘T returned to the settlement and killed that false friend. ‘*T was seized, thrown into jail and tried for my life. ite o e on m e y life. In spite of all the right y side I was sentenced to be hung. “ His friends sat on the jury. I was not hung, for I escaped from the very gallows. I seized a revolver, shot down sev men who barred my way and escaped. “By Heaven! you are Robert Redwood—I have heard of you,” exclaimed Diamond Dirk. ‘“* Yes, and the last one of that jury of twelve men I killed a few nights ago—men called him in these Tr r Dan.” bs Good God! co bane you have lived for long ears. Yes—lived here a madman; but not so mad but that I tracked those men to their death; ay, and I have hated my race since then, and I have longed to make men suffer as I have suffered— you see I was crazed, but I am not mad now— no, I will tell you, that within my cavern is one that I intended should die; when I am dead you will find him there.” Diamond Dirk was about to tell him that he had aided his prisoner to escape, but he checked himself, it could do no good he Moved by what he had heard, and wondering at what the madman had told him ing the death of Powder Bob, he arose and passed slowly to and fro, his t ghts busy. At length he ed again to the madman and Then the scout knelt beside his hand upon the broad breast. of life had ceased to beat. Sound lafont sinks sl the y as an infant sinking to poor ay maniac had died—his on jg spirit fluttered away from its earthly casket on noiseless *vings—his sorrows were over for- evermore. not fatal. | “It is fatal—I am dying; butIdie hard. I | am not mad now—the cobwebs are all cleared | from my brain—I can remember now, and I “He is, I think, delirious with fever—come.” Quietly she led the way, and passed thro the rocky chamber, from whence came CHAPTER XxX. LORD GILBERT’S SHOT. hoarse sounds of the maniac’s voice, mumbling to himself, wish to to tell you a story ere I die.” ‘*T will listen to all you have to say; but let Ir was some time ere Diamond Dirk made a Having thoroughly learned the bearings of | me see if I cannot better your condition.” move after discovering that the madman was the inner galleries and chambers, the gin led ‘“ You cannot; see, yonder comes the moon—it | dead. the way without hesitation, and then halting, is fast, and so is my life,” and the mad- Then he arose, raised the huge form in his — a match. man pointed to the moon rising beyond the | arms, and bore it back into the cavern and laid hey were in the rocky chamber in which lay distant hills. it down, after which he lighted a match and Burt Belford. “Then, after awhile he said: looked around him. At the flash of the light he awoke and his | ore ir upon the tall elegant form of Diamond | “Tf there is amy manhood in you, bury me in er valley—I would not have the wolves my flesh—promise me.” body to become the food of hungry wolves, who scented “You have come to save me—I am so glad,” | ‘It be as you wish.” id come there as soon as they he said, in a weak voice. | “TT thank you; tell me, do you belong to | blood. ‘““Yes—this brave girl has brought us to your the encampment in the canyon?” Then he left the cave, walked rapidly away, aid—are you able to move?” | 2° Yeu”? and soon came to where his horse was awaiting “Ah, yes; but I am very weak—I have lost | ‘‘ What brought you to this wild land?” him. much blood—and I am almost starved.” | “IT came to seek a party who came hither to Mounting, he slowly along back to “You will soon be well, now; carry you—this an offiver from Fort i come, we will is Captain Markham with me, | hunt.” ‘“ Why are there enemies among you?” there?” a“ camp, his thovghts with all that had Giving his horse the rein he was unmindful Gently the two raised the wounded man in ‘““Yes: one of your party killed his comrade | which way he went, until ing up he discoy- their arms, and again led by the maiden, moved | two days since, in the valley.” ered a hill, which he did not remember to noiselessly and slowly from the inner cave. ‘* What?” have seen before. As the cavern of the “Itell the truth, he drove his knife in| ‘Old fellow, you are at fault; you are: off madman his voice grew louder and hoarser, and ed the ves lucky escape, when a fierce howl of came from the cavern. his triendia boas. I saw the act from the hills. He then fled, and I brought the body to the lower cavern. I putit there as a warning to those who would track me, for you had been on my “Yes; but tell me more of this murder. Was the trail to camp. ave you been like your master?’ he sald, Pea: Magione gym glanced searc about hi He was at the mouth of a hasati-y-amodcal ns soared eraped up, and this cut between them Ico) «+ him on to the | the man whose body you carried to the entrance k and ing. h mount and ride to camp—I will hold | to the cavern on the hill below, slain by theman | Still the horse to go into the glocmy him at bay,” cried Diam Dirk. with him?’ gorge, and Diamond Dirk gave him the rein. arteg arto ety MOOS | 3d inthe trem tw | pastes Heese ad ee Nae oe arms away: ) “He e ost him scoul see AY Guide turned toward the icnaies —— ‘Ab, sir, do not kill him—he is a poor mad- man, ‘T will not, except in self-defense—quick, fi on after the others, and go at once parece will follow soon.” . We believed he had fallen into a basin, or that you had slain him. pee cially did we believe it when we found hi dead body at what we supposed was your cav- ern.” “The man lied. He killed his friend. I saw out “Hold, old fellow, you have missed it this time t-about.” to continue, and we will turn to the But steed seemed to
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12 it was only by ‘a sharp word that his master could urge him on. . “You are tired, old fellow—we will not Ane to find ray to-night, but rest. Come, we wi turn up this little glen, for there must be good grass for you.” ; Rich grass was found in the glen, and a nice place for the scout to pass the night; so he las- soed his steed out to feed, spread his blankets beneath a tree, and was soon fast asleep. The light of day awoke him, and he sprung to his feet. ; As he did so he heard the sound of hoofs ap- proaching. . At once he sought shelter, and a moment after a horseman passed the mouth of the glen. : The scout was about to hail him; but he checked himself, and muttered: ‘‘ Where can he be going? I will follow and seo.” is horse was soon saddled, and mounting, he rode quickly on in the trail of the horseman who had just bytes The trail led into the dark gorge—the tracks were fresh—and the scout noticed another cir- cumstance that surprised him greatly—there were numerous other tracks leading into the | Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. | The man was of majestic presence, tall, well | formed, and with a noble, dignified face, with | mustache and whiskers, streaked with gray: He was dressed in buck-skin jacket and leg- gins, wore top-boots and a slouch hat, while a | repeating rifle of recent manufacture was slung | by a strap to his back, and a pair of revolvers and knife were in his belt. “Who can he be? The owner of in, that is certain; but what is he these wilds? ‘“* He does not look like a criminal hiding from | his fellow-men—ha! he must in some way onder cab- oing here in | connected with that maiden— Whom have we _ here?’ and thescout turned as he heard the rapid | fall of hoofs. Turning he beheld with surprise the snow- | white mustang and his fair rider approaching. | “The Girl Guide here? | camp.” | The next instant the white mustang halted by _ his side and the young girl sprung to the ground, ' her face pale and anxious, as she late “Ah, sir, is he dead?’ “No, he is merely stunned—he is not seriously wounded—he will soon recover.” ‘Did you raise your hand against him?’ and I thought she was in gorge. What could all this mean? He was determin- | the maiden spoke in a tone of touching re- ed to find out, cost what it might. Keeping a safe distance behind the horseman | : | and saw him shot down—the one who | deed shall not escape, I promise you; he knows he followed slowly. At length the gorge oe into an open, lovely valley with a stream of water in the center. Going up the valley was the horseman he was | binges and not very far in advance. ‘Should he sti look around he would discover that his ste were p> er Boy the seout turned to the right | and rode up the hillside. After a few moments’ rough climbing he gained a point that commanded a full view of the valley. To his surprise, under the shadow and shelter of the mountain at the = end of the valley he beheld a small cabin of OBS. The scout had _ his field-glass with him and turned it upon the spot. “What! a home in the Yellowstone Valley? Wonders will never cease—this of mystery!” he muttered. Then he turned his again upon the horse- man, and saw him ride into a small clump of timber. acngtes | upon the bank of the stream, and which had concealed his approach from any one that might be at the cabin. «~ eg hire the horseman concealed himself in the f upon the cabin, Diamond Dirk saw a horse and rider leave the shelter of the mountain and ride | and felt certain | fore—who could ) slowly down the valley. He watched him narrow! that he had never seen him he be? Slowly the stranger came down the valley trail and had passed the thicket, when from the foliage came a white puff of smoke. The horseman threw his arms into the | upon | oe |" Where have I seen that face and heard that | air, his horse bounded forward and the ‘rider fell heavily to the ground. “Good scout. As he and bent over the fallen one. : It was the man whom the scout had trailed. A moment he remained by the side of the rostrate form—then, as the frightened, rider- Toon rushed past him on his way back to the cabin, he sprung tohis feet and disappeared in the thicket. The next instant he rea mounted, and with mad speed © horse down the val- and oped rapidly toward the moti form lying by the et. he rode al a strange look rested mo Fe the face of Diamond Dirk—he had reco, in the man who fired’ the shot from the thicket, none other than Lord Gilbert, Earl of Lochiel. CHAPTER XXIII. DIAMOND DIRK’S ee er ius thivaan SWEEPING op soon broug! Dirk to the sdeomvers lay the man who had : upon by Lord Gilbert. ground he knelt beside him, at believed he was dead—the blood oozing from a wound in the back of the head: yeta closer examination ore that the bullet had not broken the , but on the bone, and ruming half around the head had cut out of the scalp and passed on in its flight. continue to follow him, and the man | is indeed a land | cket, when, turning his glass again | 1 what can that mean?” cried the | - . | spoke a man darted from the thicket | sigle. | proach, ‘‘Upon my word, no—TI was on the hill yonder id the not that any one saw him fire the shot.” “Tam so glad yours was not the hand that did the deed—are you certain he is not seriously hurt?” ‘Yes, he is even now recovering and will soon be all right; but how is it I find you here?” **T came hither instead of going to your cam —your wounded friend is now at my cabin, an opener Markham returned last night in search of you.” ' “In search of me?” tf a he did not like leaving you at the cav- ern with the madman; but he could do rate | else, loaded down as he was with your woundec friend, and as soon as he brought him to our cabin he went back for you; but tell me, what of the madman?” ““T was forced to fire upon him; but I did not do so until I felt that he would kill me. He lived some time and told me the story of his | life.” ‘‘ Poor fellow! but where can your friend ‘“‘ He has doubtless missed the way. When I c your—father, is it?” “Yes, he is my father; he is all that I have in the world to love.” ‘*See, he is recovering now. Speak to him.” ‘“Father—my father—thank better!” ward him, while he muttered: daughter?’ voice before?’ murmured the scout, while the maiden said: “You were fired upon, father; some enemy would have slain you; your horse came back to the cabin, and, alarmed for your safety, I sought you, to find this noble scout by your e@ saw your would-be assassin fly.” The man turned his upon Diamond Dirk, | and held forth his hand: * Comrade, I am thankful to you. Come, let us to the cabin.” : insisted upon it that he should mount his horse. In a few moments the a stout log building, wi in it, and pleasantl aren, Beal of the mountain, and upon the | grassy bank of a pretty stream. | Back of the cabin were outbuildings—a stable | and a fowl-house, and to the rise of the of the valley. “ This is indeed a surprise; I knew of no set- ‘Here have I lived for pgs ge and until my bits grace returned last night with wounded friend, no other human beings ever been here. We have lived in contentment away from the world, ave an other human beings than yourselves?” you are | | and, reaching the encampment, his orders were |. The soft words aroused the mim; he opened | his eyes, sat up, and then drew the maiden to- | ‘** Did my horse fall with me, or was I fired | _ The scout aided the wounded man to rise, and — arrived at the cabin— | two fair-sized rooms | situated beneath an over- | scout he beheld a number of fine chickens stalk- ing about, while cattle fed upon the rich grass — in the Yellowstone,” said Diamond | our “ And in all those years you have never seen — _ shade of ashen settlement for provisions and ammunition, but that is all.” Upon entering the cabin Diamond Dirk found Burt Belford .comfortably located in a bed of buffalo-robes, an1 after greeting him, he at once set to work to dress the wound of the set: tler, while the inaiden began to prepare break- fast for her guests—the first duty of the kind she had ever performed for strangers. After a hearty meal, for he confessed to being very hargry, the scout said he would at once look up Captain Markham, who he feared had gotten lost, and after finding him would go tu the cavern and bury the giant madman. “Then strike camp and come here with your friends—we have ample food,” said the hospt- table settler. * “T will, sir—thank you; we may arrive by / evening; now I would like a few words with you, settler.” The two walked apart, and the scout told the settler what he had iearned from the madman regarding the death of Powder Bob, and that it was the same one who had attempted his life! “ Strange—I know of no enemy that I have— he doubtless mistook me for some one else; but there is a mystery in all this that must be solved —when you come back, then we will find out why he attempted my life.” ounting his horse, Diamond Dirk rode rap- we! away from the peaceful valley. s he turned into the trail leading to camp he saw a riderless steed before him. It was the horse of Leo Markham. But the rider was not far away—he was kneel- ing upon the ground; and bending over a con- fused heap of humanity. Rapidly the scout dashed forwayd,and beheld a strange sight—the animal ridden by Lord Gil- bert was lying dead amid a heap of stones—the object over which Leo Markham was bending | was the crushed and bleeding form of the Ear] of Lochiel. CHAPTER XXIV. FACE TO FACE, ° His horse has fallen with him, doubtless—the animal’s neck is broken, the rider [ fear will die; I found them thus,” explained Leo Markham as Diamond Dirk rode up. ‘He is not dead; but he is seriously burt; re- main by him while I ride to camp.” t Away darted the scout, and Leo Markham was alone with the wounded, perhaps dying man, and a look of a concern was u his face, for he had learned to greatly like the En- glishman. The young soldier had, as the scout had feared, / lost his way, and had just found the trail lead- ing to camp, when he came upon the fallen steed | and rider. Like the very wind Diamond Dirk sped on, gee iven. e Pete and two of his comrades were di- rected to go to the madman’s cavern, bury the: giant form, and then come on to the valley. “You will strike our trail leading to the cavern, and can then follow my trail back to the settler’s valley, Pete; now, Pompey, you and Jake fly . around, pack up and come along with Buster, whom I will leave to guide you. Mr. Vernon, we will at once ride on and get Lord Gilbert to the cabin as quickly as possible.” Accompanied by the remaining frontiersmen and Jules Vernon, who seemed deeply distresse at the misfortune that had befallen Lord Gil- bert, the scout spurred rapidly away and soon reached the spot where Leo Markham awaited | by the side of the yet unconscious man. A litter was quickly made and the wounded nobleman gently placed thereon. Then the party moved at a brisk walk in the direction of the cabin in the valley. It was a long, tiresome walk, but they at len, arrived, and the settler and his daughter met them in front of the cabin, As theeyes of the settler fell upon the white face. of ilbert, he sprung fo and bent a searching look at him. * Good God! Itis my brother Gilbert.” Like a drunken man he tottered back and would have fallen had not the scoutcaught him. “Your brother, father?’ “Yes, Ada; my brother—the only brother I had, and who was my father’s favorite. Four- teen years ago I parted from him in far-awa India. To-day, we mieet in the wilds of Ameri- 7 sa | ca, and, oh God! how terrible to meet thus. But an e | man spoke with considerable sadness in his — he must not die—see! he yet lives and—” As the settler 7 oy the eyes slowly opened, and turned upon the face of his brother. Then over the face of Lord Gilbert stole a or. The eyes stared and the | ‘Oh, yes—twice a year I go to the nearest | lips murmured unintelligible words.
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‘Gilbert. Brother, do you know me?” ! Am T fatally in- ' “Answer me. Will T die? jured?” asked Lord Gilbert. ‘*T hope not—” ‘“Yes; you will not live two hours,” and the stern woice, of Diamond Dirk. interrupted the | words of hope the settler was giving rise to. * Are you certain?’ “Yes; I have seen too many men die to make | a mistake,” coolly venier the-scout. “Then I have much to say. Melrose, I am an unworthy brother. I am accursed as was Cain. Years ago, I published a ments of your death, | aided by this man,” and inted to Vernon. “Thereby, at the death of our father—” ‘He is dead, then?” i ‘Yes. When he died he left me the heir to your title and estates. But that was not the rst time he wronged you, Melrose., He sent | your wife away.” . | ** T know all that, brother.” ‘** Do you still call me brother?” ‘* Yes—you are still my brother.” ‘*WNo, Iam unworthy of that ngme—this very | morning I attempted your life.” ‘*Good God!” : “Tt is true—and more, Melrose, several days | ago [ wee — with ~*~ of our a gn saw you, an ee gt then—you passed | within ten feet of us. - “Then I wastempted and fell—I would kill you | and still remain Load Gilbert; to do this I killed first my unsuspecting companion; with him out of the way—for he would of course tell that he had seen a strange white man in the valley— I would be free of any witness, then L would seek your life. This morning I believéd I had killec Foe shank God now that. I failed; but you fell from your horse—you seem . Diamond Dirk. t “That was two years ago; but public senti- ment caused you to leave France, and one who loved him, who was his only kin, followed you forrevenge. I am that person.” “ The boy had a sister, and—” “Tam that sister!” “ You!” ou fought together and he fell, shot through tho heart. . y leave the valley. The winter was coming rap- “Yes. I was the heir of wealth, with my » brother: brought up like a boy, rather than a girl, my education was much like his, and when was determined to revenge him, I donned | man’s attire. ‘Now that I have found you thus, Lord Gil- bert, Lam glad, for I wish not your life on my hands. You are dying—so let it be. I pity you, and my poor brother Burt is avenged.’ Without another word, the woman, as she is now known to be, turned away, leaving all dazed with surprise—the handsome, fearless, gallant Burt ord had turned out to be a young girl of twenty. As she went into the cabin, Ada, the Girl Guide, shyly followed her, and the men were left alone around the litter of the dying man. For some moments there was a dead silence, and then the dying nobleman said, softly: ** Jules, Jules!” All turned to look for the Frenchman; but he had my ag ‘** Yonder he goes,” said Diamond Dirk, point- ing. down the valley, where Jules Vernon was riding slowly away from the cabin. “Let him go—he feels that this is no place for him—he was a mere adventurer that I picked up years ago and proved: useful to me, and a pleasant com on—let him go,” said Gilbert. “He is go “Yes, I was stunned by the bullet; it is buat a “soon put an end to his existence,” said Leo. slight wound. I forgive you, Gilbert, the temp- tation was great,” and Lord Melrose, for such | the reader now knows him to be, spoke with a tone of perfect forgiveness, ! The dying man closed his eyes for a moment, | and then slowly opened them, while he said: ‘Why do I find you here?’ : _“T followed my wife and -child—the father : of my wife went into ess in New York and failed, then he came West with a number of emigrants. : ‘‘T struck the trail of the train and came | upon a scene that I shall néver forget: my wife, her father, nay, all but one of that train were | dead and scalped—that one was my baby girl, nestling in her dead mother’s arms—here she is— Ada, this is your uncle.” — The maiden had heard all that had passed; but, with the-same forgiving nature shown by her father, she leaned ove and pressed her lips to the forehead of the dying man. Then Lord Melrose continued: ** Sick of the world, I took my child and came hither—from the train I got me sufficient ma- terial and stores to make myself comfortable— several horses, cows and fowls, that had escaped from the Indians, with provisions they had left, for something must have frightened them off, ere their hellish work was complete. “To be free from ins, I came here where Indians never come, and here I have lived in pesos for long years; now you know all.” gain the eyes of the wounded man closed, | wearily, and some present believed that he had | sunk into his last sleep. But they opened agai broke on his ears — it Belford, who, pale, trembl of fire, stood before him. — CHAPTE BURT BELFORD’S STORY. The dyin “ = ae aaeael firmness, e dying man. e with un nd his eyes were cao oe the face of Burt | Jelford, with a look of h - ‘*T am one who sought to slay you, Lord Gil- bert—one who has trac you fortwo years; but my revenge is chea’ od alasedy pas his take mine off. . hand upon. you and I m ** Look at me—do you ““T remember a face such as thine.” ‘‘ Where is that face now?” ve. ” y whose hand?” We, why: “ He fell in a duel with me.” “Yes. He loved a woman whom that man, Jules Vernon, loved; it was that.man’s desire to get rid of him—he led him into temptation, and when his brain was wild with liquor, involved him in a quarrel with you. * He insulted you, and you challenged bhim— | as a § voice | the voice of Burt ing, and with eyes XV. a — ‘* So let it be—it were a fitting death for him —Melrose, come near me.” The settler bent over his brother. ‘* Among my papers you will find all that you would know about my affairs, and in my valise sufficient gold—if you need gold—I am, tired now and need sleep: but tell me again you for- give me, ere I—go—to—sleep.” “T forgive all, brother.” Silently those about the litter stole away and left the dying man ‘with his brother. An_hour a Leo Markham approached the spot—Lord Melrose still sat there, holding the | hand of his brother: but,it was lifeless, for the spirit of Gilbert of Lochiel had gone—he had sunk into his last sleep—the sleep of death. CHAPTER XXVI. CONCLUSION, Tue body of Lord Gilbert was laid away in a grave, dug on the banksof the little stream, and a feeling of relief came upon all when the burial was over—the valley of the Yellowstone no longer held weird mysteries to the adventurous hunters, who had penetrated its fastnesses. In the afternoon Prairie Pete and his two comrades put in an appearance and made two reports—first, they had buried the body of the to his death—the Indians will | / wish to travel!heBurope.” 13 At length Lord Melrose signified a desire to idly on, and he was anxious to return to Eng- land and give Ada the advantages her birth and wealth entitled her to. And so attached had both his daughter and himself become to Belle, that Melrose adopted her as his daughter, and the kinless, al- most friendless maiden was happy. One-pleasant-fall.morning the whole party set out from the valley, Lord Melrose and Ada leaving their cabin-home with full hearts, for lovely though their lives had been, they were yet happy there. With Prairie Pete and his four companions, Leo Markham, Lord Melrose; and two such fearless maidens as were Ada and Belle, Diamond Dirk did not fear to pass cet, the Indian country, in spite of Pompey and Jake’s admoni- pions thats ; ; “Dey had better stay whar dey was, as dar vag, no Ingins dar. Ef dey went away, dey wud all.be skulped, sartin.” But Fort Ellis was reached in safety, after a hard but successful trip. A few days’ rest at Fort Ellis, and Lord Mel- rose and the two maidens, accompanied by Captain Markham and Diamond Dirk, started for the railroad, where the three former took the: train for New York, and the two lovers were left behind, but not disconsolate, for they had won the hearts of their lady-loves. As they rode back to Fort Ellis, Leo Mark- ham said: ‘“* Old . fellow, do.you know I am tired of a soldiér’s life”? ‘“*T don’t doubtait, captain.” ‘“Yes—my parents left me a handsome in- come—I ‘have won some little reputation, and I “Want a companion, captain?” “Yes, indeed.” “Then I'll go—you see I am leading this wild ' life simply from a love of adventure—couldn’t bee settle down to pulling teeth, giving pills, selling tape, or tilling the ground, after four years’ cav- alry service in the confederate army, soI struck for the frontier, and the life has had great at- tractions for me. “T had a few thousands when the war closed, and have added to the amount, until I am inde- pendent now, and would be delighted to spend my income in Euro travel—England, you know, is sé delightful, you know,” and the scout burst out into a merry laugh, in which the soldier joined. both scout and soldier were as good as | their word—they left the frontier, tcok steamer ' for England, and one afternoon dropped in on madman in the valley; then upon their way to | the cabin they had met Jules Vernon, riding down the river. They had urged him to return with them, not knowing the circumstances under which he had left: but he had refused, and told them he was going on a little scout on his own account— _ | “yer bet thar ain’t no one as gces thai—they ns ' ha’nted, an’ calls ther Gal Guide a sperrit, aw that was the last they had seen of him. When the tents were pitched, and Pompey and Jake busy around the camp-fires, the valle presented a cheerful, pleasant scene that night: yet a feeling of solemn sadness seemed to rest _ upon Diamond Dirk and Leo Markham were alone in their tent, while Lord M his daughter, and Belle Ford occupied the cabin. _ p Prairie Pete and Yet around the camp-fires his comrades were gay and happy—nothing could disturb their equanimity—they took life as it was, not as it had been, and were content with the delicious supper the two negroes had set before them. A few leave the cabin, and when she came out in one of Ada’s fancy buck-skin costumes, both Leo and Diamond confessed that she was a most beautiful creature, in spite of her short hair. As the dave went on the two maidens and the scout and the young soldier became the best of friends—nay more, they were daily becoming more interested in each other, until Captain Leo Markham declared co tially to the scout that the lovely Ada Melrose won his heart; and mon —they Ford was able to | — Dirk swore that he would | be an unhappy man if the beautiful Belle Ford returued nothis ardent ioye.. Lord Melrose and the ladies at Lochiel manor. But the two young men did not» do much Eu- traveling just then—they waited a few months, turned into Benedicts, and with their lovel brides, made the tour of Europe, after whic to Lochiel manor, where Diamond Dirk, found a let- great friend of Sitting Bull. : Then Prairie Pete went on to say that he had appooses; gin our love to the leddies, an’ re- spects ter ther ole gent yer pa-in-law, wh« m ther boys has named thet Hermit of ther Yaller- aut Dudley trip to that country, scme idley Dean, when he had finished [ewouldedearly like to see it again,” said Ada, ly <4 “ And so would I,” returned Belle. “Well, we will go next summer,” rejoined Cay ~* ae he Indian war caused a postponement of the trip: yet, when the summer of 1878 rolls sone. 2 ne Sioux ore not still on the war-path, a hunting-party will again venture in- to that little known and Bovis he co Yellowstone, some of the mysteries have been made known. to | Diamond Dirk. valley of the ; which e kind reader of THE END. - ld ke
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> Beadle & Adams’ Standard Dime Publications. Speakers. BEADLE AND ADAMS have now on their lists the follow- ing highly desirable and attractive text-books, pre- pared expressly for schools, families, etc. Each volume contains 100 isrge pages, printed from clear, open type comprising the best collection of Dialogues, Dramas an Recitations, (burlesque, comic and otherwise.) The. Dime Speakers for the season of 187j—as far as now issued—embrace eighteen volumes, viz.: 1, American Speaker. a O, Barend -Eagle Speaker. RietMeabeater, |b Bath Sax 8. Patriotic er. x on spea er. 4. Comie Speaker. 18. School Speaker 5. Elocutionist. 14. Ludicrous Speaker. 6. Bure Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker 7. Standard Speaker. 16. Youth’s Speaker. 8. Stump § er. 17. Eloquent a. 9. Juvenile Speaker, 18. Hail Columbia Speaker. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker. . ~ These books are r Mtr with choice pieces for the School-room, the Exhibition, for Homes They are drawn from sources, and cont some of the choicest oratory of the times, %% to 100 Declamations and Recitations in each book. Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages, embrace twenty books, viz.: Dialogues No. One. Dialogues No. Eleven. Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Twelve. Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues 7 Thirteen. Dialogues No. apr. Dialogues No. Fourteen. Dialogues No. ogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No. ie : Di pease No, Sixteen. Dialogues No. Seven. Dialogues No. Seventeen Dialogues No. Right. Dinlogues o. Eighteen. Dialogues No. Nine. Dialogues Nineteen. Dialogués No. Ten. Dialogues No. Twenty. 15 to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in each book. These volumes have been peepered with especial re- ference to their availability all school-rooms. They are adapted to schools with, or without the furniture of a stage, and introduce a range of characters suited to scholars of every grade, both male and female. It is ‘air to assume that no volumes yet offered toschools, at any price, contain so many available and useful dia- logues and dramas, serious and comic. A NEW BOOK OF POPULAR Dramas and Readings. 164 12mo Pages. 20 Cents. For Schools, Parlors, Entertainments and the Amateur Stage, comprising Original Minor Dramas, Com Farce, Dress Pieces, Humorous Dialogue and Burlesque, by noted writ writers; and Recitations and Readings, n and. sta’ xf the greatest celebrity and intarebe: Edited by ner A. M. Russell. DIME HAND-BOOKS. Young People’s Series. BEADLE’s DIME HAND-BOOKs FOR YOUNG PEOPLE Cover a wide range of subjects, and are especially adapted thelr en They constitute at once the ¢ eapest. and Fanta, works yet put into the market for popular circulation. Ladies’ Letter-Writer. ° Book of Games. Gents’ Letter-Writer. Fortune-Teller, Book ot Etiquette. Lover; Vasket. Book of Verses. Ball-room 3_Yanion, Book of Dreams. Book of Beauty A Hand Book of Games. BEADLE’S DIME HAND-BOOKS OF GAMES AND POPULAR HAND-BOOKS cover a variety of subjects, and are especi- ally adapted to their end. Base-Ball iL ievet for 1378, Guide to Swimmi Book of Croquet. BT tamer Es Row Chess Instructor. Riding and Deiving: Cricket and Fox ‘tall. Book of Pedestrianism. Manual for Housewives. BEADLE’S DIME FAMILY SERIES aims to supply a class of text-books and manuals fitted for oval poescas Us 3 nw FF the old and the young, the learned and t They are of conceded value. 1, Cook Book, 4. Pamily Physician. 2. Recipe Book. 5. Dressmaking and Millin- 3. Housekeeper’s Guide. ery. Lives of Great Americans. complete and ie nothonsss user 0 the Re Ranh of the men who have ad “ re 3 lives and deeds, The ate embraces: ies of ublic epree Wash VII.—David Crockett. iL Tenn ‘aul Jones. VUl.—Israel Putnam. Iil.—Mad Anthony Wayne. IX—kit © Carson. y. —Ethan Allen. ¥-~wergale de Lafayette. VI.—Daniel Boone. ahem Lincoln. These beautiful books are complete in one volume— one hundred large 12mo pages wes each, a and sold 1 newsdealers; or sent, st-pald, ny Bn Md me receipt of price—ten cen’ SONG BOOKS. BEADLE’s D1mE Sone Books, Nos, 1 to 38, con: the only papal collection of copyright songs to be found n MISCELLANEOUS DIME BOOKS. fim Crow Joke Book. Pocket ae. | Padd k Joke Book. he above publications for sale by all newsdealers, or wilt be sent, 5 Boat pala, 0 on m receipt of price, by BEADLE & ADAMS, 938 InLIAM S8r,, N.Y. DIME N NOVELS. Incomparable in Merit. Merit. Unapproachable in Price. (2 Be very careful not to confound these books with those of other publishers, sold at the same priee. The vast success of the Dime Novels called into existence “Ten Cent Novels,” which the public is sometimes de- ceived in buying as Dime Novels. The only Dime Novels arethose pudlished by BEADLE AND ADAMS, whose copy- right trade-mark and signet the word ‘ ‘Dime ” Noyel is. Ask always for BEADLE’s Dime Novels, and you will then get what you wish. The following comprises a com- ‘plete, list as far as published. Numbers omitted are out of print. 2 The Pave s Cruise. iB Black Arrow. 8 Myr 227 The Forest Princess. : The Havé Sculptor. 228 The Mute Chief. 10 The Backwoods Bride. | 230 The Partisan Spy. 11 Prisoner La Vintresse. | 231 The Texan Trailer, 14 The Emerald Necklace. | 282 The Prairie Queen. 16 Uncle Ezekiel. 234 The Forest Specter. 17 Madge Wilde. 236 The Ice Fiend. 22 The Maid of Esopus. } 237 The Plymouth Scout. 23 Winifred Winthrop. | 238 Night-Hawk Kit. The Trail Hunters. 239 Old Zip. The Peon Prince. 240 Swiftwing. Put. Pomfret’s Ward. 241 Mink Coat. Double Hero. | 242 Graybeard. Maum Guinea, 20c. Ruth Mar; poe The Black Princess. Keetsea, Queen of the East and Plains. . Riflemen oft the Miami. | 245 The Red Prince. The Wrong Man. 246 The White Apache. The Land Claim. | 247 Dusky Dick. Union’s Da pate, 20c. |.249 bo a S Walkin fiend. 24 25 30 31 33 M4 35 36 38 89 2 The Squaw Sachem. 4 A 46 rotke ofthe Albion. (252 47 51 58 b4 56 60 61 La 62 63 64 65 68 69 The Border Renegade. The Fire-EKater. The Prairie Scourge. The White Gladiator. Tim Bumble’s Charge. Blackhawk, the Bandit. The “wo Guards. Hates and Loves. . Antelope Abe. Myrtle. Old Avoirdupois, § Ahmo’s Plot. The White Brave. x 7° Daviess’ oped Red Dan, the Banger, pening Bye The Twin Trailers. The nknovn, - The Border Huntress, The Indian Princess. Rangers of Mohawk. The Wrecker’s Prize. The Brigantine. Black Hollow, | 70 The Indian Queen. 72 The Moose Hunter. 73 The Silver Bugle. Mountain Kate. The Blue Band. Wild Rube. apes vecter Riders. oung Mustangers. Black Panther. The Gray Hunter. Single Hand. sapecibnariitn a 74 Cruiser of Chesapeake. Little iy eighiigee 77 Quindaro, The Sea K 81 The Two Hunters. Nick, the Sonut, 84 The Seminole Chief. | Two-Handed Mat. 8 The Fugitives. | Abdiel, the Avenger 86 Red Plume. ‘Boon, the Hunter 87 On the Deep. 279 The Girl Captain 88 Captain Molly. | 280 Border Vengeance 90 Cast Away. | 281 The Black Spy 91 The Lost Cache. | 282 Ruby Roland 92 The Twin Scouts. | 284 ane woung Spy 93 The Creole Sisters, 285 Old Bear-paw 94 The Mad Skipper. | 286 The Masked Avenger 9 Eph Peters. 287 Ethan Allen’s Rifles 96 Little Moccasin. 288 The Wood King 97 The Doomed Hunter. 289 The Balloon Scouts 98 Ruth Harland. 290 Captain of Captains 99 Overboard. | 291. Warrior Princess 100 Karaibo. | 2822 Black John 101 Maid of Wydming. | 208 The Tonkawa Spy 102 Hearts Forever. 204 The Rival Rovers 106 Simple Phil. Arkansas Kit 107 The Peddler Spy. 296 Death Trailer 108 The Lost Ship. | 297 Bleck Nick 109 Kidn fs | 298 The Hussar Captain 110 The Hidden Home. a Mossfoot, the Brave 112 The Falcon Rover, 4, 0 The Crested Serpent 113 Rattlepate. 301 Mustang Sam 114 Ned Son of 802 Cuban Conspirators 115 The Sons iberty. 303 The Corsair Prince 116 Port at La: | $44 The Texan Avengers The FR tel Maiden. | 305 The Girl oon 118 The Water Waif. 806 Cari The Five Champions. | 307 Death’ Rosen Rangers 121 Vailed Benefac’ aig | 308 Glass Eye 12 Barden, the Ran 309 Mountain Ned 123 The Missing Bride. 0 Rochen Phil 124 Sumter’s uts. Sonora Ben 125 The 2 Hun Life. { Bi Dick Darling 127 Bald Eagle. | $18 The Red Brotherhood 128 The Guich Miners. 314 Rival Lieutenants 129 Blackeyes. 315 Tiger Heart, Tracker [ig Old Honesty. 316 Hong tie B ankee Ep: 317 Ti the era 185 The Cherokee Chief. “| 318 The’ tone Ch 186 The Indian Hunters. 137 The Traitor Spy. The Border Foes. 140 ta See co hein ti e Sagamore o 0. | 143 The evemp ei | 146 Border Bessi | 319 The Pear] Sp: oo The Child it Spy tam The Dashing Dr 2 agg 219 The Scioto Saoute. Plog The White Avenger 21 The Blue Clipper. The Long tall | 223 King of the Mountain. 346 Kirk, the Guide | 24 The Mohave Captive. si The Phantom Trail 822 oA Will-o’ -the- Wisp, thi ui me jot the} Mountain. Outlaw: vi 5 sat 825 Dashi ic 159 Snowbird. | $26 Old Greskiire 162 The B Border Rivals. R7 Po Leni the Han- 163 Job Dean, Brapper. 165 The Unseen “A |. 323 the Brigand Captain 169 The White ee 329 Old Si 176 The Trader § 830 aa Hale the Chief i= Giant Pete. fe Patriot. 331 The Prairie Tigers % The First Trail. 382 ‘The Rival Hunters 203 Masked G Soni. | 333 The Texan Scout 205 The gray som | 334 Zebra Zack 207 The Buffalo Trapper. 335 The Masked Messenger 209 Scarred Kag 336 Hor cay boy Pirate 210 Redlaw, Half-Breed. 337 212 Silver Spur. | 838 Tahle, ihe trailer 213 Squatter Dick. | 839 The Boy 214 The Forest Monster. i Tim, the Trailer 215 White Hermi | 341 Red Ax, the Indian 217 Mountain Gid. | Giant 218 The Indian Spy. | 342 Stella, the Spy Sd | R45 875 Alone on the Ba PGrizaly, the Bear- 848 The Apache Guide 849 The Mad Miner The Phantom Horse. : | 376 man 350 Keen Eye, the Ranger 377 Winona, the Giant 351 Blue Belt, Guide | Chief of St. Regis 352 On the Trail 378 Silent Shot, the Slayer 353 The Specter §; Spy | 379 The Phantom Ship 354 Old Bald He 380 The Red. Rider 355 Red Knife, Chief | 881 The Grizzly-Hunters 856 Sib Cone, ‘Trapper 882 The Mad Ranger 857 The Bear Hunter | 883 The Specter. apne 358 Bashful Bill, Spy | 884 The Red Coyo' 859 The White Chie 385 The Hunchback 360 Cortina, the Scourge 386 The Black Wizard 361 The Squaw Spy | 3837 The Mad Horseman 362 Scout of ’76 _ 388 The Privateer’s Bride 363 Spanish Jack 389 The Jaguar Queen 364 Masked Spy | 890 Shadow Jack 865 Kirke, the Renegade | 391 Eagle Plume 366 Dingle, the Outlaw | 892 The Ocean Oytlaw 367 The Green va | 393 Red Slayer 368 Montbats, the urge , 394 The Phantom Foe 369 Metamora 395 The Blue Anchor 870 Thornpath, the Trailer | 396 The Red-Skin’s Pledge 871 Foul-weather Jack 397 The Quadroon Spy 872 The Black Rider 398 e Blac ver * 873 The Helpless Hand 374 The Lake Rangers lains hers in eda. THE ILLUMINATED DIME POCKET NOVELS. Comprising’ the best works only of the most popular tty. ing writers in the field of American romance. Each issue a complete novel, with illaminated.cover, rivaling in effect the popular chromo. 1 Hawkeye Harry 48 The Phantom Tracker » 2 Dead Shot 49 M 8 The Boy Miners 50 The Wolf Queen 4 Blue Dick 51 a sa the Trailer 5. Nat Wolfe 52 The Mad Chief 6 The White-Tracker 53 The Black Wolf 7 The Outlaw’s Wife 54 Arkansas Jack | ae Tall Trapper 55 Blackbeard ightning Joe The River Rifles 10 The Island Pirate 57 Hunter Ham 11 The Boy Ranger 58 Cloudwood 12 Bess, the Trapper 59 The Texas Hawks 13 The French Spy 60 Merciless Mat 14 Long Shot 61 Mad Anthony’s Scoute 15 Gunmaker of the Border) 62 The Luckless Trapper 16 Red Hand | 63 The Florida Scow 17 Ben, the Trapper 64 The paland Trapper 18 Wild Raven, Ranger | 6 Wolf ing’D 19 The Specter Chie 66 Basis ick 20 The B’ar-Killer | 67 Sharp eye 21 Wild Nat 68 Iron-Hand 2 Indian Jo, the Guide 69 The Yellow Hunter 33 Old Kent, the Ranger 70 The Phantom Rider 24 The One- tyed Trapper | 71 Delaware Tom 25 Godbold, the Spy 72 Silver Rifle 26 The Black Ship 73 The Skeleton Scout 27 Single Eye 74 Little Rifle 28 Indian Jim 75 The Wood Witch 29 The Scout 76 Old Ruff, the Twa: 30 Eagle Kye 97 The Scarlet Shoulders $1 The Mystic Canoe 73 The Border Rifleman %2 The Golden Harpoon 79 Outlaw Jack 83 The Scalp King 80 Tiger Tail, the Seminole 34 Old Lute 81 pee. Dealer, the Shaw 35 Rainbolt, the Ranger ee Scourge 86 The Boy Pioneer Renton, the Ranger 37 Carson, eh gs ta Specter Horseman 88 The Heart-Eater e ee Trappers 39 Wate the Scout. Kaleolah, the Witch 28 428 pe Av 40 The Huge Hunter quem 41 bt | a the Trapper The Hunter Hercules 2 Ly : Phil pow the Boy 43 The Wh te Outlaw Slaye 44 The Dog Trailer The indian Scout The Girl Avenger 45 The Elk oq 46 Adrian, the Pilot 47 The Man-hunter TWENTY CENT NOVELS. 150 to 200 Pages 12mo each. Chromo Covers. Twenty Cent Novel Series embraces none but wien of pod ed authors, chiefi » Se” field of purely fe Others in Press. Apee cone of mark origi ginality = Mh fe widest srcelaaion y ‘Erase to the ort Feet Aweriean Novels will them in this 1 Overland Kit, Rocky M tain Ro Tue Dick TaLBor 3 ethce teatgerts By Albert W. or Aikep Injun Dick 9 The Red ah, By Fr -! White Squaw. Say A of Fa Petrott Free Press. toot Aiken. ueen of the Woods. By auth - Hun ; ou See. 2 Old Dan Rackback, the aes The Scalp Hunters. By pt, 10 The Winged Whale. By er 3 ifornia Detect Me an. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. yy OW Coomes, i ehamtom Han 2 2 Gencemnan Gonna THe Crry Lire SERIES. Percy - Albert iy Idaho Tom, the Outlaw. ook. M 1 Coomes. " By Albert W. Aken 14 uinea. -% Sirs, M. is Pacific the Prince of the Revolver. By Jos. F + or, the rH Red Rob. the Bey Road Agent Heart of Fire, By Albert W. Aiken, e 29 Old Bull’s-Eye. By Bowie- e Ben. PO Jos. E. be cubes or sent by mail on recelpt BEADLE & aDens Ep Publishers ° SBE For sale by al am Street, New York
Page 16
EADLE’S HALF-DIME ; g The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen. Trapper.” 11 The Two Detectives; or, THE Fortunes oF A Bowery GIRL. By Albert W. Aiken, author of ‘‘ The Spotter Detective,” etc. 1 2 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. 13 The Dumb Spy. Nat Todd; or, THr Fare or THE Sroux Captive. A Sequel to “ Bill Biddon, By Edward S§. Ellis. By Oll Coomes, author of “ Vagabond Joe,” etc. 1 Aladdin; or, THE WoNnDERFUL Lamp, 1 5 The Sea-Cat; or, THz Wiron or Dapnien. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 1 Robinson Crusoe. JUHis Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.) 17 Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca- meer; or, THE FUGITIVE YACHT. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 1 ts Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages, From the Arabian Nights. DEADWOOD DICK. 1 Deadwood Dick, Tur PRINCE or THE Roap; or, THe Biack RIDER OF THE BLACK Hitus. By Edward L. Wheeler. yd Yellowstone Jack; or, THr TRAPPER OF THE ENCHANTED Grounp. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr., author of “‘ Pacific Pete," etc. Kansas King; or, THe Rep RIGaT Hanp. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe; THe Youna WANDER- 1inG Jew. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bill Biddon, Tra THE NorTHWEST. By er; < seein IN ward §. Ellis. The Fl-ine Yankee; or, THE OCEAN Ovwrcas?. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Seth Jones; or, THE CAPTIVES OF THE Frontier. By Edward §. Ellis. ROBINSON CRUSOE.—No. 16. 19 The Phantom Spy; or, THE PiLor oF THE Prarriz. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, DrAp- woop Dick’s DEFIANCE. By Edward L. Wheeler, author of ‘* Deadwood Dick. 21 Frontier Angel. Kentucky Rangers’ Life. Ellis, author of ‘* Seth Jones,” 2 The Sea Serpent; or, THz Boy RosiInson Caredie By Col. Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o’ the Wight: or, THE Boy Spy or ‘76. By T.C. |. Harbaugh. A Romance of By’ Edward & ete. 24 Diamond Dirk: or, THE MysTERyY oF THE YELLowsTONE. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, author of ‘“‘ The Flying Yankee,” etc. 2 5 The Boy Captain: or, THE Prrate’s DaueutTer. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. Edward L. Wheeler 2Q7 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By Oll Coomes, Qe Buffalo Ben, the Prince of the Pistol: or, Dkapwoop Dick IN By Edward L, Wheeler. | By RALPH ROY.—No. 17. DIs@uIsE, Every one of them * Live” Stories by ** Live® Authors, a Complete Novel, at the extrnaordinar, price of a HALF-DIME. LIBRARY. Each number THE DOUBLE DAGGERS.—No, 20. 29 The Dumb Page; or, Tur DoGr’s DaveuTrerR. B Japt. Frederick Whit- taker, author of ‘The Wild-Horse Hunters,” etc. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THE Reckiess Rancer. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, Tue PrINcE OF THE Prairies. By Oll Coomes. 3 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian: or, THE Girt Deap-Suor, By Edward L. Wheeler, author of “ Deadwood Dick,”’ ete., ete. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, TH: RED PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEES, By Samuel W. Pierce, author of ‘‘The Boy Detective,” etc., ete. 3 Oregon Sol; or, Nick WHIFFLEs’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. Ready March 19th. Wild Ivan, Tue Boy CLaupE DuvaL; 35 or, THk BrRoTHERHOOp oF DEATH. Dead- wood Dick Romance No, 4. By Edward L. Wheeler. Ready March 26th. A new issue.every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on BEADLE & ADAMS, New York. receipt of six cents each. Publishers, 98 William Street, BUFFALO BEN.—No. 28