Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 251) (1882 05 16)
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~ 1 (eo cl n a TL! ae a YZ Yi ‘amin Clee Ci dl Seal $2.50 a vear. Mell aN Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. ao aN i ee in 1882 Lae BEADLE AXD ADAMS, May 16, 1882, V 1. X. Sin: ool PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, O Num No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. LIGHT “HOUSE LIGE: uf Osceola the Fuheend of the coarse BY ee arengnae J. F. C. ADAMS, AUTHOR OF ‘ ‘BUCK BUCKRAM,’ i Mi i et i ‘a wl CF ly ; ‘LIGHTNING JOE,” ‘OLD ZIP’S CABIN,” ETC., ETC., ETC Hi i A | dp WR Rae SES ou) tae : Dr AGE i hy, 4 AN % iyi Ni #3 He i = \ \ ‘ oe oy o Wyn f =" . i ys NY ea \ AM \| ie “YOU'VE BEEN LOOKING ON THE WATER,” SAID LIGE, A FEW MINUTES LATER; “NOW TAKE A SQUINT TOWARD LAND AND YOU SHALL SEE WHAT You SHALL SEE.’
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2 Light-House Lige ; OR, OSCEOLA, The Firebrand of the Everglades. BY CAPT. J. F. ©. ADAMS, AUTHOR OF “BUCK BUCKRAM,” “LIGHTNING 10K,” ‘OLD ZIP’S CABIN,”’ ETC., ETC. CHAPTER L IN THE LIGHT-HOUSE, “Tar glass is turned to the south’ard, and tell me now what it shows you.” **The wide expanse of the Menic Sea is spread be- fore me; hundreds of miles of the water gleam and shimmer in the setting sun, while from many a league to. the westward, where the orb is si in the sea, stretches a long train of dazzling brightness that my eyes can scarcely look upon.” m’t you see “ys me or vessels?"’ **Here and there they dot the surface in every di- rection, and I behold them in whatever direction I aoe my glass. Some are in the very verge of the orizon, where their spread of sail looks like a patch of silvery cloud against the blue sky; others are so far down. the ss that. only the faintest glim can be caught of their canvas; and nearer still 1 can detect the dark hull of the merchantmen, leaving their foamy wake behind them, as they plow through the warm waters of the Gulf. It is a beau- tiful sight, Lige.” “Yas; 1 s’pose."’ “Wouldn't you like to enjoy it yourself?” “No; I thankee. I’ve tuk it 50 often that I’m used to it; but tell me, Hugh, are any of them vessels that you can see coming this way?” The young man again age the telescope out to sea, and moved it slowly around the horizon, until he had made the circuit from the north, over the west and down to the south again. Then straighten- ing himself, he why cee ‘They seem to be sailing in every direction, Lige, and some are heading almost toward this point; but I can’t say that any appear to be making for this a aap itself. I can hardly conceive why they u Bas “ Sorry! blamed if I ain’t—that’s all!’ growled the old man, knitting his shagsy brows. ““Why do you desire thaiany of the vessels should eome this way, Uncle Lize?” “Cause ef one should-land here, you could go aboard and save your bacon.” Young Hugh -Havéens- looked at the embrowned face of the-old light-bouse keeper in amazement. He thought at-first that it was one of his dry jokes, and the particular point of which was not apparent; but he saw from the expression of his countenance he was in dead earnest. His lips were com- As and there was a certain gleam of the eye t proved that the old man was swayed by some deep and powerful emotion. “I don’t understand the cause for such an expres- sion, Uncle Lige " said he; “if you are anxious to get a of me, : ‘i descend the stairs now, and take away.’ he bronzed six-footer who had charge of the light-housé on this Mah oe of the Florida coast, looked off calmly and deliberately over the vast ex- panse of water, as if he were mentally debating some matter of great importance, and acting as though he had not heard the last remark of his companion. lay SE the tebe housee B, ied little sting ba the sum- te) 10use, the 8 own upon a small stool, and doin poactity-emibking his. short black pipe, while the rather prajpomeading young man, who been in the habi spending an hour with him each day for the last week or so, was using the long telescope that belo: to the observatory and scanning every portion of the immense field o vision that spread out before him. “You've been looking on the water,” said Lige, a few minutes later; ‘‘ now take a squint toward and you shall see what you shall see.” Following the suggestion of the keeper, yo Havens turned the muzzle of the instrument land- ward, and carefully scrutinized the scarcely less ex- pansive landscape that bryos out before him. His elevated position, and the lass so en- et the area of vision, that it would have re- q hours for him to take in all the points of the wonderful landscape. Such was not his purpose ip the present occa- sion, and after loo! over the gro in a general sort of way, he withdrew his ores a the glass, n, 3 town or hamlet in sight; here and there natural clearings and silvery streams of water, winding through this vast wilderness on its way to ths sea. At great intervals over this solitude, I can make out faint, shadowy columns of smoke, that show where the treacherous Indian has his camp-fire; but these only add to the loveliness of this scene, and make our isolated tion the more isolated still. I often feel, as I look out from this elevated perch, that we are like birds that have flown:to the edge of this desert and are still fluttering on the border, fearful about venturing across the waste.” The alee . ey vrs looked upon you vens 1 a disgusted, pit on e You're always thinking of some Simned honacnes like that, instead of keeping your mind on business like Ido. Take another squint through that teles- Light-House Lige. oe. tell me whether you don’t see nothing of a 1 i” “Lake? Of course I do— a mile distant— 80 near and so frequently seen that I deemed it un- worthy of mention.” **Look mighty careful along the shore for some- thing worth seeing.” Turning the glass in the direction indicated, Hugh Havens held it a pointed toward the gleam- ing, unruffied sheet of water, and, without moving his eye from the eye-glass, he began after & moment as if to himself. “From the pines close to the water, a heavy, murky mass of smoke sluggishly ascends, and seine ee in the sultry air above. I see noth- more.” Don’t be so sartin; foller the line of the lake, on the northern shore, and p’raps something else will meet your eye.” “Yes; youare right. Ido see something else— dark moving bodies—they are canoes, being paddled = the shore of the lake.” ** Exactly, and they are all full of Indians too, arn’t the I can make out that much myself, with- out the A “Yes—now that you direct my attention to it, I can see several scores of them, and they appee to be landing close to the shore, and eir Way to the camp-fire.”’ “That's just what they are doing, and counting what's already there, and what's comin’, by the time that the sun s down there’ll be more than a hun- cred gathe there, as full of the deviltry as they kin stick.” “Have you any idea of their Pa tape il asked young Havens, still peering through the glass. “ They’re a part of Osceola’s band, and I shouldn't wonder ef that chief was there, That’s the place where they’re'gathering to hatch out enough deévil- try to last em a year. It won’t take ’em long to do that, and then you must look out fur scalps. ey're going fur ’em then mighty heavy, and you must old on to your own.” ** But Lean not.see that there is much chance for their doing any thing extensive in that line,” said Havens, turning about again to the old campaigner, who had spent so mE rears of his life in this dangerous locality. “ nearest fort lies forty miles to the northward, and they would feel no ap- peshensice, if they knew that Osceola and his whole minole nation were coming against them. The only house that I know of is Buster Bill’s on the other sideof the lake. Helives all alone, and is such an odd genius that he seems to be in no more danger from the red-skins than he is from the whites.” “That ery bes be,” replied the keeper, who, it seemed, had nm studying this matter for the past hour or two, “ but Osceola is a cunning dog; he won't be likely to disturb Buster Bill; cause I w he’s staid in his cabin more than once, and it ain’t red- skins’ nature—at least it ain't that red-skin’s, to turn about and bite the hand that feeds it. But you see it’s safe fur Osceola to call his men together, on the shores of the Haunted Lake, where no white soldier has ever yet to get, and where he and his chiefs can have a pow-wow without any fear of spies crawling into camp and listening. en thar’s a chance for ‘em to pick up something you hain’t thought on.” ** What's that?” asked i a Ne a look of deep a “T can noti 6 what you mean.”’ “Tm £5 mer here, with a mes- sage forme. Itis due to-night or to-morrow morn- ing, and Osceola knows that as well asIdo. He is on the look-out for it, and that’s why he and his men are poet on the shores of the lake." it be possible, Lige? It seems to me that it is a foolhardy proceeding, or intention even for him to hope to do any ary eg > & war-steamer. What chance has he to hope to accomplish any thing?” “None at all, in‘a fair stand-up t, but thar's no telling what treachery willdo. A broadside from the steamer into Osceola’s camp would blow them al) to glory, ef the broadside could only be made to reach ’em; but the trouble is that by time the could tech off the first gun, the red-skins wouldn be thar, and then you know if the steamer didn’t expect nothing in the shape of Osceola, thar’s no telling what he might do. I've met Tecumseh and Osceola both, and know all about ’em both. Tecum- seh was the greatest chief, and was more like a white man in a good many than he was like an Indian. You know there be many that say that Osceola has white blood in him; but if it’s so, it hain’t hurt him any. He’s Injin all over and he’s got twice as much cunning as Tecumseh ever dreamed of. If the war-steamer comes to shore in the night, afore I kin give ‘em a hint to look out, there’s no tellin’ what Osceola nought not m to do.” All this time there had been a question upon the = of the young man, which he deferred no longer. ugh Havens, we may as well state at this point, was one of the survivors of the crew and yd of a vessel that had been wrecked upon The reefs & few weeks before. These reefs were about fifty miles to the southward, on the Florida coast, and the survivors were all taken away next morning by a trading vessel; all with the exception of Havens, who, furnishing himself with gun and all the neces- sary equipments, started northward along the coast, for the light-house, the star-like beacon of which could be seen twinkling, far to the north, in the still Gapnose of the night. e ng a young man, with an abundance of means, and an unlimited leisure upon his hands, he was in quest of adventure and pleasure, although warned by his companions of the great risk he ran On ac- count of the bitter war that was then raging between the United States and the Seminoles; but this only min i i ren ~ added the of actoal danger to the excursion, and decided him to press forward the more deter- minedly. He met with several alarming delays on the road, but succeeded, by the exercise of great care and caution, in reaching the light-house tm oatea where he was hospitably received and entertained by the petpens old who, without a solitary companion of own, welcomed any company that might cheer him in his loneliness. j Havens had spent most of the in hunting, and on two occasions had penetrated to the cabin of Buster Bob, on the shores of the little lake; but each time the rae happened to be absent, so that as yet he failed to make his intance. The. keeper showed such a genuine liking for young Havens, and pressed him se earnestly to re- main a few weeks longer with bim, that he could not refuse, and so it was that be f so touched at what seemed the unfeeling wish of Uncle Lige to be rid of his presence. But this remark, although evidently not intended to convey as much meaning as it actually did, was yet unexplained, and young Havens now put bis own question: “Are you on terms with Osceola?" “Not a bit of it; he hates me like p’isen.” “Then, as the danger is becoming co imminent around, tell me, Lige, what is to become of yu F” “Dunno,” was the truthful reply, uttered in his most indifferent manner; “but I shall stick to my “This ight-house, I observe, is rade almost en- tirely of wood, that has been dried and yng | by many years of exposure to the storms, so that must be very combustible, and it must make your situation exposed to a danger, the. very thcught of which makes my head swim.” “Let her burn then,” #aid Lice, in reply to the remark of his friend, **and the next light-house the eovernment will arn to make of stun or brick, or something that won’t burn." ** But, do you conceive it to be your duty to stay here at your post, almost in the face of certain death?’ ‘* Bf I know'd this old building would be burned te ashes, to-night, I’d stay here and keep my lamps a-goin’.”” his brave sentence was uttered in no boastful manner, but with the quiet assurance of a biave man, who has fully counted the cost of a certain line of conduct, and kas made up his mind as to his course of action, giving utterance to his. determina- tion, in that quiet, emphatic manner, which tells those who hear that it is only a waste of effort to e or seek to dissuade him. vens was silent a moment, and looking toward the old.man, with kindling eyes, he said: ae , you are a hero as true and brave as ever eathless glory upon the battle-field. More than one light-house along the war-coast has been deserted by those who held them in charge, and the overnment will never find fault with them for do- 80, and though you may dje at your station, it not be likely to remember you for doing 50. And you knowing this, only your heroism Ne cape ot the ld thing will go,” said Lige, in his e t the oj in m D impressionless ‘ way; Sand fixe enough Tl be Set ee but thar’s Ma ier why wee as you seem to bea young 5 Ww. Vd like to have some boat come and take oun: . vrompted solely by consideration and friendship for ho The feelings of Hugh underwent a complete change, the instant he comprehended the real promptings of the old man’s . It was only after several minutes’ hard swallowing that he was able to take his hand and say: “ Forgive me, Lige, for thinking you unfeeling. = shall remain by you as long as I see a accom ebing. aber Fy 4 wha thaihamoction of the light-house mes cert I shall get away be y as I know how, pro opportunity ven me.” “That's right,” said the old man, encouragingly ; “you're young, and "ve life afore an Seri fe ae i appen , up here does once in awhile, why there'll be nobody the worse fur it.” “ However, as Fae it, you are not omen 2 throw aw our life, as so mu pends upon the burning of this beacon?"’ “Of course not: it’s no difference to me, one way or the other. I oer go when my time comes and I don’t care when the Lord app'ints that.” **Do you know,” suddenly asked Hugh, brighten- ing up, “I have a strong impulse to go out te Haunted Lake and see what Osceola is driving at?” “ Better stay away from him and the hair om your head,” was the common sense advice of Lige. “What do you know about Injins?” “I made my way up the eoast, and outwitted a om many Seminoles on the way, and I think I now enour’h to be prudent and eautious. The light-house keeper smiled in a pitying way, an he looked at the me face of come out here a eouple years he had promised a -love of Injin, and he started ont ene te get scalp; but he dida’t figure exactly right and the
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a TE A ee — Light-House Lige. —————- enn mint got his instead. But I say, Hugh, turn the glass eut to sea ag’in, and tell me whether you don't see nothin’ new ‘this time.”’ Havens did as requested, and had been occupied but a few minutes, when he suddenly exelaimed in some excitement: ““There is a steamer, and she is beading straight for the light-house. Bhe's only a few miles distant “It's the one I war in’!"’ replied Lige, ad- vancing to the look-out. ‘It’s crept up when we war in’ and will be in to-night.” CHAPTER IL “pousTER BOB.” | Buster Bob paused and looked at them a minute or two. The sun had just gone down, and in the dusky twilight the scene had a strange, weird appearance that made it particularly impressive. o noise reached the ears of the spectator, except the dip of the paddles that sounded startlingly clear and dis- tinct through the quiet air. “T guess I must go and call on 'em,” concluded Bob, after carefully watching them for a short time. “]T hain’t seen Osceola there, and I know he’d feel slighted if I let him go by without paying my re- | to him.’’ And without the slightest hesitation from the fact | that these red-skins were the inveterate enemies of | the whites, the rotund Bob groped around in the Tas individual who bore the title at the head of | bushes until he found his canoe, when he entered this some forty years ago throughout the of Florida, and who has his —- to perform in the story we havawundertaken to give our readers. He was about five feet in hight, very fleshy, and rpoise-like, round, jolly and good-natured, living oe small cabin by himself, and on good terms wi Indians, whites and fugitive negroes alike. cabin door literally had its latch-string hanging out day and night, Bob never pulling it in, and leaving it free to be entered by whoever chose so to do, whether the owner was absent or not, or whether the larder was full or empty. Precisely where Bob came from, and what his previous history was, no one seemed to know. There was said to be a s' mystery connected with his early life, and a singu cause for his turning her- mit; but ond that nothing more was known, nor how it was he came to cast his lot on the south- ern shore of the Haunted Lake, a number of years before, where he seemed to reign as contented as an English gentleman at his country seat. The facts were that Bob had a snug little cabin on pes t gen a he was hye ee an erman, W through the swamps an everglades for days at "tines, fearing nothing from any of the human denizens that he might encounter while thus eng and only intent upon the object of bis hunt; an furthermore that he sometimes d from view for weeks, and a very few, if any knew where he was gone. efore the Seminole war assumed its bitter char- acter, Bob’s cabin on the Haunted Lake was fre- quently visited by men from the forts and others who were out hunting; and it will naturally be sup- yosed that men leading such similar lives as he and ght-house Lige, and shut off so completely from association with their kind, woukl have been drawn mutually toward each other, and indeed have be- come very intimate, But nothing of the kind took place. Bob made all welcome who came to his house, but he went after no one, and our readers have robably. ed from what has been already told, that Light-house Lige was not the one to seek friendship among men. He had encountered Bob several times, and, as a matter of course, they met in the atest comity, but that was all. The keeper of the light-house was silent, reserved, and even morose, repelling those who to make advances to him, and seemingly d of being left alone in his solitude, without disturbance of any kind. When Hugh Havens dropped down upon him in the manner related, Lige was so cold and repellent, that the young man had no ae of remain- ing over an hour in the neighborhood; but before the tion of that time he was mace to see that he pierced the icy reserve of the oki man, and had succeeded in ng pen a favorable impres- ight! . aoe va oe of —_ house keeper, years () ost a wife and child in a te ap tp cmap mgd ney rida coast, time he had shunned the society of his so thoroughly identified himself with his eng nat he was ever ose who were com: to relation with him. the close of day, and while the two men on ht-house were t their telescope ring] different directions, Buster Bob was ng his way through the forest toward home, He was on foot, ca with h he intend pes Gere ie ough hurry to reac la can’t keep quiet,” muttered Bob, as he waddied along; “an indian is never happy unless he’s raising thunder. These Seminoles can make @ deal of trouble, and when they get back into e Everglades, there isn't any likelihood of their being hurt by all the soldiers that the American government can send— Hello! this looks like busi- ness!" As Bob gave out this exclamation, be shoved his hat back from his broad forehead, and drawing his arm across his perspiring brow, looked direct! across the lake, to a point about a quarter of a mile distant upen the op side, where the glimmer of a large camp-fire could be discerned among the srees. umbers of forms were to and fro, and An Foo oy were ee drawn Po on ed beach, or skirting t heading © Same polpt, i nebo — we oliected, | His | , was a genius in his way, well known | his boat and headed ret: ee for the camp upon the put ony side, with e preliminary caution of rting the shore. Tt was the custom of Bob to place himself far back in the stern of the canoe, which was so depressed by his weight that the bow yee upward, and the whole thing looked like the head of some sea- monster, leisurely pursuing his way across the lake. He managed his paddle with great skill, and in spite of the awkward position assumed, his progress over the glassy surface of the lake was smooth, even and uniform. While it still seemed to be twilight, he observed that the moon was shining, and he was scarcely half-way across the sheet of water, when he saw from the excitement upon shore that he was ob- “They needn't make such a time over my com- ing,” he thought, as he leisurely used his ae “T'm a plain man and am not fond of show. they have a good supper, or will cook my bird, and give mea pipe of tobbaco, why I won't ask them any @ more. Tam:sure no one is easier to suit me.” And full of these pleasing meditations, Buster Bob kept the prow of his canoe turned toward land, and a moment later stepped out with an air of a king who has come to make a brief call upon his subjects, and started toward the camp-fire; but he had taken scarcely a half-dozen steps, when he was surrounded by fully a score of -skina, all danc- ing, screeching, and brandishing their tomahawks and knives in such a threatening manner, that it was plain that they held anything but friendly in- tentions toward the white man who had thus dared to come boldly into a council of war, unprotected by any of his comrades. For the first time, Bob felt something of alarm, as he comprehended the nature of these treacherous Reaninolea, and he looked about him rather furtive- ly for some face that he could recognize. All were painted in such a hideous, repulsive fashion, that they looked like the vote, imps of darkness them- selves. They kept up their dancing, howling and swaying of their ies, thereb: working themselves into a most furious passion, that threatened every moment to show itself in a rush upon their helpless visitor and the rending of him to es Bob stood on the shore of the lake like a real Pick- wick, with his hat lifted, while he bowed and smiled like one who was overwhelmed with the kindness and adulation of his admirers. At the same time he east a look back at his canoe, to see whether, if worse came to worst, he could make a retreat to that and paddle out upon the lake; but alas! had the way been clear, it had already been pulled up on the where a couple of irreverent imps were slashing it to pieces with their tomahawks. _ ound ‘em!’’ wled Bob, through his teeth, as he witnessed this piece of barbarism. “I would like to have your skulls on a log, and Mog sound asleep! wouldn’t I crack ’em? I wonder if I can’t slip through these red-skins without their see- ——- and then run wed from them all!" ut a moment's thought told him how impossible such a thing was, when he compared his own short, fat legs with the long, sinewy limbs of the Semi- noles, who were proverbial for their fleetness of foot. But Bob began to feel seriously alarmed, as the red-skins were pressing closer and still closer each moment, and by and by one of them laid his hand upon him, no doubt with the intention either of kill- ing, or inflicting some personal indignity upon ‘him; but, at the instant a clear, ringing shout rose above . din and tumult, and an instant hush fell upon At the same instant an Indian in the costume of a chief was seen striding among the surging crowd, like an infuriated lion that sees its mate sef upon. It took but a moment or two for him to reach the mass that were wedged around the helpless visitor, when, aflame with anger, he threw the Seminoles right and left as though they were but mere chil- ee and helpless in his ihe Facing savagely about he called out the Semi nole tongue: ‘* Dogs and cowards! is that the way you treat a friend of Osceola, who comes into the camp to see him? Ye are not fit tolive! Back with you! orI will split the skulls of every dog of you!" None could mistake the face aud demeanor of the Seminole chief, who ruled with an absolute sway over his subjects, and they fell back in tumultuous haste, as though they expected that the upraised tomahawk would crash upon their doomed heads. **Do ye know who he is?” demanded the sachem. “He is the friend of Osceola. Heis Bob Buster!” This was the name by which Osceola always ad- dressed his friend, and when he announced the name of the man, all seemed to recognize him on the in- stant, and they moved away in a body toward the camp-fire, leaving him and the chieftain alone to- “Don't mention it,” said Bob, when the cbief be- eee ra a — 3 gan talking in good English of the outrageous treat- ment he had received. “I'm such a handsome- looking man that they did not suspect who IL was, and they didn’t hurt me after all. I’m all right now, his white friend to return to the camp-fire, ea soppey and attend their council; but he judged it prudent to cecline, and in turn per suaded him to make hima visit in his cabin; but the chieftain also refused, and the two continued their way along the shore of the lake, walking slowly and like two affectionate generals who have met only after a long time, and who are anxious to impart mutual, confidential schemes. The American gereral, Thompson, had acted treacherously toward Osceola, some time before, seizing and putting him in irons without a shadow of justification, and the chieftain, as may be sup- ed, was filled with the most intense and implaca- le hatred toward him, and was now laying his schemes for revenge. And as this particular Incident has no special bear ing upon our story, we may say that Osceola, soon after, secured his revenge. In December, 1535, Gen- eral Thompson and six of his friends were shot dead by him and his men. But just now, as he paced. the sandy shore of the Haunted Lake, be was full of his chemes for greater deeds than those of mere personal revenge. _ He folt that with the impenetrable swamps and eve eS of Florida behind him, he could defy the United States and secure his own terms. Osceola and a few of his brother chiefs had repudiated the treaty made by a few irresponsible members of their tribe, driv- ing his hunting-knife, as is well Known, clear through the parchment and the pine table upon which it rested, in the presence of the cOmmissioners, whom ae defied, and notified to their faces of his determin- ation. And now he was certain that the United States, with all their boasted strength and greatness, would be Souter to come to his terms at last. “Twill teach our Great Father at Washington,” said he, “that Osceola is the war-chief of the Semin- oles; that when his soldiers make treaties, they must not be with our warriors, but with me, and with my brother chiefs. They have not done 80; Osceola de- fied them; they laughed to bis face, and called him a& coward; General Thompson put him in chains, and let him and them now learn how a Seminole remem- bers a wrong and how he avenges it!" It must not be spponen from what we have said, and from the fact that Osceola seemed to make such a confidant of Buster Bob, that the latter was in the least degree inimical to the interests of his own race. It is well known that the great Seminole war-chief was very free in the expression of his intentions toward his enemies, never concealing his purposes, unless he had some ulterior p’ 2 to gain by_so doing, and had we the i gr and time we could give any number of incidents to prove the sinc: rity of Bob's friendship for the whites, he having. on more than one occasion, at the greatest personal risk notified parties of hunters, settlers and explorers of some threatened peril from the red-skins of Florida, Bob listened ey | attentively to what Osceola said, indulging in very few remarks himself, and making no attempt to dissuade him from any of his schemes, as that not only would have been useless, but would have offended the chieftain. Wherever the kind- hearted fellow interposed his good offices, he made every effort to conceal it from all, except those who were immediately concerned. It can not be sup- posed that Osceola thought any the less of Bob be- cause he knew he was friendly to his own race; for it is a characteristic of all ons, Whether civilized or savage, to despise him who is a traitor to his own people; but the chieftain was that cautious that he did every thing he could to keep concealed from ae all those plans in which he could possibly inter- ere. Buster Bob looked as innocent and guileless as a child, and the average citizen would have set him down as nothing less than stupid, and yet in 80, make a most egregious mistake, as we make be rng apparent. The moon shone ba oe and clear upon the lake, as the two men walked slowly along the sandy the quiet re- pose of every thing around Fag contrasting with the tful tumult that reigned but a short time before. Osceola waxed eloquent as he recapitulated the wro! of his people, and pictured the burning revenge fe ee ne ae right speedily. Waving his arms aloft, he exclaimed in thunder-tones: diinctny Caters pomean fh, the reaaaen Wak. ny waters, e -man. )- condsh made the red-man first and placed him there, and he hunted and fished and made war for many moons, until the white man came, and he ve him fire-water and told him lies, and drove him rom his hunting-grounds. red-men were cowards, and when they were told to go, they went, instead of remaining and fighting fire pale- faces, and Cig | them back into the sea. “They think Osceola is a coward, but he will show them he is not. The Seminoles are marshaling from every part of the South! We shall strike yhen they least oxpect it, and it shall be a blow thatshall make mourning in the lodges of the pale-faces, and shall make them dread the hour when they deceived the red-men by their lies and false promises. Osce ola_is aroused! let the pale-faces beware, for be strikes as does the arm of Wahcondah, when the heavens are afire, and his shout ee, along the mountain-tops, and splits the rocks! t the white man tremble in hishome!’ | n manner the Seminole chief raved for seme time until he had reached the point on the beach
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& where the sand curved round in front of the cabin of Buster Bob. Here, arousing to his sition, Osceola paused, declining the invitation of his white friend to enter and eat with him. The chief tarried only long enough to give Bob repeated assurances of his friendship, and to ex- press his sorrow that any of his warriors, through ignorance of his identity, should have dared to offer him rudeness, and then he hurried away to join the council that was ready to open further away. Bob stood a moment and looked at the rapidly | | vanishing figure of the chieftain, while his thoughts | seemed unusually busy. Finally he murmured: “Osceola is a sharp ‘un, but he can’t close my eye, and I learned a secret which he has no idea that I suspect. He never once referred to the light-house, and yet he could not keep himself from looking at it, with a persistency which meant something. I didn’t appear to notice him, and yet I am just as well satisfied, as if he told me, that the old fellow is determined to attack and burn down the light- house; and, if I ain’t greatly mistaken, he intends to burn it down this very night. He is mad enough to do anything, and that being so, it’s time I give Lige the hint.’ CHAPTER II. CLARA RAYMOND. Now that it was certain that the long-expected steamer was but a few miles out to sea, and would soon be at her anchorage, Hugh Havens betrayed no little interest in her Seprosc | for, despite his ywn first inclinations to the contrary, he could not but reflect that the advice of Lige was the advice of Senggaaed and that the true course for him was to eave upon the approaching steamer before he should become involved in danger from which he could not extricate himself. Lige took everything as a matter of course. With- out once using the glass, which his comrade was so steadily employing, he arranged his lights for the night, as the sun gone down and it was high time that he did so. When he had ignited the oil, the burnished reflector behind it threw the rays with an intense brightness far out.upon the water, and that star-like gleam of light, wereing all of the treacherous coast, was seen for many along mile out upon the Mexican Gulf, burning with a steady glow, and proving that at least here was one faithful sen- tinel at his post, while the blank darkness that met the eye from other points equally attested the de- sertion by others of their posts of duty. The light-house stood but a short distance inland -indeed scarcely more than a dozen feet from the water at high tide, built on a slightly rising ground, where during the raging of severe storms, its base was frequen Y washed by the dashing waves. Like most of the light-houses of that day, on this portion of the American coast, it was made almost entirely of wood, well constructed, and standing upon a firm foundation of solid rock, where it bad defied, for a long time, the most furious storms, and the occasional sweep of the cyclone, that came up from the south, with its wild, dangerous wer, and scattering the shipping before they scarcely dreamed of their danger. Painted of almost snowy whiteness, the light- house was a conspicuous object for many miles, and it scarcely could have disappeared from its place without being missed by hundreds of mariners. When the steamer was less than a mile from shore, and cautiously making her way inland, as if her ang was well aware that the ground was be- coming dangerous underneath him, Fige said: “See here, you, s’pose you stay here while I row ont to meet the steamer. She won't come within less than a thousand feet of shore, and 1 ginerally paddle out so as to save them from coming.” Hugh Nosd phe gov his readiness to do anything that ‘was desired of him, and told the old man to take his Ba pin whenever he chose, while he would remain #t his station, in case any accident should oceur to the lamp, to prevent its being extinguished. And without any further words, Lige started down the long spiral winding stair-case that led from the top of the light-house to the bottom, and unfasten- ing the heavily-barred door at the bottom, he secured it again, in a way of his own, so that it could be opened neither from within nor without by any one except himself. This done, he walked on slowly to-the beach, where he paused a few moments, with the waves rippling at his feet, while he watched the dark hull of the steamer, with the points of light gleaming upon it, as if bye were the eyes of some at monster that was slowly swimming in toward land. In the calm and stillness of the night, he could hear distinctly the puff of the steamer, as she cautiously neared the shore, while the bright moonlight, and the rg upon the vessel itself, enabled him to trace its course, without much trouble. ‘* Tt’s some time since that old boat has been here,” urowled Lige, as he stood cosa out at it, “I spose thar’s some money a of it fur me, although I hain’t got much use fur it, and I dunno as it will ever help any one else. Captain Raymond is always glad to have me row out to meet him, and so I guess I'll git my boat ready.” With this he ran a small boat from the beach out into the water, and began rowing toward the steamer, which just then dropped her anchor and awaited his approach. And Hugh Havens, left to guard the beacon light, remained at his post with no disposition to desert it, in the absence of Lige, but intensely interested in what was going on upon. both sides of him. As the Spy-glass was of comparsn vey little use in the “ ess, he had laid it aside and was looking over athe railing, down upon the water rippling on the Nee ee ee. eee Light-House Lige. beach far below him, and out to sea, where the dark-hulled steamer was slowly groping about for her aacooner Casting the gaze far beyond these, into the field beyond, where the sky and ocean } a aa and blended in one dark, misty expanse, points of light could be distinguished here and there, where the vessels were making their way over the Gulf to their various destinations. He saw the boat of e put out from shore, and watched it until it, too, blended with the gloom in which the steamer itself was scarcely visible; and then, knowing that some time must elapse before the return of his friend, Hugh moved round to the opposite side of the railing, and looked off toward aunted Lake. He could make out the sheet of water by the sheen and glimmer in the moonlight, and the glow of the camp-fire kindled on its northern shore. “ Lige says that Osceola is there with over a hundred of his warriors, and there can be no doubt but that they are plotting some deviltry. What it is of course no one can say. But I have not the least doubt that this light-house is doomed. It would be an easy matter for them to fire it, and it would be strange if they should not do so, while I alone am here! The possibility of such being the case, sent a shudder of dread through the young man, as he leaned over the railing and looked down the dizzy hight, into the gloom that surrounded the base of the structure upon one hand, and the rippling waves and gleaming beach upon the other. Did he see dark, shadowy figures moving steathily to and fro, as if seeking to avoid discovery? Was it imagination or reality that made him see a dozen Seminoles gliding back and forth from the wood like so many phantoms? Hugh looked long and spenly, but he could not satisfy himself as to the truth of what he seemed to see; but aware how untrustworthy one’s vision be- comes when subject to a strain forso long a time, he inclined his ear and listened. But not the slightest sound in the way of enlightenment came to him. He heard the splash of the anchor cast overboard from the steamer, the rattling of the chain as it ag oof ran out and dropped to the bottom, the sullen, hol- low roar of the ocean, and the dash of the waves upon the beach—but nothing more. “It must have been mere fancy,” he concluded, when several minutes had . “Tf an attack upon the light-house was intended, they could not avoid betraying themselves, even if they had any object in seeking to prevent it. If they mean to make an attack, we shall know it in time to do our And arene. off the apprehension that had been weighing him down, he turned again his face toward the steamer. ‘“*Helloa!’’ was his involuntary exclamation, the next moment. ‘‘ Lige is coming back already. He has made a short call.” Such really seemed to be the case, as the figure of a boat could be dimly discerned coming from the direction of the steamer toward land. Hugh watched it until satisfied it was his friend returning to join him, when he made a survey of the Haunted Lake and its environs again. By this means he failed to notice that two persons stepped out from the boat, which was pulled up on the beach, and together en- tered the light-house; but it was not long before there came the sound of ascending feet up the spiral stairs, borne to the ear of the listening Havens as if by an ap Satenen oat Hugh descended from the platform-like story up- on which the light was burning into the one direetly beneath, which may be classed as the “ parlor” of the keeper—it being fitted up with a neatness and taste that proved that he had not forgotten the les- sons of a wife or mother, taught to him years be- fore. It was divided into a couple of compartments, which although quite small, were arranged with no little skill, so as to afford quite comfortable quarters to the aneepeene: One of these rooms was a sleeping apartment, kept sacred for the favored guests who occasionally called upon the lonely old man, and thus it happened that months went by without the head of any one pressing its downy pillows. It was the same room that. had been thus dedicated years before by the lost wife of Lige, and that was why he devoted it to the same purpose. It was a strange place to locate a sleeping apart- ment, such a distance from the ground, and it was rhaps a curious taste that led Lige himself to Doste at the top instead of the base, necessitating many laborious journeys from top to bottom; but the keeper was an eccentric man, singular in all his | tastes, and instead of making his home at the base, where every thing could be arranged in the most comfortable manner, he deliberately “located” at | | answered, looking the summit, where he remained, except when the duties of his position compelled him to come to the bottom. Hugh Havens sat in the upper room listening to the monotonous tramp, tramp of Lige as he came steadily and slowly up the long, winding stairs. “By gracious!’ suddenly exclaimed the young man, starting up in surprise, “‘ Lige has got some one with him!” As he listened, hecould plainly detect the footsteps of two different persons at least, as they came u the stairs. The lar, heavy tread he bad learn to recognize as belonging to old Lige and no one else, but the other was much lighter and more nim- e. “ He is bringing some one home with him,” was the conclusion of Hugh, as the steps came nearer. ‘**Some old acquaintance of has accepted his —— to make a call upon him. I must prepare ‘or them.” ' | than that. —_- He had searcely time to ‘‘spruce up,” as the ex~- pression goes, when there was asharp ra”, rap upon the door, and Hugh sprung to open it, indulging in asmile at the formality of the old man, whom he had never known to indulge in any thing of the kind before. The door was drawn back, and there stood old Lige Pierce, his bronzed face expanded into a broad smile, and as he stepped in there followed him the handsomest, sweetest petite little lady that Hugh Havens had ever set eyes upon. “Hugh, this is Clara, the darter of Captain Ray- mond, that has come ashore to make a call on you. Stand pe oes a good boy, make a purty bow, and smile jist as lovely as you know how.” It is hardly possible that any combination of cir- cumstances could have come about that could have caused such an utterly crushing and overwhelming embarrassment to the young man as did the present occasion. Not dreaming for an instant of the possi- bility of a young lady making her appearance in this place, he was unprepared for such a surprise; and then her beauty, her merry, laughing eyes and manner, the outlandish introduction of Lige, and the young lady’s own admirable self-possession—all these so confused the generally cool-headed Hugh, that for a few minutes he scarcely knew where he was, or what he was doing. He could feel that his face was as red as a coal, and when he rose from the chair to make his bow, he caught his foot in it, trip- ped, struggled desperately, and went down with a crash, at her very feet. Old Lige was merciless. “Don’t ery, Hugh,” said he, as he helped him to his feet. ‘‘ Did you bump your nose? Never mind; try it again.” ‘oor Havens looked about to see whether there was a window in reach and large enough for him to east himself through to the ground beneath; for surely he could never live after such an exhibition as he had just made. But if Lige had no mercy, the young lady had, and she now came to the rescue with a genuine kindness of heart. Stepping forward, she offered her hand to Hugh, in a frank and perfectly charming manner, and al- though she could not hide the merriment that sparkled in her roguish black eyes, and displayed her pearly teeth, yet she was able to say in gennine sincerity: \ “Tt was not fairto surprise you in this manner, ‘I am sure if uncle Lige should have brought you into my presence, in this way, I should have been as much embarrassed as you.”’ ‘*But no living being could make such a fool of himself as 1 have done,’’ replied our hero, with a grim smile. *‘A repetition of such a performance would tempt me to commit suicide by leaping out the window from very chagrin and mortification.” And then the charming lady clapped her hands in delight, and laughed so heartily and musically that mg began to feel more at ease and like himself. “T have been here before,’ said she, ‘* but father was hardly willing to leave me here on account of the war, but I persuaded him to let me remain until he went to Tampa and back. That will take him but a few days, and while he is safe in harbor, I hope there will come a storm—a perfectly awful one.”’ “It seems to me that there are few ladies who would wish to be in a light-house, like this, when a storm of any fury is raging,’’ said Hugh. **Oh, I love it!” exclaimed the girl, her face with enthusiasm. ‘‘I shall never forget that time last autumn when I was here. It was the grandest seene L ever looked at. As far out as you could: see the Gulf was lashed into foam, and the mountainous billows came rolling in to the land until the base of the light-house was surrounded, and they dashed against the foundations with a violence that made it tremble to the top.” ‘“‘And you were dreadfully alarmed?” asked the young man, his heart kindling with admiration as e looked upon her radiant face. ‘“Was I frightened, uncle Lige?” she asked, turn- ing to the old man, who solemnly shook his head, and said: “Not a bit of it.” “T was not alarmed, because he told me that the structure had passed through much worse storms And then it was so sublime, to go to sleep at night, with the wind howling around my couch, and the rain rattling against the sides, as if low everything was going to rack and ruin in the next breath. And the moan of the ocean, and the boom of the and the lightning and thunder of the black sky—oh, it is worth a ay of a thousand miles to see! And, uncle Lige, have you got my room all ready for me?”’ “It has been ready and waiting for months,” be own upon her with an affec tionate, fatherly expression; ‘‘it is yours so long as you will claim it.” ** And for the present, that can only be for two or three days; but remember, uncle Lige that it is mine all the time, and I hope to come here for many years.” . ** All right,”’ he returned, with another grin, ‘It is yours to command, and when you get married, you will come and spend a part of your honeymoon 1ere.”” Clara blushed to her temples at the jest of her old friend, but she showed no confusion in her manner, as she rattled on in her enthusiastic way: “You needn’t repeat any invitation for me to come here, for I shall come whenever I can, and I shall never marry a husband until he makes an agreement to ry me here, at least once a year. It is only now and then that father will consent to allow me to come. He sees so much of storms upon
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bs 2 Gam MOP the ocean that he can not appreciate them as I do and he thinks I am foolish to come so far, as he says, to get blown away by the wind. He declares that he expects to pick me up some time, clear out to sea, where the wind has biown me from the top of the light-house; but then I sha’n’t go unless the building with me.” Hugh Havens sat like one charmed, forgetful of the ridiculous display he had made but a few min- utes before, and forgetful, too, of the fact that he was listening and staring like a rude country boy at the beautiful lady who had come upon him like a dream of the night, and who now held his senses enchained, while she chatted and laughed, and ask- ed questions, and answered them herself all in the same breath, overflowing with good spirits and fun, born of her natural disposition and health, and one of those pretty little black-eyed witches that take a man’s heart by storm before he has time to fortify himself against attack. Such was Clara Raymond, and both Lige and Hugh would have sat there for hours, staring and listening, had the former not been suddenly aroused by the sound of some one ascending the stairs. He started up with a frightened look, and Hugh, understanding the meaning, fairly gasped: “What can that signify? Some one is in the no Did you leave the entrance unfastened, sige?” ** No,” he answered; “whoever has come in, has done so by learning the secret of unfastening the door—that’s what’s the matter.” “Then they must be Indians! let us arm our- selves!” added Hugh, in great excitement, springing up and catching his rifle. But Lige interposed. ; CHAPTER IV. A MYSTERY. “TuaT ain't anybody that you need beafeard of,” said Lige; ‘“‘thar’s only one chap besides us that knows how to get into the light-house, and that’s Buster Bob, and he’s a-coming up-stairs now.” It was an immense relief to hear this, and with a sigh of satisfaction, Hugh set down his rifle again, and looked laughingly toward Clara, whose face was slightly blanched at the sudden fear which had come upon them, “T sup that, in your love for the howling storm and the lashing wave, you do not include any particular admiration of the red-man, especially gba: he entertains an insane desire to take your ife?” ‘No,’ she replied. “Ihave no special liking for them, nor has father, who knows their treachery so well. He was — unwilling that I should visit uncle Lige at this time, when the Seininoles are known to be hostile, and even my good old friend here was not especially urgent himself, from which { conclude that there 7s danger after all.”” = this time the ascending steps were so close that the conversation ceased and all eyes were turned toward the open door. seen, the puffing and blowing of some person was heard, and then, as was anticipated, the round, red face of Buster Bob came to view, loo like the full moon, as it comes above the horizon. ‘Them stairs will be the death of me yet. Lige, you ought to havea windlass with you to pull me up when I call, and then I could roll down-stairs myself without any extra contrivance to help me— Ah! there is Miss Clara, who has called at my residence once or twice, and a young gentleman that is a stranger to me.”’ And bland and smiling as a summer morning, he advanced and took the little hand of the girl in his own, shaking it warmly, while she seemed no less pl 7 oe him, as on ec him mn Hugh avens, o made a much more respectable than at his previous introduction. cite ag rte Thus placed at ease, all seated themselves as well as they could in the small apartment, and Buster Bob, wiping off his Lops gerry forehead, assumed a serious expression, as he said: “Tcan’t say that I’m glad to see either of you young folks at this time. You understand what I mean, of course. It gives me great delight to sit face to face, and listen to your words; but to come to the point, you come to the light-house and make your home in it, at a time when it stands in the most imminent danger.” A look of inquiry, from all, at this remark, prompted Bob to proceed, which he did, after again mopping off his forehead. “I'm sorry to cause you fear, and you know very well I wouldn’t do it, unless I had to; but ‘Osceola and over a hundred of his men are down by the shore of Haunted Lake, plotting the worst kind of deviltry, and I’m satisfied that they mean to burn down the light-house,” ; “ ep gasped Hugh and Clara, in the same breath. **Can’t say as to the exact time, but, after making up thar minds to that, I don’t think it’s likely that they will wait long, and I shouldn't much wonder if they’ve fixed upon to-night. That's what U’ve come here for.” is already Before any form was Bob then proceeded to relate what known to the reader, about his adventure with the Seminoles who treated him so rudely, and who doubtless would have taken his life but for the inter- vention of Osceola himself. “It’s my opinion,” he added, “ that they'll make a visit here before morning; but they may defer it and may give it u ahogether, but you had all better spend to-night under my roof, where there r of my being troubled by Seminoles, or anybody .. You can sleep there and feel safe from everything in the shape of man or animal,” Now fatlowed quite an earnest discussion. The | | curiously at it. Light-House Lige. invitation of Bob was for all three to remain in his cabin until the morrow, as Lige knew that his lamp now that it was lit, would burn until extinguished in the morning by him, and he could therefore feel perfectly safe in leaving it thus; but the old keeper refused in such a point-blank manner, that no one sought to urge him more, and it became settled on the instant that he was to remain there. But Clara, although somewhat reluctant to leave her favorite perch, where she knew that she had but a very few mages at her disposal, could not slight the advice of Lige, who counseled both her and Hugh to accept the invitation of Bob, and re- main away from the light-house until the morrow, when, if all should prove well, he wanted them to put inan appearance again. So much agreed to, there occurred a little incident at this point, apparently of little account, but which was destined to have a great influence upon what followed. All three noticed that when Buster Bob entered the little apartment at the top of the tower, he had no n with him, but carried a curious-looking bundle which he deposited near his chair, with great solicitude and care. It was about six feet in length, dark colored, and of the thickness of a man’s arm. By merely looking at it, it was impossible to tell its nature, as it was wrapped around with paper so effectually as to conceal what was beneath. As the three arose to take their departure, Bob made no move toward carrying this with him, seeing which, Hugh reminded him of his oversight. “T don’t want it,” he replied, solemnly swaying his head, “I brought it on purpose to leave it.’ “What in thunder is it?’ inquired Lige, looking “I can’t tell you now,’ was the reply, in the same melancholy manner, ‘‘ except to say that it is a mystery. Don’t touch it—let it remain undisturbed “It’s a to lo,’ said Clara, her roguishness showing itself again, “and if it pare’ to fall over, it will blow us all into the sea. on’t think I would fancy such a companion, uncle Lige.”’ ““No, you are mistaken,”’ Bob hastened to say, * there is nothing of the least dangerous character about it. It is impossible that it should be more harmless, as it can never be made to injure you in an ible way.”’ three looked at the speaker in such a puzzled way. that he deemed himself obliged to add: “Let it remain a mystery for the present. In good time you shall learn what it means, Let it sit there undisturbed until it is wanted. I brought it here on purpose as I told you, and it cost me weeks and months of labor, and it was gotten up expressly for a purpose. All i have to say is this; if either or all of youthree should happen ever to be cotched in the place you’re in now, by means of the light- house taking jire below, so as to cut off your escape, then fe to that bundle a-sitting there, and in the to you'll find a piece of paper, and on that paper you’ see some words written. Read them and you'll l’arn something of the highest importance, But, it’s my wish that you never lay hand on that until the light-house is on fire! You understand; that’s all.” Certainly there was no misunderstanding the meaning of Bob’s words, which, were the circum- stances slightly different, might have passed for a joke. But there was no questioning the serious- ness of the danger that hung over all, nor the earn- estness of Bob, who bern’ all doubt had made this journey, and this appalling ascent up the stairs, for Fitna purpose than to apprise his friends of their er. All three gave him the required promise that they would respect his wishes regarding the mystery, and then bidd Lige good-night, Bob led the wa, down the long, winding stairs, discoursing so continuous- ly on the way, that they had scarcely time to pro- pound a question. The fat little fellow talked of everything, excepting Indians, and the mysterious kage he left behind him—the two subjects that Fist then occupied their minds, almost to the ex- clusion of every thing else, . He expatiated upon the beautiful natural scenery of Florida—of its groves and oranges that grew through the entire year, of its healthfulness, and the importance it was destined to assume at no dis- tant time, as the resort of pleasure-seekers and in- valids, and in the full flow of this rambling talk, they reached tevyva_jirma, outside, and Bob, by a dexterous trick, secured the massive door be- d them, and they moved on in the direction of his cabin. . It was a beautiful night, the moon full and h in an unclouded sky, while the steady boom of the waves upon the beach, and the calm, quiet evening, served to add an impressive solemnity to the scene. Moving away from the light-house the guide en- tered the pine woods close at hand, the two follow- ing close after him. ey observed that he was fol- neve a beaten path, enegestin that e must occasionally make a visit to the thearior of the coun- try, even if but for a short time. ‘Suppose we should meet some of these red-men on the way?” ventured Clara, when they had walked a short d in silence, “If they meditate a visit fo the light-house, are we not likely to encoun- ter them?” “* What of it?’’ returned Bob, in his assuring man- ner; “they wouldn’t say anything, perhaps, more than to pass a good-evening, and then to goon about their business. “And why not?” “ Because you are under my charge, that’s the reason.”’ Hugh Havens felt very much as if he would like to know how it was that Bob had such an influence among these treacherous Seminoles, but there was a 5 bad taste in such a a that restrained him, when un b himself threw a little light upon the matter. ge | wa ee wonder how it is that they don’t harm me. al, you see when I come to part of the world things weren’t so bad between the whites and Seminoles as they be now, ‘though for that matter, I must say between you and me, that the red-skins have always been a little ugly. But I saved a little pappoose one day from drowning in the lake, It belonged to a party that was camped on the other shore, and of course, when they found it out, it made them a little tenderon me. And then it wa’n’t long after that that I hel Osceola out of a bad scrape that he got into, and the old ehap will never forget it, and I ain’t afeard of any of his Pe ‘“How came it then that they showed such a bad disposition toward you this evening?’’ inquired Clara. “They were northern Seminoles, who have met here by appointment, and didn’t know anything about it. reckon they l’arned it though,” added Bob, with a chuckle, “and they’ll let me alone arter this. Hist! here comes some one now!” The soft tramp of sponpeching persons was heard distinctly in front, although beneath the shadow of the trees neither Clara nor Hugh could distinguish any one, “They're Indians!’’ added Bob, ina lowtone. “I always find it pays to be polite, so step aside and let ‘em , and bof ask i about your health and relatives, answer all questions in your most pleasing way.” The suggestion of Bob, as far as giving the path, was followed, and they had hardly moved to one side when a voice, gruff and Attn as a bear, directly in their front, demanded in broken English: ‘*“ Who dere?” ‘* Bob Buster and a couple of his friends,” was the prompt my al This evidently satisfied them, for the Indians said no more to him, although they could be heard mum- bling to each other, as if in consultation, and then they moved forward again, with the grandiloquent announcement: “We come; let the way be opened.” This was uttered in their own eg ion which Bob, understanding, replied in the same lingo: ‘*“The way is clear; pass on to your destination.” And then three Indians stalked by in the gloom, their forms plainly visible, as they within arm's length of the three. Clara shrunk further back in the shadow of the wood with an instinctive dread of the dark beings of whom she had heard such wild and terrible stories; and when she was certain that they were beyond hearing, she said in a low tone to Hugh: ‘It was all I could do to prevent a scream of dis- st and terror, when they came so close to me. I imagined that one of them reached out his hand to touch me as he passed.” ‘“Doubtless imagination—but such persons are not desirable ones to meet at night in a dark wood, al- though, as Bob declared, his protection has proved all-sufficient.”’ It may as well be confessed at this point that Hugh had become interested in Clara Rea mond, whose beauty and loveliness were sufficient to at- tract the admiration of the most exacting lover. His cheek tingled with shame, as he recalled the figure he had made at their introduction; but she showed such a true lady-like sympathy, and seemed to have forgotten it so entirely, that he could not but feel grateful, and then she won upon his love so fast, that he came to look upon this walk through the woods as delightfully pleasant, although marked by such a startling incident as the meeting of the Seminoles. As their guide interposed no objection to their speaking, and kept quiet himself, they naturally fell into a most entertaining conversation, during which he learned that her father was an offi- cer in the revenue service of the United States, and that although she addressed the light-house keeper as “Uncle Lige,” yet he was no relation, but simply an old friend that her parent had known for many years. Her mother had been dead a long time, and, as she had no brothers or sisters, it may well be un- derstood what a store of affection he placed upon her. Circumstanced as she was, she was not likely to be denied many favors which it was in his power to grant, and so it was that she was brought to see their old friend, in his eagle-like eyrie, where she had remained for days and weeks, fishing and hunt- ing and enjoying the views, which, during the prev- alence of the fearful storms that occasionally swept the coast, were grand and terrific beyond : tion. Naturally of a delicate constitution, it was found that these “‘escapades,’’ as her nt termed them, were of extraordinary benefit her health, and in time they established her vigor and made her strong and ru, ‘ “But the Haunted e,”’ suddenly exclaimed Hugh, as they walked beneath the resinous pines in the soft moonlight. ‘‘I haye not yet heard why it is called that. Can you tell me?” “Why, because it is haunted,” she replied, with her silvery laugh. ‘‘ Have you not heard the legend conn with it? It is beautiful, and is one of its chief attractions to me.’ . “The peculiarity of the name struck me, when I first heard it, but I have never yet asked why it was called thus. If you have the legend, pray tell it me, for the time well befits such a story. “I got it from Bob, who says many, many moons ago, when the earth was much younger than now, a Seminole maiden was betrothed. to a warrior of the Cherokees, who at the time were at deadly enmity with her tribe; that her hand was sought by one of her own bravest warriors, but she would hear noth- ing of his vows, and like a high-spirited girl she
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Light-House Lige. true love by moonlight he envious persisted in meeting her alone, and you_can the rest. Seminoles smelled a and they watched and waited until one delightful Frening when the lovers were taking a quiet paddle upon he lake, a couple of poisoned arrows were sent after them, and both were pierced through and through the ‘heart, and they died in each other’s arms, and that was the last of them; but now they say that at the still hour | of midnight, when the moon is at its full, the canoe is seen to glide across the lake, with a white, pale- faced warrior sitting in the stern, paddle in hand, who is supposed to bear a very close resemblance, except in the way of complexion, to the Seminole brave of the olden time, who still glides over the lake, with the pale figure of the maiden lying at his feet in the bottom of the canoe; guiding his boat by the motion of his spirit paddle, until he vanishes in | the mist and gloom at the opposite side of the lake. So there you have the legend, as romantic and wild as you may choose to make it. Iam no novelist, so han expect me to dress it up like Sir Walter ‘But have you ever seen it?” inquired Hugh, not a little interested in the tradition which the girl had | rattled off in her lively, piquant manner. “No; Lhave made several attempts, but fate has | been against me every time—a dark night, not a full | moon, or something or other, was sure to happen.” ‘“But Bob dwells on the shore of the Jake, and he must know something about it,’ said Hugh, partly directing his remark to their guide himself, “Of course he does,’ replied Clara, speaking for | him; ‘‘he has seen it hundreds of times, and I sus- | pect has a tender regard for the Indian maid her- self. I have no doubt that he sits on the bank and sighs like some love-lorn swain, and perhaps. at- temps to serenade it. But,” added the girl, in some surprise, ‘‘it looks to me as if. we had hit upon the very night to see the spirits of the lake,” **So we have,’ said Bob, in his gruff, base voice * and you shall both see it within the next half | our CHAPTER V. THE SPIRIT OF THE HAUNTED LAKE. TuIs announcement of Bob’s roused the young couple from the. gossipy conversation into which | they - fallen, for, simultaneous with his words, came the discovery that they were upon the margin of the Haunted Lake, the gleam and shimmer of the water being plainly seen through the trees, as it lay | with surface as smooth and unrippled as that of a | mirror, Their guide walked close to the e of the water, and they paused afew feet behind him, with their faces turned toward the beautiful scene, and their tongues awed to silence by the impressive surround- in flaunted Lake, as our readers have perhaps learn- ed, was a sheet of water, perhaps a mile in length, and about half as wide, surrounded on all sides by a white, sandy beach, of crystal clearness, and great depth, its source being in the numerous springs at the bottom, Although so near the ocean, its waters were cold and fresh, preserving their limpid purity in the long distance that its small outlet flow through the sands, before reaching the sea. A rod or two back from. the n on every side, rose the w some country town?” bh pence came from Buster Bob, as he turned su ly around and faced his startled companions, who were completely disenchanted by the very prac- tical character of the remark. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” replied the indignant Clara, ‘‘and Ihave a great mind to box your ears. There isn’t a particle of romance in your make, or surely it would show itself now.” “Yes, there is too,’’ persisted Bob, as he moved along the beach; “ wait till Ishow you the spook; that’s what knocks the spots out of me, and makes me as romantic as a pig on ice.”’ ‘*T should think so,” was the comment of Clas, as the two followed after him. “ You remind of just such an animal.” “The best place to see the ghost is in front of my mansion, and then we can make a good supper be- fore we get romantic.” They walked a short distance along the beach without speaking and then Hugh called to Bob: “There is one hing that gives Miss Raymond and If. no little anxiety.” myse ‘I s'pose it’s about the supper; don’t fret your- selves. I’ve got enough for both of you." “Tt isn’t that, but if is about those three Indians | that we met in the wood,”’ } “T’ve enough for them, too, if they give us a call; | so set your minds at rest there too.’ “ Not that;. but piey Wore going toward the light- pra hd know. t could have been their e ’ Bob became sobered on the instant, and spoke, sériously: “You mustn't think I forgot them, for I didn’t. \ any Pore towar the i amt of course, and they will take a good look at it.” “Will they not disturb it?’ Do you think it will be fired to-nigtit? What other errand could have taken them there?” ! ‘‘That’s hard to tell; I hope not, ’cause if they don’t, there’s a chance of its escaping altogether,” ‘How so? inquired Hugh, showing his eager interest, both in his words and manner. “Osceola is planning an expedition northward. They will a: e and settle every thing to-night, and if they let e alone until morning, I am in hopes that they won’t take time to bother and delay with such a little matter as the burning of the light- house would be. Still, understand, say I hope that, and ain’t sartin by any means.’ ‘‘Was Osceola one of the three whom we met?” continued our hero, ‘No; he would have stopped to speak with me, if he was. But they were a part of his band.” “Ts the Seminole chieftain bitter in his enmity | toward the whites?”’ “You can bet on that. He’s going or rather he has gone, into this business to do or je. Of course he will die, as every man must in the end, but he'll make trouble before he does.” “*1 believe I haven’t told you,” said Clara, in a low voice, ‘that I am acquainted with Osceola?” “No,” said Hugh, in amazement; ‘‘you astonish me, Did he cut as pretty a figure as I, when he was introduced?” ‘Hardly, althongh he might have done so, had not the Circumstances been so different. I was | fishing on the lake one day, very near this spot, and when I grew tired, I paddled ashore, and oat ces | out, when who should stalk out of the woods, but a big Indian, and walking directly up to me, thrust out his hand, and said in good English, “How do you do, sister?”’ ‘Tt must have alarmed you?” “Tt did at first, but I knew, almost at the first ; moment, that it was the great Seminole. He was tall and fine-looking, and dressed beautifully, that is for an Indian—and then I knew that Bob was ex- pedis a visitfrom him. He acted like a gentle- man, I must say, and walked beside me to Bob's cottage, amusing me not a little by his peculiar manner of speech. He called me the Magnolia of the Forest, and became so complimentary and poetical, that I am sure I was quite embarrassed.” “And did he leave you, with a pleasant -day, at the door?” laughed Hugh, not a little interested in what he had heard. “Not at all; he entered the cabin with me, where Bob made a great ado over him, and I was_com- pelled to sit at the table and dine with him. But he was go pointed in his attentions, that I felt com- pelled to return to the light-house, where I knew I was safe from further interruption, and I saw him no more.” “ But I suppose he hung around for a long time, in the hope of wane you —. “Tf so, he was disappointed, for when I made Bob ut come, and when he went ae a broken heart, Osceola was that same Indian—but here we are &t the mansion.”’ ; The cabin of Bob was a very ordinary one in structure, scarcely meriting any particular descri tion. He ente it by merely pulling the latch- string, and in a few seconds, by aid of flint and tinder, had a tallow candle lighted, and shortly after he produced some well-cooked meat, which our young friends needed no urging to attack. But their minds were full of the Pea of the Haunted Lake, and it was not long before they passed out upon the beach again, where all three seated themselves aed a fallen log and looked out upon the beautiful sheet of water. “This is about time the spook put in an appear- ance,” said Bob, and immediately added, *‘ there it comes, too!”’ ; Looking toward the right extromity of the lake, neither Clara nor Hugh, at first sight, saw any thing unusual, but the next moment pl perceived the fizure of a canoe, slowly coming forth from the gloom at the eastern extremity, and passing along over the lake, as if it were about to keep near the middle for the entire distance. In the stern of the boat sat a form in white, appar- ently as motionless as a statue, until it came some- what nearer, when it was seen to be using the pad- dle, with a soft, wavy, noiseless motion, that gave it an airy progress, in perfect consonance with its Spire character, and that produced no ripple upon the water. Only the Ean Dag figure was visible, Bob having ex- lained that the stricken maiden lying prostrate in he canoe, could only be seen when the boat was close to land, or one was near it; but as the course of the boat brought it nearer and nearer, there was a distinctness about it and the occupant that was absolutely startling. The canoe Was white, and the warrior seated in the stern with his face immovably fixed upon what was ahead of him, seemed to be of that light, im- material character, which makes up our imaginings of the denizens of the other world. It was the very embodiment indeed of the legend just told by Clara. Hugh Havens was as little subject to superstition as one could sibly be, and he rubbed his om again and again and stared at the apparition; but aameSerEs 8 ee ee there was no “‘rubbin’ it oat.” Therelt was, just as d outlined as was the form of the beautiful girl beside him. And she saw it, too, as he well knew from her hushed, awed manner. Her gaze was fixed upon it, as it slowly glided before her, and she refrained from speaking or moving lest by so doing, she might break the spell and dissipate the vision forever. Hugh became curious to observe the effect of this apparition upon the Seminoles, for it seemed hardly possible that they should fail to note it, and their superstitious nature must cause it to produce a pro- found impression upon them. The In camp-fire was directly opposite, and. as we have said, figures had been seen moving about all the evening. No excitement or outery told whether they had discovered the spirit canoe; but when he looked in that direction, not one of them could be seen. It looked as if the council were end- ed and they had fled, but Hugh rightly suspected that, having seen the wonderful: vision they had iven heels to their terror, and scattered like a flash the forest, too frightened, perhaps, to return again, so long as the spirit canoe was visible. A half-hour from the time the canoe was first seen at the eastern extremity of the Haunted Lake, it had reached the western end, and while the ees of all three were fastened upon it, gradually blended with the shadow at the opposite point, and ve nished from view altogether, its coming and going having been in perfect consonance with its strange, mythi- cal nature—not the lightest sound marking its pass- age over the lake. ; Clara Raymond uttered a slight sigh, and turning to her companion, said: ‘* Well, we have seen it, and what do you think of rc gcd Canoe? Does it meet your conception of ‘* Yes; I must say that it does. | It is strange, and wonderful. I have heard of such things before, but I never saw an rea J like it until now. It accords with the legend you told me, and one who’ has seen it can never forget it.” It was now the turn of Bob to speak, and facing his solemn countenance toward them, he raised his hand in his most impressive manner, like one who is about to unburden his soul. “T tell you what it is; I’ve seen that thing before, and it always seemed to me that it sets kind 0° lop- sided in the canoe, and it ought to have another spirit to boost it up straight. I wonder ef that old warrior was not la ots or lopsided in some way or other. That’s the question agitates my bo- m. And he threw up one foot over the other, and fold ing his arms, stared at the two, with an owlish ex- pression, as if he expected them to dispute the as- sertion which he was prepared to maintain. But no one disputed him. Neither felt particular- ly in the mood, as they were willing that Bob should enjoy his opinion unmolested as faras they were concerned. However, they discovered, much to their surprise. that there was a vein of romance, after all, in the com tion of Buster Bob, the only difficulty being that it took some skill to bring it out. He told them of his first meeting with the haunting vision, some years before, when he was fishing by moonlight at one corner of the lake, and how he lay down in the bottom of the canoe, and never took his eyes from. it until it ges ee in the darkness, and then he watched the whole night through in the expectation of seeing it come back again. But it did not, and weeks passed before he was ermitted to look upon the vision, and in the mean time he learned from Osceola the legend connected with it, and told it to Clara, who had made many ef- forts to catch a glimpse of it, but had never suc- ceeded until now. Seeing it so often, Bob came to look upon it as an old acquaintance, and he had sat in bis canoe, and never once stopped his fishing while it passed within a hundred yards of him. **T once sung out to him, when he was close by, and axed him to go ashore and take a luneb.” ‘With what result?’ asked the horrified Clara. “None at all; the blamed critter was too unman- nerly even to thank me.” “But you know that spirits are not material enough to eat.” “J dunno about that,” replied Bob, with a laugh “ Osceola sometimes speaks of you as a spirit, and | don’t believe that he has any idea that you live on air. Howsumever, I mene’ the warrior might have thanked me for my invite, by a nod of the head, or wave of the hand; but he didn’t do neither, and I didn't invite him again. See here!” suddenly exclaimed Bob, with one of his abrupt changes of manner. ‘I spose — folks will set out here for an hour or two, won’t you?” Hugh looked to his fair companion for a reply, and she said: “The night is so pleasant and the scene so en- chanting that I cannot help enjoying it, How is it, Mr. Havens?” P “ Any place would be delightful to me, were I but assured of your company. So you may consider it settled, Bob.” - “The reason I axed you was that I have—a little— business or errand—off some distance, and I would | like to see that it is attended to before the sun comes up to-morrow.” . And he rose in an awkward sort of a way, and stretched himself, as if embarrassed to offer a suit- able explanation. “T don’t see any need of your waiting then, if your business is'of such importance,” said Clara. “T don’t either,” he added, as if suddenly recoi- nent himself. ‘‘ What am 1 hanging about here or?” ’
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And he started up the beach at a rapid walk, halt- ing when he had a short distance, when he > on out and a sort of Coe yee — mat boats, reer every where, e@ cou paphay' A astray, W. he wished to make a trip over lake. It required but afew minutes for him to launch the boat, when, taking his seat in it, he began =< the paddle with the skill of the most accomplishe veteran. * He is heading directly toward the Indian camp," said Hugh, in considerable surprise. “ Doubtless he has some errand there. You know he is a singular, privileged character, who seems to have a license go where and to go when he chooses, without fear of disturbance. It may be that he is seeking an interview with Osceola. itis so, | hope he has consideration enough for me, not to mention my presence here.” “But see! Bob is changing his course. He is tacning his canoe back again.’ Such was the case indeed. A few strokes of the paddle faced the dug-out re about, and the oc- yo ea headed straight toward the beach at their His manner indicated that he wished to say some- thing of importance to them, and they rose to their feet to hear him. He checked his boat, when about es dozen yards away, and said in a cautious under- ne: “*T forgot to tell you, that if you. get hungry you will find plenty to eat on the table in the back part of the mansion. Don’t be afeard of taking all you want. Aw revoir.” “There is his romantic imagination ‘ain,’ laugh- ed Clara, as he turned about and row rapidly out to be troubled little and speedily to their respective quarters for CHAPTER VL OSCEOLA, was the first one to awake in the he passed out to the of the first look was toward the light, to see whether it had been disturbed during the night. hig h up ‘alking down to the lake, he bathed his face and hands in the clear cold waters, and then walked could not account, and which oppres him greatly. It seemed to him as if the that had just com- menced was to be one fraught with important events s fortunes for And then very naturally his thoughts reverted to the lady whom he had met upon the previous even- ing, and whom he had accompanied to the Haunted Lak e. ** How ‘singular, that we who had never seen or heard of each other, and coming from points hun- dreds of miles Spar. should have met here upon the coast of Florida, in the look-out of a light-house, and then should wander away to this mysterious sheet of water. If there can be such a thing as love at first sight, I am sure that I love her—and that, too, as deeply and truly as man can love woman,” He started” and gazed furtively about him, as if fearful that some one had overheard his words, which sent such new and delightful emotions throne his heart, and learned his sweet secret. Then his face turned crimson, as he recalled that performance of his at the introduction. “Can she ever think of me with any other feelings except those of pity and contempt? The memory of that ridiculous display will make me blush fifty years from now, should I be spared to see that time. And yet it does seem to make no difference in her estimation of me. A woman's heart is a puzzle, but that she is a lady is beyond all question—handsome, intelligent, amiable and everything that goes to make her sex so precious in, our eyes. There is someunng romantic in the thought of love in a light- ouse.”’ And indulging in these pleasant_reflections, and building all ie Sok of air-castles, Hugh Sauntered down the beach in the direction of the cabin, for- getting all about the fears that had distur his ‘houghts, and forgetful too of that ange appar- ition of the spirit warrior that had ¢ his path, s a ED ae ns and that had done so much tosh his belief in pe and hobgoblins. He dreamed only of Clara ymond, the beautiful enchanting Magnolia of the Forest: fragrant in his thoughts is that most fra- grant of ail shrubs, and destined to be a joy forever to him. Leaving the present, he pictured all man- ner of roseate dreams of the future, when fortune should permit him to catch this bird and place it in his own cage. And full of these sweet day-dreams he sauntered back to the cabin of Bob, where he found his two frieuds were awaiting him. Bob had already made an observation, and finding the light-house undisturbed, was in high hopes, although he declared, he had received assurances on the evening previous that it would not be harmed. Upon his saying this, Clara questioned him rather sharply; but he showed such an indisposition to answer her inquiries, that she ceased, and no fur- ther reference was made to the subject at this time. When breakfast was finished, Bob made an excuse for taking Hugh out of hearing of the lady, and he asked rather abruptly: “Have you made any arrangements as to how you and the lady in there are going to spend the day ?”’ “T can’t say that I have,” replied the young man, somewhat taken aback by the abruptness of the question, “Of course I place myself at her dis- ss I suppose she has no wish to wander very ar away from your cabin; while the Seminoles are in the neighborhood. Sheis quite fond of hunting and fishing, and I presume may wish to take a row upon the lake, if you consider it safe.” , “You haven‘t made any arrangement then with her ?”? “None at all,” “T'm blamed glad to hear that, for Iam going to ask a particular favor of you.” “Any thing that I can do to oblige re I shall ouly be too appy to.do,”’ was the instan and honest re- sponse of Hugh. “Very well then; I want you to go to the ht- house to see Lige, and stay away from Clara till to- morrow morning.” Natur Uy enough Hugh Havens was amazed at this request, and, although he forbore asking any —— his looks betrayed his curiosity so p \y, Bob hastened to add: **No doubt, you and Clara and think me a _— chap, and I s’pose Iam; but I have a reason or axing this, ont a shall l’arn what it is some day. Do you Fr to comply with my request?” I do,”’ replied Hi “*T will make some excuse to the lady for absenting myself to-day, and I pledge ou that I shall not present myself at your cabin be- ween now and the rising of to-morrow’s sun, Is that sufficient?” Bob stood a moment as if debating some question with himself. Two or three times he seemed to be on the point of saying something. Well would it —— been for “ had he Bone, - he ened, hanking his young friend for prompt com- pliance with his request, he told him to go inside and settle it with ae while he attended to some for himself. ‘ugh managed the matter without difficulty. The og pe of the two was so brief, that had the felt any disappointment, she had too much taste to express it. She said she. would pro- remain with Bob for a couple of days, unless astorm should come up, when of course she would hasten to her eyrie to enjoy the grand scene. She added that she would be glad to see him at any time, when he could make it convenient, but she had no wish to interfere with any business that he had upon And, ames og a pleasant ood-day, Hugh passed we of the in, and made ‘his my to the light- ouse. Bob waited until he was beyond sight and hearing, and then a ge Clara. “Well, nolia, what is. it to-day, fish or hunt? You know I have all that you need at your disposal.” ‘I did intend to ask Mr. Havens to accompany me on a hunt through the woods, but as he can not go with me, I think I shall have to give that up, unless you will act as my escort.” “Sorry, but I shall have to leave you alone till evening,” replied Bob, with some little embarrass- ment of manner, “Then I will not go alone, asI have no wish to meet any of the Seminoles wandering in the woods.” *“ You needn’t be afeard of that,’ Bob hastened to say, ‘‘ the whole war-party left last night, and area long ways off by this time,” am glad to hear that, but, on the whole, I will defer my hunting business until the Indians have had time to get a little further off. If you think it is safe, I will take one of your canoes, and paddle to the upper end of the lake, where you kuow there is a capital spot to fish, I will stay there until I catch enough for dinner, and then come home. But tell me, Bob, you don't expect a call from Osceola?” Clara Raymond was not a little astonished at the confusion of her friend, who acted like a sc’ool-hoy detected in the commission of some crime. He grew very red in the face, coughed and cleared his throat, and then said, rather abruptly: ** No; he mizht possibly come this way, but I don’t expect him. Osceola, you know, is a fine chap, and you needn't have any fear of him.” “I can’t say that I have any fear, but Ido hope I shall not see him again. If you wish to go, don’t stay any longer on my account.” After a few more unimportant words, Bob threw his rifle over his shoulder, and telling Clara to look for his return before nightfall, he passed down the beach, and shortly after hele eared from view. Left alone, Clara Raymon aia not spend her time in idleness. Buster Bob, as a matter of course, was ht-House Lige. 7 his own housekeeper, but she saw the gate for a display of her taste, as she looked about the cabin, and she spent a half-hour in “setting things to rights,” ere she settled fairly in her own mind what she should do. **T feel so lonely here,’’ she said to herself, as she stood debating the question, ‘‘ that I have a mind to go to the light-house, and spend the forenoon with uncle Lige; but, after the formal good-by of Mr. Havens, it would look as if I were anxious for his aomnene and it would hardly be proper for me to do so. {have half a mind to take that gun, which Bob has left, and start off ona hunt, for there is more excitement about that; but I will spend the forenoon in fishing, and when that is fully gone, I can make up my mind as to what is best to do. There! [ have settled ‘hat point, and now I will get the fishing-tackle ready. And when she had | gi ety line and bait she was curiously perplexed about another very trifling matter, which was simply whether she should take the weapon with her or not. Common prudence would have suggested that she should have done so, under any circumstances; but her trouble was that she had a fear that, when she arrived at the other end of the lake, she would find herself woo tempted to change her mind, and go upon the hunt after all. ‘‘No; I will leave it home," she finally concluded, “‘and then I can pursue my fishing without any dis- tracting debate with myself.” And having made m4 her mind to this, she drew the cabin door to, leaving the latch-string out, and passed down the beach to where Bob had left a canoe purposely for her use. Here she paused a moment, and took asurvey of the water and surroundings, but not a living soul was visible. She turned her gaze toward the light-house, but the distance was too great for her to distinguish any one, even had there beep @ person on the look-out. There was a powerful telescope there, and I wonder whether he feels enough interest in my movements to point it this way.’ She smiled at her own question, and wondered why she asked it, and why too she sought to answer it herself, “Uncle Lige never told me he had a visitor until we were ascending the stairs. He was confused when we came upon him so suddenly, but for all that I like him and find him very entertaining and pleasant company.” She rallied and laughed again to think that she should pause in this manner to speculate upon the eae man who had left her but a short time before. hoving her canoe from shore, she leaped into it, and began paddling for the upper end of the lake, which was her favorite fishing-ground. Her boat moved slowly, ard she carefully scanned the shores as she advanced, taking care to give the widest berth to the camping-ground of the Seminoles. But noth of an ing nature was to be seen, and she about concluded that Bob-was right in his belief that all or had gone by, and that uncle Lige was to be left in undisturbed possession of the light-house for an indefinite time to come. e day bid fair to be quite warm, and reaching the termination of the e, she brought her canoe to rest inthe shade of a | ress whose branches poistes far out over the water, and in a few minu she was busily employed in her sport. The fish however proved rather siy this morning, and Olara was not as successful as she had antici- pated. The hours passed rapidly by, and when she Saw that the sun was close to the meridian, she yet a the number of fish that she had hoped to obtain. “If Bob does not return,” she thought, “‘ and no one else there will be an abundance for me. So I will end this excursion.” Desirous mt procuring a forked stick upon which to carry the from the canoe to the cabin, she sent the canoe in to the land by one sweep of the paddle, and stepped upon the beach. j She had barely done so, when almost preci in the same manner as before, an Indian stepped forth from the wood, and advanced toward her, with hig hand proffered in greeting. For Osceola !”* exclaimed Clara, turning pale and rting 4 “Magnolia of the Forest!” he reported, in reply, “it was thy fragrance that penetra’ many miles through the pines and cypresses and brought me here, face to face with thee. My heart leaps with gladness at the sight of thy face, 1 him as much as she might, the girl did not feel it safe or prudent to refuse to give him her hand, when he thrust out his own. She noted how warm was his grasp, and how heartily he shook it, and how long and jovin ly he held on, as thou loth to let her go, and she coud not but recall the words of Bob, about his being ‘smitten * with her. He was in love; he could not but betray it. He showed it inevery look and word and in his manner. She appeared as natural and self-possessed as ossible, but she regretted, in her heart, the fortune hat had brought about this meeting, Better would it have been, had she gone to the light-house, although in violation of her sense of maiden deli- cacy, and ceo ad out of sight until Osceola should have penetrated so far northward that there was no danger of his return. But here he was, and Clara addressed herself to the task of making the best thing possible of that which, to say the least, was exceedingly unpleasant. “But 4 pony 3 the warriors of Osceola filled the woods, and now they are gone—but whither?” “They are journeying northward—they are upon the war-path, and the white men shall tremble, and the women shall bow when they hear the name of Osceola spoken—for much has he been wronged.”
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8 “ But Osceola is a warrior,” said Clara, determined to put in a word for Lige, while she had the oppor- tunity, “‘and he fights only those who make war ainst him. Women and children have not harmed his warriors, and they will not seek to harm them. To do so, would not be the act of a brave man.” * But the pale-faces have set their dogs upon the squaws of the Seminoles, and they have chased them to the swamps where they were compelled to hide from them, Why then should (they be spared?” “They have done wrong, if they have made war in this way. but I did not know that such was their practice, But the Seminoles will fight the men only who fight ¢hem—I mean by that that their great leader Osceola will not harm them who he knows bear no ill-will toward him.” The chieftain reared his head proudly, and his black eyes flashed, while his face glowed with rude natural eloquence. “Ts it thus that the pale-face makes war? Does he seek only the red-men who he knows are his en- emies? Or does he consider that al/ red-men are evil, and should be swept from the earth?”’ Clara felt that she might very appropriately reply in the affirmative to this question; but she had essayed the role of diplomat, and such a frank avowal would only complicate the difficulties in the way of her pet scheme. ‘Judge not my race by the acts of a few," she said in extenuation; “every people have a few evil “THIS IS ABOUT THE TIME THE SPOOK PUTS IN AN APPEARANCE,” SAID BOB, AND IMMEDIATELY ADDED, “THERE IT COMES, TOO!” iy men gay J them, but the others and the good should not be condemned for their sake.” Osceola struck his fist violently upon his left breast, and with flashing eye, exclaimed in a loud, ringing voice: ** All white men are the enemies of Osceola, and he and his warriors have made war upon them ail /”’ “But what of him?” she asked, pointing toward the cabin down the side of the lake. ‘‘ at shall be done with the one who dwells there?” ‘*He is not a white man; his skin is white, but his heart is red. He is my brother, and the brother of Osceola is a Seminole. He has been kind to the red- them.” “** But is he the only man of my race, against whom you will not raise the tomahawky” she asked. “ He is all, and Osceola told his warriors last night, who came from the north and south, that he who lived in the cabin by the Haunted Lake was their brother, and who raised weapon against him, should be slain, whether he be white man or red, and they shouted and brandished their weapons in air, and so they will do—every warrior of my tribe.” “But what of the good man who dwells there?” she asked, pointing toward the light-houses “ Surely when his arm has been raised against no red-man, they aa not seek to disturb him, when at his post 0 uty th) CHAPTER VII. OSCEOLA’S WOOING. CuaRA RaymMonp shuddered, as shé saw the face of Osceola, the Seminole. The reference to the light- house keeper had enraged instead of soothing im, | | | ! ' | | | centuries, the one man, and not a hair of his head shall be lost through | Light-House Lige. and raising his left arm, he said, in the low, thunder- ous tones of profound passion and immovable hatred, like the mutterings of the coming earth- quake: “He bears a white skin anda white heart. There is no Seminole blood in him and he hates the red- man. « Tt does Osceola speak thus, when he stays where he is, and has never injured the warriors of the woods?’’ This was said at random of course, but under the belief that Lige had always been a peaceable man; but she was quickly undeceived by the reply of Os- ceola, which came quickly enough indeed: ‘‘ During the darkness of last night, three of my warriors were creeping around the light-house, when he shot one of them through the heart. 1t was not the first nor the second Indian that has fallen by his rifle.” This was an astounding statement to Clara, but she rallied at once, with some indignation, to the | defense of her friend. “What business had those three warriors to be sneaking around the light-house, in the stillness of night? Their errand could have been for no good, else they would have knocked at the door and asked for admittance.” ““They were sent by their chief to find out whether the pale-face kept faithful guard, or whether he slept at night.” “ And they found out for bim too, and I'll warrant you, that he never raised his arm nst a red-man unless he was compelled to do so. not Osceola concede the right to every brave man to defend him- self against danger?” ’ “But the pale-face has no business_here; this is | | | ] i } | the hunting-ground of the Seminoles: the pale-faces | cheated and deceived them; they shall all be driven into the sea, and the red-man shall again have all his own.” It was the same old argument that was used by King Philip, and Pontiac, and Tecumseh, and Osce- ola and d-Cloud, down er a period of two lea in which he can no more be shaken than can the rock of Gibraltar; but Clara Raymond met this special case with no little inge- nuit the right to sail upon the great water yonder?” “The red there.”’ “Then Osceola should love the man who lives in the light-house; for he lives there to keep his brethren off the coast. Were it not for him many vessels would be driven by the storms upon these dangerous rocks, and when their t canoes went to pieces, they would have to swim ashore and live upon the hunting-grounds of the Seminoles, and so in time Florida would be over run with them. But he keeps the light burning at night so that they may see far away and not come near your hunting- grounds. This was putting the matter in a new light, and had Osceola been unprejudiced it could not ut have produced a great effect upon him; but no being in «De believe that the pale-faces have | a ae te E | Then let not the Ma -man does not harm the pale-face who | stays upon the great lake, but he will not stay | | orbs were fixed intent] | alike; the Great Sp the world is harder to convince than an Indian, and even when the ment came from such beautiful lips, it still failed to produce any effect upon his bar- baric mind. ‘* Let him then build his tower out in the waters, where it does not offend the eye of the Seminole, and they will disturb him not; but does the - nolia of the Forest love the old man who has dwelt there for so many years?” “He isasa father to me, and my heart is filled bay pain to hear my brother speak so bitterly of m,’” **At the wish of Bob Buster, last night, I drew my warriors off, and sent them northward, that they might not harm his brother; but my warriors will come back, and I will spare him again only for ou.” “Then do it for me, and my heart shall ever thank you, and always hold Osceola in grateful re- membrance.” “Tf the Magnolia of the Forest will go with Os- ceola to his lodge in the wilderness, and there become his queen, then shall the light-house stand forever, and no red-man shall ever do aught against 17:™ Here it was at last! This was the bargain that Osceola offered, and Clara saw on the instant that this was the whole secret of the matter. This was why the chieftain had arranged this interview, and this was the compact he wished to make. Comprehending it on the instant, the question ia- stantly presented itself, as to how she should meet it. A direct refusal would only exasperate him, and would be likely to cause most leasant con- sequences. It was a more difficult matter for her to arrange than the general argument, which he had advanced, and she was silent for a moment, her eyes dropping to the ground, while his burnin, upon her. But Clara possessed a woman's ready tact, and ei concealing the surprise which she felt, she said: “The skin and heart of the Magnolia are white, those of Osceola are It is not fitting, there- fore, that we should be mated together.” “But in the lodge of Osceola, both will become rit will smile upon such a union, he at of many a pale-face. olia hesitate, for she shall be- come queen of the Seminoles.” But she shook her head, sadly, for her heart was deeply stirred, and she felt that she was on dan- for it will save | gerous ground. Bob was gone, and would not return for hours Havens was at the light-house, where he ong to remain during the day. Lige was not likely to come to this out-of-the-way place. She was there | fore alone, beyond human help, and entirely in the power of Osceola, with no cant restrain him from acting out his own will. And while he had shown consideration and thought in his treatment of her before, yet she knew that the chieftain was bitter and rev of strong passions and implacable hatred, possessing many virtues, but not without the worst vices of his race. She could only pray that she was well rid of his
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——— presence, and do her utmost to effect that end. She said as gently as she could: “The words of my brother surprise me, and he must give me time to consider them; I cannot answer until another moon comes and s. Let Osceola go upon his war-path, and when he returns come to me and I’will give him my answer.” This apparently fair proposal placed the chieftain at too great a disadvantage for him to accept it. He had seen enough already of the difficulties of pro- curing an audience with her, for him to let her go, when such an opportunity as this was placed in his hanes. He knew that she visited this region only at long intervals, and if he permitted her to depart now, the chances were that in all human probability he would never see her again. ‘If Osceola goes north upon the war-path, and is gone till three moons come and go, will the oO- lia of the Forest meet him here alone, and tell him what her answer is?” asked the chief, his eyes still fixed intently upon her. It was a strong temptation to indulge ina false- hood, and perhaps there are few who would not have considered deception justifiable under the circum- stances; but great as was the stress, Clara could not feel herself warranted in doing so. She still hoped by appealing to the generosity and chivalry of the chieftain to dissuade him from the hopes he entertained. * Does “y brother—the great chieftain of the Sem- inoles—wish to pain the heart of the Magnolia?’’ Light-House Lige. therein doing what she had never before done in her | life. Had everything been planned from the begin- ning, it could not have been more successfully ar- ranged than it was. “What shall I do?” was the question that present- ed itself above all others in that dreadful moment. | In the hope of gaining valuable time, she affected not to understand his earnestness, but stood as if debating what reply to make. Could she turn round, a into her canoe, and push out into the lake? If she could do so, ere he could prevent, she was sure of being able to kee out of his reach, so long as he was unprovided with acanoe. But Bob had so many ints along the lake, that it would take him but a ew minutes to find one, and then he would speedily overtake her, admitting that she could succeed in i getting beyond his grasp at the outset of this ven- | ture, a feat that was exceedingly problematical in its results. ” said she, raising her eyes again, and looking him bravely in the face, “I cannot make up | my mind to go with you. It is agreat and important question that you have proposed tome. Go with me to the cabin of the man who is a friend to both of us, and there we will discuss it." y What particular advantage she was to gain by laced at different | 9 to conduct the olia of the Forest across the Haunted Lake, while she can sit and watch the shadows upon the shore.” Not ng to refuse, she took her place in the stern, and he immediately followed, seizing the - dle, and with one powerful sweep of the oar it far out into the e. The position of the Indian was such that his face was naturally fronting the girl, although he fre- uently turned his head and glanced over his shoul- len, as if to make certain of the direction of the canoe. And proceeding down the lake, the eyes of Clara Sebureliy turned toward the light-house, rising white and clear against the blue sky, and as sti and ap- parently as devoid of life as if it were a vast marble aepgoeng erected to the memory of some fallen ero. “ Oh, if either uncle Lige or Mr. Havens but knew of my strait,’ she could not help thinking, ‘ how quic’ they would come to my relief; but they must think all goes well with me—”’ She suddenly paused, for high up on the look-out of the light-house she saw something waving as if intended as a signal for her. It seemed as if it were aman swinging his hat, but the hight and distance were so great that she could not make certain of its exact nature. ‘*He supposes that I am taking a boat-ride for mere pleasure,’ she concluded, as she looked in- tently in that direction, “It must be Mr. Havens, OSCEOLA CLOSED HIS LEGS OVER THE PANTHER’S BACK, AND IN AN INSTANT HAD BURIED THE KNIFE TO THE HILT IN ITS SIDE. “Osceola is too great a warrior to harm a hair of the head of a woman, though she be of the race which are his enemies."’ “Then let him not press this matter further; let him see that the white and red can never mate. Let him always be a brother to me; let me be a sister to him, and part as friends who hope to meet hereafter in the spirit land.” “But the Magnolia shall be queen of the Semi- noles; in the lodge of Osceola, she shall reign over all the squaws of his tribe. If her heart pines for her home, Osceola will become a white man and take | her there. He will be her slave, and bring her such game from the woods, and make her such belts of kbp ae that she will give him her heart, and thank the Great Spirit that brought them together.” She saw no escaping a direct refusal, and again she shook her head, ; “Tt can not be—it can not be,” ** Tt must aan shall bef" These words were uttered in a low voice, deep and profound with emotion, and as he spoke, Osceola took a step nearer her. In an instant Clara comprehended that he had re- solved to possess himself of her at all hazards. Failing in his arguments, as he had done, then he was ready to use violence even. What evil fate was it that had helped him to-day? She had three friends at no great distance, whe were ready to give their lives in her defense, and yet they were as effectually removed beyond appeal as if a thousand miles distant. And then she had no weapons of any kind with which to defend herself. For the trivial cause, al- ready mentioned, she had left her rifle at the cabin, | this course, Clara would have found it difficult to tell; but it would give her time, and during the onizing interval she might be able to form some e to assist her out of the dreadful dilemma. Per- ps Bob might have providentially returned; per- haps Havens had changed his mind, or himself concluded to make a call Ao a her. Perhaps— a thousand things, any of which would be better than to stand here, face to face with the dreadful creature that the Seminole had now become in her eyes. Somewhat to’ her surprise, he consented, almost the moment she proposed it. ‘Osceola will go with the Magnolia to the lodge of his brother, but he is not there; he is gone for the day. He knows that Osceola wishes him to remain - until the sun goes down, and he will not return en,” This remark of the chief gave Clara Raymond a most painful pang, for it suggested at once the thought of a collusion between him and Bob. Could it be possible that her friend, in whom she placed such a trust, had purposely played into the hands of Osceola? She could scarcely credit the or are suspicion, and yet his words seemed to im- y it. Could she have known the words that he had ut- tered to Hugh Havens, what other conclusion would have been ble for her to reach? But checking her tumultnous emotions in the one overwhelming thought of the great danger in which she stood, she acted upon the consent of Osceola, without a moment's delay, starting down the beach. But he checked her. ' “We will go as you came; Osceola will be proud | for uncle Lige would hardly indulge in such playful- ness, If he would only use the —— he t be led to suspect the truth, but he cannot, cannot know | how sorely I need his help.”’ | She was ca: in her excitement even, to Osceola from making the discovery, and when he turned his head she looked off over the lake and to- / ward the woods, in as unconcerned a manner as ble, while, fortunately for her, he seemed to estow little a her. e was paddling uite slowly, and ins' of following the line of the shore, was keeping well out in the lake. like one who | was fearful of ow water. When he turned his head again she threw up her hand and returned the s —doing it in an instant, | as it were, and then, fearful of attracting the atten- tion of her companion, she waited till his head was turned again. “It may be possible that one of them has the tel- escope turned in this direction,” she reflected, “and | if so, they will see that it is an Indian whom I have in the canoe, and they will understand my ges- ec This consisted of a beckoning motion, such as one would make when he desired to call another to him. Clara repeated it several times, and in her excite- ment she partly rose up. The slight disturbance in the canoe was noticed | by the keen Osceola, who turned his head back like a flash of lightning, catching the maiden in the very act of beckoning to her friends upon the top of the light-house. “Why does the Magnolia of the Forest seek to call the enemies of Osceola to her? Do her eyes delight in blood and violence that she wishes to see
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10 pv _= and red-men clutch at each other’s Overwhelmed with confusion, Clara sunk down in her seat again, and covered her face with her hands, refus' to answer or ex: words with him even when he had repeated the question several times. She could only pray: “Desert me not, oh, Heaven! in my extremity! Deliver me out of the power of this wicked man.”’ She ‘recalled, in that moment, an expression she had heard made both by her father and uncle Lige, to the effect that if the Seminoles should retreat into the swamps of Florida, no army in the world could follow them. Consequently they would be safe from interruption there, and no human power could extricate her from the grasp of Osceola, if he should once take her away. Suddenly she looked up and exclaimed: oer past the cabin!”’ “Osceola, you have There was an evil light in his eyes as he replied: “T am taking the Magnolia of the Forest to the lodge of Osceola, where she will be made queen of the Seminoles.” ’ CHAPTER VII. CRUEL FATE. Ir was a terrible moment to Clara Raymond when ' @sceola thus announced in unmistakable terms his intention of taking her away with him, whether she was willing or not. They had already passed, by a considerable dis- tance, the cabin of Bob, and, as the necessity for all’ further dissembling was thrown aside, he dipped his paddle deeper into the water, and the canoe sped like an arrow over the lake, heading toward the northern shore, at a point about half-way between the west- ern extremity and the Seminole camping-ground. The maiden sat in the stern of the canoe, like one stunned and bewildered by some awful calamity. Pressing her hands to her forehead, she could only murmur to Heaven: * Desert me not in my extremity! God, or I sink!"’ Comprehending as fully as she did the nature of Osceola—that daring, relentless, revengeful dispesi- tion, mixed as it sometimes was with a chivalrous manner, she knew that it was useless to appeal to his generosity or wk a When he step <4 forth from the wood and met her upon the beach, he had fully resolved that she should go with him. He had first tried_his powers of persuasion, and having failed in that, he had thrown off all disguise, and made known his purpose in the words given at the close of the preceding chapter. And was there not a dark combination of cireum- stances to assist the wily Seminole—so dark indeed as to point to Something beyond mere chance? Was it mere accident that sent Hugh Havens to the light- house, for the day, and dispatched Bob to the wood go as to leave the way clear for the machinations 0} Osceola? Such singular coincidences do sometimes eccur in the affairs of this world, but there was an awful suspicion that would not down, and that eaused her fully as much distress and anguish of women did the crushing sense of ber own position captive. She made no»reply to Osceola, but, as the canoe continued on its arrow-like course, she cast one look, first to the quiet, deserted cabin of , standing upon the southern shore, and then to the light-house, rising sharp and clear against the stecl-blue sky in the distance. But she no longer saw the signal upon the top— nothing but the ym. of the breakers against the beach reached her ears, and a few more tremendous sweeps of the sinewy arms, and the bow ran far up on the beach, and he leaped out, caught up bis rifle, and turning around waited for her. As she stepped rather hesitatingly forward, he reached out his hand in his polite way to assist her, but she declined, and the next moment stood on the sand beside him. He was motionless a moment, and then uttering something in his own tongue, which she did not understand, the two plunged Tose the wood, and she began her terrible, sorrowful journey. Asa matter of course, Osceola took the lead, Clara following close behind him. His back was thus toward her, and, at first sight, it might seem that she was thus given the opportunity of dodging beyond his reach, during some moment when his attention was diverted, as it was clearly out of his power to keep his eye on her contin y, when she was in the rear. But had she been eis to walk directly in front, the chances would have been as good; for Osceola was so skilled in the ways of the wood, that, as he walked along, it may be said that be did so absolutely without noise, stepping over the leaves as if he were walking upon a velvet carpet. There was a smoothness and silence in this serpentine motion, which Clara herself, with all ber lightness and grace of movement, could not imitate, and so it was that every step she took was clearly audible to her captor, who would be certain to detect any coup that she might undertake. Still, terrible as was her situation, the brave- hearted girl did not dare to look far into the future and picture the time when she should reach the Seminole village, and there be compelled to become the wife of Osceola, without the remotest possibility of rescue upon the part of her friends, or escape by herself. She endeavored, so far as pee to keep a cor- rect idea of the direction she was pursuing. The Help me, oh sun being almost directly overhead, she was unable to tell much by that, but the sound of the Gulf of Mexico upon her left, with its ceaseless booming / Light-House Lige. against the shore convinced her that the chief was ere almost due north; and so, should fortune avor her and enable her to give the wily villain the slip, she would know what course to take in order to reach the protecting light-house. “Perhaps he may go far enough north to take me in the vicinity of Tampa,’’ she added, with a slight thrill of hope, ‘‘ and I may find father there.” But she resolutely kept down these risings of hope, and addre herself to the stern duty that was before her. As a matter of course, eola could not but know that she would seize any oppor- tunity that might present itself for the purpose of slipping from his clutches, and he would be pre- pared for it. She concluded, therefore, to make an attempt to deceive him into believing that she accepted his Sp gear and was quite eager to be- come Queen of the Seminoles. This self-imposed task was exceedingly difficult on account of its distastefulness to her, coupled with the conviction that Osceola was too shrewd to be deceived. He had presented the matter in as glowing a light as possible on the shores of the Haunted Lake, and she had refused them so utterly and emphatically that he might well question the genuineness of such a sudden conversion, Since the words recorded, the chieftain had not opened his mouth. Ordinarily he was quite loqua- cious, but it was evident that he felt the constraint of his position and did not choose to make an a at conciliation where such a thing was im- possible; but Clara, having determined upon her ine of conduct, hurried her footsteps, bringing her- self directly beside, and only a few feet distant. Osceola turned his head in surprise, at seeing this movement, and she asked him in her ordinary manner: “How far northward lies the village of the Semi- noles, and the lodge of Osceola?” The chieftain looked up at the sun, which had hardly passed the meridian, and replied, pointing a little below the orb: ‘ “When the sun to-morrow reaches there, then shall the Magnolia of the Forest become the Queen of the Seminoles.”’ ‘* And will the wives of the warriors acknowledge her as theit' queen?” she asked, with an eager, questioning look. Osceola paused, with the old fire flaming in his face and eyes, and brandished his right arm with a ges- ture yeculiarly his own. ‘* What Seminole dare refuse to obey Osceola? Is not his wife their queen? And let her refuse who dare, and I will brain her with this same tomahawk which has more than once cleft the skull of white and red-man alike! When Magnolia becomes the wife of Osceola, allshall do her reverence—”’ He suddenly paused, with that peculiar start which a hunter Upp when a suspicious sound strikes his ear, an ping his rifle, he looked be- hind, and on each side with lightning-like quickness, as if momentarily expecting the appearance of some enemy. Clara heard nothing, but she clasped her hand to her heart, with a sudden gasp, as the thought thrill- ed her that uncle ie or Hugh vens were close at hand, coming swift on the track of her captor. “Oh that [had a gun or some weapon with which to assist whatever friend it is!’ was her lament, as the chieftain turned his back toward her, in such a sture, that had she the means, she could have shot him dead or desperately wounded him. She bent her head to listen, hoping each moment to hear the deadly crack of a rifle, or to gee the stern face of un¢le Lige, or the pale, determined face of Hugh emerge from the wood, and command him to yield up the captive who was so ruthlessly being taken away from her home and friends, The two stood for several seconds in this motion- less position, when a crackling of the bushes was heard, and both eyes became fixed upon a point in the forest, where the agitation of the undergrowth showed that something was approaching. Osceola held his rifle to fire at an instant’s notice, while Clara’s heart throbbed painfully at the fear that some friend of hers was about to be shot before her eyes, before he could be aware of his danger. As she saw that he must come in sight the next moment, she gave utterance toa scream intended as a warning, and then stepped back and away from the Seminole. The latter glared at her a moment, as if infuriated at what he regarded as a piece of treachery; but he said nothing, and the next moment. she saw him raise his rifle to his shoulder, and holding it but an instant, he fired it toward the point where the agita- tion of the undergrowth was seen, A horrible fascination directed her eyes toward the spot, where she expected to see the lifeless form of her lover stretched; but, instead, her eyes were ereunee with the sight of animmense Florida pan- ther, Osceola was a capital shot, but like all marksmen he was not unerring. He had fired the instant the stir in the bushes told him precisely where the crea- ture was, and certain that it was no human enevty, he had fired with a certain haste and carelessness, which he would not have shown under other circum- stances, The consequence was that instead of killing he only wounded the beast, which, being unusually large and fierce for its kind, uttered a bow, guttural growl, and pausing only long enough to identify his foe, he went for Osceola on the jump. The Seminole expected something like this the moment he saw the panther was not killed, and he began reloading his rifle, with the celerity at his command, knowing that if he could get the charge rammed home in time, he could finish the career of the ferocious brute with perfect certainty on the in- $$$ LLL LLL LL LDL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL aT) stant; but, failing in that, there remained nothing but “ nandsohunt encounter with this most dap- gerous creature of that latitude. The wonderful agility of Osc ola might have en- abled him to elude the pauther, until he could re- load his piece; but in that case he would be certain to turn upon the defenseless maiden, and inflict a horrible death, While the considerations of |human- ity and pity might have weighed very little in the mind of the chieftain, yet he rermembered that she was soon to be installed as Queen of the S:minoles, and wife of Osceola; consequently her life must not be sacrificed for any consideration. The Indian therefore stood his ground, and loaded his rifle with a rapidity that he had never eemayed before—all the time keeping an eye upon the infuri ated beast, who did not delay his progress on his ac- count. Osceola got the powder down and had the bullet rammed home by the time the panther had passed half the distance between them. Flirting the ram- rod out and flinging it to the ground, he then jerked back the hammer an. raised his horn for the pur- yose of pouring the powder into the pan. ad he possessed a percussion lock and cap ; would have succeeded; but by the time the black particles began to pour out the narrow nozzle, the panther was upon him—eaving himself from a sure and instant death by barely a second of time, Seeing that his gun was of no use to him, Osceola threw it aside, and whi ping out his large hunting- knife, prepared himself for the deadly encounter. The heute, bleeding and furious, made a nimble leap directly at him, when some six or eight feet distant, his claws outspread, so as to rend him to ieces as he descended; but the Indian, with a cat- ike agility, leaped to one side and drove his knife deep into his side as he shot past him, with a vigor that it seemed ought to have been fatal; but which only served to infuriate the beast still more. Osceola was desirous of avoiding ‘closing in” with his foe; for although in the wounded condition of the latter, he felt quite confident. of being able to dispatch him in the end, yet he was almost certain of being handled in such an ugly manner that his clothes would be rent to tatters, and it was more than likely that he would receive more than one grievous wound. The well-known agility of the panther made this a task of great difficulty, as he showed a determin- ation to grapple with his foe, and now turned upon him with such fury that Osceola darted be- hind asmall srpeces, so as to interpose it between them, while the exasperated brute made at him like a frantic catafnount, clawing, scratching and darting from one side of the tree to another, while the -skin, with his keen hunting-knife, struck his revengeful blows at whatever part of the anima! came within reach, The smallness of the pes enabled the panther to strike on both sides of it at once, somewhat after the fashion of a wild beast that finds himself opposed by the tantalizing bars of his , and Osceola, compelled to backward and forward, and un- able to elude the Mash to a leap behind another tree a few feet distant, to which he was instantly followed by his persistent foe. The object of Seceola was to keep himself clear, if possible, of the beast until his severe wounds would exhaust him, so that he might give him his finishing blow without danger to himself; but his tenacity of life was really wonderful, and although his front was covered with wounds, and he was rendered ten- fold more hideous by the blood smeared all over his front, and flying in hot drops from his red jaws, yet his strength and activity for the present was greater than ord co Ree ge 9d exerted to the culminat- ing point by the pain of his hurts and the sight of his adversary, unharmed, and ree with so much skill to keep his body safe beyond his reach, Whether Osceola could have maintained this spe- cies of warfare until his foe was exhausted may well be doubted; for his own exertions were of suc a swift, ceaseless and terrific nature, that his tough and sinewy frame must have succumbed. The con- test was of such a fierce character, and the panther was so unrelenting in his struggles, that the red- skin dare not take his eyes from him for more than an instant at a time, and then only long enough to locate the tree-trunk, which he had resolved upon using as a shield. This incessant attention to the maneuvers of his foe prevented Osceola from know- ing the exact nature of the obstructions encountered by his feet, many of the vines and bushes of which seriously embarrassed him. Still his remarkable agility enabled him to dart and leap about like a monkey, “ear emg] some of the spiteful blows aimed at him by the merest bair’s breadth, while the lightning-like strokes of the brute prevented anything like an effective return being given him. Osceola was wondering at the tenacity of the panther, and had about made up his mind | that he would have to close in with him after all, when his feet were caught by some tangled vines, and he fell violently to the ground, face upward! This brought matters to a climax at once, Osceola made no attempt to rise, as it would have placed him at a greater disadvantage, but he executed a sar boy was pce a of wepebarady ¢ . ‘ The panther lan squarely upon him, but ere he could Sods his ravening mouth, the Seminole threw his left arm over his neck, and pressed it so power- fully that the head of the beast was held rigidly against the side of his own, in such a position that he could not bite, while at the same instant Osceola closed his legs over his back and gave him a regular “ grizzly hug.’ Of course this tremendous effort could last but a moment, but in that moment he buried the knife to the hilt in the side of the panther. reaching the seat of life, and ending the career of
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ee 2m 8 2 Be Bee eee Wee PY ae ~~ Bey sPes ° << & the brute, which was just on the ebb, at the instant of the d ide. Then rel " Osceola rose unharmed to his feet and looked around for the Magnolia of the Berest. But she was gone! CHAPTER IX. DESPAIR. Oscrons'’s extremity was the maiden’s opportu- amity, and with that quick wit which often marks the conduct of the most timid of her sex, in the very climax of danger, she saw, the instant the panther revealed himself, that the chance for which she had been pra: had come. The Seminole with his back to her and could not see her movements. The same acuteness of hearing was still his, but his attention was concen- trated upon the peril in front, and he ‘would not be ee to observe any stealthy retrogression upon her part, There was no hesitation upon the part of Clara, when convinced that the moment for action had come. The same moment that saw the panther burst from the brake, saw the girl make a hasty re- treat into the wood. She walked backward, with her face upon the Seminole, until she saw the brute leap at him, when the intervening bushes shut him from view, and she turned and sped like a fright- ened fawn. The consciousness that the opportunity so earn- estly desired was hers, came upon her with such overwhelimin, the time, an heart, scarcely able to stand, for its tumultuous throbbing, while she gazed furtively behind: her, half expecting to see the flaming Osceola rushing | through the wood in mad pursuit. “I would rather see the bloody panther ten thou- sand times,” she said to herself, “than his hated form. Heaven help me now in my peril!” She quickly recovered, and again darted through the wood like a timid fawn, only pausing when panting and exhausted and then ding away again, with a velocity that made sad havoc with her beautiful arments, and that scratched and tore her hands as if every step had been through the bram- bles and briers; but she heeded not this; she cared for met agin Searing to get away from the abominated Osceola. Further and further into the wilderness— anywhere, so that it took her further away from the possibility of recapture by him—and ‘so she rushed on, im ed by that one wild desire, and running as if she heard the relentless tread of her pursuer in the thicket behind without looking to the right or left, or once thinking whither her frantic footsteps might lead her. When Clara had penetrated to something like a haJf-mile in this manner, and still heard no sounds of pursuit, she began to collect her thoughts and reason more calmly. From rushing forward at her wild, headlong speed, she settled down to a more rapid walk, restraining her burning impatience to run with might and main until she could be certain it “ tell”’ in some effectual way. will be able to follow my trail," she mused, as she walked along in this manner; “he is so much accustomed to the woods, and can run so much faster than I, that he will be sure to overtake me before nightfall, unless I can manage to throw him off the track, or the panther succeeds in killing him—that is too blessed a consummation to come to ” of maki ** Osceo! But precisely how this was to be done was the posites question to Clara. She remembered to ave heard uncle Lige tell how he had eluded his ap rape by ‘‘ doubling ’’ upon his tracks, and taking the water. She was not certain of what was pre- cisely meant by the first ression, but oy cape it had reference to the confusing of the trail, by going several times over the same ground. It perhaps was not when she paused to retrace her steps, that the thought of going toward Osceola again, as if she were seeking to meet him, was so repugnant to her that she desisted instantly, and ran a short distance, as if to make up for the time thrown away. Then, as there was no water near, she meditated climbing a tree and concealing herself among the branches, but after all she could not see as this bid fair to accomplish anything, and it necessitated the duty of keeping still—which she could not bring her- self to as long as she had the power to move on. The only thing possible was for her to take to the water, if such a means could be found; but she had not seen a drop since fleeing from Osceola, nor in- deed since leaving Haunted e, and she now set about discovering some stream or pond which would serve the purpose, This was a matter of great difficulty, as she was obliged to proceed entirely by chance, and might | within a few rods of some large body, and yet ail altogether of findin it. a j 5 And now too that she had begun the search, she became sensible of a tormenting thirst, intensified by her severe exertion, and the warmth of the woods, which seemed almost suffocating among the close pines and cypresses. She realized, too, to its fullest extent, the giant task she had undertaken—fully warranted indeed by the ends to be gained, but noue the less formidable for all that. She paused and listened, and could not make cer- tain whether the dull, hollow roar was the sound of that solemn monotone which is always heard in the depth of the forest. This proved that Osceola had been journeying inland, instead of following a direc- tion parallel to the shore, and that she was already a goodly distance from the sea-coast; but she took scarcely time to consider this in her haste. to assure ber own position against recapture from the one power as almost to unnerve her for | she paused with her hand upon her | | come thee! | the water, exce the ocean beating upon the shore, or whether it was | shrunk back with a shudder, wondering how it was whom she dreaded more than the wildest denizens of the wood. Onward, still onward she pressed, al- lowing herself scarcely time to catch a few mo- ments’ rest, although she was ting and perspir- ing and ready at times to drop from exhaustion, he observed, too, by the glimpses which she caught of the sun, that it was quite low in the sky, and that night was at no great distance. Whether this was a time to be longed for or not, she hardly knew; for while it increased, perhaps, her chances of escape, there was still probability that it might only defer her recapture until the following morn- ing, and in the mean time she would be exposed to the terrors of a night in the Florida forest—per- chance to be a prey to wild animals—to suffer from hunger and thirst, and liable to come upon a band of roving Seminoles at any time, who might show her less consideration than did Osceola even. She was in the midst of these gloomy misgivings when she uttered a low ery of joy; for through the opening in the woods she caught sight of the glim- mer of water, and rushing forward, she found her- self standing the next moment upon the shores of a running stream, fully a hundred feet in width. In her delight, Clara stooped down se the margin and quaffed her full of the delicious fluid, without pausing to notice that the water was sluepieh and quite impure. So great indeed was her thirst that it ishardly probable that this would have checked her, although it might have prevented the full en- phe of all that she swallowed; but the stream ooked so like an old friend that she clapped her hands with delight, and sat down on the brink to rest her weary limbs. ““Never did the dying traveler in the desert wel- come the sight of the oasis more gladly than I wel- ” she exclaimed, as she looked upon the broad, still surface, covered here and there with tropical plants, driftwood that seemed scarcely to move, logs and inanimate objects, while it wound with such a devious course through the forest that the creek was visible but a short distance, whether she looked up or down. The enthusiasm was all very natural perhaps; but it was materially dampened when she came to ask herself the bin gg question as to how she was to make use of it now that she had succeeded in dis- covering it, It was not to be expected that she wouid find a canoe ready and waiting for her, nor, in her natural timidity, was she = to doff her shoes and attempt to wade through it like some fisherman with his net. Even had she the requisite courage, the depth was too great and the bottom too treacherous for her to endanger her life in that manner. And so, driven forward by her vague unrest, she wandered along the bank of the stream, whose cur- rent was so sluggish and still, that she could on) conjecture whether she was going with or against it hoping that some means would present itself for crossing to the opposite side, and yet unable to tell what it really was that she was seeking. “I wonder whether some of these logs or fallen trees would not answer m tap! a fil she finally asked herself, ——- and looki around her. ‘Here seems to be one that must be to buoy me = Asshe spoke, she advanced close to the edge of the water, and reaching out her foot, placed it upon what seemed to be a huge log; and, as she did so, she observed a curious movement that caused her to leap back with a strange terror. This involuntary recoil saved her life, for at that moment, that which she had imagined to be a harm- less log, developed into a hideous alligator, which threw open a pair of f goupebe jaws, disclosing a vast red chasm, bound by rows of serrated teeth, and they closed with a thumping click within a few inches of her body. With a wild scream of terror, the maiden made a tremendous leap backward among the trees, the horrid reptile plunging after her and thrashing the brush and saplings in his furious efforts to secure his prey. But for these obstructions, the history of the poor girl would have termina’ here; but, in- stead of being hoe bo by the awful danger, she was thrilled with superhuman energy, and bounded through the narrow spaces with as much agility as Osceola himself had displayed a short time before in eee from the ravening panther. A few minutes sufficed to carry her beyond the reach of this ferocious alligator, and she scarcel paused when she found that he had relinquished his short but terrific pursuit. “What a narrow escape!” she ejaculated, as she thanked Heaven from the depths of her heart. -s a to think of my placing my foot upon the back of a sleeping alligator, that‘could have crushed me to a jelly in an instant!” And then yielding to her cartosity, she stealthily approached the creek again, at a point lower down and cautiously peered through the trees to make a more critical survey than she had yet done. And she then saw, what curiously enough had escaped her notice heretofore, that these innocent- looking logs were nearly all repulsive alligators, basking in the sun, with their ee an just lying above the water, while they were too sluggish and lazy to 1 until their prey came almost within their very aws. No concealing of the trail here by stepping into t by ending it forever! No; Clara eavy enough that she could have been so blind, not to see the frightful fate that threatened her from the moment she approached the edge of the creek, to where the hideous reptile so startlingly revealed himself. “IT must keep wandering on until Ireach the sea,” she concluded, as she withdrew from such a danger- ous neighborhood. ‘‘ There, I shal] not be-afraid to il advance far enough intorthe breakers to conceal steps, and then I can hide in the forest again pursue my Journey wenout molestation, This seemed to be the true course for her to follow, and she aimed at once to reach salt water, which once found she could easily direct herself to the ight-house, ‘0 a youn , however, lost in the woods, with no certain knewledge of her exact situation, this was hard enough to do, as she still found herself un- able to tell in what direction to go. When she paused and listened, she was sure that she could de- tect the boom and swell of the sea, and yet incline her head and ear in whatever direction, there was no certainty of the course to follow in order to reach it. If she should keep along the margin of the alli- ator-haunted stream, she was as likely to reach a er one, of which this was the tributary, and which eventually fell into the Atlantic on the eas and before she could hope to reach salt’ water in th direction her strength must yield, and she herself would have to succumb to the dreadful hardships of the forest. And so like the wanderer who finds himself entire- ly lost, she wandered aimlessly forward, driven thereto by that strange desire to get forward, and with no clearly defined idea of where she was com- ing out, or what point she was hoping to reach, ex- cept a general hope that she wo succeed in the end in striking the Gulf. Clara had sauntered along in this manner unti the gathering gloom in the woods told her that night was closing in, and that she must look somewhere for shelter until daylight should come again. The first refuge that naturally suggested itself was the trees, and she was peering upward, search- ing for such a } eed when she was brought to a sudden stand-s @ sound in the woods that caused ‘the blood to clirdle in her veins. It was s cry, the precise m she did not know, but which her own instinct taught her was of the most dreadful nature, and which ed the worst possible il to her. A wild, strange, quavering cry, that pierced through the forest like the notes of a trum- pet, @ signal or call that told that somebody or something was on her trail, and coming down upon her with speed of the wind. “Take heed,” was what it said, ‘‘a new danger has burst upon you. A relentless fate is descending, and, if refuge is not speedily found, it will be all toe late. Flee, without a moment's pause.” “Surely, I have heard that Pet before,’”’ was the reflection of Clara as she s' gazing furti about her; “that cry has reached us at the ligh house from the woods, and uncle Lige compressed his lips with anger when he heard it,’ All at once, she recollected its wre f It was the long, fearful ba; of the bloodhound, by which it announces that it is upon the trail of its victim, and it was surely speeding nearer and nearer her each moment. And then Clara recalled all that she knew of these frightful animals. She remembered once, when she was hunting with Lige, that one of the enormous wan ouie maeeda Py when a rthem, and was on a et from the keeper’s gun. She remembered his great size and flierceness, and the statement of her companion, that many of the Seminoles these animals, and that in the more northern portion of the territory, where the war was mainly raging, both they and the United States authorities used them against each otber. Again that blood-curdling ery rang thro the woods, 80 much nearer than before, that she felt it would not do to delay another moment in seeking a shelter from its fury. Asa matter of ¢ trees were in any number about her, and it required but a short time for her to fix upon one, whose limbs were low enough for her to seize upon them and raise her- self from the d ;and when she found herself safely perched at a hight of twenty feet or more, it was with a feeling of relief, which it would be dif- ficult to describe, It was well that she had used such haste, for she had no more than fairly reached her perch, when the bay of the hound was heard directly beneath the — and peering downward in the gloom, Clara saw the immense black body of the brute, with bis head turned upward, as if seeking his victim. Catching sight of her dress, as she crouched against the tree, he gave out that frightful howl by which the crea- ture makes known that he has treed his victim, and is calling to his master to come forward and claim him ; and then, as if impatient to bury his fangs in the tender body of the shrinking maiden, the long- drawn how! merged into several short barks, like the ravenous wolf, whose mouth almost reaches its prey over its head. The tremendous efforts of the dog caused some ap- prehension — the part of Clara; but when she came to cousider that nature never intended a dog to climb a tree, she came to the conclusion that she was safe, from his fangs at least, so long as she maintained her position in the tree, and she came to look upon his frantic efforts with no little car apa compared to the alarm that agitated her, when she asked herself the cause of her being treed in this fashion. Itis not the custom of the bloodhound, when train- ed, to wander away for any distance from its owner, nor did those of Florida start in pursuit of a fugitive, unless their owners set them upon the trail ; so there was every reason to believe that there was some one immediately in the rear of this ferocious brute, who would soon put in an appearance, and he was dread- ed by the maiden, far more than was the merciless bloodhound. The darkness increased 80 a. that. looking down from her perch, Clara could only see a dayk, shadowy body moving to and fro, as it refused
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still for a moment, while nothing could keep more faithful ward and watch than he, over his helpless rey, that soon, like the ripe apple, must fall into lis maw. The persistency of these creatures is something wonderful; and, in case no one came forward to interrupt this cular bloodhound, he was certain to “shadow” that tree until exhausted nature should place the r girl at his mercy. They seem to be gotten up by nature for the express purpose of hunting fugitives. Night had fairly settled over the forest, and no other human being appearing upon the scene, Clara began to see what means she could adopt to prevent her falling into the power of the hound, She felt no disposition to sleep, but ges apd that the insidi- ous foe might steal upon her, she assumed the best position possible, so that, should she become insensi- ble, aoe would not lose her balance and fall to the ground, All at once the bloodhound ceased his howling, and looking down through the branches, Clara dis- tinetly saw the figure of a man walking slowl around the trunk of the tree and peering upwar undoubtedly searching for the “ critter” that had been treed by his dog. The moon that was just rising above the tree-tops gave her quite a clear view of him, so that she made certain it was an Indian while on account of the dense shrubbery and branches by which she was enveloped, it was about impossible for him even to distinguish her position in the tree. Clara Raymond sat as still as death—only turning her head to watch the movements of the person, so far as she was able. She could see him circle slowly around as silently as a shadow while he peered intently upward, as if determined to unravel the mystery by the mere aid of his sight alone. t was plain that he did not know the nature of the object over his head, from which the maiden concluded that he was some Indian hunter, whose dog had accidentally struck her trail, when both were hunting in the wood, and the red-skin was not particularly anxious to grapple with the fugitive, until more certain of its precise nature. For fully half an hour the red-skin groped about in this manner, during which Clara was fearful that he would climb the tree, in which case her discovery and capture were certain; but he seemed unwillin to attack a foe in the dark, and finally drew off wit his dog and departed. Our heroine listened and watched for a long tim but heard and saw nothing more of either, an finally sunk into a heavy slumber, which lasted through the remainder of the night and which was not disturbed by any startling fall to the ground. Naturally her first proceed. was to look for her enemies; but nothing was to seen of them, and congratulating herself upon her deliverance from them, she carefully descended to the ground, and paused a minute to consider what she should do. ittle time was given her for such thoughts, when a rong of the leaves arrested her ear, and turning her head, she saw the bloodhound walking slowly toward her, and by his side and holding him in re- straint was an Indian—and he was Osceola, the Seminole! CHAPTER X. THE PURSUER PURSUED, On the same afternoon which witnessed the ab- duction of Clara Raymond by Osceola the Seminole, it will be remembered that she saw a signal made tv | her from the top of the light-house. Hugh Havens, almost from the moment of his ar- rival there from the Haunted Lake, had employe! himself in scanning the cabin of Bob, on the look- out for a sight of the lady who now reigned so un- disputably in his affections. “Tf I can not be with her, I can feast my eyes upon a sight of her beautiful self,” was his retlec- | | and breaking into a run, he headed aie. for Hl | as he turned the telescope in that direction. ical as is Buster Bob, he surely can not be- grudge me that privilege.” Uncle e, without felling what had happened on the previous night to one of the Seminoles, whom he found prowli about his home, took his de- ure and left the young man alone for several ours, 80 that he was free to use the telescope as much as he chose, without any one questioning his particular pose, He saw Clare paddle up the lake in her canoe, and he scarcely took his eyes from her, while she sat engaged in pulling in the fish, but, by aid of the powertul microscope, he was enabled to watch al- most every movement that she made, even to that of placing the bait upon her hook, en she landed, and..he saw the Indian issue from the wood and meet her upon the beach, it may well be supposed that he was not a little alarmed; for there was something in the incident which brought up the name of Osceola, and al- though he knew nothing of the celebrated chief, yet he felt certain, almost at the first glance that it was he and no one else. He was uneasy we say at what he saw, and yet he hardly suspected that his beloved was in any danger of being carried away. He knew, or rather suspected, that the red-skin was in love with her, for the only wonder to him her" why everybody who had once met her was not in the same fix; but his idea of the savage was such as to preclude the fear of her abduction. He never once moved the glass while the two were conversing, and he felt that if there was such a thing as drawing near sound so that he might over- hear the words uttered, he would not have refused to give a goodly sum for it, for he was jealous that any one but he should monopolize the sweet music of her voice, tio “ Light-House Lige. ‘“T am banished like a prisoner to this castle,”’ he growled, ‘‘ while that red-skin is permitted to stand on the beach and chat like a lover to her. Ah! they ropose to indulge ina little boat-ride. He knows ow to handle the paddle and canoe better than I Oe no doubt she will be captivated with his style.” t was rather aggravating—laugh as we may—to see the red-skin assume c arge of the canoe, and row out upon the lake, the \ Fa the meanwhile leaning back in the stern, as though the ride was very pleasant and agreeable to her. It was eo voking to see him in such company, when Hugh had deprived himself of it in deference to the whimsical and unreasonable request of Bob, and our hero was disposed to blame himself for it. ugh was roused from his somewhat misan- thropic condition of mind, when under the hope of attracting the eye of the maid, he waved his hat from the look-out, and saw it almost instantly re- turned, proving that her gaze was turned in that direction. “She sees me! she sees me!” he exclaimed, as with another swing of his hat, he placed it upon his head, and caught up the telescope. ‘‘She has not forgotten me altogether, even when in the presence of the king of the Seminoles!” But what meant that signal which now followed? His heart stood almost still as he recognized the beckoning motion of Clara Raymond, clearly in- tended as an appeal to him to come to her assist- ance, Could it be that she was already a prisoner? These questions were instantly answered; for the repetition of the gestnres upon the part of the girl, the evident reproof of the chief, and then his rapid paddling for shore—all this followed in such rapid succession as to leave not a particle of doubt in his mind. **'The infamous wretch is running away with her!” he exclaimed, in great excitement, and, catching up his gun, he went leaping and plunging down-stairs at such a furious rate, that the light-house trembled from top to bottom. But a few minutes were re- uired to reach the ground, but here a vexatious elay occurred from the fact that he found the door fastened, and he was without the means of opening it. For about half an hour Hugh was almost fran- tic, as he strove desperately at the ponderous structure, and then fortunately his torment was ended by the appearance of Lige “ee the outside, who quickly opened the door and inquired what under the sun was the cause of all the trouble. Hugh lost little time in explaining the terrible in- cident he had witnessed, and then made ready to rush away in mad pursuit, when Lige caught his arm and checked him for the instant. ‘*Hold on! have you got your powder, ball, wad- ding and everything, my boy?” ‘Of course I have; don’t restrain me, Lige; too much valuable time has been lost already. .Can’t you go with me?” The old light-house keeper stood a moment, as if debating with himself, and then shook his head. “You won't have. no trouble in follering the two, *cause they won't bother to hide their trail; but, if you don’t fetch her in by to-morrow mornin’, then will take a hand in the business. I’ve only one word of advice to give you, my boy. Do you want to hear it?” ‘Of course; let me have it Lige.”’ “That ‘ere seola is the biggest scamp unhung, I never liked him, and he never liked me. The first sight you get of him, jest bore him through and through with a bullet. ou’ll be doing a service to your country and to mankind.” “T wish the opportunity were given me now,” said Hugh, as with compressed lips he hurried away and plunged into the woods. i Realizing how much time he had lost by the tor- | menting delay at the door of the light-house, Hugh } } | E Havens now sought to recover all that was possible, Haunted Lake, so as to take up and follow the trail. Fortunately, he was guided to the direct spot, upon coming in sight of the canoe, which still rested upon the beach, precisely as it had been left by Osceola, when he fled in such haste with the ‘* Mag- nolia of the Forest,”’ Evidently he had no fear of ursuit, and took no pains to destroy the reve- lotions of the course he had taken with his rize. Hugh Havens was no professional in the trailing business, and had Osceola adopted the ordinary pre- cautions which were at his command, there is no | doubt but what he could have baffled the young | hotspur, even with his companions but not havin thought of such a thing, Hugh found it a matter o comparative case to trace them over the leaves, and through the bushes and undergrowth, where they had left the most palpable evidences of their | flight. Occasionally the ground was found to be | moist and soft, and in all such places the imprint of | Osceola's moccasins and the delicate indentations of the maiden’s shoes were always Visible. The young man, however, soon discovered that it was impossible to follow the trail with anything | like the speed upon which he had counted, as in | keeping too close a scrutiny upon it, he frequently delayed his progress while there’ were occasional portions of the woods, where it necessitated the sharpest search and attention upon his ~ in order to prevent him losing the track altogether and | himself at the same time, Still he was able to move faster than did Osceola, and although he had no means of judging of the | fact, he was actually and steadily ing upon the two. His determination remained the same to shoot the chieftain upon sight, and, at any time during the pursuit, had he caught a glimpse of the couple, there is no doubt but that _sceola would have per- ished ignominiously in the woods, as he was doomed todie a few years later in the prison at Savannah; but the exasperated pursuer saw no signs of him, until ‘wes before sunset, when he was not a little astonished by coming upon the déad panther, slashed and cut and mangled in such a er as tu show that he had died in some terrific fight, with an adversary that must have immense strength. Hugh's first supposition was that there had beena struggle between two beasts, but the absence of the second, and other signs, indicated that Osceola had slain the brute, by the aid of rifle and knife, getting away without injuring himself so far as the signs went, From this point the real trouble of Hugh Havens began. The clawing and ee of the ground threw him off the trail, and the gathering gloom in the woods made it impossible for him to recover it. Several times, after a most diligent search, he thought he had found it, but it was lost again before he had gone a dozen yards, and he was compelled to admit the truth, that henceforward he must go pre- cisely as the fair fugitive herself was going—by pure conjecture. At this juncture, Hugh ascended a slight hill, and to his surprise caught sight of two Indians but a short distance mil one of whom he instantly re- cognized as Osceola. The young man was just in time to leap back behind the trees and thus save himself from discovery, while he stealthily peered out and watched their movements. These, to say the least, were exceedingly remark- able. Both were in the act of directing an enormous bloodhound to something upon the earth, and at the very moment Hugh looked, he shot away in the woods like a thunderbolt, ‘That means that they have put the brute upon her track,’ exclaimed the appalled lover, with a wonderful perception of the state of things. Osceo- la has come across that other devil, and has bor- rowed his dog to find Clara, who must have run away during the fight with the panther.” All this was true, and our hero was wondering whether he could not get the two precious wretches in such a range as to puncture them both with the same ball, when Osceola vanished like a flash in pur- suit of his dog, and the other red-skin deliberately walked away in another direction, the course taken leading him quite close to where Hugh bhim- self stood. The latter waited only long enough to make sure he was beyond hearing, when he started on a run, after Osceola, fully resolved that if such a thing were within the range of human sibility, he should take a hand in the impending business. The Faery | gloom made all attempt at keepin‘; the trail out of the question; but the steady yelping of the bloodhound served very well as a guide, ani by following this, he was quite confident that he was close upon heels. Had Hugh been a little closer, this noise of the brute would have enabled him to reach the tree where Clara had taken refuge, as soon therefore as did Osceola; but it will be recalled by our readers that it ceased Py apy | coming up of its new master, and this placed all at sea again. He passed the entire night in wandering back and forth, sometimes actually going within a hundred feet of where the fugitive maiden was perched, and yet never knowing it. Great as was the temptation, he dared not call her name, for that would be cer- tain to insure his death at the hands of the wily Oseeola; and so the rising of the sun found him wandering through the forest with an anxiety as eager aud unabated as that of the bloodhound bim- self. ; CHAPTER Xi. THE LIGHT-HOUSE. Wuen Clara Raymond found that after all her trial and suffering and effort—after her hope and despair—after her flight and long start, she had wandered directly back into the hands of Osceola, and that all this labor and hardship was ne pam for naught, she started backward with her hands to her forehead and gasped: ‘*Oh, Heaven! why hast thou forsaken me?” Something in the wild cupenrence of the girl, as she uttered this wail, caused the Seminole to pause when several feet distant, and stare rather wonder- ingly at her, as if he did not precisely understand the cause of her emotion. “ Osceola!’’ she moaned, Oe off with her hand, ‘‘go away and leave me! t me never see you again |" “Osceola will never leave the Magnolia of the Forest !’’ he replied, his black eyes gleaming with evil passion; ‘*she 8 go to his wigwam, she shall be his squaw, and shall become Queen of the Sem- inoles— He suddenly paused, for a slight rustling caught his ear, and turning his head, he saw about a rod distant the figure of Hugh Havens standing like a | statue, with his rifle raised, his finger upon the trig- ger, and the muzzle pointing di y at the heart of the Seminole. “Stir a hand or foot and I pull the trigger,” said the young man in a voice of deadly earnestness; “a hair’s more pressure, and the end of Osceola has come. I have followed you many miles, with the determination to shoot i= upon sight. I am tempted now to do so, and but give me a pretext by the slightest motion toward raising your hand that holds that gun, or an appeal to that black devil crouching alongside of you, and that moment will be your last.” There was indeed danger from the bloodhound that, couchant at the feet of Osceola, looked at the new-comer as if in doubt what his particular duty
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- was in the new phase affairs had taken; but he would not stir without an order from his master and so he sat still. ; Clara recognized the new-comer at a glance, and Cleaner her hands and looking to heaven, she ut- te a fervent prayer of thankfulness, and in her excess of delight, was about to rush forward and xreet one who she now felt had indeed become nearer and dearer than a friend, when she compre- tended the critical condition of matters, and saw weer a fatal disturbance such a movement might make. ; yore, J she stood back and watched, with an intensity of soul-yearning interest, which no pen can describe, Historians and biographers have differed about the bravery of Osceola, the leader of the Seminoles in the Florida war, although the evidence is upon the side of his courage; but there has never been any question, so far as we know, about his cunning shrewdness and his disposition to make the best possible of a bad speculation. _ On the present occasion he saw that he was caught just as fairly and completely as if surrounded by a regiment of United States soldiers, and he was too fond of life to throw it away by any rash movement upon his part, He stood motionless as the tree-trunk beside him, assuming a sort of paralysis of fear that he really did not feel, and on the look-out for some mistake upon the pew of his foe that would give him the upper hand; but none came. “ Drop that gun,” commanded Hugh, ‘on this in- stant, or I fire!’ The rifle fell with a dull thump at his feet. “And that tomahawk at your belt! Withdraw that and let it fall without your stooping!" Thump! and that lay beside the other. “There is still a knife! you may as well relieve yourself of that also. Out with it quick! Devil take you! why am I such a fool as to show you this mercy ?”" Even Osceola asked himself the same question as he heap oe: obeyed the commands of his master. When certain that his inveterate foe stood entire- ly unarmed, Hugh Havens called out: “Now leave, and be thahkful that I had no more Sense than to permit you to go. Stand not on the order of your going.” The Seminole began retreating, walking backward with his face toward his conqueror, while the blood- hound lumbered slowly along like a bewildered ox, as if uncertain to whom he belonged. Osceola had gone but a short distance in this man- ner, when by some means or other he managed to cause the dog to understand the situation, and the latter made a tremendous plunge straight at Ha- vens, with his huge mouth distended ready to tear him to pieces. But a cool head and a steady nerve, and the next moment the black demon turned a double summer- set, with a bullet clean through his skull. To Clara Raymond — the credit of defeating a well-laid scheme of her foe, that now came terri- bly nigh succeeding. The nstant the hound started for Havens, Osceol. started for his rifle, which still lay upon the ground some distance away; but the maiden was much nigher than he, and detected his purpose at its very inception. Like a fawn, she made a dash for it, and catching it up, she had it pointed at the Indian when he was yet several feet distant. ; The Seminole paused and glared at her, while an expression of diabolical hate transformed his han |- some face into that of a demon incarnate. Mutter- ing something in his own tongue he turned on his heel, and the next instant had vanished like a sha- dow in the wood. Turning about, Clara saw Hugh Havens standing at her elbow with his gun resting idly by his side, while with a Lapin hd smile, and a deep, yearning look, his eyes were fixed upon her. Thus the two stood for several seconds, gazing Straight into each other’s countenance without ut- tering a word, and then the next moment they un- derstood each other. “Clara! my own loved Clara!” And as the young lover opened his arms, the maiden with a low cry of joy rushed into them, and he strained her to his breast, kissing’ the beautiful forehead and the warm cheeks, calling her by pet names and endearing expressions, while in the pure delight of the moment both forgot the terribly try- ing scenes through which they had so recently Passed and the peril which still hung, and for some time to come must impend over their heads, . That one common bond and danger—that instinct- Ive perception of what he had done for her sake, cleared away all the mists from her eves, and Clara saw him as her own true, brave chivalrous lover that was ready to yield up his life for her sake, and she could no Jonger keep back the emotions of her own breast, that from the first had gone out in vague yearnings toward him. : When she recovered herself, and the blushing girl gently released the embrace of her lover, she stood away a few feet and looked fondly at him, while the tears filled her eyes, as she asked, in a low voice: fe How can I ever thank you for this, Hugh?” ens me encouragement to hope that the love I have held from the moment I first saw you, Shalt be sometime returned,” he replied, advancing and taking her two hands in his own. I cannot do that,” she responded, with a sweet smile, “for you have already won my heart. What maiden could refuse her lover, after such a proof of devotion as you have given?” ind 4 snousand fold mere | peee = n the lover's lege Oo dredt. psy “T thank ,”’ he added, the hun- eaven that it ever permit- Light-House Lige. ted me to meet you; but are we not forgetting that we are still in the woods? Osceola, I take it, will consider himself bound to settle this score with me, while he is altogether too fond of you, to give you up without another struggle to get you into his wer, “That he did hold an affection for me I cannot doubt,” said Clara, in a low voice; ‘but within the last few minutes, it has turned to hate. Henceforth, he is my bitter enemy.” **Who cares? But it will be prudent to place as great a distance as possible between us and him; for I think he will stumble upon some of his tribe somewhere in this neighborhood, and will do all he can to make things even. Come on, then, if you feel able to walk rapidly.” The poor girl had suffered a great deal, and showed itin her appearance, It was not the loss of sleep, nor the deprivation of food so much as it was the long-continued strain to which her system had been subjected; but she was plucky and cour- ageous, and she expressed her eagerness to spend the entire day in tramping, provided it led her to- ward home. As they started away, Hugh picked up the rifle which Osceola had left upon the ground, first fling- ing the other weapons some distance away in the woods, so that he could not recover them in case he returned, and then they rapidly left the spot. It was useless to attempt to follow any particular course that might strike them as the true one, and they wlsely determined to disregard their impres- sions in this respect (which scareely once in a thou- sand instances are correct) and to make every ef- fort to discover the direction of the Gulf of Mexico, the beach being the only safe point at which they could aim. Fortunately there was scarcely a breath of air stirring, and after bending their heads and listening for several minutes, they were able to detect the steady hollow roar of the s ng waves, as they came faintly to them through the many miles of in- tervening forest. “It cannot be in that direction,” said the amazed Clara. ‘It must be off yonder,” she added, point- ing directly toward the Atlantic. “And it seems to me that there is the proper course to follow to reach it,’’ laughed her lover. ** You know how liable one is to go astray when in the woods, as we are, and our only safe course is to carry out the idea we expressed some moments ago of paying no heed tosuch impressions, knowing that the Gulf of Mexico, beyond a doubt, holds the same position that it did a few years ago.”’ Clara could not but admit the truth of this, and they resumed their aa aiming directly for the sea-coast, as it was indicated to them by the mur- muring roar to which we have already referred. Precisely how far away it was, it was impossible for either to conjecture—as it might be that the dense forest, and a wind blowing off-shore, so dead- ened the “‘ eternal base " of the mighty waters as to revent it extending any great distance inland; but judging from the time occupied by both in reaching this spot, they felt certain of reaching the beach be- fore nightfall, provided no unexpected interruption occurred, It is not to be supposed that two fellow-travelers like these, in the very flush and om of young love, should permit their tongues to be idle as the Deve 4 along side by side. Despite their weari- ness of body, they were happy in each other's so- ciety, and conversed as oheorlly as ever did lovers when seated in moonlit bower. They exchanged experiences, and when Hugh came to tell how it was that he had absented himself from her society on the precedi day, there was no escaping the conclusion that Bob had planned the interview between la and Clara, making the arrangements with the chief, so that no one should be in the way to interfere with him. ‘‘ Why should he have done so, and thus bring the terrible danger upon the unprepared maiden?” This was the question that both considered, and the answer to which they at last agreed. Buster Bob, as he was termed, was an ardent friend to the whites, and desirous of benefiting them in some way in the bitter war that had al- ready raged for some time. Osceola must have pledged him that if the ‘Magnolia of the Forest” would consent to be his queen, he would end the war; and the simple-heatted Bob, actually hoped that such a thing could be a ed, but he did not consent that they should meet, until the chief had given his promise that he would use no violence to- ward the maiden; and Indian-like he had violated his pho and acted in the unwarranted manner with which our readers are familiar, _ No harm will be done, just at this point, by stat- ing that this conjecture of the lovers was the actual truth. Bob, in the simplicity of his heart, actually hoped that the manly, handsome appearance of Osceola, his chivalrous manner, would make such an impression upon the heart of Clara Raymond, that she would give him encouragement, and the chieftain would thus check the war that was raging between the whites and his people, stop the effu- sion of blood, and inaugurate a glorious and ha peace. Even should he fail, matters could be placed in nO worse position than before, as he had no sus- icion that Osceola would break his plighted word n the high-handed manner which he afterward did. But for his absolute faith in his Indian friend, the really kind-hearted Bob would never have permitted the meeting between the two. As it was, he was “ae a lesson which he never forgot. Shortly after the departure of th h Havens in his pursuit of Clara and her abductor, Bob made his appearance at the light-house. with the purpose of revealing to Lige the scheme by which he hoped 13 to accomplish so much good. Before he could make known the exceedingly foolish thing that he had done, he learned the astounding truth of what Osceola had done. : There never had been any particular affinity be- tween these two men, but the peril of the girl, whom both regarded with such affection, made them one in feeling, and they agreed at once to pursue and recapture her. ; It being in the afternoon, Lige lit his. ere knoyw- ing that it would burn through the night into the next day, without further attention, and the two started off together, with the deep, quiet resolution of men who are resolved that not shall turn them aside from the work they have laid ovt for themselves. Both were accustomed to the woods, and but for their delay in taking the trail, and an unexpected check in the shape of a war-party of Seminoles, that were still hovering in the neighbor- hood (despite Osceola’s declaration to the contrary) these two would have come upon the scene as soon as Hugh. But the long detour and search caused by that obstruction occupied them until nightfall, when, of course, the trail could not be recovered, and they were compelled to lie by until daylight. And leaving them to continue their pursuit, we must return from our digression and follow the lovers upon their eventful journey. As the two advanced, in the sweet communion of love, discoursing of the past, and picturing the ra- diant future, they observed that the ¢ull, hollow sound, that had so faintly fallen upon their ears at first, slowly but steadily increased in volume, prov- ing that they were pursuing the right direction and that they had only to persevere to reach the shore, when their progress would be easy and secure until they should reach the light-house, where, after all, they believed they would more secure than with Rob in his cabin, since, as Osceola had already bro- ken his pled ed wor , it was not to be supposed that he wo be restrained by any consideration from wreaking his revenge both upon Hugh and upon her who had shown her dislike to him so un- mistakably. “No words of mere Hy and love will ever be heard from him,” laughed Clara. ‘Should we ever meet, it will be with as bitter a hatred toward me as he holds against you.” “‘I don’t think he can hate any human being more than he does me,” returned Hugh, seriously, “I am afraid that he will hunt up some of his warriors that must be at no great distance, and with them follow us to our refuge in the light-house.”’ ‘““ And by that time, Ihope father will be in sight with his steamer, and when we once leave this eoun- try, we will defer a return until matters are more quiet. Ihave seen and experienced enough to an- swer for some time to come.” Near the middle of the afternoon the levers were able to hear the thunderous boom of the waves upon the beach with such distinctness that they were certain that they were near at hand, and ar hour later, they emerged from the woods, and, to their great delight, found themselves standing yon the hard, sandy beach, with the foam-capped bil- lows curling over and chasing each other, up to their very feet. Quite a gale was blowing, and the breakers were higher than usual—but as they looked off to the westward. over the blue Gulf, they detected a sail here and there, but pone within sev- eral miles of land. “T see nothing of father's steamer,” said Clara, who had been scanning the horizon; “it is perhaps too soon, but I still had hope that he might be as anxious to see me as I am to see him, and would make a little extra speed upon his return.” “Yonder is something less pleasing to the eye only than that.”’ ee spoke, he pointed to the southward, where, white, clear and distinctly outlined, could be seen the light house against the blue beyond It was hard to judge its distance, but ft must have been several miles. The sight encouraged the tvo, and bathing their faces and hands in the cool waters of the Gulf, they walked more readily and. eesily upon the hard sandy beach, purposely stepping so far down that the oven Teeninnee waves effaced their tracks the next instant; but they gave over this precaution after a short time, well knowing that if their enemies followed their trail to the sea- shore, there would be no need of examining it {ur- ther to ascertain whither they had gone, It was a wearisome walk along the shore, ():: light-house sccming to recede as they advanced, 2: the sun was again low in the sky when they at °. : reached the — of the tower, neety thorov;s > used up from the long tramp they had had throii, ' the woods. had observed while some distance away The that the lamp was burning, although quite dimly, and recalling what Lige had said, Hy i concluded that he had lit it in the morning, and then gone off on his hunt after them, uncertain of the time he should return. ‘‘Now, how are we to obtain entrance?” said the young man, pausing before the ponderous door. *Lige never taught me the secret of opening it.” “*He showed it to me, when I was here fore,” said Clara, ‘“‘although he may not recollect it him- self. Now let me teach it to you.” Whereupon the maiden made several jerks and an upon Fe: ecting corners here and there, shov- g a huge knob in sorts of odd ways, and at last the two passed in and secured the great door behind them, so firmly that no one unless he possessed the secret could enter. By the time they had reached the uppermost story, they were so exhausted as to be able scarcely to stand. First eating some food, that Lige seemed to have left on purpose for them, Clara went to the
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ittle narrow apartment, where she flung herself upon her bed, and sunk into a deep slumber, which lasted for several hours, and which acted asa re- storative to her wearied frame. When she awoke, the moon was shini in the tittle window, and arranging her tollet as wellas she up to the look-out, where she cou, she found that Hugh had trimmed the lamp, which was now barning brightly, while he sat there |} owen dihoat ota her coming. He arose, and tenderly em- erecting er, gave ber a seat, while he stood beside e, In answer to her queries, he said that it was near midnight; that he had been awake but a short time hi f, and had seen nor heard anything of either Lige or Bob, Quite a stiff breeze was blowing, mak- the temperature cool and delightful; but a few ing, ragged clouds that continually straggled over the face of the full moon, made the light treacherous and uncertain, as often shutting out the ocean and forest from their view as it disclosed them to their vision. Clara had sat down but a minute when she arose again, and said to her lover: You seem to be uneasy and disturbed over some- Sing Has any thing occurrsd to alarm you? Don't keep it from me, dear Hugh.” “T may as well admit,” he replied, with some hesitathon, ‘ that Iam considerably alarmed. I am anxious + the continued absence of Lige. If he started in pursuit of us this morning—but I will not speculate about him. Ido not wish to startle you dearest Clara, but I believe that Osceola and a ban ef Seminoles are at the bottom of the light-house!” The maiden would not have been human, had she not been startled at these bens, and stepping to the railing, she leaned over and leoked down the giddy hight. Her companion cautioned her about owing herself to some of the Indians who might be disposed to fire at her, but they were beneath the rays of light thrown out by the reflector overhead, and consequently in r shadow, so that they really were safer from observation than if there were none there at all. Just as the maiden looked over the balcony, the moounlizit streamed from behind a cloud, and peer- ing down intently for a full minute, she stepped back with the ex ation: “Yes; Osceola and twenty Indians at least are there, and we aro lost!’ “Let us hope for the best,” raplied Hugh, also xering over into the gloom, feeling at the same me thera was very little ground for hope, “I see a lizht out upon the Gulf, which looks as if it might come from your father’s steamer.”’ Clara turned her head as ick as a flash, and looked out over the waves to where two lights, sepa- rated by a distance of fifty feet or so, could be seen sinkisg and rising with the waves, showing that er were upon & large vessel which was gradually stand- ing in toward land. I think that it is," she said, rather hesitatingly, “bat I cannot be certain until he gives a si which he al yays does when he wishes to make eAif known. It seems to me that he is about the right distance to do so now. Itis he! it is he!” suddenly added the girl, ee hands with delight, as she saw the bluish color suddenly move round and round in a circle, as if it were held in the hand and idly revolved over a person's head. * That is my dear father's that he is coming! He will stand off-shore until daylight, and then send & boat to take us off.” will he not lawd during the darkness?" asked Hugh, who felt the more uneasy at the approach of the steamer. He is cautious, and I know must have heard something that alarmed him at Tampa, as he has burried back, and he will ape one of his boats to land here in the night 10ut some signal from pesopelery thee is well, Such a signal you know can not ven." “ Would to God it could!”” was the fervent ejacu- lation of Hugh, who was sensible of a growing un- easiness such as sometimes comes over one the mo- ment before some impending calamity breaks upon his head. The absence of Bob and Lige, the known —— of the Seminoles below—their silence—not slightest sound reaching his ears from them; all these seomed ominous of coming ill. im- centered be ght steamer that was slowly forging , as merely seeking to keep ber n hail, until op’ ity should come for communicat with those on shore. She was off in the darkness in this manner, when she heard her lover groan: “My Gop! THE LIGHT-HOUSE Is ON ¥TRBt” CHAPTER XII. CONCLUSION. Ir was an awful, blood-curdling discovery, such as no can depict and no imagination conceive! Ha Havens, in looking over the railing that bounded the look-out upon the top of the light- house, saw the whole lower portion of the structure into flame. Already the hot, furnace-like breath reached them in their eyrie, and they felt jt against their cheeks. Osceola might now dance over the revenge be had obtained. Spurned by the lady whom he had loved, his venomous hate could now gratify iteelf to the full by the sight of her roasting between earth and sky, athe poeceeg in atey arms of him who ea) su ~~ ndignity upon him! The —- howl with torment while be went mad wi glee. By some means or other the Seminoles had se- entrance to the lower part of the cabin, where way barred by another hoavy door } Light-House Lige. which they could not o jleted their preparation for a piece of characteris- ic enjoyment. The whole lower portion was cram- med with dried brush and limbs, this was ignited and the door closed, while they drew off into the woods to howl and jump, and screech and yell, and cut up all sorts of antics in their delirium of bliss. The thunderstruck Clara Raymond leaned over the balcony and looked down. She saw the fire flaming and bursting out from every part of the basement, and raging with a that would have required a Niagara to check it. ne light-house was doomed beyond any possibility of mortal help! As she stood thus, she felt her hand taken by some one, and turning her head saw Hugh stand- ing by her side. *We can meet death together,” said he, calmly; **it will be sweet for me to die in your company.” “Ig there no escape?” she asked, as with a shud- der, she hid her face upon his shoulder; ‘it will be hard for father to see me die such a death as this, and to reflect that if he had only come a little sooner, I should have been saved!" “Can we not escape by leaping out into the water?” suddenly asked Hugh, looking down into the gloom, where he could see the caps of the waves as they ro upon the beach. ‘If there is enough reak our fall.” depth, it might No, no,” wailed Clara; “the tide is running out, and the utmost leap that we could make, would o take us to the edge of the water, where the sand packed as hard as a rock. No, no, we must die to- ene, Would that I could kiss my dear father be- ore l bid him farewell. How I wish that be bad not come at this time.” And she turned her white face toward the sea again, where she noted that the steamer was work- ing still closer in to shore. It will be ow peamreraa to die by water than by fire,” said Hugh, every particle of hope havi been extinguished in his breast. ‘‘We will wait here until we can stand it no longer, and then cla: hands and spring as far outward as possible. We shall strike shallow water, and perish the instant we strike, but death will be quick and almost painless compared to what will be our fate if we remain here.”’ “T am not certain about that,’’ replied Clara, speaking with wonderful calmness; ‘this will be- come such a mass of embers, and so intensely heated that death will be as instantaneous. It is meet, dear Hugh, that at such atime aa this, our moments should be spent in communion with God. Let us pass to the room below, where we shall not be seen by Osceola and those who are watching, and there we will try and forget every thing else, but that we are so soon to make our leap into the other world.” The two descended the few steps into the apart- ment immediately below, where.a small lamp was burning, illuninating the few square yards of space. As Clara cast her mournful look about the apart- ment, her eyes rested upon the package which Bob had brought there several days before, and which leaned in the corner just as he had left it. ‘There! she exclaimed, pointing to the object; “do you remember ‘hat f” “TI never thought of it until this moment,"’ he re- lied, walking to where it stood, and taking it in his cans? “it can be of no use to us now, but I will ex- amine it. Hello! here is a piece of paper folded and placed in the — As he a ming § e unfolded the missive and walked to the lamp. e saw that the writing was in pencil and in a large, bold hand, that was as easy to read as if it were print. These were the words he read in a loud voice: “'To WHOM IT MAY CONCERN, GREETING: “This is to suy that I have every reason to fear and have had reason for so thin for weeks | that a party of Seminole by tigen neited there- o by their chief Osceola, have in contemplation the burning of this light-house, and } am greatly con- cerned for the eae, of those who may be in the structure at that critical time. If so be, the incen- diaries will begin the fire at the base, and as fire as- cends upward, the moment the fuel is ignited all es- cape will be cut off downward; and even were it emg? for one to make his way down th h the mes, the most obtuse intellect must see hat it would be in vain, as it would only hae eo him into the arms of the howling red-skins, who would toss him back into the flames, and then dance with ht. Should the environed wretch at- fiendish delig' tempt to leap into the the depth is so shallow that immediate death would result. The question then arises, if a man or woman should be caught in this dreadful strait, is there any prospect of earthly escape? ie T think there is, provided such persons are good swimmers, and that the light-house is fired at night, and the instrument which I have brought here to be kept in reserve for such an emergency, I have con- structed with t care for such pu . You will see that it is a huge chute or umbrella, The moment the fire in the is discovered, and before it has had time to make much of an illumina- tion, Jet him or them spread the parachute, grasp the handle firmly and leap as far out in the sea 4s art The parachute will let you down without njury into the water, and the instant you touch you must let go and strike out from shore, making as eg Me dive as you can, and then swim ae from d until you are out of sight of the Semi- noles, and keep on down the coast until it is safe to land. The surf here is not dangerous, and the In- not ge tage Bi a ruse, will be unpre dians, therefore have the greater for it, and you chance of success. * Jump ot once, and God protect —_ Bees.” eo, they began and com: | j } | ; | carefully unfolded and found it *“ What do you think of it?” asked the astounded Clara, when the reading was finished. “Let me examine it first,” replied Hugh, as be to be a huge, firmly- made umbrella, spreading a thick sail of canvas fully eight feet a dlemater. Tt is made as he says, I doubt not will land us safely in the water omres swim, Clara?’ “Not a stroke.” ‘Fortunately I am a powerful swimmer, and | can support you in the water. Let us try it.” ‘*But we cannot comply with one of the condi- tions he prescribes. ne base and many feet above is one mass of flame, throwing out an illumination that will be seen for miles, and that makes it as light as day for a long distance surrounding us. The Seminoles are close at hand, and will be upon us the moment we strike.” “T hope not, All you will have to do will be to cling to me, and I will strike straight for_your father's steamer, calling to him for help. ere, don't you feel the structure tremble? It can stand but a few moments longer,” “IT can feel the heat, and it is doomed, as 1 fear we are!"’ “Will you make the one effort for life, dearest Clara? ink of your parent so close at hand, and do it for his sake if not for yourownand me, Will you not make the effort with me?” “T will, Hugh.” “ Quick, then, for time is precious! We toust leap from the balcony!" In an instant they had reached the highest point of the light-house, the look-out, where the lamp was burning. The young man reached up, extinguished the light, and then spreading out the porachu/e, step- carefully upon the railing, where he balanced imself, and assisted his companion up beside him, Side by side, they stood for an instant, while he gave her his last instructions. “J will cling to the handle with both hands. Lock your arm within mine, and hoki it with the of death. Just before we strike the water, take a long breath, and then avoid stryegling or throwing your arms about my neck. Do not attempt tohelp your- self at all, but remain'perfect keep you afloat. Are you reac ro an instant; wait until 1 can commend our souls to God, and send up a prayer for my dear father!” It was an awful moment, and they stood thus at that great elevation, suspended between heaven and earth, while the brave girl closed her eyes in a short, fervent prayer tothe only One whoceuld carry them h this unparalleled ordeal Hugh did the same, and for a second nothing was heard but the roar and dash of the breakers, sound- ing strange and far off, and the rush and swirl of the flames leaping upward like flaming serpents, hastening to catch and intercept the victims that were about to leap from their prasp, and cheat them of the torment they were seeking to give them. Only a few seconds, and Clara said in a low, firm voice: “Tam ready.” “ Leap out asfar as youcan! Together! Moro!” Down, down, down through the whizzing air, the strange parachute descended, like a_colla) bal- loon, seemingly with no abated speed, carrying the two who were clin to it to certain destruc- tion with the of a meteor. -It was such an awful ordeal, that @lara er aon gf kept her eyes closed, endeavoring to her utmost retain posses- sion of her faculties and to remember the advice iven her by her lover to carry out the instructions & had given her. Two invaluable points were gained in this descent The inflation of the purachute moderated the descent. of the two just enough to take away the certainty of death, while at the same time it permitted the two to strike the water without losing their D- dicular position, thereby saving them from.t fa- tal shock to the: m, which so frequently attends the exhibitions of daring divers, Just as Clara felt the waters close around her, she quiescent, and | will t &: enemy. e depth was so slight that both, however, paused until they struck the sandy bottom with considerable force; but upon plunging apwerd and striking ro Hugh Havens was beyond measure to find that he was not injured in the least, but having the free use of his limbs, he began usin them with all the skill and power at his command. “Help! help! Captain Raymond. I have your inane eee ! Come ae her oe PnenonliZ is was the cry went over the wa as turning his face toward the black hull of the prdebine F and supporting the girl with his left arm, he exerted himself with all the strength at his command to buffet the billows and carry himself and the one dearer to him than his own life, further away from the inhospitable shore. By this time the light-house was one vast blazing pile, the flames streaming far upward in the air above the look-out, and making objects as distinctly visible, for hundreds of yards - every direction, as if beneath the rnoonday sun. The long, curving beach, with the curling foam gliding far up over the sand—the dark back-ground of woods—the black hull of the steamer, and the clouds above—all these clearly reflected the livid red glow, and took upon themselves a ghastly, supernatural color, that made the scene seem as it belonged to another world rather than to this. And this same lurid glow showed still more. The steamer could be seen forging in —— and closer to the shore, the distance being dangerously slight, while a small boat, full of men, were rowmg
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with the fury of cen toward the struggling swimmers, From the woods, at the rear of the blazing a Iaetagetee over taventy Seminole Indians swarmed forth, yelling and screeching and flocking down to the beach, like so many demons, Osceola, in common with the others, bad observed the flight of the strange-Jookin object, with the two rsons ng to it, and, quicker in intellect than Ris com ons, he suspected its meaning at once. He observed, too, the steamer standing off- shore, and he suspected its mission. He saw that after all there was danger of | his coveted triumph. That which, in his demon’ nature he had counted upon as the sweetest enjoy- ment of his life, the burning to death of the two whom he hated above all others, bid fair to turn into ust the opposite, and there seemed a probability of is victims escaping his malignant persecution. The very danger which Hugh Havens was now called upon to combat. short distance from the shore, and the waves were driving in with such power, that although moderate enough to be overcome by a swimmer, when he had nothing else to figh him to master, when given but the use of one arm, while the other was fully occupied in keeping the head of Clara Raymond above water, preventing her from strangling. He strngeled: and wrestled with all the might he could summon to his aid, sinking down in the trough of the sea, and then rising above the crest of the in- rolling wave; but, in spite of all this, he could see that slowly ut steadily he was being washed in toward the shore, and that, instead of Osceola and his companions wading or swimming out, or even dispatching them with their guns, they had but to stand where they were to have the victims cast up by the sea to their very feet. The Indians observed this, but they noted another fact also—the efforts of the steamer toeffect the rescue of the two human — struggling so des- perately with the waves, and they saw that it was unsafe to wait. And so a dozen clustered together and began wading out toward the heroic man, whoseeing them coming again raised his voice: ‘Help! help! quick! or we perish! We can sus- tain ourselves but a few mifmtes longer!”’ A cheer—seemingly but a short distance away— broke upon their ear, and then the ringing voice of a sailor rose above the hellish din. “A little longer, my brave fellow! We shall be there in a few seconds! Hold out until then and you shall be saved! Cheer up, Clara!” The sound of this voice seemed to rouse oe who, following the advice of her lover, had remain quiescent until now. She started and stru, led, so as to embarrass the sorely-taxed Hugh still more, and he besought her to cease. ** You will drown us both!’ he said, as the water split into foam over their heads. “ Keep quiet, for 48 ort time — **Tt was the voice of my father that I heard!” she said, her senses seeming to wander. “I him call my name! do not keep me from him. Father! father! wait for me, I am hurrying to you!” And iv her bewilderment she increased her strug- gles, so that Hugh was compelled to give over his efforts to swim off-shore, and to exert his whole strength toward keeping both afloat, leaving both at the mercy of the waves. In afew minutes the swimmer had lost all the gan he had gained by his efforts to make his way ward the steamer, and less than a dozen feet sep- arated the couple from the Indians, who were he stealthily wading outward, and stretching forth their hands to clutch them back from their last desperate hope of life. ea idem A tense. Sen ee where he was ; y gone ina minute! Lose another instant." wt Thus incited, the foremost red-skins plu the water, and there was a general clus concentrating together, as they closed in for the final effort to catch the exhausted victims. “Back, there, you red devils!" And ag the clear voice rung over the waters, it wag followed by a dozen rat discharges of rifles, by the frenzied screech of Indians, and half the cop- ry wretches in the water threw up their hands and into and last He was such a | were yet too strong for | of aca) stern of the boat, leaned forw: lifted her tenderly from the water, clasping her in her dripping garments to his broad, manly breast, while he fondly kissed her in and again, like the — who receives its child back from death into 2) , a own darli daughter! God be thanked that we are not too late! Fear no more, for you are in father's arms!" And as he bent his head over, with the tears reaming down his face, and repeatedly kissed his dear child, she murmured his name, and the lurid light that spread far out over the sea, showed a sweet, heavenly smile upon her features. Tired, weary, worn—long persecuted and wander- ing—in perils without number and gras by death itself—she had found safety at last. ne was at rest in the arms of her father, and with the faith of the simple, trusting child, she felt that she had nothing more to fear. Peace, rest—what a blessed balm. She felt that she could now die and be —-. “Give way, boys!” said Captain Raymond, speak- ing to his men; ‘these two need immediate atten- tion, or both may yet succumb! Confound the red- skins! I wish I dared to have given them the whole broadside.” The sailors rowed with vim, and a few minutes later, were at the side of the steamer, Here they were assisted on board the vessel, and the surgeon gave them instant attention. He announced to the anxious parent that his daughter only needed rest and n rything possible was done for them, and a ‘the end of a couple of hours they began to rally, and the judi- cious treatment of the ‘eon speedily th neared beyond any danger from the fearful tr to which their systems had been subjected, and by daylight both were able to walk about deck, a trifle weak, but cheerful and delighted as they received the con- gratulations of their friends. The work of Captain Raymond was not yet fin- ished, as he felt it his duty to remain off the coast, until some tidings of uncle Lige were gained. The light-house, which he had so faithfully attended for many long years, being totally destroyed, and ‘his position pone one of great peril, it was not to be su mg that he had any desire to remain longer. ut ten o'clock in the forenoon, the man on the look-out reported that a white person was standing on the beach, close to the debj-is of the light-house, wav- ing his hat over his head as if endeavoring to attract their attention. Not doubting but that this was the individual whom they were seeking, a boat was at once lowered and put out to bring him off. It proved to be the old man indeed, who was enough to get away from the ht of the m choly ruins. He was about to northward to Tampa, when he caught sight of the steamer, and suspected at once that it was waiting to commu- nicate with him, When the grim old veteran stepped upon the deck of the steamer, he received the welcome due such a hero, Captain Raymond ordering a cannon fired in hishonor. As he clasped the hands of Hugh Havens and the little pet, Clara Raymond, his delight was so great that he seemed to renew his youth, and to become as frolicsome as a kitten, The steamer now headed southward, her destin- ation being around the Keys up to 8t. Augustine, where Lige was left to wait until a new light-house should be constructed for him, which was done in the course of twelve months thereafter. Soothed and cpemet his pleasure voyage, old forgot his gloom reticence, and made some interesting statements, which it is proper that we should give our readers. how he and Buster Bob were thrown off the trail by the war- rty of Seminoles, he stated that they found out 6 next morning that a numbervof the same red- skins were in pursuit of them, and, although Bob felt httle fear regarding his own personal safety, yet he stuck by Lige, and they were kept busily em- ployed during the entire day in dodging and eludin renemies. When darkness came. they started for the sea-coast, and were several miles distant at peared, while several of the bullets, finding | the time the fire broke out. Suspecting that Hugh their way among the swarm on land, scattered deat were there they hastened thither, but and consternation there, and with a howl of terror, | not reach the until Jong after everything was Se eer eonnens and his compan- | over. They had noticed the proximity of the steam- ions broke for the woods, into which they vanished | er, and heard the firing of the rifles and the cannon. like so many frightened partridges. And those who | Bob explained the porachute matter, but they had were in the water, and still able to use theirstrength, | little hope of any good resulting from it, and Li struggled out with the mad haste of a group of went through the woods with Bob to his Pox by power: by a ln, Rppearance of a man-cas where he remained till morning, when the hermit for th Philisti st ~ et thebaeg resisting or halting, | learned from a Seminole Indian that the lovers had i a 3 pon them. actuall , and gotten off upon the vessel They had not yet reached the shelter of the forest hen a bright flash was tt followed pew from the bow of its way up the of the 4 recs sould not have been increased, and they “na ions died some time after in Savannah. Oaptain Raymond's boat reached H just in the nick of time. The poor fellow indeed truggled , but his strength had ttd limi oad gave up entirely just as h Havens | never saw or heard of anything which has escaped after their wonderful leap from the top of the burn- ing structure. Bob chose to remain where he and bidding came down to the sea-shore, him good-by, Lige taken off in the manner already men- and was be ystery—tha em ry tof the Haunted Lake—still re- mained to perplex the lovers. “y “And that I think will never be cleared up,” re- marked Hugh, as he and Clara and her father cat chatting with the old man one beautiful moonlight night, as they were steaming up the Atlantic coast of Florida. “Tt is a mystery indeed,” said the maiden. “I perplexed me as much as that. There must be something su- pernatural about it, laugh at itas we may.” “You are ohMdish tf be bumbugesd in that g right up to # upon first sight, and made a critical and my word for it, you would have found it some clever trick of soms We my Tt was noticed at this point, that uncle Lige had hard work to restrain his oe @ Ex- ploded in such boisterous humor that it was some time before he co! his words. Finally he ke: | Wee spose I | ’ere spook, e@ Ca dled up to the canoe, and little closer, you'd have found a humbug. Can't pe) “bout that, but I know if you'd shook hands the chap in the boat, you’d shook hands with— me, and all the time that Buster Bob was playing the fool with you, he knowed it!” And then he told them the whole story. Years before he had learned the legend of the Haunted Lake, and knowing the danger to which he was constantly as well as the su stitious nature of the Indians, he conceived the of turning the remarkable myth & his own personal account. His telescope told him when a hostile on the shores of the as well tell you "bout that here says that if you'd pad- looked into the matter 4 bundle at bis feet, and sol- b of the lake, that by means of this ra- ther ingenious. contrivance, preserved. the light-bouse and his own life from truction muck longer than otherwise would have been the case. The love between Hugh and Clara, dawning as it aid in darkness and danger, broadened and deep- ened and strengthened > Se sees Se mo rity, and no one was prouder re ean’ tain Raymond, when a few months later hand upon the young hero, whe had so nobly won it. i Half-Dime Singer's Library 1 Waoa, Exota! and 59 other Songs. 2 Capram Corr and 57 other Songs. 8 Tae Garnssoro’ Har and & other Songs. 4 Jounny Morcan and 60 other Songs. 5 ut Srrixe You Wrrs 4 Frearrer and 62 ofmem. 6 GrorGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 7 Tue Bevite or Reckaway and & other Songs. 8 Youne Friian, You’rs Too Fress and 60 othess. 9 Say Youne Grau and 65 other Songs. 10 I’m THe GoveRNoR’s OnLy Sow and 58 other Semgs. 11 My Faw and 65 other Songs. 12 Comm’ Tro’ THE Rye and 55 other Songs. 13 Tae Roiiickine IrnrsnMan and 59 other Somps. 14 Op Doc Tray and ® other Songs, 15 Waoa, Caariie and 50 other Songs. 16 IN rms Waeat By anp By and 62 other Somgp. 17 Nancy Lzx and 58 other Songs. 18 I’w THe Boy THAT's Bounp To BLazs and 67 othe. 19 Taz Two OrpHans and 59 other Songs, ~ 20 Wear ane THE Witp Waves Sarimve, Sisrunf and 59 other Songs. 21 InpicnNart Potty Woe and 59 other Songs. 22 Tar Up Arm-CHarm and 58 other Songs. 23 Ox Coney Istanp Beaon and 88 other Sengs. 24 On Summon, THE Hgt-Conn Maw and 60 others. 25 I'm x Love and 56 other Songs. 26 PARADE ov THE Guanps and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Heavr, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 "Twit Never po To Grp rr vp So and 60 others. 29 Biur Bonners Over THE Borpes and 64 others 30 Tae Merry Laverne Man and 56 other Songs. 81 Sweer Forartr-me-Not and 58 other Songs. 32 Leerue Bany More and 53 other Songs. 83 Dz Baxyo AM DE INSTRUMENT FoR Mz and 58 others, 84 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 85 Jost ro PLE«Ss THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 36 SxatTrNc on ONE IN THE GUTTER and 52 others. $7 Kotorep Kranxs and 59 other Songs. 28 Nr. Desprranpom and 53 other Songs, 89 Tax Great I Lert Berryp Mz and 50 other Songs. 40 "Tas pur A Lirrte Fapep Fiower and 98 others. 41 Prerry WHILHELMINA and 60 other Songs. 42 DANCING IN THE Barn and 63 other Songs. 43 H. M.S, Povarors, comp.arn, and 17 other Songs. Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or sent pest-prid, te aay address, on ro- ceipt of Sis cents per number, BRADLA AND ADAMS, Pesusames, 8 Wiusssn Sraear, New York.
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—_——] BEADLE’s | HALF-DIME | LIBRARY. |}———— By Edward L. Wheeler. Yellowstone Sack, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Kansas King; or, Tae Rep Ricut Hann. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker. Vagabond Joe, THE Youna WANDERING JEW. & wre or By Oll Coomes. Double Number, 10cts. 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper. by E. 8. Ellis. 7 The Flying Yankee}; or, THe OckAN OvT- cast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Seth Jones. By Edward 8. Ellis. Adventures of Baron Munchausen, Nat Todd. By E. 5. Ellis. The Two Detectives. By A.W. Aiken. Gulliver’s Travels. B n Swift. The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes. Aladdin; or, £ WONDERFUL Lamp. The Sea-Cat, Robinson Crusoe, (27 Ilustrations.) Ralph Roy, tHe Boy Buccaneer; or, THE Foerttve Yacut. By Col. Prentiss In am. {8 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. 19 The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers. By E. L. Wheeler. 21 The Frontier Angel. By Edward 8. Ellis. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, THe Boy Rosrmson Crusoz, By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o? the Night. By T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. 25 The ang ni tain. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, tue BurraLco Demon; or, THE Borper Vouurures. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, tx Boy Guive.:Oll Coomes 28 Buffalo Ben, THe Prince or_ THE PIsToL; (or) Deapwoop Dick in Disevuise. E. L. Wheeler. 29'The Dumb Page. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 30 ye tee J Ralph Rockwood, THE REcx- Ranocer. By Harry St. ae 81 Keen-Knife, PRINCE oF THE inrEs. By oe Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, tae Borper Rvrrian; or, THE Gru Deap-SHor. By Edward L. Wheeler. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound. S&S. W, Pierce. 34 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wuirr.es’ Boy Spy 8 9 10 Al 12 13 i4 15 16 13 8 52 oy t. JF. C. Adams. 35 ild Ivan, Tae Boy CriaupE DuvaL; or, Tae BrorTHERHOOD oF DEATH. Ed: L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown, By Frank 8. Finn. 37 The Hidden Lodge. By T. C. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, ‘rue Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, THe Detective. By Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. By J. J. Marshall. 41 Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes, 43 jhe Phantom Miner. By E. L. Wheeler. 4 ick Darling, THE Pony Express RIDER. B Sat. Frederick Whittaker. 44 Ratt ing Rube. By Harry St. George. 45 Old Avalanche, THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR; or, WILD EDNA, THE Girt Brieanp. E. L. Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, THE Great SHoT oF THE West. x Capt, J. F.C. Adams, 47 Niglitingale Nat. By T. C. Harbaugh. 48 Black John, THe Roap-Acent. By Badger. 49 Omaha Oll. By Edward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, THe Trapper. C. E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy Rifles. By Archie C. Irons. 52 The White Buffalo. By C. E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THE Boy PHENKX; or, TurRovuGH To DeatH. By Edward L. Wheeler. 54 Ned Hazel. By ns J. F. C. Adams, 55 Deadly - Eye, Tar Unknown Scovr; or, THE BRANDED BROTHERHOOD. By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whifiles’ Pet. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles. By Wheeler. 58 Khe Border King. By Oll Coomes. 59 Old or Set By Harry St. George. 60 The White Indian. Capt. J. F. C, Adams. 61 Buckhorn Bill, By Edward L. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship. By Col. P. Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood 64 Dandy Jack... By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Hurricane Bill, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr 66 Single Hand. B . J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe, > digs 8. Warne. 68 Border Robin Hood, By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle. By Edward L. eeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams, 71 Delaware Dick. By Oll Coomes. 72 Mad Tom Western. By W. J. Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, CaLamrry JANE, THE Herorne or WHOoP-UP. By Wheeler. 74 Wawk-eye Marry. By Oll Coomes. 75 The Boy Duelist. By Col. P. Ingraham. 76 Abe Colt, THz Crow-Kitter. By A. W. Aiken, 77 ede det Charlie, tae Boy Bravo; or, Dreapwoop Dick’s Last Act. By E. L. Wheeler. 78 Blue Dick. By vaptein Mayne Reid. 79 Sol btn BS Giant Trapper. By A.W. Aiken. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nuceert Neb, THE KniGut or THe Guicw. By Edward L. 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Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, tHe OvTLAWweD Earz; or, THE Merry Men or GReENwoop. Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos. By G. Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leaiville; or, A SrrRanGE STROKE For Liserty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York. By Bracebridge Hemyng. Dick Dead-Eye. By Col. Ingraham. The Lion of the Sea, Deadwood Dick's Device. By Wheeler. Old Rube, tHe Hunter. Capt. i Holmes. One-Eyed Sim. By James L. Bowen. Daring Davy. By Harry St. George. Deadwood Dick as Detective, Edward L. Wheeler. 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies, Thrilling Sto 1 The Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingraham. 2 ‘The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe, 3 Jack Hoyle, THe Youne Specunartor; or, THe Roap To Fortune. By Ed. L. Wheeler. The Black Schooner, Roger Starbuck. The Mad Miner. By G. Waldo Browne. The Hussar Captain. Col. P. Ingraham. Gilt-Edged Dic 9 THE Sport DETECTIVE; or, THE AD-AGENT’s DavuGuTgerR. Wheeler. Wi£UI1l Somers, THE Boy Detective. Morris. Mustang Sam. By Jos. E. r, Jr. The Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont. Cinnamon Chip, tse Gi. Sport; or, Tue GOLDEN Ino or Mr. Rosa. Ed. L. Wheeler. Phil Hardy, tur Boss Boy. By C. Morris. Kiowa Charley, THe Ware MusTANGER. a T. C. Harbaugh. ippy, THE Texan. By George Gleason. Bonanza Bill, Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Picayune Pete. By Charles Morris. Wild-Fire, Boss ortHe Roap. By Dumont. The Young Privateer. By H. Cavendish. Deadwood Dick’s Double. By Wheeler. Detective Dick. By Charles Morris. The Golden Hand, By Geo. W. Browne. The Hunted Hunter. By Ed. §. Ellis. 3 Boss Bob, THE KinG or THE BoorsLacgs: or, THE PAWNBROKER’S Piotr. Ed. L. Wheeler. 4 Sure Shot Seth, rae Boy Rirteman; or Tae Youne Patriots of THE NortH. By Oll Coomes. 5 Captain Paul, Tae Kentucky Moonseiner; or. £ Boy Spy or THE Mountarms. By Clark. Night-Hawk Kit. By Jos. E. By RO et et CK SVOSAIDGe BSW MOSM Ooms - ger, Jr. The Helpless Hand. Capt. Mayne Reid. Blonde 113 or, Deapwoop Dick’s Home Base. By Edward L. Wheeler. Judge Lynch, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh. Blue Blazes; or, THe Break o’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. Solid Sam, THE Boy Roap-AGENT; or, THE Branpep Brows. By Edward L Wheeler. 2 Handsome Marry, THe Boorsitack Der- TECTIVE. By Charles Morris. 43 Scar-Face Saul, By Oll Coomes. 44 Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport. By Badger. Captain Ferret, THe New York Derec- TIVE; or, Boss Bos’s Boss Jos. Wheeler. Silver Star, THE Boy Kniaar. iy Coomes. ~~ > » BO CHO BD CB BSKHWBeOKNNKNKNKH WW -— SCF BAD ni _ THe Wrixninc Hanp. By Charles Morris. Sharp Sam. By J. Alexander Patten, > A Game of Gold; or, DeaApwoop Dick's Bie Srrixe. ‘By Edward L. Wheeler. 50 Lance and Lasso. By Capt. F.Whittaker. 1 Panther Paul, Tre Prarrm Prrare; or, Darnty LANCE TO THE Rescur. J. E. er, 2 Black Bess, Wit Wivprire’s Racer; or, Winninc AGAmNst Opps. By Charles Morris. 4 5 46 7 8 ¢ ee or oto 53 Eagle Kit, tHe Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes. 54 The Swerd Hunters, By F. Whittaker. 5 THE Sport. T. CO. Harbaugh. 5 5 Gold Trigger 6 Deadwoo Dd Tue Pickep Party. B 7 Mike Merry, THE Tue Nieaut-HAWKS OF PHILADELPHIA. ick of Deadwood} or, Edward L. Wheeler. ARBOR POLICE Boy; or, Morris. i) 58 Fancy Frank of Colorado. Buffalo Bill: 59 The Lost Captain. By Whittaker. 60 The Black Giant. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 1 New York Nell, rae Boy-Grraw Derecrive; or, OLD BLaKkesLy’s Money. By E. L. Wheeler. 2 Will Wildfire in the Woods, Morris. 8 Little Texas, Tor Youre MusTancer. A Tale of Texan Prairies. By Olloomes. 4 Dandy BRock’s Pledge. By G.W. Browne. 5 Billy Baggage, THe Ramroap Boy; or, Run to Earts. By Charles Morris. 6 Hickory Harry. By Harry St. een. 7 Asa Scott, THe SteamMpoaT Boy. By Willett. 8 Deadly Dash. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 9 Tornado Tom, By T. C. Harbaugh. 0 A Trump Cardy or, Wu. Wivprire Wins AND Losses. By Charles Morris. 1 Ebony Dan. By Frank Dumont. Thunderbolt Tom. By Harry St. George. Dandy Rock’s Rival. Bob Rockett, rue Boy Dopaer. By Morris. Captain Arizona. By Philip S.Warne. The Boy Runaway; or, THe BUCCANEER or THE Bay. Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S.N. Nobby Nick of Nevada. E. L. Wheeler. Old Solitary. By Oli Coomes. 9 Bob Rockett, rae Bank Runner. Morris. 180 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow Wet Kept. A Lieut. H. D..Perry, U.S. N. 181 ild_ Frank, Tee Buckskin BRAvo; or, Lavy Lity’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler. 182 Little *Hurricane, tHe Boy Caprarn, Coomes. , 183 The Hidden Hand, By Chas. Morris, 184 The Boy Trailers. By Badger, Jr. AAD ABR S® & eEaEnR wEadadagedsd ER Wk AUmeorw Old Frosty, tHE Guipve. By T. C. Harbaugh. | Will Wildfire, THe THOKOUGHBRED; or, | By G.W. Browne. | By Col. Delle Sara. Al of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. / 185 Evil Eye, Kine or Carrie Tuieves; or, Tar VULTURES OF THE Rio Granpz. By F. Dumont. 186 Cool Desmond, By Col. Delle Sari 187 Fred Malyard, tHe Lire Boar Bux; or, Tue SMUGGLERS OF THE INLET. By C. Morris. 188 Ned pase THE BorpER Boy. Harbaugh. 189 Bob Rockett, tae Cracksman. By Morris. 190 Benet Darke. By Wm. BR. Eyster. 191 Buffalo he THE Boy BuLLWHACKER. By. Capt. A. B. apie, U. S.A. 192 Captain Kit, By Lieut. H.D. Perry,U.S.N 193 Captain Mask, Tae Lapy Roap-AGENT; Or, PaTENT-LEATHER JOE'S DEFEAT. By Warne. 194 Buffalo Bill’s Bet. By Captain Taylor. 195 Deadwood Dick’s Dream, By Wheeler. 196 Shadowed; or, Bos Rockert’s Fiext ror Lire, By Charles Morris. 197 Little Grit, tax Witp River. By Ingraha. 198 Arkansaw, THE MAN WITH THE KNirr By T. C. Harbaugh. 199 pag pag’ a t. By Edward Willett. 200 The Boy Bedouins. By Whittaker. 201 The Black Hills Jezebel; or, Dean- woop Dicx’s Warp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 202 Prospect Pete, of THE Boy Hricapr; or, Tue Youne OvuTLAW Hunters. By Oll Coomes, 203 The Boy Pards. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr 204 Gold Plume, tHe Boy Banpir. Ingraham. 205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom, By Wheeler. 206 Dark Paul, THE TiceR Kina. By C. Morris. 207 Navajo Nick, tHE Boy Gotp Hunter, A Tale of Arizona. By T. C. Harbaugh. 208 The Boy Hercules. By Oll Necavea. 209 Fritz, THe Bounp-Boy Derective. Wheeler. 210 Faro Frank of High Pine. By Eyster.. 211 Crooked Cale, THE CALIBAN oF CELESTIAL Crry.. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 212 Dashing Dave, tHe Danpy Derecrive By Charles Morris. 213 Fritz to the Front. By E. L. Wheeler. 214 Wolfgang, Tue Rosser or THE Raine. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 215 ge Bullet, tae Rarer Kine. By T. C, Harbaugh. 216 Bison Bill, tHe Prince or tHe Reis. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 217 Captain Crack-Shot, By E. L. Wheeler. 218 Tiger Tom, THE Trexan Psacm, By Ol) Coomes. 219 Despard, the Duelist, By P. 8. Warne. 220 Tom Tanner, ScALAwAG AND SCAPEGRACE. By Charles Morris. 221 anene Coated Sam, By E. L. Wheeler. 222 Grit, the Bravo Sport. By Ingraham. 223 Ozark Alf, Kine or THE MounTarn. By Edward Willett. 224 Dashing Dick; or, TRAPPER Tom’s Cast. By Oll Coomes. 225 Sam Charcoal, the Premium Dar- ky. By Charles Morris. 226 Snoozer, THE Boy SaarP. By E, L.Wheeler. 227 Dusky Darrell, TRAPPER. By E. Emerson. 228 Little Wildfire, By Oll Coonies. 229 Crimson Kate, THE Grrt TRAILER. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 230 The Vankee Bajah. By C. D. Clark. 231 Plucky Phil, or THe Mountarm Tra, By T. C. Harbaugh. 232 Gold-Dust Dick. By E._L. Wheeler. 233 Joe Buck, of Angels, anv His Boy Parp Pavt PowpERHORN. By Albert W, Aiken. 234 Old Rocky’s ** Boyees;” or, Benrro, THE YounG HorseE-Breaker. By Buckskin Sam. 235 Shadow Samy, THE MEssenceR Boy; or, TURNING THE TABLES. By Charles Morris 236 Apollo Bill, rae Trai Tornavo. By Ed- ward L. Wheeler. 237 Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain; or, Tue Mysterious Rancuero. By P. Ingraham. 238 The Parson Detective; or, Litt SHocky, THE RANGER OF RAVEN Roost. By) Oll Coomes. 239 The Gold-seeker Guide; or, Tae Lost Mountain. By Captain Mayne Reid. 240 eon. Kit. . By Edward L. Wheeler. 241 Bill Bravo and His Bear Pards. By T. C. Harbaugh. 242 The Two ‘ Bloods; or, SHENANDOAH BILL AND His GanG. By Charles Morris. 248 The Disguised Guide; or, WiLp Raven, THE RANGER oF THE NorTH. By Oll Coomes 244 Sierra Sam, THe Frontier Ferrer. By Edward L. Wheeler. 245 Merle, the Middy; or, Tae Here or an OcKAN FREELANCE. Col. P. Ingraham. 246 Giant George; or, ANG’L OF THE RANGE By “ Buckskin Sam,” (Major Sam 8, Hall.) 247 old Grizzly and His Pets; or, THe Wip Huntress ofr THE Hints. By Captain ‘Bruin’? Adams. Ready April 18th. Sierra Sam’s Secret. By Edward L Wheeler. Ready April 25th. Milo Romer, tae Anma. Kina; or, Tri RounD THE WorLD WANDERER. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. Ready May *d. Midshipman Mutineer; or, BRanpr, THE BuccANEER. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham Light-house Lige; or, OSCEOLA, THE FIREBRAND OF THE HvERGLADES. By Captain J. F. C. Adams. 252 Dick of Dakota; or, A WesTERN Boy IN Cmrcaco, By Chas. Morris, Ready May 23d. 253 Sierra Sam Novel No. 3. By Edward L. Wheeler. Ready May 30th. A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by a!) Newsdealers, five cents per Ont, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. ADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. 248 249 250 251