Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 313) (1883 07 24)
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\ } wo a) pet, 8) C= 53 a» -- SS re _ TETAS so OSS a yf; aah {Din a SS elt nt i i a aT Dl Ti il el gS =a $2.50 a vear. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyright, 1883, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, July 24, 1883, T Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, \ ol. XIII. Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. No. 3 1 CIMARRON JAGK, THE KING PIN OF RIFLE-SHOTSs °° "#=2=4"7™ A TALE OF THE LAND OF SILENCE, 6X. tee Loe DEW a=. “DON’T ‘sIR’ ME!” INTERRUPTED THE RANGER. ‘I’M CIMARRON JACK, AND I'M COCK OF THE WALK.”
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ai [| 9 Cimarron Jack, THE KING PIN of RIFLE-SHOTS ; OR, , THE PHANTOM TRACKER. ° A Tale of the Land of Silence, BY FREDERICK DEWEY. rw CHAPTER I. THE CAVE-HUNTER AND THE SHADOW. Ir was a sultry, scorching day, on the banks of the river Gila—very sultry and silent. The sun in the zenith looked whitely down, and the yellow banks reflected its rays fiercely on tho sluggishly-creeping, warm river. Away over the flat glistening plain reigned the utmost | silence. As far as the eye could reach it saw | nothing—only dead level, dead heat, and dead silence, Here, mile upon mile from civilization, hundreds of miles away from any habitation? this vast wilderness stretched away—always level, always hazy, always silent—a spectral land. A large catfish lazily rolled and tumbled on the surface ofthe river, too hot toswim, and too stupid to move—lying there, he only, at times, waved his fins and tumbled gently. A vulture sat on asand-crag just above him—a water-vulture, or, rather, a brown, dirty fish- hawk. He was lazily watching his chance to swoop suddenly down upon the fish, and carry him off in his talons. But it was too hot’ to undergo any useless exertions, so he watched and waited for a sure chance, pluming himself moodily. A panting coyote sat on his house at a little distance, watching the pair, and vaguely con- scious that he was very hungry; a mule-rabbit under an adjacent tiny shrub tremblingly watched the coyote, starting violently at the slightest movement of the latter; and a huge yellow serpent, long and supple, dragged his scaly body up the bluff toward the rabbit. The sun shone redly down now, leaving its | white appearance for a sanguinary and blood- red hue; a haze was brewing. Suddenly the quiet was disturbed. The coy- ote sneaked away, with his bristly chin upon his lank shoulder; this alarmed the rabbit, and he too fled, making the most gigantic leaps; in ten seconds he had disappeared, The snake’s eyes flashed in enraged disappointment, and hissing spitefully, he raised his head to discover the cause of the hasty flight. He-soon saw it. On the barren banks he could have seen a mouse ata long distance, The-object he saw was the exact reverse of that diminutive quadruped, being a large, stal- wart, swarthy man, on a large black horse. He appeared suddenly, riding over 'the crest of an’ adjacent hillock, He stopped on the summit, glared keenly around, then rode down into the river. He stopped in the river where the thirsty horse drank greedily. Then, after. dismounting and drinking i ae himself, he boldly rode up the opposite bank, He appeared well acquainted with the local- ity, for this was the only fotdable place: for miles—either the river was too deep or the bot- tom too soft—‘ quicksandy.” Riding up'the bank, he halted and sat for a moment. buried in profound thought. He was a Mexican, a giant in proportions. His visage was that of a crafty, wily man, and his keen black ey@'was one that never quailed. Hisdress was simple; being in the American manner, of well-dressed buekskin, He however Still clung, to his ‘sombrero, which, instead of being cocked jauntily on the side of his head, was drawn down over his eyes to shield them from the hot sun. His whole ipment was that of a mounted ranger, and this style of dress has so often been described as to be familiar to all, Instead of the short @arbine which a Mexican | precious. habitually carries, he sported a long, elegant rifle—a very. witch to charm a hunter’s eye. Then be ‘had a brace of silver-mounted revoly- ers. Liké the rifle, they, were costly, and fatally precise and true; models of expensive and beautiful workmanship, But in his belt was that which, however captivating to the eye they might be, cast them into the shade, It wasa long dagger, double- edged, sharp as a razor, with a basket handle of rare workmanship. This last was gold (the han- dle)—pure, yellow gold, chased and milled into all manner of quaint and droll devices. It hung | and his hand was forever caressing its beautiful handle. Why should this man, forty years of age, rough, plainly dressed, riding with the stealthy air of one who is at war, with a ragged saddle and plain, even homely steed, have such elegant and costly weapons? They cost a large sum, evidently, and should be the property of a prince. The name of the Mexican was Pedro Felipe the old and tried servant of a wealthy and kind master, alsoa Mexican. A year ago his master, Senor Martinez, had occasion to cross a vast, sterile wilderness, lying a hundred or more miles north of the Gila river. While on that plain, in a remote part of it, called the Land of Silence (a ghostly, spectral plain, considered haunted), his only daughter, a beautiful young girl, was abducted by a robber chief, and car- ried away to a rendezvous—a hollow hill in the plain.’ Here she was rescued by Pedro, disguised as a ae The hillock had an aperture in it, and Pedro, on hearing a noise, looked out and saw the lieu- tenant of the band, a fierce man called the ‘* Trailer,” approaching. Knowing he must take his life or be discovered by the whole band, he sbot him dead from off his horse, From the Trailer’s body he took the weapons we have described, and then left the body to be devoured by wolves and birds of prey. He was certain that in the hillock a large treasure was secreted, but fearing to be discovered by the band, whom he expected to arrive every hour, he left without searching for it. But the band, he soon after learned, disbanded without return- ing to the hillock, and left for Mexico. Pedro had but one glaring fault—the love of old. He was now on his way to the hill in the Nand of Silence to search for the treasure, and he felt confident of finding it. Why not? The captain and the Trailer were dead—he had seen them both fall; the party had at the same time disorganized, and he was certain they had never returned to seek for it. The Trailer had been the last robber on the spot, and he himself had killed him; so he was certain of finding the treasure untouched. Pedro Felipe’s absorbing love of gold had brought him on this hot day to the northern bank of the Gila, on his way to the Land of Si- lence in search of it. The sun. gleamed redly through the haze as Pedro looked northward, with his raven eye toward the spectered Land ef Silence. It was ani ill-fated land. Many dark and mysterious deeds had taken place there, many deeds of which the world would never know, Indians and hunters avoided it, and deemed it haunted by evil spirits. Well might it be; it was a nostly, hazy, quiet place, where the sun shone ercely and water was scarce. . Pedro’s experience had been strange in this land, and he was very superstitious, But he was also brave and crafty, having the reputa- tion of being the best Mexican scout and Indian- aque in his part of the awry 0, urged on by his love of gold—his only and great faalt—and by the prospect of adventure and excitement, be’ was to brave, alone and un- aided, the land of specters and of death—the Land of Silence. He turned his horse’s head to the south, and peered away over the plain. Nothing was in sight; he was alone in the vast wilderness. ‘Farewell, Mexico!” he said; ‘‘good-by to your sunny plainsand pleasant groves! May it not be long before I come back to thee, my land! Farewell, my old master, my beautiful mistress, and her noble husband; my old companion, Benedento—and all I hold dear. This morning I stood on your border, sunny Mexico. To- morrow, at sunset, I will be alone, alone in the Land of Silence. Farewell, my land! I may never tread your soil again.” He slowly dismounted, and placing his ‘arm affectionately round his steed’s neck, raised his sombrero reverently. ‘‘My faithful horse, we must go; time is Once more, farewell, my land.” He waved his hand with a graceful parting- salute, calmly, but with a vague presentiment of coming evil. Then he remounted, turning his horse’s head to the north; under the hot sun, blazing with blinding heat, in the desert alone, he rode away, bound for the Land of Silehce. As he started, a vulture rose from an ad- jacent knoll, and wheeled slowly above bim, and croaked dismally.. Was ita augury— the warning of evil to come? The vulturexeturned to his perch; the other animals returned to their former places, and Pedro was riding away. As the last glint of the setting sun gleamed out over the silent plains, a new form ayes on the southern bank of the river. e, too, peered sharply about him when he reached the crest of Phatcnall, and he was very wary and watchful, When he had finished his scrutiny without seeing anything to alarm him, or arouse distrust, he rode down the bank. In the river his horse (a powerful black) halted to drink; but the rider never moved. Then, when be had finished, the horse stepped up the northern bank and galloped away toward the north. The traveler was dressed in buckskin; was armed to the teeth; bad a black, conical hat in which a black plume nodded and waved, and a face in which glowed two raven eyes. He was an ugly-looking customer—a despe- rado in appearance. In the twilight, soon horse and rider became blended in one blurred mass as they receded; in half an hour darkness had fallen, and they were no longer visible from the river bank. Where was he going? To the Land of Silence, directly in the Mexi- can’s tracks, — CHAPTER II. LOST IN THE DESERT. On the afternoon in which the last chapter’s events occurred, @ train of three wagons plod- ded slowly up the southern bank of the Gila, about twenty miles east from the place where Pedro forded it. Here was quite a good ford, and it was somewhat in use, being on a north- ern trail—one of the many from Mexico to the north, The country about it was exactly simi- lar to that around the other ford with one ex- ception—away in the east, Vulture Mountain was barely visible in the distance. From that mountain toward the east the Gila river was constantly under the quiet supervision of a sandy-rocky range of disconnected mountains, to its extreme source. But here all was flat, sterile, and quiet. ' The wagons were accompanied by several horsemen, and one horsewoman—or. rather, young girl. In fact, these were almost the en- tire party, the only ones in the wagons being the teamster, one American, and two Cana- dians. It was a small train—a “ whiffit-outfit.” Three wagons were a small number beside the dozens that generally consorted. It could easily be seen it was not the property of a large stock- owner or freighter, but was evidently the property of a single man—an immigrant. If was even so, The man yonder on the verge of the bank—that sturdy, bronzed man of fifty or thereabouts, about whom the other horsemen gather, is the owner; Joel Wheeler; a Northern New Yorker. . Hearing of the rapid fortunes which were constantly being made by enterprising Amer- icans in Mexico, he had left a comfortable home in New York to gain immense riches, After being in that *‘ golden” land for several years he had, found out what meaty others had done before him—that the men in Mexico were as keen and shrewd at a bargain as any one else—in fact, many times more so. His exchequer ran low; marauding savages and violent disease thinned his flocks; his native ser- vants plundered him; until, completely disgust- ed and homesick, he packed his goods and chat- tels and started, en route for his old State. His daughter, the horsewoman on the sorrel pony, was a lovely girl- of eighteen. Blessed with natural beauty, the several years’ sojourn in Mexico had done much to enliven and de- velop it—being a brunette she was rendered doubly comely by the fresh, dry air of that country. rs Another of its pleasant freaks had it played upon her; it had given her that much-to-be-de- sired blessing, perfect health. From a pallid, feeble invalid she had become a jovial, bloom- ing maid—a very picture of sound health. Dur- ing her residence in Mexico she had, without losing ber northern modesty and chastity, con- tracted the universal abandon of the graceful, indolent people, which, while it detracted noth- in outing purity, visibly added to her exter- pal attractions. In one respect, however, she still clung to her former breeding—ber equita- tion, While it was, and is, customary for Mexican ladies, when so inclined, to ride astride of a horse, and while she knew it was much the easiest way, she still rode, as she termed it, be civilized fashion.” ; ; Christina Wheeler (Christina being curtailed to the tantalizing appellation of Kissie) was a courageous, high-spirited girl, Though being in.
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Cimarron Jack, the King Pin of Rifle-Shots. 3 — possession of several masculine traits, she still preserved that feminine reserve and chariness of conduct which is so necessary in male eyes, and without which woman sinks to the level of a beautiful, favorite dog, or a precise, costly gem. She wasa kind and beloved mistress to the few servants; and while treating them graciously and well, brooked no unseemly or ! obstrusive familiarity. Besides her beauty she , was no nobler nor more intellectual than scores of women one may chance upon during a day’s ride through a prosperous and refined district. But her beauty was regal—more—bewitching, as many a disappointed Mexican dandy only too volt remembered, who had basked in her impartial smiles only to mope and sulk after- ward, Did I say impartial smiles? I was wrong. If report said truly, the sweetest were bestowed on her father’s chief man, or foreman. He was with the party, being an adopted son of the old gentleman. Sturdy, self-reliant and brave, and withal, handsome, being brought up from in- fancy with Christina, no wonder her romantic spirit had endowed bim with all the qualities requisite asa hero. It had; and asshe gazed at him now, as he conversed with her father, she felt pleased at seeing how much he relied on young Carpenter. The young man bestrode a light-colored steed, known from its peculiar color throughout the western and southern States as a ‘‘clay-bank.” He was well curried and rubbed down; indeed a curry-comb attached to his saddle-horn de- noted this was an everyday occurrence, even in the desert. Such a man was Samuel Carpenter. At twenty-five years of age he well understood wild life, and he showed his tidy, neat habits— everything belonging to him being kept in per- fect order. The other two horsemen were rough-looking, wiry men of middle age. One, mounted on a gray ‘‘ States horse,” was Burt Scranton—Car- enter’s assistant. The other was a man well nown in southern Texas and northern Mexico —‘* Tim Simpson, the guide.” The latter, for a stipulated sum, had agreed to conduct the party by the shortest and quick- est way tothe Leavenworth and Texas trail— being nearly four hundred miles from their pre- sent position. Like many others of his calling he was reti- cent in the extreme, scarcely speaking save in monosyllables. He had several reasons for thi:: one was that it kept him out of trouble; another, that he was not annoyed by a cross- fire of questions, which guides detest. The teamsters were Kit Duncan, an Ameri- can, and Napoleon and Louis Robidoux, two brother Canadians, whom Joel Wheeler had brought from New York. They were now re- turning with glad hearts toward their northern home. It is unnecessary to state the party were well armed—every man carried a rifle, and the regu- lation brace of revolvers and a ‘‘ bowie.” The wagons were drawn by horses—six to a wagon. Instead of sitting in the wagon and driving, the teamsters had adopted the suvuthern habit, of riding the “near” wheel-horse and guiding the leaders by a single line. When wishing to “gee,” he steadily pulled the line; to. “ haw,” a short jerk was sufficient. This is the party, its outfit and position, now on the southern bank of the Gila. They forded the river and stood headed north- ward on the other side. Now they were in the heart of the Indian country—now they must be wary and guard against the hostile and cunning savages, \ Well,” remarked Mr.’ Wheeler, looking north, “had we better stop here, or go on?” The question was addressed to the guide, who was down on his knees searching for Indian “sign.” He arose. , “Stop byar,” “Why? what are your reasons?” ‘‘Water hyar. No water fur forty mile,” ‘Is that so?) Well, then ‘we bad better stop, We can’t afford to lie out all night without water, can we Sam?” ‘No, sir,” replied the young man. ‘“‘We should be_ obliged to fast if we did. When the weather is sultry, especially on the southern prairies, food begets thirst. We should suffer without water. Any old plainsman will tell you when out of water to keep your stomach empty, unless a dry cracker can be called food. It is true, medical men say the reverse; but, sir men that have suffered thirst know that foo without water is dangerous. J have tried it.” * K’rect!” muttered the old guide in assent. ““Skience is one thing an’ experience an- other,” declared Burt Scranton. ‘I’ve studied one an’ tried t’?other. Unhitch, boys.” All hands went to work to prepare for the night. While the preparations for camping were going on, the cook, Kit Duncan (the hard- est worked, and consequently sourest and snar- liest man in the party), who was also a team- ster, went down to the stream to fill his kettle with water. A ‘“jack-rabbit,” startled at his approach, sprung from under a projecting sand point, and darted away up the bank. As it gracefully and rapidly ‘ loped ” away, Christina (or Kissie, as we shall call her), ever on the alert, noticed it. “Oh, what an enormous rabbit!” she cried. “The largest I ever saw. Pray, Simpson, is that the common rabbit?” * No. Jack-rabbit.” ‘* What a very odd name. it so?” The guide did not give the true answer—that is because of its resemblance to a laughable beast of burden; but answered ‘shortly as he filled his pipe: ‘Big ear; like—like—like—donkey.” “Ob, hum! T perceive. See, it has stopped under that little bush. There— Oh, my! it is hurt—it is lame! see how it limps—lI will catch it, it is so curious.” Kissie was impulsive, Without further pre- face she lightly struck the sorrel pony with ber riding-whip, and on a swift gallop went after the rabbit, which slowly limped away. The guide, being the only idle one, alone noticed her, He shook with suppressed laugh- ter, awaiting the result. The guide well knew, though Kissie did not, that this strange rabbit plays some unaccount- able pranks, and is the direct cause of many hearty laughs at a ‘‘ greenhorn’s” expense. Seeing a human being, he at once retreats, limp- ing as if badly hurt. This attrects some one not “‘ well up” in prairie life, and he pursues it. But let the sequel tell its own tale. As Kissie drew near, the rabbit bounded away as if suddenly cured of its disability, gaining some distance; then he limped again—this time dragging one of his hind-legs laboriously. His long ears were laid upon his baek, which was suddenly shrunken, as if by a shot in the spine; he pawed hastily with his fore feet; and, evidently, was badly burt. Perhaps bis sudden activity was the result of severe fright, succeed- ed by a reaction—so reasoned Kissie, ' ‘Bunny, Bunny,” she cried, ‘you are mine— you are my captive.” She was quite close upon him, and was draw- ing closer at évery spring. The rabbit was almost caught. **Count not your chickens before they are hatched,” warns an old saw. Perhaps it would have been better for Kissie to have recollected it. But on she went, with no other desire or thought besides catching the feebly-struggling animul, To her surprise she drew no nearer, though the rabbit seemed scarce moving, and Dimple was going at a smart gallop. Surprised and nettled, she plied the whip, and once again she was on the rabbit’s very heels. Once again the rabbit suddenly darted away ete ge A as a deer; but only for a few smart eaps. . Again he seemed stricken by that odd imped- iment to his flight.. ~ It was very strange—what could it mean? For an hour the strange chase continued, the participants sustaining their respective posi- tions, while Dimple panted and lagged and Kissie alternately wondered and plied the vs It was # rare place for a protracted chase, For miles and miles northward (the coursé they were following) the great, flat plain stretched away—although level, always hard and solid: The chase still continued, still repeating it self: now a spurt, and the rabbit is near; Bunn springs Once or twice and the sorrel pony is behind’ again. Once'she thought she bad heard a shout far behind; but intent upon overtaking the rabbit, still kept on and looked not back. 2 At last the chase terminated rather suddenly. Evidently becoming wearied with bis frolies, the rabbit cast a single look behind, then to Me utter dismay, darted away at full speéd. } She had seen frightened antelopes flee like the wind; she had seen wild mustangs scour awayin affright; but never before bad she seen a * jack-rabbit ” on his mettle. There was a sudden streak before her, a small white speck bobbing up and down; and when Kissie reined in the pony she was alone. The rabbit was far away. : Why do they call ‘*Duped! miserably deceived!” were her ex- clamations as the truth forced itself upon her, “To think that insignificant creature had so much reason in him. Why, he was only de- ceiving me, after all—a mean trick to gratify his wickid little beart. I might have known it by the way he acted. Well, I never; and what a laugh there will be when I getback. Deceived by a paltry rabbit. I can imagine how they will laugh. Father will never lef me hear the last of it—neither will that horrid Burt Scran- ton; only Sam will be my champion, And how that borrid guide will grin, too—! declare it makes me provoked to think of it.” She pouted prettily and gazed where the sly animal had disappeared. Then she spoke again: ‘* Well, it is of no use that I can: see—my re- maining here. It is mostsupper-time and [ will fo back, without my boasted capture. So, Dimple—tired, pet? We are going back.” She turned the pony’s head around and slow- ly ecantered off, still musing. over her defeat, without raising her head. She had ridden a mile, perhaps, when it oe- curred to her she bad better discover the where- abouts of the train. Accordingly she reined in, and raising her eyes, slowly scanned the prairie before her. It was bare; the train was not in sight. Thinking some intervening hillock hid them from her sight, she rode some distance at right angles; but still no white-capped wagons did she see, She certainly must have become turned round, she must be bewildered as to the direction she had been pursuing. But no. Sbe distinetly remembered seeing her shadow at ber right hand when pursuing the rabbit. She was certain of that—quite sure. What easier than to ride back, keeping the shadow to the left of her? She could not then go astray. Christina was quick-witted, Sbe no sooner found the wagons were not in sight when the above reflection ran through her mind. She was impulsive, decided: and knowing this to be the only means of again finding the wagons, started “back, with her shadow over ber left shoulder. **Man proposes, God disposes.” She soon discovered that. No sooner had she started.on the return track, than, as if to vex and annoy her, a bank of snow-colored clouds rose rapidly in the south, At the same mo- oe a southerly breeze came lightly over the ain. uf As said before, Kissie was a girl of keen and quick-perceptions. She saw the bank of clouds arising; she knewif not breeding a terrible squall, they were af least rolling on to obseure the sun; then what were her chances of regain- ing camp? She knew they were few; she knew the neces- sity of bard riding; and, plying the whip again, rode at a gallop with the shadow still over ber left shoulder. On the Southern plains, as with the Southern people, charges come and go with great speed, t was-so in the present case; for befare the sorrel pony had cantered a milé the heavens above were clouded; the sun was obscured, A loud, swishing noise accompanied the fleecy clouds, somewhat in the rear of the advanced vapor. She reined in. he was sufficiently versed in Southern life to feel no alarm at the approaching wind. Had it been from the north—a norther—she would have trembled; but coming from the south, she felt no alarm; it was nothing but a field ” of drift- ing vapor, and in the course of an hour the sky might be clear again. So, turning ber pony’s hind-quarters to the coming wind, she braced herself and waited its approach, t came with a roar, and striking Dimple, al- most took her off ber feet; but the sturdy little beast spread her legs and stocd like a rock. Almost as soon as told it was past, rushing to- ward: the north, gathering strength every mo- ment; and beyond a steady breeze, and a few ek particles in the air, the atmosphere was quiet. Kissie looked at her tiny watch and sighed; in another hour the sun would sink below the horizon. What, then, would become of ‘her if she did not succeed in finding the camp? “I must ride somewhere,” she said, growing seriously alarmed, ‘If I haven’t the stin to guide me I must steér without it.” ; So saying, she re-turned her pony’s head and Basted =A a ov heap . io] C) ‘not gone far when she reined in with a very white face. Covering ber eyes 5 yy
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heart sunk. ‘*Oh, my God! oar “What shall I do? o? . Well might she feel alarmed! well might she e terror-stricken; for in her abstraction she had turned round twice ! what shall I do?’ she Where shall CHAPTER IIL. ASLEEP IN THE LAND OF SILENCE. ‘¢‘TuRNED round twice!” ejaculates the read- er. ‘* Why should she be terrified at sucha slight thing?” or a very good reason, for example: blind- fold a person, and after doing so turn him twice in his tracks, He then will be unable to tell with any degree of certainty to which post of the compass he is facing. So it was with Kissie. Though not blindfolded, she might as well have been, and might as well have turned round fifty times as twice. The flat plain was everywhere the same monotonous expanse, nowhere showing any lundmarks, by the slightest depression or elevation. No wonder she was frightened, even terrified. Had she been in a settled country, she would only have experienced vexation and discontent at being forced tospend the night on the prairie; but here she wag, far from any settlement, lost from her companions, and in a hostile Indian country. She knew the latter to be fierce and bloodthirsty, and was aware they would not scruple to commit any outrage their cunning brains migbt suggest. She knew they were redatory and gregarious, often rambling in ands of from a dozen to fifty or a hundred. She knew also they were the fiends of the plains —either Comanches or Apaches, dreaded alike by quiet ranchero and courageous hunter. Should she meet with them, what would be her fate—what her doom? What— At this point in her reflections Dimple pawed impatiently, and tossing her head, snuffed the air; she was fatigued and hungry, and was impatient at being kept ata standstill, ‘Quiet, Dimple! You are tired, pets you have had a hard gallop after a day's march, Dear, dear me; that I had never left them.” But the pony was not very much pe. ae She was a pure mustang, but recently captured and tamed, and could have galloped the entire day without capes § Ob, Where shall I go?—what shall Ido? Oh, Heaven! I would [ had never left them, quiet, I say, Dimple! what do you mean?” The pony was stamping violently, and, with tossing head, was staring over the plain. Me- chanically Kissie followed his gaze. Away on the distant horizon (the eastern one, though she did not know it) she saw a solitary speck, moving slowly. It was that which had caused the mustang’s alarm, It had evidently been in sight for some time, for now she remem- bered the pony had been restless for consider- able time. It was some animal, perhaps a soli- tary horseman. Indeed, by s ing | er eyes, she was almost certain it was the latter, as she thought she could distinguish the necessary out- lines of a mounted man. - The object was a man, and mounted on a black, powerful horse. It was Pedro Felips, Had he known it was a white man, had she any reason to suppose he was not an enemy, she would have at once spurred toward him; ‘but knowing that numerous Indians were at all times scouring the plains, she desired rather to ve bim a wide berth, fearing he was one of t dreaded race. She raised her whip, and striking the mapeteng sharply, was riding away when a new obj revert ye on the horizon opposite the Mexican. Object? rather a number of blots, moving to- ward her. This she could tell as they appeared stptouaty while they rose and fell like a gallop- ng norse, She had seen such objects before, and knew they were galloping animals. Knowing that scarcely any animals frequented the plain, from its ty, she readily became aware that they were a band of mo men, She felt her heart lea ays it was her friends. They had doubtless become alarmed at her prolonged absence, and had started in search of her. Filled with joy at the thought, she pressed on, her fears at rest. Just then she looked for the far-distant, lone rider—he was not in sight; he had vanished. Suddenly she stopped the mustang, and a deadl lor overspread her countenance, a wild fear arose within her. She had coun thirteen distinct objects movi re Her father’s party num toward her. sevyen—the one ‘plied the approaching numbered thirteen; it could not be her friends—it could not. Who were they? Surely they were mounted men, surely they were not her friends; who could they be? They were coming, miles away, directly toward her. The truth flashed upon her, and her heart sunk like lead. Sitting quietly in her saddle, she stared at them, drawing nearer every min- ute. Thenshe became aroused. Wheeling sud- denly, she plied_ the whip, and the wiry mus- tang, now somewhat refreshed, sprung away at a long, steady gallop, and the blots behind scat- tered, collected again, then rose and fell faster and shorter. The chase had commenced—she was pursued by Indians. It was now sunset, as nearly as she could judge, and the cloudy sky overhead promised a brief, dark twilight, to be succeeded by a dark, murky night. The rainy season was now draw- ing near, and for aught she knew the clouds above might be the ‘ advance-guard.” This, at least, was in her favor. Kissie was like her father—impulsive but cool. Looking back, she calculated the distance between her and the flying savages. It was nearly four miles. Ste looked at the sky and calculated that darkness would fall in less than an hour. ‘‘They will have to ride like the wind to over- take Dimple in an hour,” she said, with a small degree of hope. ‘Till then, Dimple, fly; in an hour we may be safe for the present.” The mustang, as if cognizant of the import- ance of speed, tossed his pads y head, then bend- ing it down, ‘‘ reached ” like a quarter horse; his sensitive nose had warned him of the proximity of his former hated foe—the red-man, Running without the incentive of whip or spur, he stretched away; and behind came a dozen and one Apaches, grim and resolved; they were on the war-trail. At that hour a flock of vultures wheeling above, high in the zenith, looked down upon a strange scene—at least for that usually deserted plain. Directly beneath were a flying maiden and galloping Injdians—the latter in hot pursuit of the former; both mounted on fleet horses, both riding at full speed. A few miles to the west a solitary horseman was pursuing his way northward at a slow gallop. He was a Mexican—Pedro Felipe. At the rate and in the direction the maiden was riding, it would not be long ere she would meet him—she riding northwesterly. Directly south and nearly fifteen miles behind Pedro, rode a dark, ugly-looking man on a black horse; and though the Mexican had left no visible trail, this mysterious rider was following him, direct- ly in very tracks. Riders on the savage- infested, weird plains generally look sharply in every direction to avoid their dreaded foes; they generally, if alone, keep close to timbered tracts; but this rider never gazed to the right. left, or bebind him—only keeping his gaze fixed toward the Land of Silence. In a southeasterly direction from him wasa train encamped on the Gila, for the night. All the work had been finished. The horses were lariated at hand; the rude kettle was boiling merrily; the cook was swearing and grumbling, as usual; but all was not quiet. Ever and anon one of the several men lying lazily about would rise and shading his eyes, peer toward the northeast, as if in search of something. He was invariably unsuccessful; and, after anxiously gazing for several minutes, would re- turn and talk in low tones to his companions, Then several would start up together and peer over the northwestern plain: then, mut- ring anxiously, would return and lie down orn talking earnestly ; something was wrong. ven the cook, who was generally too hard at work, tired and surly to pay attention to any thing outside of his ‘* Dutch oven,” would now and then pause and look anxiously toward the northwest; it was plain something was wrong. It was twilight on the vast plain north of the Gila, Now the two principal ties had visi bly changed their positions, The Indians were quite near, having gained two miles in light—a vast gain; they must have ridden like the wind or the sorrel mustang must have lagged. | The last was the case. From some hidden reason Dimple had lost his swift run and was going at a faltering canter—he was unaccount- aby fati or injured. She could hear faint- yew us yells behind—a mile and a half t. At this, wih her last hope giving way, she 3 Whip. The bits obeyed and for a few lengths galloped y, but soon collapsed, and feebly cantered on. She felt terrified at the thought of captivity and prayed for rescue. Itcame, The twilight was almost over, then pitchy darkness would shield her from her red enemies. The moon rose about three hours after sundown—she could easily elude them until that time; then, perhaps, she would be safe, Another circumstance, far more potent, was in her favor. The soil of the plain, baked hard after months of drought, left no impression of the mustang’s hoof, consequently she could not be traced by the hoof-marks. It was not prob- able, after having eluded them, that in this wide, vast plain they could chance upon her again. So, if she succeeded in escaping, for the present she was in comparative safety. She succeeded. The darkness swiftly gather- ed down over the plain; she lost sight of ber pursuers, though still hearing their hideous yells; and they, in turn, lost sight of her. Fifteen minutes later, on pausing and waiting a few moments, Kissie heard them gallop by in the darkness, not ten rods away. Then she turned and rode for an hour in an opposite di- rection; for the present she was safe, Alighting, she left Dimple to graze at will on the scanty herbage, and, conscious the timid mustang would awaken her by stamping, should danger come, lay down, and, completely worn out, fell into a light, troubled sleep. The chase had not amounted to much—the odds, large ones, being in her favor; but while she had escaped from them, she had ridden many miles further from her friends. Alone in the desert, guarded by the wary, timid pony, she slept, and the night was dark and gloomy in the Land of Silence—for she was withiu its ghostly border, CHAPTER IV. CIMARRON JACK. As the first gray streaks of dawn slanted across the eastern horizon, the little camp on the Gila was astir, and the members were bust- ling about. Anxious faces they were; their movements were hurried and nervous; and the general aspect of the camp was one of alarm and anxiety. There is evidently a great commotion in camp; ever and anon the men scan the sur- rounding horizon; and one and all wear the same anxious look; what is the matter? The question is answered almost as soon as asked, as a cry arises from one of the watchers, The others start to their feet (they are at present bolting a basty breakfast) and following their companion’s gs ze see a horseman coming along the river bank. He is quite near, having been coming under the bank, and consequently un- seen by them. “Simpson! the guide!” shout one or two voices; then two others add, with a groan, ‘** and alone.” : ‘‘ And alone!” cry the rest, gloomily. The guide was comin slowly, his mustang ging with drooping head, as if just freed from a hard, long ride, The guide, too, though generally reserved, was moody, and wore a sort of apo etic, shame-faced air, Joel Wheeler and young Carpenter sprung to meet him. “Have you seen her?” asked Mr. Wheeler, though knowing the question was a superfluous one. The guide shook bis head. “Nor any trace of her?” hastily added Car- penter. Simpson owls shook his head again. “Not at all—no sign?” ““Nary mark, sign, trail, trace—n nuthin’, Blast the luck!” he added in sudden ire; ‘I’ve done rode over every squar’ inch of this entry sence last night, fur miles around. She ain’t nowhar’ around hyar that’s sartain shure.” It was only too evident the guide spoke truth- fully. His fatigued, travel-worn steed, panting deeply, and his own wearied air, showed that he had ridden far and swiftly. ‘““-Yer see’d no one, then?” asked Burt Scran- . ton, ‘Who sed I never see’d no one?” bastily re- torted Simpson. “You did.” “ Wid ‘a then?” at did you sa “Thet I hedn’t pe the lady—and I hevn’t.” ‘You have seen some one, then?’ asked Car- penter. “Yes, I hev.” “Whom?” ‘ F The guide brought his fist down on his knees; “oA sperrit.” ‘‘ A spirit? Nonsense! Where?” “Up byar, a piece—in a kentry called the Land of Silence.”
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a * AE meee: eater SS ~ ‘Ah! the Land of Silence!” and Burt slowly shook bis head. ‘I’ve heerd on that place.” The Canadians looked incredulous and grin- ned. Seeing them in the act, the guide, nettled, burst out: - “Yes, and yer may jist bet yer hides I don’t want ter see it ag’in, now. By thunder! ef I warn’t skeered I never was, and every one of ye’s heerd of Simpson, the guide—every one of ye know ’t I ain’t no coward, neither.” “* What did it look like?’ asked Kit Duncan. The guide slowly dismounted, and flinging his arm over his saddle, said: “Tt war the ghost of the Trailer.” ‘+The Trailer!” echoed Burt, 4‘Yes, the Trailer. Jest the same as he allus war, in his peaked hat and black feather, jest the same as ever he war, armed ter kill, he rode his old black hoss right by me, not ten feet off. Gee-whittaker! I ked hev touched him.” ‘* Did he speak?” asked Louis Robidoux, in a quizzical manner, “Thet’s the wust of it. When he got clos’t ter me, he turned his face too-ward me. Gee- srymini! how white his face war.” ** What did he say?” “¢¢-You air ridin’ late, Tim Simpson.’” “*Ts that all?” ** Gee-whiz! ain’t thet enough?” ‘Why didn’t you shoot him?” “T war tooskeered—I know’d ’twar no mortal man.” “ How did you know?” * Cuss yer! a woman’s nuthin’ ter yer on the ke-westion, How did I know? Wal, the Trail- er’s gota grudge ag’in’ me, an’ ef he’d been a man, don’t yer see, he’d ’a’ plugged me afore I seo’d him? He war a fee-rocious man, thet ‘Trailer, and ef he war alive when [I met him, he'd ’a’ sure plugged me, He didn’t, and thet ‘shows he’s dead. Durn it! I know he's dead; Pedro Felipe killed bim in the Land of Silence over a year ago. I see’d his skeleton onc’t.” “Halloa!” exclaimed Burt, suddenly. ‘‘ Look ‘thar!” and he pointed down theriver, All eyes ‘ followed the direction. A man mounted on a trim ba advancing at a long, swinging lope, quite vear. He bad drawn close during the dialogue, un- noticed, and was coming boldly on, as if he “feared no danger. Simpson immediately recog- nized him. ** Cimarron Jack!” he cried. hooray !” The rider stopped and drew a revolver. “Who is there?? he demanded in a rich, musical voice, with a purity of accent rarely seen on the Southern plains, ‘‘ Tim Simpson, the guide!” “Ts that so? Hurrah! I’m Cimarron Jack, the tiger, and I’m a thoroughbred from Tartary, I tell you.” Belting his revolver, he struck spurs to his splendid bay, and the next moment was heartil shaking Simpson by the hand, wrenching i violently. ‘‘T’m an elephant, Jam!” he shouted, in sten- torian tones, addressing the entire party. ‘ I’m a woclee dancing-master, and where’s the man that'll say ‘boo’ to this chap? I’m the fellow who killed cock-robin!” ** You are jest in time, Jack,” said the guide. “We want yer ter help us,” Nowhere in America do men come so quickly “to the point,” as on the vast Southwestern plains. eet a friend you have not seen for years—he is in trouble, mayhap. You have scarcely time to greet him before he informs you of his embarrassment, and requests your immediate assistauce. You instantly, if you are | “plainsman,” grant his request—it is often horse was seen “ Gee-menentili! dolicy to do so, Cimarron Jack was @ noted ranger and inex- plicable man. While his whole conversation was a series of boastings and vaunts, while a more conceited man perbaps never breathed, he had one trait which was the very opposite, paradoxical as it may appear—he believed that others were as keen and sbrewd as himself, and, when on the war-path, believed his enemy as bold and crafty as himself—the predominating trait of the shrewdest detectives in the world, To describe him, his dress and manner, were a long and hard task. Closely-knit, six feet and three inches in hight, with fhe arm of a black- smith and the leg of a cassowary, he was a for- midableenemy when aroused, and he was 4 man of iron nerve, Withal, he was at times as ten- der as a woman, and was always upright and honest. : Imagine a gianton a splendid bay stallion, ‘with weapons of all sorts, sizes and nationalities slung about bim; with red, green, blue, gray— in short, every color—feathers twisted into his ‘ Cimarron Jack, the King Pin of tes SR gg clothing, long boots, painted in different colors —looking like an insane person—imagine this and you are distantly acquainted with Cimar- ron Jack, the ranger, hunter and Indian-fighter. ““ What do you want with the king-pin of all rifle-shots? Show me a star, and V’ll knock the twinkle out of it with a Number One buck- shot.” The party stared at him aghast. Never before had they seen such a fantastical braggadocio. Had they never before heard of him they would have deemed him a raving maniac, and would have given him a wide berth. But every one who was in that country at that time had heard of the far-famed Cimarron Jack. ‘* What do you want with the people’s favor- ite?’ he demanded. ‘‘Come—the court is im- patient.” Joel Wheeler stepped forward and said: “Sir, we are—” ‘Don’t ‘sir’ me!” interrupted the ranger. “Tm Cimarron Jack, and I’m the cock of the walk.” ‘* Well, then, Cimarron Jack, my daughter strayed away last night and we fear she is lost— indeed, we are positive she is. The country is infested with Indians—” ‘*You can’t tell me any thing about Indians, for my education in that direction is finished. Hurrah! three genuine cheers and a tiger for the man that can’t be beat!” Snatching his sombrero from his head, he swung it aloft, cheering himself lustily. Then he replaced the hat and listened gravely. “It is only too evident that Christina is lost, and we are very much alarmed. You are a noted scout and tracker—I’ve frequently beard of you; and if you will lend us your assistance in searching for her, I will cheerfully pay any price you may ask.” “Count me in—just score the on the rolls. But stop!” he adde coming grave, and addressing Simpson. the beauteous maid fair to look upon?” “Bf thar ever was an angel on airth, she’s the one,” emphatically pronounced the guide. ‘Then hurrah! blood raw, blood raw! cut our palate out and eat it—you are just shout- ing I will. Um a thoroughbred, sired by Co- lossus.” ‘‘Are you willing to go, then?’ demanded Carpenter. ‘You're talking Iam.” “Well, just tell the men to hitch up the horses, Burt.” Scranton turned to execute the order, and Mr. Wheeler called a consultation of the princi- pal men, Cimarron Jack, Carpenter and Simp- son, to decide upon the most feasible plan for recovering Kissio, He was much alarmed, Although for years accustomed to Kissie’s vagaries and erratic wanderings, be was now alarmed in good earnest. She had often ridden away from the train on some expedition, but she had always returned punctually, But now they were in a country overrun with hostile, ferocious Indians, who were capable of an fiendish deed, and quite unscrupulous enough execute it. But there were other dangers near by, if not quite as potent. Here in this hot, vast plain water was scarce, though the country was ‘‘ cut up” by creeks, These, however, were entirely dry pine months in the year, and this season was uncommonly 9 hen, too, savage and large beasts roamed the plain, The large gray wolf hunted in packs, ready when hungry to follow and rundown a human being; the.grizzly often came down from bis cave in the moun- tains. to prey upon the animals in the plain; and many other animals, quite as ferocious and cun- ning, roamed the illimitable waste, Should she avoid all these dangers; should she elude the fierce Apache, the gray wolf and grizzly bear; should she be fortunate enough to discover water, a thing scarcely possible, there was another danger to be dreaded—hun- es ad d, his apres ‘Is er, She was not armed, and procuring food on the barren plain, without the necessary wea- 90ns, was impossible. She could procure no ood from the herbage—it was scant, dry and short. She was undoubtedly in a desperate predicament. Mr, Wheeler revolved these several contin- encies in his mind, and grew sad and moody. arpenter noticed his dejection, and though He and sad himself, endeavored to cheer im. “Come, cheer up,” he said, laying his hand upon his shoulder. ‘The case may not be so desperate after all. While there is life there is hope, you know,” ‘Sam, I know you can sympathize with me Rifle-Shots. _ Oere— OE Mo] 5 —you are the only one who can ge ap oe my agony, for it is positive agony. To think of the dear child, Heaven knows where, sufferin and heart-sick, almost distracts me. Sam, fear the worst.” ‘*Come, sir, come; you must not talk like that. She only rode away after a rabbit—she, mayhap, bas become confused, perhaps lost. Bué the sorrel mustang is sagacious, and doubt- less ere this is scenting back toward us. I srry: will come back if sbe will give him bis head, ‘‘A thing she will not think of doing,” replied Mr. Wheeler. ‘If she is lost, she is lost, indeed —there is no end to this vast plain.” ‘But she must have left a trail, and with two such famous men as Cimarron Jack and Simpson, we can surely trail her, Those two men are prodigies, sir—they are famous even among their fellow-countrymen, Cheer up, sir —see, they are ready to start, Shall 1 saddle your horse, sir?’ “Tf you will, Sam. I am so perplexed [am fit for nothing.” “] will do it, sir. Take my word for it, sir, we will soon find her.” ‘‘God grant it!” was the fervent reply. The result of the council was this: the guide, Cimarron Jack, Mr. Wheeler, and Sam, were to rjde toward the northwest, if possible on Kissie’s ail. Burt Scranton and the teamster would follow with the wagons. The trailing-party would proceed painted while the wagons would move at a much faster rate than usual to keep in sight. This was done to avoid paing separated by Indians, should they meet wit any. This arrangement (Cimarron Jack’s sug- gestion) afterward proved a wise one. But more anon. ‘“‘Are you ready?” said Jack, vaulting into his saddle, ‘If you are, follow the man who can thrash his weight in wild-cats, with a ton of grizzlies thrown in to make the skirmish interesting.” “Yer ain’t quit yer brag@ng yet, I see,” re- marked the guide, “Bragging! me brag? d’ye mean it? whiz! Tl cut your palate out and eat emf I will, ou know that yourself. Blood raw, blood raw! ’m the man that never says ‘boo’ to a lame chicken.” ‘* Hyar’s her trail,” observed the guide.’ Jack vaulted backward to the ground, exam- ined it, swore an oath or two, lit his pipe, boasted a little, then remounted and rode off on the faint, very dim trail, with the wagons rumbling after; the search had commenced. The guide ever and anon raised bis head and peered off into the northern, purple-tinted ¢is- tance, as if half afraid of seeing some disagree- able object. However, he held his peace and relapsed into his usual but for some time aban- doned, taciturnity. Must the truth be spoken? The guide was alarmed, 2 se orth a way oe en it won TA SS i —_ CHAPTRR V: ik. | A DEAD man’s GuHost, wna ON the day after Pedro left the Gila he arrived at the old robber hillock. As he rode up to it, he mechanically looked for a skeleton he expect- ed to see there—the skeleton of the Trailer, To his surprise not a bone of it was there, where be left the body. Could the Trailer have come to life? impossible —he was killed instantly. Pedro bad shot him from behind, the ball entering bis back and penetrating to his heart, No-~it could not be ossible. But the skeleton—where was it? of course the body had been devoured by carnivorous animals —as a matter of course it bad been; but animals paren swallow the bones—they should be there still, Pedro was perplexed and looked off over the plain as if for an answer. He got none, Every- where, in every direction, it was the same mo- notonous expanse—always yellow, dry and quiet, always spectral and forbidding; he was in the heart of the Land of Silence, “The skeleton—where in the world can it be?’ he muttered, glancing about. ‘‘ Cuyge it, I begin to feel awkward and uneasy already, Thisisa cursed quiet place—this plain; and sucha name as it has, too;. just the place for spirits to roam aboutin. I am beginning to believe they have tampered with the Trailer’s bones—I do, indeed. Ha! what’s that?” He had espied something white at a distance away—something which looked dry and bleach- ed, like bones long exposed to the elements. He rode slowly toward it; it (or they) was a bunch of bones clustered together, as if thrown hastily in a pile, He took them one by one in his hands and
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| . . | ee narrowly examined them, They were human, he could tell—might shew not be the Trailer’s? They were much too small, he thought, still one is deceived ofttimes by appearances, The Trailer had been a large man—a giant; these bones were rather small. Still he knew he had not seen them when here a year ago—they had not been there then. These bones were abouta year old; that is, ex- posed tothe elements. A year ago he had killed the Trailer, the last robber on the spot; the bones must be his. ‘“They are the Trailer’s—they must be,” he said, and idly kicking them, mounted and rode back to the hill or mound. To describe this singular place would be a long task, so we will skim briefly over it... About forty feet leng by twenty in hight, it wasa mere sbell—probably a hiding-place contrived centuries ago. It was entered in this manner by Pedro: Scattered over the surface of the knoll werea large number of flat stones. Lifting one of the largest of these, he burled it against one im- bedded in the ground, dented in the form ofa cross. The ground suddenly gave way, and disclosed an opening sufficient to admit a horse. It was a plank-trap; cunningly covered with earth, its existence would never have been sus- ected by the uninitiated. It washung on stofit eathern hinges, fastened to two upright posts, The hollow hill was divided into two cham- bers, one within the other. The first was dark, and was only lighted by the opening of the door. The floor was the ground, the walls the hillside, the ceiling the summit. The only furniture it contained was a water-bucket, a rusty gun or two, several tattered blanke‘s, and a resinous, partially-consumed torch. Pedro noticed this torch, and his eyes sparkled. “Just where I left it a year ago—in this chink. Now I am certain I was the last one here; now I am certain of finding the hidden treas- re. ¢ “) He lighted the torch, and after looking out into the plain, started toward the inner cham- ber. But suddenly stopping, he went back to the entrance. ‘‘T might as well bring the horse inside now,” he said, ‘‘ Perhaps 1 may be obliged to spend a week here. He will be out of sight, too, Going out he brought in the horse, and then tightly closed the entrance. Then his eyes fell on the water-vessel. ‘‘[ wish I had some water,” he said; ‘“‘ and no doubt the horse thinks the same, But thereisa stream ten miles north—Alkali Creek. The water is not very good, but it is sweet, Iwill go after I’ve searched awhile,” Unsaddling the horse, and leaving him to roam at will about the chamber, he again took up the torch and went to the entrance of the inner one. This was a mere slit in the hillside, barel large enough for him to enter. However, his pliant body enabled him to glide through, and standing in the entrance, he threw the light over the apartment. It was empty, justas hehad expected. It was unchanged, too—further evidence that there had been no one there since he had left. His spirits rose at every step, and his way was becoming certain. ; > This chamber was somewhat larger than the other, and was lighter, the chinks above being lighter. It was also scantily furnished, and in the same manner as the first. A pile of blankets lay in one corner, and were evidently long unused. A single gun stood by them—a rifle. Otherwise the room was empty. Pedro, after satisfying himself as to other oc- cupants, with his habitual energy began at once to work. Drawing his revolver, he hastily un- capped the tubes; then, lighted by his torch, commenced to sound the wall, the ceiling, the floor—in fact, everything which neaight conceal the treasure he knew was there. Outside the sun still shone upon the bare plain, blinding with its heat the few small animals which stole about, the only moving objects on the plain. The only moving objects? Not so; there was another one—a man riding a black horse. Sev- eral miles away from the hillock, he was com- ing, at a slow walk, from the south; going north and to the hillock. Amn bour passed. Pedro was working steadily inside, at mtervals muttering disjointed sen- tences. The solitary rider drew near, and halted close to the hillock. He was dressed in a tight-fitting suit of buck- skin, and in his black, conical hat a black plume drooped. Armed to the teeth, he was a despe- rate appearing person. His face, bearing the marks of license to strong and evil passions, was pale in the extreme—even ghastly. He halted before the entrance, and just then Pedro exclaimed below—he was excited about something. Then he rode round to the opposite side of the hillock, and drawing up, facing it, sat like a statue on his black horse. A fierce ery came from the cavern—a cry of wild delight. This was followed by a series of disjointed exclamations, expressive of the wild- est joy. Then came hurried tramping to and fro—then dead silence. Outside the rider still sat on his sable steed, and remained grim and quiet, never changing a muscle. All was quiet in the Land of Silence. It was toward the middle of the afternoon when Pedro burst out of the entrance gesticu- lating extravagantly, and fairly shouting under the influence of some strong emotion, In bis hand he held his horse-blanket, tied into a rude bag; it was loaded with something that chinked musically. ‘‘Wound! found!” he cried, _‘‘ What fortune —what extraordinary luck! Only three hours’ searching, too. Oh, holy mother! what shall I do with all this wealth? Pedro, Pedro Felipe, you are asrich as the richest, Blessed be all the saints! what fortune, what fortune!” This grave, demure man of forty fairly fampen in excitement, and shook the bag vio- ently. Chink, chink! a musical rattle that. More than one man has gone crazy over less. Huz- zah! huzzah! the treasure is found. He has feasted his eyes on it before; but, wild with excitement, cannot keep his eyes off from it. In his agitation he bad forgotten his horse, and with the bag on his; shoulder, had been starting on foot for Mexico. But now he sunk on his knees, and opening the blanket-bag, shook it. ; Heavens! what a sight! Rolling out in a sparkling cascade came coin, gold and silver, ornaments of the same metals, costly watches, splendid rings, and ards, and above all, gleaming, sparkling diamonds. Diamonds set in magnificent rings; diamonds garnishing costly brooches; diamonds cut and rough, large and tiny; what a fortune, what beautiful, be- witching riches was there. Spread out on the ground, Pedro gazed fas- cinated upon his precious treasure, and well he might. Hereadeep amethyst glimmered and shone, hob-nobbing, as it were, with a brilliant diamond; yonder a sparkling seal clung closely with a shining watcb-guard. Diamonds were sprinkled about pell-mell among all sorts and sizes of costly je.els, expensive watches, and piles of golden and silver coin of large denomi nations; bere a solitary ruby fl shed and shim- mered; but, above all, outstripping all, was a huge topaz, mocking the sun by its deep, trans- parent yellow tint; it was a gem warty. fete Pedro had not formed any idea of the value of his treasure—his brain was so demented ke could not have counted twenty correctly. But he saw the coins were all among the highest ever sent from the mint, and nearly all gold; but he had not the slightest idea of the value of the jewels—he only knew he was immensely ch. “Ah, my yellow, shining, pretty pets!” he wabletaied” fiting the bag again. ENty dar- lings! you have made me the richest man in the wide world. Brave, yellow, sparkling boys!” ggg stamped close by. He listened in- tently. Another stamp and a sbrill neigh from a strange horse. edro turned sick, his brain reeled ; but recovering, he threw the bag into the entrance, and drew bis jeweled dagger—his rifle was inside, “‘Who’s there?” he hoarsely said, peri off into the plain. ‘ Speak! man or ghost! who is near—who is there?” . Nothing—no one; the plain is bare, All is quiet in the Land of Silence. ‘“Murder! help! who’s there? Oh, heaven, my end bb e saw the plain was bare, and that he was alone. He drew a breath of relief—might he not have been deceived? ; Perhaps. He prayed so. But stay—the hil- lock hid a part of the plain from view. He Mier ascend it and discover evil if it was at and. With a hoarse cry he brandished his dagger, oe with two gigantic strides stood on the sum- mi But only for a moment, he stoed there with a pale, terrified face, staring eye and shaking Cimarron Jack, the King Pin of Rifle-Shots. limbs. Then reeling, with a loud cry he rushed down into the cave and closed the entrance, ter- rified almost beyond his senses. What was the matter—what bad happened? Enough. There, on his old black horse, under his plumed hat, sat the ghost of the Trailer. CHAPTER VI. KISSTE FINDS A FRIEND, PEDRO sat behind the closed entrance, lower- ing savagely through the glimmering chinks, and almost beside himself with astonishment, vague fear, and wonder. He had recovered his gun and was clutching it, ready to fire at the smallest rustle above; his precious treasure formed a costly seat, on which he squatted; afraid of the cave, afraid of the darkness, the ghost, his own horse, and even of himself, Do not infer from this that Pedro was a cow- ard. On the contrary, he was brave—a bolder man never drew breath. He was far famed for his bravery. But, “put yourself in his place,” and cease to wonder at his alarm. An hour passed, during which he fancied he heard a slight noise overhead. But if there was one, it was slight, scarcely discernible. He be- gan to regain his habitual equanimity, and to try and laugh down his fears. But the latter was no easy task. To see the perfect form of a man he had sbot through the beart a year ago —to see him mounted on the same steed he had dropped him from—to see his wicked, gleaming eye fixed upon him in deadly, unrelenting bate— and above all, to meet him at this place, in the country noted for its specters, was enough, as he strongly declared, ‘‘to scare the Old Nick out of ten years’ wickedness.” Plucking up courage, he advanced to open the trap and peer cut. Just then be heard a foot- oe above—he drew back again, seized with ear. The footfall became two, then three, then grew into a succession of patters. He knew the sound—it was a borse. He did not stop to con- ep arog see did uot hesitate or draw a timid reath; but angry at bimself for being alarmed boldly threw open the trap, and with a ready rifle, peered out, eyes fell upon a fair young girl coming directly toward him on a sorrel mustang, the latter ag wandering aimlessly at an faery amble. Her eyes were fixed on the distant plain beyond the hillock, and were wandering, as if she saw nothing to attract her attention. “Tt is strange she does not see it!” observed Pedro—“ very strange. Butstay! The hillock is higher than its head, and so she does not per- ceive it. But she will—she will,” But she did not, and came on directly toward the entrance. Suddenly, when quite close, the mustang snorted, tossed her head, and shied away from something in front of her, “Ah!” he muttered, ‘then it was no optical illusion—it is, in truth, a spirit.” But he was deceived. If the mustang saw the form bebind the hill, the lady did not, and be- ing higher than her steed bad a better oppor- tunity for discovering it.” ‘‘Be quiet, Dimple!” commanded the lady. “Tt is only some large burrow—it is nothing to alarm you. Be quiet, I say!” Pedro stared. From where she was now (the mustang Bae darted to a point which allowed a full view of the hillock) she could have easily seen the form had he been there, But she did not, and of course he was not in sight—the pony was alarmed at the yawning entrarce, which showed gloomily against the yellow hillock. ’ Pedro’s fears were over. Wondering why a lady—a white and beautiful American Jady— should be alone on this wild, sterile plain, he re- solved to make himself known. Perbaps she was in distress—mayhap she had just escaped, from captivity and needed assistance. Gallantry was one of his predominating traits. Casting aside his weapons, and wearing an easy, good-natured air, which became bim, he stepped carelessly cut in full view. Lifting his sombrero, be said, with an assuring smile; “ Senorita, your servant.” Snort! The mustang was twenty yards away in five seconds, and the lady, unseated, was on the ground, wildly alarmed but not injured; the “i mustang had thrown her in its sudden fright. She arose and fled toward ber mustang, but the treacherous animal galloped away and halting a hundred yards distant, tossed her head and regarded the strange man_ wildly. Seeing she could not recover her steed in ber present state of mind, she turned to Pedro, doubting and fearing him. He saw she mis-
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— Cimarron Jack, the King _—, again bowed low. ‘“‘Wear not, senorita—fear not; frjend.” ‘A friend? Whoare you?” ‘Pedro Felipe, senorita. Do you need as- sistance?” ‘Oh, yes, sir; I amin great trouble. I am lost from my friends. 1 was chased by Indians last night. I am very hungry and tired; I have not tasted food since yesterday at noon.” Pedro, eying her admiringly, noticed her sweet face was pale and worn. Ever ready to assist a fellow-creature, he started toward the entrance. ‘* Enter, senorita, enter. But stay,” he added in a low tone; ‘‘do you see any thing on the .other side of the hill?” ' No, sir—nothing. No one is visible.” “Tt is well. Senorita, if you will come in here you will find food, such as itis. There are blankets, also, if you need rest.” But she hung back. She feared to enter that strange, yewnlog hole with this man, evenif he did look and act like an honest man. ‘“My pony, Dimple,” she said, hesitatingly. ‘*T am afraid she will go astray.” ““ Never fear, senorita—I will bring her back to you if she does.” * But—but—” “Ah, I perceive, senorita—you wrong me. I have been too long a companion and servant of my kind master in Mexico—Senor Martinez— toharmalady. I—” ‘‘ Why! are you the Pedro that lives at the grand old place? Why, our farm was quite close to it! My father is Mr. Wheeler.” “Ah! then I am fortunate in having an op- portunity to serve you. Your party is on their way north, is it not?” “Yes, sir. Do you know any of them?” ‘* Only Simpson, the guide. He is an old friend of mine. Many is the time we have fled from Apaches. I started from the hacienda on the morning you started for the North. I saw your party several days ago down on the Santa Cruz river.” ‘Then you will help me to find my friends?” “ Assuredly, senorita. Come in and rest. My accommodations are poor, but they are better than none. Come in, senorita.” " No longer she feared to enter that forbidding aperture, but led by Pedro, walked in. The mustang, seeing her mistress disappear, came slowly toward the entrance, “Why, what a dismal, gloomy place,” said Kissie, timidly halting in the entrance, “ What is it—who lives here?’ “Tt is an old outlaw den,” replied Pedro. ‘But no outlaws occupy it now—its omly resi- dent is your servant.” Much she marveled, but she did not ask any questions, as she was faint from lack of nour- isbment, Pedro, for security’s sake, led her into the second chamber, and shaking up the tattered, musty blankets, bade her rest while he procured food, he going out for the purpose. he reclined on the soft blankets, greatly sur- prised at the strange events in which she had ticipated. But she did so unaccompanied y any feelings of alarm or of grief, for now she had found a haven of rest, She sunk into a dreamy doze, delicious for its being indulged in perfect safety. She had heard of the man outside—she was aware he was a far-famed and respected scout and war- rior; she knew he would protect her. She could hear him in the next room stirring about, whistling under bis breath, and the savory odor of roasting meat floated to her nostrils, “A lin- ering trace of uneasiness alone remained—she new her friends would be alarmed about her. This latter feeling was not strong enough to seriously alarm ber, as she Conceived it an easy task for them to find her. Mingling with it was a delicious sense of security and peace, of rest and nourishment, and the savory smell of the adjoining cookery. Gradually these blended into one feeling; Pedro’s whistle outside became more melodious and softer—the dull, gloomy air of the dark apartment soothed her, and she fell asleep. ; Bedx0, as he cooked his bit of venison (he had killed an antelope when on the Gila) reflected and pondered, and his thoughts shaped them- selves into words, i ‘She is asleep—I can hear her breathe. Itis strange, very strange, that she did not see it. It was no mistake of mine, that know. What, then, was it? The Trailer’s ghost? “Pshaw! Ikilled him a year ago, and saw him fall dead with my own eyes. It cannot—it cannot be. I am a}! trusted him, and again raising his sombrero, “But I saw him. Ah, that is only too cer- tain. Sitting on his old black horse, under that waving black plume, and in the same old dress. I saw him—I know I saw him. Pedro Felipe, there is no fighting away the fact—you are haunted.” He shuddered, strong man as he was, and going to the entrance, looked out. Still the hot breeze came from the south, still the hot sun stared down upon the yellow plain, still all was quiet. Only the mustang was in sight, browsin at a little distance, with his head turned towar the east. TY must lariat that mustang,” said Pedro. ‘‘There are too many Indians about for him to show our retreat. Yes, I will lariat him.” Perhaps one motive for doing so was that, going out, he might peer over the hill. He dreaded a second appearance of the apparition, and though he would not acknowledge it to himself, cordially feared it. It was not to his discredit, however. He took his lariat, or lasso, from his saddle, which lay on the floor, the horse lying near. Then he stepped out, still keeping one corner of his eye toward the summit of the bill. Suddenly he stopped. ‘What if she should awake and discover my treasure!” he thought, trembling for its safety, though he knew she was perfectly to be trusted. It was lying in a corner still, in the bag. He threw the water-bucket, a blanket and his sad- dle over it. ‘That will suffice for the present,” he said; then casting an eye toward the inner room, went out with his lariat. The mustang still browsed, tail toward him. It was an excellent opportunity for a capture, and he would profit by it. So, making a run- ning-noose at one end, he coiled his lariat, and taking the coil in his hand, began to swing it over his head. At the same time he allowed the noose full play, by this means increasing its size until it became several feet in diameter. Such is the apparently simple manner of throw- ing. the lasso, he noose became larger and wider, the amount of rope in his hand became less; in an- other moment the noose would be over the ani- mal’s head. lt did not leave his hand. Just before he got ready to let it fly, a voice close by said: . ** Aim well, Pedro Felipe.” He started, dropped his rope, and stared round. He was alone—no one had spoken, Was it imagination?—the mustang still browsed —she had not heard it. Jt was a false alarm. Again he picked up bis rope. Again the voice spoke, this time barsbly: “Take care, Pedro!” Dropping his rope, he flew to the summit and looked over the plain. No one was in sight—no apparition, no Indian, no human being. hen, with a pale face, he darted toward the entrance, with the ejaculated words: ‘The voice of the Trailer!” The trap-door rung harshly as he slammed it to from the inside, The mustang heard the sound, tossed his head, and galloped away a short distance, then stopped and looked at th hillock. It was bare—no one was in sight. Relieved of her sudden fear, she dropped her head and razed again. The sun slowly set over the and of Silence. Who spoke? ‘ The man with the black plume in his conical at, CHAPTER VII. ‘* APACHES!” Tue pursuing band wound away over the plain, now, at tour hours from sunrise, invisi- ble from the banks of the Gila. They were, as has been said, divided into two separate parties. That of Cimarron Jack was in advance, the riders urging on their steeds at a swift amble, The wagons behind under charge of Burt Scranton, rattled along merrily, drawn by horses kept at a slow trot. “I say,” said Jack, as they trotted on, “we are nearly into the Land of Silence, now, ain't we? This remark was addressed to the guide, He nodded. ** And now we've got to look out for Apaches.” **No ’Patchies hyar.” ‘Yes, there are.” “1 know better. bers 5 Too dry.” “Well, there are Apaches now—that I know to be a fact.’ ? Know more’n I do, then.” ‘You bet Ido. Hooray! three cheers for the Never come inter this prowling about Pin of Rifie-Shots. 7 man who can clean out a whole jail-full of prize-fighters; a tiger for the stoutest, smartest man in the world. I can thrash a jungle-full of gorillas, myself. I tell you. I’m the man that can’t be fazed, myself; and I’m the cock of the walk.” ‘“Pm sick of thet durned braggin’,” growled Simpson. ‘“ Heerd northin’ else sence I fust see’d yer.” } * And you are liable to continue hearing it, too. | ‘‘Durn me ef I kain’t stop it.” “Yes you can—with a big copper.” ‘Well, I kin.” ‘«Le’s see you try it.” “Hark!” suddenly cried Carpenter. not that a gun-shot?” The friendly disputanis ceased their strife, and halting and turning in their saddles, listened long and earnestly. e train was not in sight, having descended into a sort of dry slough which ran across the plain. ‘‘ False alarm!” declared Simpson, turning to continue the trail. But Cimarron Jack dis- agreed with him. “Tim, Lsaw Apache Jack up by Comanche Rock day before yesterday, and he warned me of a band of Apaches who were out on a maraud, down in this direction. What he says is gos- “ Was “*Durned ef it ain’t! I giv’ in,” said Simp- son. His confidence in Apache Jack was un- limited, “The old boy was looking rather fazed,” con- tinued Jack. ‘“‘He told me he had only just given them the slip, after a run of thirty mniles.” ‘“Hark!” sharply commanded Mr. Wheeler. ‘‘T’m sure I heard a gun behind.” ‘*T thought I did, too,” said Sam. A puff of white smoke arose from the crest of a small knoll, half a league behind; then a man was seen to spring on the summit and wave his hat frantically. The eagle eye and electric brain of Cimarron Jack took in the situation at once. He struck ba eo spurs sharply into the blood bay’s anks. “Come on!” he shouted, galloping toward the gesticulating man, ‘‘There’s something wrong with the train. Come on! follow the tiger-cat!” They followed, pell-mell, plying the spur. As if cognizant of the importance of speed, the horses bent their heads and fairly flew; while “ heir riders kept their eyes upon the man on the noll. Suddenly he disappeared and a new object came in sight. Afar off on the plain, beyond the invisible train, came a man on a galloping animal, He was followed by another and more, all shooting out from behind a distent ridge. ‘“*Patchees!” yelled Simpson. “They air a- makin’ fur the train!” The guide was right. The train was halted behind the knoll, and the Apaches were gallo ing toward it. ree, had evidently been fol- lowing the trail, as they were coming from the southeast, : “Hurry!” cried Sam. ‘‘ We will bave to fly to save the train.” And as he spoke he bent over his “ clay-bank’s” neck as if to accelerate is . The knoll was quite near now, be ‘Soe than three hundred yards distant. The coming savages were at least a mile away. The whites had the start. A minute more and they dashed up in a body to the knoll. It was as they had expected; the train was grouped bebind it, every one being in hapless confusion with the exception of Burt, who was loudly swearing st the utter disregard of his orders by the two Robidovx. Duncan was scuttling about among his tin dishes and kettles in bis wagon, trying to find his favorite weapon—a dull butcher-knife, with a blade like a hand-saw. The utmost confusion prevailed. However, the arrival of the main body in ar degree quieted the teamsters and restored order. ' Suddenly the coming Apaches, now about a half-mile distant, drew up their mustangs, and grouping, stared keenly at the train. They had seen the horsemen suddenly arrive to sus- tain the small band they were swooping down upon. Cimarron Jack was in his element. Taking, with the characteristic promptness of a veteran Indian-fighter, advantage of their hesitation, he sprung from his horse, ; ‘Now, fly ’round!” he commanded: “ Stir your stumps, you fellows!” pointing to the
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a - ages. ee a a 5 Cimarron Jack, the King Pin of Rifle-Shots. Canadians. ‘‘ You, Louis, drive your team ahead ten feet!” The man obeyed, quieted by the magnetic influence which Jack always possessed when in danger. “Now, Duncan—blast your nervous, excitable hide!—drive alongside Louis!” But Duncan paid no attention, searching, in an agony of haste, for his Jost knife. Burt promptly performed his task. The other Canadian, with more coolness than the other drivers, seeing what was desired, waited for no orders, but drove his wagon in aline with the others. ‘** Now all hands get to work and unhitch the horses. Don’t be in a hurry; buckles can’t be managed without coolness and deliberation. The men went to work with dispatch, yet coolly, and in a few moments the horses were detached from the wagons. ‘Now, you drivers take the horses aside, and the rest of us will draw the wagons to- gether.” The Canadians did as commanded, and the remainder drew the wagons together; then the horses were tied firmly to the wheels on the side next the knoll. Now they were in quite a snug and secure fort, with a barricade of wagons in front and a small hill behind. After this short but highly necessary work was finished, Cimarron Jack looked closely. at his rifle, desiring the others to do the same. He carefully reloaded his “ Colt’s six-shooters,” and laid them before him on the wheel-hub. ‘Now, boys,” he said, ‘we are in toler- able circumstances for the present, but there is no knowing how long we will remain so, Rot those cussed devils out there! there’s an army of ’em!” “‘ Fifteen,” corrected Simpson. “Fifteen to seven. Oh! that ain’t as bad as it might be.” ‘“ What a large fellow that is yonder, to one side,” observed Carpenter, indicating a power- as stalwart savage, prominent among the rest. ‘*Cheyenne,” remarked the guide, taking a huge bite from a “ plug o’ navy,” which he al- ways carried. **Comanche!” corrected Jack. ‘‘ He’s no Apache—he isn’t built like one. Tear my lion’s heart out, but I believe I know him,” he sud- denly added, “Durned ef I don’t, too!” declared Simpson, bir y He narrowly, “Tes -Knife, the renegade.” ‘* K’rect!”” “Who is he?” inquired Mr, Wheeler, ~ -Knife, the Comanche renegade—a noto- rious, murdering old rat!” replied Jack. ‘‘ He’s the worst Indian on the plains, and ‘ give up’ is something he does not know. Kicked out of his own tribe he joined the Apaches, and since has gained a reputation for cruelty and cunning far. above any of the others.” ‘We are in danger, then.” “Danger! Well, [should remark. But look yonder—what in the name of Cimarron Jack, the cock of the walk, does that painted devil * mean?” All eyes were turned at once toward the sav- : efore stationary, they were now pranc- ing and capering about, spreading like a bird’s wing, then folding again, ever prancing and cur- veting, Only the chief, Red-Knife, remained at rest, After seeing bis brother Ishmaelites wheel and curve about him for some time, he dis- mounted, cast his weapons on the ground and slowly stalked toward the barricade, ‘* He’s a fool!” whispered Burt to Sam, as he drew within riflo-range. ‘‘Fust thing he’ll know, he’ll find hisself dead, if ever Simpson or t’other draws bead on him.” “He’s going to palaver,” remarked Jack. The savage drew quite close, until he halted within long pistol-range, Then, spreading his arms and throwing back his head, he cried out: ‘** Are the pale-faces women, that they seek to hide? Are they coyotes, that they burrow when danger comes? Are chey fools, that they know not that Red-Knife is the chief of the plains— that he is not to be foiled?” He spoke in the Spanish tongue in a good tone and accent, Long intercourse withthe Mexicans had improved his tongue. He received no answer; he went on. ‘‘Are the pale-faces dumb, that they do not ps Ugh! they are dogs.” “He thinks we are Greasers—he does, by Cimarron Jack, the god of war! Well, let him discover his mistake—he will do so before long,” ter mie ie ae ‘ ea r ’s pepper him, Jack,” said the guide. No; Tot him talk, If be thinks we are Mex- icans be will charge—then we will give hima little lead to digest.” “Will the pale-faces surrender?” cried the chief. ‘* Will they yield?’ “Oh, yer jist go back ter yer daubed niggers, and quit yer gab!” cried the guide. The savage understood English slightly, and after some reflection, deciphered the command. He started back a pace or so, somewhat taken eback by finding he was taunting Americans. Then be resumed, swaggering: “Come out from your biding-place, women! Come like men into the plain and talk to Red- Knife. scalps; the whites are dogs and are cowards.” “hil put a stopper to bis mouth!” declared Jack, bending and creeping through the wagons. Then, standing in full view before the chief, he cried, brandishing his rifle: “Get back to your howling crew, manche renegade dog! Get back, or you in a hurry.” He spoke in the chief's own tongue, and he recognized Jack. Knowing his deadly precision with the rifle, well acquainted with his reckless daring and warlike proclivities, he prepared to retreat to his companions, But he could not re- sist the temptation of another taunt. “Squaw from the bitter river” (Cimarron Fork), ‘‘dog from a dog’s country, coyote with a forked tongue—Red-Knife will dance with his warriors and his braves around your fire-stake. The squaws shall spit upon him, the pappooses will pierce his flesh with, darts, and the coyotes will tear his flesh.” He turned and fled, dodging and darting from side to side to avoid Jack’s bullet, which he knew would speed after him. It did, Enraged, Cimarron Jack leveled his rifle and glanced over the sights. The gun belched its smoke and fire, the chief dodged at the very moment, and the bullet razed the black feather which nodded on his painted head, and sped harmlessly on. : The guide, Sam, and Burt also fired, but their bullets were wild—the chief’s erratic and rapid motion rendered it almost impossible to strike him. Running like a deer, he speedily regained his mustang and his band, and mounting spoke several hasty words to hisclustered braves, ges- ticulating wildly. The next moment they separated—one band of seven starting away toward the north, while the other, with the chief, rode west a few yards, and vail: Doig near as they dared, halted, fac- ing the whites. ; ‘Now it has come right down to business, and we’ll have to look sharp,” growled Jack. ““Why so—what is wrong?” simply inquired Louis Robidoux, Jack glanced scornfully over him from head to foot. ‘* Have you any eyes in your head?” he asked, with curling lip. “Tt you bave, just use ’em. Can’t you see they are going to make a sur- round?” : Under his yellow hair, the Canadian’s face flushed, and he scowled at Jack. ‘* Use me more respectfully, or you may rue it,” he growled., ; ‘Dry up! You had better be a trifle more respectful yourself, or you will rue it. J am Cimarron Jack, the fellow who teaches grizz'ies how to wrestle, collar-and-elbow; Iam the fel- low who can hold a kicking mule by the off hind foot with my thumb and little finger. I tell you, the man in the moon doesn’t dare to make faces at me of a still night. He knows I can shoot mighty straight, he does.” “Quit yer braggin’ and mind yer eye,” ad- monished the guide, surlily, ‘It’s no time ter brag, now,” : “Yes, Cimarron Jack; pray do not breed dis- cord at this critical moment,” said Mr, Wheeler. ‘* See, the hill now hides the savages from our view—the band that rode away.” “* Who’s breeding discord, I’d like toknow? I don’t let any mule-whacker say boo, to me, I tell you. However, young bantam,” turning to the driver, ‘‘ you al I see more of each other, mind that. For the present, there is too much to look after to fool with you.” CHAPTER VIII. GIVE AND TAKE. CIMARRON JACK, with these words, turned his back to the sulky Canadian, and carefully reconnoitered the position of the Indians. The chief’s band still remained drawn up ix line, facing them like soldiers on a dress-parade; the other was not in sight. “ This won’t do,” remarked Jack. ‘‘ We must keep an eye on those devils who rode round back of us, First thing we know the whole ou Co- “IL send He is a braye—he has taken many. | aD gang will come whooping on us, That’ll never do—we must keep them off.” , ‘‘ But how are we going to dothat?” inquired the Canadian. Jack became nettled. : ‘‘Why, peep over the top of the hill, to be sure,” “ But they will shoot us—Red-Knife’s band.” “Oh, they will try! I know I’m the crack shot of these plains, and I can’t hit a man three quarters of a mile off with a carbine that won't kill at three hundred yards. They darsn’t come within half a mile to shoot, so we are safe from that quarter. There’s no time to be lost; those red fools may be crawling up the other side of the hill for all we know.” So saying, he coolly left the wagons, and de- liberately walked up the hillside, He was reeted with a volley from Red-Knife’s band, but the bullets fell far short: the short Mexican carbines were useless at long range, He slackened his pace as he drew near the summit, and dropping on all-fours, crept up to the top, and peered quickly but cautiously over. Tben, with a sbort oath, he rose to his feet, and with a surprised look gazed over the plain. “What is it, Jack?’ demanded the guide, “Tear my ten-ton heart out if there’s an Apsche in sight on this side.” ‘*That so?” “Tt’s a fact, don’t believe it.” ely The guide grasped his rifle and started toward the summit. The rest followed. “Stay back, every one!” commanded Jack, “Two's enough up here, You stay back and keep the renegade at a distance.” } They obeyed, and Simpson mounted the bill and stood beside Jack. . “Tho’t yer said yer kedn’t see nuthin marked the former. “So I did, and you can’t either.” “ Kin, too.” ‘“ Where?” ‘““Yonder. See thet black speck movin’ ‘long toward the east, a hundred yards ter the right? waln ‘““That’s an Apasbe’s top-knot, an’ he’s skulk- in’ along an arroyo.” “Simpson, you always did have sharp eyes.” The guide received the compliment quietly, and resumed: : * Arroyo bends ter the right jest thar, an’ every one o’ them red devils is a-crawlin’ round ter sneak in ter us. Call the men hyar an’ giv’ ’em a volley when they come in sight. We kin pick off the lot.” . The men were called just in time. Just as the savages rounded the bend and arrived in full view each man chose a savage and all fired simultaneously. They were all good shots, and the effect. was marked. 5 Five of the seven Apaches threw up their arms and with loud cries reeled and fell dead. The other two went back into the arroyo like rabbits. “Well done!” cried Jack, ‘ Hallo! look out —there comes Red-Knife, Pull your revolvers and don’t shoot too quick. Get under cover lively now.” ‘ : They rushed down the hill again, and crept behind the wagons. Red-Knife had seen the fatal volley and defeat of his men and was frenzied with rage. At the head of the whee ing, screeching pack he rode, intent upon a sud- den charge while they were exposed. “Toad your guns, men!” cried Jack. ‘‘ Don’t be in a hurry—there’s plenty of time. Hurrah! we are the cccks of the walk, the men that can’t be beat.” The two parties were equally matched now, the savages only numbering one more than the whites. But this did not deter Red-Knite from making a charge, He had lived long with the whites and bad partially avoided the savage style of warfare for that of the white men. On the yelling pack dashed, screaming hide- ously ohh rending the air with their shrill whoops.” The men behind the . lay quiet, and having all reloaded, sighted across their long rifles, coolly. Now that'they were star- ing dread danger in the face, the cook, Kit Duncan, was cool and determined, having thrown aside the nervous apprehension with which he had been afflicted at the approach of the savages. He had killed his man, too, in the arroyo, and Jack regained confidence in bim. Suddenly the approaching pack divided, part going to the right, and part to the left, swerv- ing bs beyond sure rifle aim. Never appar- Come up here and see, if you Tee ently noticing their enemies, they rode on ata keen run until they had half-completed the cir- cuit of the camp. ‘““By thunder!” shouted Simpson. “Climb
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the same wagon with * *, i ha : | ; Cimarr on Jack, the King inter the wagons, boys—they air goin’ ter fire criss-cross.” ‘““A cross-fire!” ejaculated Jack. the wagons, boys—lively now.” He was already half-way into the nearest wagon. The men stopped not to reflect—they knew that under a cross-fire they would soon be cut to pieces, and helter-skelter they scrambled, each into the nearest wagon. As it happened, the guide and Sam were in Jimarron Jack. In the next, and center one, were the remainder, hud- dled in the bottom, to escape the bullets which would easily pierce the canvas-cap tents. ‘Blast it! the horses will git shot—every blamed one of ’em,” declared Simpson, in dis- gust. ‘‘They’ve gota fair square aim at ’em —-rot their red hides. Cuss an Injun, anyhow, Thar’s no knowin’ what they'll do, nor when they'll do it.” A rejoinder was made in the shape of a bullet which ‘‘sung” through the wagon-cover, just above his head; he dodged, and growled: “Tucky we ain’t outside now.’ “It is indeed,” rejoined Sam; ‘very for- tunate. We should have thought of this con- tingency.”’ It was a singular oversight. In the manner in which the wagons were placed, a sort of lane was formed by them and the supporting knoll. The savages, at opposite sides, could bring to bear a heavy cross-fire through the lane; they were doing it now, hence the whites’ alarm, For a few moments a perfect bailstorm of bullets rattled against the wagons, but no one was struck; then they ceased to bury themselves in the woodwork. “They’ve emptied their barrels,” Jack said, with a coptemptuous smile. ‘*The more fools they—now just stick your heads out, boys, and pepper ’em whiie they can’t return it!” he added, in a loud voice, se aoe both go fur Red-Knife,” whispered the guide, “Ay: we can’t both miss him,” Hastily throwing up the wagon-cover, they took a quick aim and fired. However, the wily savage saw the movement, and slipping behind his mustang, eluded the bullets, which, close together, whistled through the air where his body had, been but a moment before. A shrill yell of derision came from his lips as he pasbed over the steed’s back at the foiled scouts. ack swore roundly, Sam had also fired at a tall savage, but had been foiled in the same manner. The ones in the other wagon, however, had succeeded in bringing one dusky devil to the dust. Now they were exactly equal. They durst not peep from the wagons lest they might prove a good mark for an Apache rifle. However, Simpson soon bethought bim- self of a simple plan by which they might easily reduce their enemies’ number, rawing his knife he cut a slit in the canvas wagon- cover, then two more for his companions; then called out to the occupants of the other wagon to do the same. Now they could protrude their rifles, and with a good aim and a simul- taneous volley might lessen their enemies by one-half, The plan would have been successful bad not the chief suddenly suspected something. Making a signal, he began to move away. However, he was a little too dilatory. Just as he was getting into long rifle-range, the guide and his compan- ions discharged their pieces, the others doing the same at the other band. One bullet whistled by the renegade’s head and lodged in that of a short, malicious war- rior, who rolled from his horse, dead. Another struck Red-Knife in the leg, they could tell, as he twitched it suddeuly, then clapped his hand upon it, A yell from the other band caused them to look toward it. A gaunt, tall savage started up in his saddle, gazed wildly round for & moment, then his mustang galloped away, riderless; two savages the less. It was now high noon, and the sun’s rays poured down like molten lead on the white covers of the wagons, Outside, the horses, who were unharmed (the Indians having thought to secure them alive), protruded their tongues and nickered low and pleadingly for a taste of the water-butt. The men,.too, mauger the warm and tepid water, were suffering with the intense heat. The very air seemed as if a hurricane from a baker’s oven was brewing. The wood- work was blistered and parched; and still the sun shone redly, still the men sweltered and watcbed, still the savages, drawn up in line, watched the wagons under the knoll. The day wore on. Vultures wheeled above, * Pile into eee eee ee ee ee ee SSS now drawn hither by the sounds of strife; co- yotes skulked and sniffed the air at a safe dis- tance; and still the sun shone down hotly upon the two hostile bands. Suddenly the savages rode back to their for- mer position, and clustering together, gesticu- lated energetically. The whites could not hear, but knew that they were engaged in a discussion. Only a few moments they talked and then they turned their mustangs’ hea south west. Dismounting from his mustang, Red-Knife stalked toward the whites for a few rods; then he cried: “The Red-Knife is a brave—he seeks not to war with dogs and cowards. The sounds ot war come from the south; there will the Co- manche go to war with braves—he leaves pale- face dogs to their own cowardly deeds. The Red-Knife has spoken.” Cimarron Jack sprung out of the wagon into the open plain. The chief recognized him, ‘*Dog from the Bitter river!” he cried, with an insulting gesture; ‘‘ coward of a coyote, squaw, sneak, the Red-Knife laughs at you.” ‘*?’m Cimarron Jack, the grizzly-tamer! I’m the man that killed cock-robin! Im the jump- ing wild-cat from Bitter Creek! I’m the man that can run faster’n a jack-rabbit, swear more than a camp-cook, neigh more than an elephant, and kill thieving Indians like the small-pox. I’m the Grand Mogul of Tartary, and I’m the cock of the walk.” The chief turned, stalked back to his steed, mounted and rode away with his band toward the south; clustered together, riding swiftly. The men came out from ths wagons, and standing on the plain, watched the Indians as they swiftly receded, wondering. It was no sham, no strategy; they were actu- ally going; and, in the course of an hour, were lost in the distance. ‘‘T say, Simpson, what does all this mean?” inquired Mr. Wheeler. ** Dunno,” ‘* Haven’t you any idea?” asked Sam. “ce No.” ‘*T have—a pretty sure one,” replied Jack, “ Whatis it?” ‘** You know Apache Jack told me the other day, at Comanche Creek, that thirty Apaches chased him thirty miles or more?” ‘Well, he said Red-Knife was the chief of the band, Now the skunk had only fourteen bere besides himself—fifteen in all. That shows there has been a division for some reason or other. Now he’s bound south to fetch the bulk of the band to help him. He will be back in twenty hours, depend upon it—then look out,” **T think you are wrong,” said Burt Scranton. “Tf Red-Knife was goin’ ter fetch the rest of his gang, he'd leave some one hyar ter keep an eye on us. ‘ Jest whar you're wrong,” declared Simpson. ‘‘We leave a big trail behind us—I tell you. It’ll be mighty easy fur him ter follerit. He takes his hull gang ter make us b’lieve he’s gone fur good—the old badger. But I b’lieve we kin outwit bim yet.” ‘“* How?” was the general question. “ Jest this ’ere way: ’bout ten miles north is a bigger bill nor this—a hill kivered with loose rocks. Thar’s a devilish peart place ter make a stand thar—and it’s only three miles from the sweetest water yer ever tasted—Alkali Creek. It’s what them fellers that think they know so much when they don’t know nuthin’—book- writers—call a subter-rain again stream,” “Subterranean,” corrected Sam, ‘ Alkali Creek does not, by its nafne, give any great promise,” ‘Wal, thar’s good water thar; it ain’t very cold, butit’s sweet, and that’s the main thing.” ‘**T believe we would make astrike by going,” added Cimarron Jack. ‘I know the hill—it is a strange place. Men have been seen to ride up to it, and suddenly disappear, and all efforts to find them have been useless. However, for a year there’s been nothing wrong about it, and I, for one, move we go as quick as we can, Thesun is only three or four hours high, and time is scarce. Besides we may find the young miss there.” Mr. Wheeler groaned, and Carpenter looked gloomy, but they both agreed with Jack. Of course, the rest were bound to follow them. The hasty resolve was soon put in execution. The horses were watered from the butt and at- tached to the wagons; the drivers mounted their saddles, and the horsemen trotted away, past the ghastly red bodies, past the coyotes, under the wheeling vultures, bound for the Hillock. re 9e s to the Pin of Rifle-Shots. i Ks) CHAPTER IX, GONE—GONE ! ‘ On that same afternoon, and about sunset or a little later, Pedro was eating a frugal supper in the hollow billock with Kissie, Both were downcast. She, on account of her friends, was uneasy and sad, while he was still experiencing the fear of dealing with something not of this world. ‘The mysterious voice he knew so well of old, that terrible form he had seen, still haunted him. And more; the sudden dis- appearance of the apparition highly alarmed him, and kept his nerves strung to the highest tension, and he expected every moment to see it stalk in upon him. But he kept bis own counsel, and did not fur. ther alarm and annoy hiscompanion by relating the incident. The supper was plain—the remnants of a ven- ison dinver and some dried meat which Pedro carried in his baversack. The torch threw a feeble, flickering ligt over the gloomy apart- ment; an insect droned a funeral dirge close by in some cranny; the horse close by stamped and chewed his grain, and the sound of the mus- tang’s hoofs outside were dull and heavy; night was drawing ov. “Hist, senorita!” Pedro suddenly whispered, with uplifted hand. “Surely I heard a voice.” They listened; all was quiet. They were about resuming their meal when the mustang outside snorted and galloped away ; something had alarmed her. **Something is at hand,” said Pedro. “Stay here, senorita, while I peep out. Do not be alarmed; I will not leave you.” ‘‘Ob, 1 pray it is my father—pray God it is,” she replied, with a lightened heart. ‘‘Perhaps it is; 1 hope so, senorita. But I must go—I am sure I bear the voice egain,” Though inwardly quaking, Pedro’s exterior was cool; his features betrayed nofear. Though neyer doubting that if he looked out he should again see the fearful apparition, be picked up Lis gun and squeezing through the interior pas- sage, stalked to the door and peeped out, ‘Hello! thar’s her mustang,” he heard a strange voice say, and a moment later several men rede round the hill. He was relieved at finding they were flesh and blood, and not bis ghastly enemy, and using bis eyes sharply, scanned them. They were three in number, Onea middle- aged man with a careworn expression and hag- ard face was drearily peering round about him, lose beside him, on a “‘clay: bank” horse, sat a handsome young man, speaking to him in a low tone ome 3 endeavoring to cheer him, The third was a burly, stout man, on & powerful ‘States horse,” The reader is well aware who they are—the party of searchers. Bet Pedro did not kuow them, and though strongly suspecting their identity, was not the man to trust to appearances or jump at conclu- sions. He resolved to wait and watch, ‘‘Here comes the guide and Cimarron Jack,” remarked Carpenter, pointing over the plain, ‘¢ And the wagons are at hand, too; we will soon be ride encamped.” Mr. eeler made no rejoinder save a sigh. By the gaze of his two comrades, Pedro judged the guide and Cimarron Jack were at _band. The latter he had often heard of, but bad never seed. His supposition proved correct; a rattle of wheels was heard, three white-capped wagons rounded the bill and drew up by the three horsemen, and simultaneously two men came round the opposite side, mounted, the one on a mustang and the other on a powerful deep-bay. ar Though the twilight bad almost given place to night, yet Pedro recognized the former of the two horsemen—the guide. His heart leaped at the sight for joy. Many were the dangers he had faced with the weather-beaten guide; man were the hardships they together bad endured; closely-knit were the bonds of wutual like and esteem; and Pedro with joy gazed upon his com- panion of yore. His first impulse was to rush out and grasp his old “‘pardner” by the hand; but a second thought changed his mind. ‘*They might become alarmed an’ shoot me,” he reflected. ‘‘I will make myself known,” “But stay,” he resumed. “I might as well see to my treasure—I don’t know all of those men; there might be a knave among them.” The precious bag still lay covered with the saddle, the water-buckets and the blankets, He had dug the gold from a hole close by. It was not refilled, and taking the bag he placed it in its former hiding-place and then threw the con- cealing articles over it; for the present. they were safe,
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10 Cimarron Jack, the King Pin of Rifle-Shots. Then going to the closed trap-door he placed bis lips to a chink, and whispered: “ Tim Simp- SOR. Intending to give Kissie a glad surprise, he lowered his voice so she could not hear him from the other chamber. ‘‘What’s wanted?’ growled the guide suppos- ing one of his party was the speaker, e re- ceived no rejoinder. Pedro whispered again: ‘‘ Simpson—old friend.” ‘Well, spit it eout!” monpr g spoke the guide. ‘“Don’t whisper ‘Simpson’ all day. ‘* Who spoke?” asked Burt. “Dunno.” “T heard a whisper,” said Jack. “*So did I; and 1,” added several. ‘*Didn’t any o’ yer fellers speak ter me?” “ No— 0.” 9 Durned curous. I heerd a whisper, sar- tin.’ ‘So did all of us,” said Sam. Pedro spoke a trifle louder. ‘Simpson, bere | am—Pedro Felipe,” and he boldly emerged from the hill. Astounded, the party started back, then leveled their guns, believing him immortal, his appearance was so sudden and unexpected. Pedro, seeing his danger, dropped prone to the earth. He was not too soon, for, eepiened and alarmed, several fired at him; but bis presence of mind saved his life. Rushing rapidly to Simpson, he sprung be- hind his mustang to avoid being shot, as several guns were aimed at him. *‘Simpson—have you forgotten me? your old friend, Pedro.” - The guide recognized him and sprung from his mustang. He was too old a hunter and guide to remaived surprised for any length of time, ‘*Gee-wig!” he cried, scrambling about in a mad wrestle with the Mexican. ‘* Durn yer old Greaser soul! gee-mini, cry-mini! Hooray! dog- gon me ef it ain’t Pedro!” The rifles were lowered and the horsemen stared aghast. Surprised, astounded, they sat wondering, neither stirring or speaking, Mean- while the American and Mexican scrambled about in their wild and friendly wrestle, over- whelming each other with their joyful buffets and + gy hugs. To a stranger it would have seemed a struggle of death as the guide cursed roundly and bestowed epithets without number upon his long-absent friend, many too coarse, even foul, to be presented here. At last, from sheer inability to further con- tinue, they relaxed their clutches, and drawing back a pace, stood looking the other over from head to foot—they were rare friends. ** Cimarron Jack,” said the guide, ‘‘ here’s the sharpest, cutest, patientest man in the kentry. Durn yer braggin’ eyes, git off of yer hoss and greet him.” “Pedro Felipe!” cried Jack, dismounting, ‘*vou are a Greaser, but a first-class fellow I’ve heard. Snake the vise of the cock of the walk and the terror of the grizzlies. Put your band there, you villain.” ‘*Cimarron Jack, [, too, have heard of you frequently us a boasting, vaunting knave, with more tongue than strength or brains. I hope you will die with your boots on,” replied Pedro, shaking his hand cordially. That introduction would be considered formal and cold a few miles northwest—in California, where every man ‘eets a stranger with an oath and an evident insult. However, these two men were polite and gentlemanly, and either would have re- garded as an insult any more polite greet- I am aid. f Where did you come from, Pedro?” asked Jack. ‘Darn me, I fact.” ‘* Out of the hill yonder.” “Glory ballelujurrum! there is a hole. What in the name of Cimarron Jack the thorougb- was scared—I was for a . bred from Ritter Creek, were you doing in there?” Pedro pointed to the mustang, Dimple, Z- ing atadistance. ‘Do you conde’ tuusteag?” be asked. Mr. Wheeler sprung from his horse, followed by Sam and Burt. Rushing to Pedro, he cried, seizing him by the shoulder: “For God’s sake, where is my daughter? Tell me, sir, quickly!” Pedro wasa man of few words. In answer, he pointed quietly to the dark aperture in the hillside. ‘* Where? with me.” “No, he don’t, nuther,” surlily put in the sie ri He ain’t thet kind of a man, let me yer, I do not see her. Sir, you joke ! ‘* Perhaps he means there is a cave in the hill,” suggested Carpenter. ‘* Just so, senor; she is there.” They stopped not to parley, or to demand an explanation of his sudden appearance, albeit they were greatly surprised; but one and all dismounting, rushed to the cave entrance, But Pedro, suddenly alarmed for his treasure’s safety, sprung before the hole. Drawing his beautiful dagger, he cried, hoarsely: ““ Stand back! back! you shall not enter.” ** But we will!” shouted Carpenter, rushing at him menacingly. The guide put out his foot and dexterously tripped him. ‘* And, by Judas, yer won’t go in ef he sez not ter!” he growled, placing himself beside Pedro, and cocking his rifle. ‘* Pedro’s my friend, and Tl stan’ by him ef I hev ter desert the gang ter do it. Jest count me in, Pedro.” “Let me go in—stand away!” cried Mr, Wheeler, wildly. ‘ I must go in.” The guide put him back with bis hands, ‘‘ Mr. Wheeler, fur the present yer ’r’. my boss, and a durned good one yer’ve be’n, too; but Pedro | an’ me swore ter allus stick to one another, and Vl stick ter him, and fight the party I’m a mem- ber of—that’s Simpson, the guide.” ‘‘Oh, thunder, Simpson! what’s the use of keeping a man in suspense? I’m disgusted with you, for a fact.” “Oimarron Jack, you an’ me hev run ter- gether considerable, but I'll stick ter Pedro, yer may jest bet yer bottom dollar on it. He sez yer shain’t go in, and V’ll back every drrned thing he says. ‘“‘Ef yer don’t like it yer can lump it!” Cimarron Jack grew red in the face, and his eyes sparkled. Pedro, knowing a quarrel be- tween these two men would result in the death of one or both of them, hastily said: “ Don’t quarrel—keep cool! ’m willing ever one should go in—I am even anxious; but + must go in first. That is the reason I kept you back.’ “Wal, why in thunder don’t ye go in, then!” demanded Burt. ‘‘Thar’s no use in talkin’ all day,is thar? the old gentleman wants ter see his darter—kain’t yer let him in?” Pedro sheathed his dagger, and saying: ‘Certainly—come in,” sprung over the small a in which his treasure was bidden. Then, nowing such a procedure would attract atten- tion, he stepped aside. The men filed quickly in, leaving their horses outside unwatched, and stood blinkinz in the double twilight inside. ‘* Christina — Kissie!” cried Mr. Wheeler. ‘*My child, where are you?” There was silence fora moment. Pedro ex- pected to see Kissie glide gladly from the inner chamber into her father’s arms; but she not did appear. * Strange,” he thought. ‘Is it possible she is sleeping?” ‘* Well—were is. she?” ed Carpenter. “She isin the inner apartment; I was think- ing she would come at the sound of her father’s voice.” ‘‘Where is the inner apartment? lead us there!” clamored the men. Pedro, leaving his treasure, reluctantly stalked toward the narrow passage. They followed eagerly, pressing close upon him. He slipped through and found the torch was extinguished. ‘* Hal” he ejaculated. ‘‘What’s up?’ whispered Simpson, in his ear. ‘Curse this black hole—it’s dark as a pocket!” ‘‘ Where is she? now you bave brought us here, where is she? Strike a light! a light! Kissie—Kissie,” cried Mr. Wheeler. They lis- tened. No answering voice sounded, no sound was heard; deathlike stillness, and damp, thick air brooded round. impatiently demand- In the first chamber again: The torch flickerg in the breeze as they walk slowly about after it —a mysterious influence is upon all. ‘* Sirs—senors—she is not here.” Allis quiet and the torch flares redly. The horses outside are silent—they never stamp, the night breeze is damp, and the torch flickers and flares; all is quiet in the Land of Silence. A hollow voice is heard; it is Pedro’s; he speaks almost in a whisper. * Senors—sirs—let us go outside,” He stalks away. They follow in utter silence; even the guide and the ranger are under a strange influence. They emerge into the open air. Pedro, the guide, and Cimarron Jack stood on the summit of the hill and peered round in the darkness. The twilight had given place to night, yet they could see scme distance, the at- mosphere was so clear. The horses stood as if statues, motionless; the mustang was out on the plain, but she was no longer browsing; on the contrary, she at intervals tossed her head and stamped—she was uneasy. The guide and the ranger went slowly down the hill, with subdued faces, into the throng be- low. Pedro remained above with his torch. The mustang now trotted toward bim, snort- ing and tossing her mane; he watched her, flaring the torch for a better view. Suddenly she screamed shrilly and galloped rapidly away. At the same instant Pedro saw a form approaching. He waved the torch. The form drew near, and he perceived it was that of a colossal horseman He slightly stooped and held his torch aloft. He drew nearer, and strangely his horse’s feet gave out no sound. The men below were on the opposite side of the hill, Suddenly the horseman loomed up as if by magic, and Pedro, with a wild cry, started to his feet. The horseman wheeled and was riding away ata gallop into the darkness—in thirty seconds he was invisible. Pedro for a mo- ment stood stupefied, and no wonder, for in that colossal form, on the powerful black horse, uuder the conical hat with a black plume, rode the Trailer. For a moment only he stood semi-paralyzed, then, with a wild cry, and waving his torch, he sprung down the hill. Into the aperture he went, and with trembling, eager hands tore away the coverings of bis treasure, Off came the saddle, then the water-bucket, aside went the blankets, and bis arm plunged into the hole. Standing in the entrance, they saw him rise, reel, stagger, and fall directly under his horse’s hoofs with a wild cry, and a brief, hoarsely yelled sentence. Then Pedro fainted, with the echo of his cry ringing and dying through the gloomy cavern: ‘*Gone—gone—all gone!” They rushed in and lifted him up, the guide first. "Taking him tenderly in his arms, he beld the torch to his face; then he laid him gently down; then he shook his head slowly; then with every muscle, feature and liheament of his face showing his earnestness. with wild eyes, with voice trembling aud hollow in spite of himself, be said: 4 “* Gentlemen, thar’s suthin’ wrong ’bout this cursed, ugly black bill; ‘the strongest, coolest, bravest man in the world has fainted clean away—dead away!” ‘And the girl—where is she?—she is gone,” muttered Cimarron Jack,” ‘* She is gone—gone!” CHAPTER X. WORSE YET. ide, lifting the toreh, looked round on THE | a small band of vaguely frightened, nervous ‘Sirs, there is something very strange in | this,” bollowly whispered Pedro. ‘‘I left her here not fifteen minutes since. The torch is where I left it—my hand is upon it; I will strike a 7 igh : The torch flamed redly out as Pedro, waving it aloft, peered round the chamber. He could not see her. ly affected by some unknown influence, with their weapons drawn, he walked slowly about | : | ing nocturnally about the Land of Silence. the narrow chamber, making the entire circuit without success. ‘¢Senors,” and his voice, they could perceive, was hollow and quivering—‘ there have been ugly and strange happenings here today. She is not here.” AlJl was silence. ‘* There is still the first chamber—she may be there 3 we may have missed her; sirs, this way. They followed, With the men strange- - men. Why should they be frightened—why nervous? Nearly all were accustomed to hob- nob with Nature in her strangest and most in- comprehensible moods—were accustomed to sudden surprises and alarms, and all were en- dowed with at least ordinary courage and “nerve.” The secret of this alarm was this—they all had heard that a once feared and malignant robber, who had been dead a year, was roam- Knowing him to be dead, they were satisfied it was bis ghost. All men have at least a small amount of superstition innate—these were no exception. The guide had recounted his strange meeting with the robber, and had been im- lieitly believed, as bis manner when relating it was not that of one who would joke or false speak. Having never seen him they were al- fected by the guide’s mistrust and vague fear, and by the sudden, strange, and real disappear~
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Cimarron Jack, the a ca ance of Kissie. They never doubted she had been an occupant of the cave—was not her mus- tang just without? Then if she had not, Pedro never would have voluntarily shown himself if | he had wished to keep her concealed, It was only too plain she had been there and had dis- aipestete hey would have been more alarmed had they seen what Pedro had seen—had they known what he knew; it was better they did not—far better. Darkness reigned over the Land of Silence; the hill with its adjacent horses and wagons— with its inner, half-scared occupants, lay still as the cool breeze swept over it; only the mus- tang on the prairie quietly browsing made a faint noise as she cropped the short and wiry bunch-grass here and there—all was quiet in the vast desert, as the night waxed on toward mid- night. Nine o’cloeck. Now Pedro was sitting up, supported by the faithful guide, and plied and harassed with questions he chose not to answer. He told of Kissie’s appearance at the cave, of his conversation with her, of the way in which she had occupied herself during the time she had been with him, of the last he saw of ber, where she was and what she was doing; but why he came, when he arrived, what he tarried for, and what he had seen, he refused to tell. He was firm and decided, though his nerves were shaken considerably. Mr. Wheeler was overwhelmed and in a semi- stupor, and Carpenter was alarmed for his health. After being so near his loved daughter, after almost touching berand being within ear- shot, the shock of the sudden disappearance had unmanned him, and he sunk into a state of imbecility. Carpenter, loving Kissie and grieving for her, was more in a state to appreciate his sufferings than any one else, and did his best to comfort him, being assisted in a rude manner by the faithful Burt Scranton. But if be heard their words of comfort he did not reply—sitting mo- tionless he grieved alone, The night wore on, Ten o’clock. The group was gloomy and quiet, each one sitting or lying on the ground, some smoking, others chewing, and all reserved and moody. No watch outside bad been set, as they were all strangely stupefied by the recent strange events. The horses attached to the wagons were quiet, the deserted saddle-horses were lying down, and the mustang out ou the plain began to show very distinct!y—the moon was rising. Between eleven and twelve o’clock there was a slight movement outside among the horses, and a succession of stampings ensued; but it was soon quieted, involuntarily, and was still again. SCunabrroth Jack, growing weary of the dead calm in the cell-like chamber, rose to his feet and started toward the door. As he did so, a clamor arose outside. A mare screamed vi- ciously, stamping; a shrill ‘“‘nicker” came from a horse, and there was at the same moment a sound of rushing and galloping hoofs. He sprung to the trap and peered out, then yelled shortly: : Swarming round among the stationary train were over a score of running, twisting, gliding Indians, overruning the wagon, busily engaged in unhitching the draft-horses, while more were galloping over the plain striving to lariat the saddle-horses, which had taken fright and gal- loped away. They were busy as bees, and were swarming round like them. Thirty running, robbing Indians make a larger show than fifty whites, they are so much more agile and uick. 2 Selecting a burly knave close by, who was trying to burst a stout tobacco caddy, he tooka long, deliberate aim and fired; then drawing his Colt’s six-shooter, commenced firing rapidly, yelling like a demon. ; ; The large Indian fell dead on his breast, with a gurgling groan; and the precise and correctly- aimed revolver wounded two more, who dropped then rose and staggered away. Like magic, the work of piunder ceased. In- dividually dropping their occupations, the say- ages sharply looked around for the cause of the sudden and fatal volley, but as Jack had slunk back into the cave thee saw nothing. Then they became wildly alarmed, all their heredi- tary superstitions crowding one upon another, and began to retreat. ‘ Z Cimarron Jack strove to organize his men, In order to make a sudden onslaught, which would be more efficacious than a volley from the hill, as the savages would be frightened out of their wits at seeing them rise from the ground. But surprised, the ‘‘greeu” ones clustered together like sheep, paying no attention to his oaths and orders, and before be could begin to reassure them, the savages had mounted their mustangs, and with the stolen draft-horses, went away like the wind, a large and scared band of i headed by the malevolent chief—Red- nile. ‘*Give ’em a volley before they get away!” he cried, leveling his reloaded rifle and firing. The guide, Sam and Burt followed his example, but only one shot took effect—a retreating sav- age rolled from his mustang, which sprung — riderless. The others were too surprised to fire. Jack started out into the plain. ‘* Jerusalem! look at ’em skedaddling off with every cussed draft-horse. Whew! mount as quick as you can, boys, and after ’em. Live- ly, now!” The moonlight revealed an exciting scene. Away toward the southeast, riding like the wind, were seven-and-twenty Apaches, fleeing from some unknown terror, with a dozen draft- horses led after them. Two reeled in their saddles, one growing faint and scarcely able to cling to bis mustang; the other, though weak from loss of blood, still managed to preserve his balance, though clumsily: they were the victims of Cimarron Jack’s proficiency with fire-arms. One mustang was riderless—the one from which the last savage had been sbot; and he galloped along with his mounted companions, bis side streaked with blood. Behind were several men, out on the plain by the hillock, coaxing their runaway steeds to them. It was a tedious, long task, as they had been frightened in good earnest, Finally Simpson succeeded in lariating his mustang, and then mounting, soon collected the rest. Then the majority of the horsetaen rode away in pursuit, leaving the rest to search in the cave for the lost girl. The pursuers were Jack, Simpson, Carpenter, Burt and Louis Robidoux; the remainder were Mr. Wheeler, Duncan, Napoleon Robidoux and the half-stupefied and almost useless Pedro. The latter party watched the others till they were lost in the fardistance, Then they turned toward the cave. ‘* We are in for it,” remarked Robidoux, ina low tone to Duncan. ‘‘ Whatif more of these mean Indians should come? We'd be the only ones fit to fight’em, Look at the master and the Mexican—they are both entirely useless. One is half-dead about some strange affair, while the other is almost in a trance witb grief.” Duncan broke out vehemently: ‘‘ They went away and never told me whether they’d be back to breakfast. Now, blast the luck! if I cook up a lot of grub for the whole party, and they ain’t bere to eat it, the things’ll all spile, and then Dll catch thunder for being extravagant and wasteful. And if I don’t cook for the lot, they’ll be sure to come back, and then there'll be a fuss ’cause breakfast ain’t greta ‘Ob! never mind the breakfast; there are other things more important than that, just now. The cook stared at him aghast. ‘* Other things more im-port-ant to look after! Oh, every hair of my head! Oh, my boot- heels! Oh, if 1 didn’t get breakfast to-morrow, what a swearing, red-hot mess there’d be— every man a-cussipg me. You never was a camp cook—you don’t know what it is.” ‘* )t’s the softest job in the train.” “Say that again and T’ll knock you down! Great Cesar! if I wanted to have the sweet st revenge on an enemy, I’d condemn him to cook all his life for a camp. ,He’d go crazy—every hair in bis head would turn gray in a few months, Heavens! whattorments! Talk about your referees—talk about your President of the United States—your umpires—your settlers of disputes—there’s not so thanklessa job in the world as that of a camp cook. It is always, cook, do this—cook, do that; cook, when’s din- ner going to be ready? There ain’t enough bis- cuits, cook—why didn’t ye make moref You never make the coffee strong enough, cook— why don’t ye make it stronger? Cook, go fetch some drinking-water! just as if I war a slave. No wonder I’m cross; who ever saw a camp cook that wasn’t? Nobody, ‘‘ And then if a meal ain’t ready to a second, how I’m sworn at and cursed. Cook, what makes you always behind? you are never on time. Then when it is ready, then comes the music—a regular dirge tome, One grumbling rascal says the meat ain’t cooked; another swears ’cause thar’s gnats in the coffee—just as if 1 could go round catching bugs like a boy ‘sleep on, and a waiter for every one. LL ever did see. Bimeby they’ll be wanting ice cream, jelly, chocolate, oranges, mattresses to They’ll be wanting linen shirts, kid gloves, and a boot- black bimeby—I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they should beg for ottomans, easy-chairs and musketo-bars—not a bit. Ob, curse the day I was fool enough to join as camp cook, h, every hair of my head!” The Canadian, seeing he was in a fever, no further aggravated him by continuing the con- versation, but glancing over the plain, said; ‘‘Thsre are three horses yet—no, two, that are loose. Can you throw a lariat, cook?” ‘“No, I can’t—-and what’s more, I ain’t a- going to. I’m up every morning before day- light, cookiug while you lazy fellows are snor- ing; then I drive team and wash dishes at the same time—I ain’t cross-eyed, and the result is I go slap into some hole, then get cussed. Then at noon you fellers roll on your lazy backs and see me cook, cook; and each one is always wanting me to cook a dish just the way some one else don’t want it done, Then it’s wash dishes and drive team again all the afternoon; a cross-eyed man could do it well enough, but JZ can’t. Then I’m washing dishes long after every one’s asleep at night, and am expected to turn out every morning a little after midnight and gc to work, work again. No, sir; if you want the horses brought up, you can do it your- self, for I can’t and won’t.” ‘All right, Duncan. You do have a hard time, that isa fact. Go in now, and get some sleep, and T’ll try my hand at catching the orses.” Duncan went inside and found Pedro and Mr. Wheeler both in a semi-stupor, from different, causes, while Robidoux took a lariat and started Srey LOmarR the black horse and the mustang, imple. They were some two hundred yards distant, and both grazing, though differently. The moon shone brightly, and by its light he could. see the black horse was quietly feeding, while the mustang was restless and kept moving away from him as if afraid of bis superior size, Silence reigues over the level plain as the Canadian walked rapidly toward them with his lariat in bis hand. He looked carefully over the plain—nothing was in sight; he was alone on the plain in the Land of Silence, He halted, as a thought struck him, hesitated a moment, then went on. ‘*What if 1 should see the ghost the guide was talking about?” be mused, ‘I begin to be- lieve he did see one after the strange things that have hepraned to-night. That Pedro tel- low they say is & brave man, but he’s scared to- night. I wonder if he saw it? I'd hate to have him ride up to me now,” Once more he looked around on the sunlit lain—once more he moved on. The black horse ceased his browsing as he drew near, and looked at bim fixedly; some- thing at that moment occurred to Roi idoux., ‘Pedro's horse is in the cave,” be whispered to himself; ‘* and all the others are gone except Dimple. It is strange—whose horse can it be?” He went on and drew near, The mustang had moved away quite a distance, and stood snorting and tossing her mane; she was evident- ly affrighted— what was the matter? She was gazing at something behind him—he turned. As he did so he uttered a sharp cry. A form was coming toward him from the hill- lock—a colossal form walking rapidly. <A tall hat surmounted his head, and in the band was a waving plume; a serape was over his shoulders, almost concealing his body; he was quite near, being in fact only a rod or so distant. ~ The Canadian knew it was not Pedro, and no man as enormous was of the party besides him except Cimarron Jack, and he was away. Hoe trembled; could it be the guide’s ghost? The man was almost upon him, and was ad- vancing rapidly. Seized with sudden terror, nameless but vivid, he clasped his hands and awaited his approach, This old superstitions were fully aroused, and he felt it was a thing to be dreaded. In five seconds he stood face to face with the whitest, ghastliest face, the blackest, keenest eye, and the most terrifying form he had ever seen. He knew now who it was, from the guide’s description. uw Horror! he was facing, on this moonlight
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oc 12 Cimarron J ack, the King Pin of Rifle-Shots. 4 night, on this bare, lonely plain, the ghost of the Trailer | “You are late on the plain to-night.” They were almost the very words he had spoken to the guide. With a wild cry, and moved by his’ great terror, he saw the figure stalk toward the black horse, which walked to meet him. ’ He stopped in the entrance and stared back, shen again shrieking, he sprung in and tightly vlosed the trap; he had seen the mustang, seized with fear, scour away over the plain, and com- ing toward the hillock on the stalking black horse was the terrible, strange form—the Trail- er’s spirit | Still shined the moon quietly down. There is dire trouble in the Land of Silence to-night. CHAPTER XI. A REFUGE IN TIME. Away rode the Apaches galloping southeast, leading the captured horses behind them, In the sudden surprise and retreat they had forgot- ten to retain those articles which they had fixed their eyes on, only a few diminutive and easily- carried articles being clung to, Their most pre- cious prize had been abandoned—the caddy of “black Navy )’—far more precious in their es- timation than gold or ornaments. It had been ounded, bammered, dashed against wagon ubs, but in vain; and so, though reluctantly, they rode away minus two braves, with two more fatally wounded, with a paltry prize of twelve aged, heavy horses, whose best run was a mere rapid canter, and who were incumbered with heavy, impeding harness. Not knowing the nature or number of their foes, they were riding away toward a part of the plain some twenty miles distant, which was traversed by numerous and deep arroyos (small chasms or deep ravines) which in their great number aud devious windings afforded excel- lent shelter. Looking back, though they could not see more than several miles in the hazy moonlight, they were certain that they were pursued, but by whom or how many they could not deter- / mine, They had been plundering the abandoned wa- gons of their recent victorious foes—that they were aware of; but where they had been so effectually concealed, or how many they num- bered were enigmas the shrewdest could not un- ravel, Moonlight still hung over the Land of Silence, and the round full ord in the eastern zenith stiil shone clearly. Still rode the savages on. Behind, but gaining, came five white men, or about one-fifth of the savages, riding faster and uite as directly toward the plain of the arroyos. he savages, as they rode over the ground, chatted noisily—these men, too, conversed, but gloomily. ‘““We can not distinguish the Apaches—per- haps we are straying from the trail,” remarked Louis Robidoux. “ Ain’t nuther!” This from the guide, sur- lily. a How do you know?’ asked Sam, spurring to the guide’s side. ” _“ Bekase we air goin’ ter the eye dentical place whar they’re goin’.” ‘‘ Where is that—to the ravines?” “*Gulches, Dead Man’s Gulches.” yi: Why are they named so strangely?” “ Because a man that gits in thar stands a mighty poor show to git out again. You've seen them Chinese pee haven’t yout—we boys used to have them at school, The only difference between the two is, that whar ye kin sasy git ter the center of the Gulches, you kain’t in the puzzle; but both air mighty hard ter git put of. I've seen a man that said he traveled four days trying ter git out, and didn’t move a mile in the wholetime. The creeksare parallel, criss-cross, angling—every which way; and they are deep and wide, God pity the greenhorn that i inter them.” “T heard a Mexican tell some whoppin yarns about some Dead Man’s Gulches, but didn’t believe him; but sence ye say so and back him, why I'll hev ter give in, Ireckon,” remarked Burt Scranton. “ Wait till yer git thar an’ then see fur your- self,” suggested the guide. ‘“Durn me ef I want any truck with ’em, you hear ME, gran’- motber? ‘Then you are sure the red-skinned knaves Me go to the Gulches?” interrogatively spoke am, ‘‘Sartain. They’re skeered and don’t know who shot at "em, Thar’s mighty peert shelter in the Gulches, an’ that’s whar every Apache fur miles ’round skedaddles ter when he’s hard pressed. Ill bet my bottom dollar we'll be sure ter find ’em thar.” ** You, too, Jack?’ Cimarron Jack nodded, ‘Very well; how far distant are they?” ‘* A matter of fifteen or twenty miles, p’r’aps. About two hours’ sharp spurring.” * Allright then. Spurup, boys, spurup! Here goes fur the Gulches—hurrab!” ‘*Hurrah for Dead Man’s Gulches!” was the answer, as on they sped. * Three and a tiger for the catamount-chew- ers; for the rattlesnake charmers; for the scor- pion-eaters; and for the cocks of the walk!” yelled Cimarron Jack, suiting the action (the former one) to the word. They were given lustily, and the trampled herbage under the ringing hoofs slowly raised to find ‘hat the ruthless destroyers were passed on aud were rapidly receding trom sight. Two hours later. Now the moon was in the zenith, round, white and gleaming, and the actors in the varying tragedy were passing over a different landscape. The plain, though still level, taken as a whole, was cut into many islands, capes, peninsulas—into all manner of curious sbapes by the deceitful ravines and small creeks, called\Dead Man’s Gulches. Winding in and out, slipping, crawling, and at short times and Jong intervals, trotting, was a serpentine train of dusky forms, twisting and climbing deeper and deeper into the wild and sandy maze. Ever and anon they looked back, and some grinned sardonically, while others frowned and fingered their tomahawks nervously. They were locking at a small p rty bebind who were just entering the Gulcbes, a mile away, and who were coming boldly and rapidly on in pursuit. Unlike the savages they were unincumbered with leading horses, and were able to move much more rapidly. They were also in Indian file and were headed by Simpson, the guide— now a guide in a useful and important sense, far he was acqueinted with many (not all, by eid means) of the mazes in which they were im- volving themselves, ““Durn my hide!” he growled, as he mounted an eminence. **Gee-whiz! what a pile of ’em tharis, Gee- whittaker! ef they don’t surround us in these durned gulches what a battue thar’d be. A sur- round—it'd be the Jast of every mother’s son of us. The guide was losing bis taciturnity—a sure sign he was in earnest, and so he was. ‘We'd better look sharp,” resumed Jack, ** Keep your eyes open all of you and see that no red rascal leaves the main pack. The moon shines clear and we can easily tell if any one drops into a hole.” They obeyed his instructions, and leaving the guide to find the way, steadily watched the re- treating band. Now they would be sharply outlined against the sky, winding out of view like a tread-mill now they would appear cours- ing over a level “ reach;” and again they would disappear altogether. ‘** Curse the place!” sharply exclaimed Burt, as his horse slipped down alow bank. “It’s jest like the old Adirondacks, on a small scale. (ll bet them devils make two rods ter our one.” ‘No, they don’t,” said Jack. ‘‘Thev are held back by our horses—durn ’em. We’ll soon catch ’em.” ‘*Then what will we do—they are five to our one, and all armed with good rifles the Govern- ment gave them?’ queried Sam. - “Fight—we can do nothing else. The Gov- ernment didn’t give ’em rifles—it’s the Injun- agents. They make a handsome profit on the rifles, trading em for furs and the like. The Injuns get guns and then turn round and kill whites with them,” ** But the Apaches have no agent.” “What difference does that make? The north- ern tribes do—good breech-loading rifles are given them by the stand. There’s such a thing as trade, and swop, and steal—as much among Injuns as whites. The reservation Injuns don’t have much use for rifles, so they trade ’em off to hostile tribes. You bet some time ’m going to try for-an Injun agency, then—burrah!” ‘* K’ rect!” came from the guide. “ Hullo!” cried Burt, sharply. ‘*The pack ain’t quite so big as it was.” They ceased and looked ahead. Surely, the band had diminished one-half at least. The remainder still kept on, though with slackened speed. The guide stopped short, “Tt’s not any use to ge much further—fust thing we know we’ll be inter a big ambuscade. Anything but that, say I.” ‘““We can keep on for thr<e or four hundred yards yet, Tim. They’ve stopped in some big guich while the rest have goneon. They will lie there to pepper us when we come on and they won’t stir. We might get in a volley on them, too, by riding along.” The guide cogitated fora moment, The plan seemed feasible, and accordingly he again bent his eyes to the ground, and the party glided in and out among the gulches. ‘* Now, fellows, aud you ’specially, Robidoux, mind your eye. We ain’t on a bare plain, now, but in a devilish mean place. Keep close to Simpson and have your guns cocked and ready, Ride slow, Simpson!” “Ay, ay!” and as the guide slackened his pace they clustered about bim. Now the gulches grew narrower, deeper, and thicker, It be- came difficult to climb some of the sandy, yield- ing, and precipitous banks; the descents, too, became attended with danger. Sometimes they were forced to follow a ravine some little dis- tunce in order to find en emerging place; then again they were obliged to ride along a bank to find a safe descending spot. This irksome and dangerous task was rendered doubly dangerous by the fact that at some advanced point, they knew not where, nearly a score of bloodthirsty and cunning Apaches lay waiting for their scalps. The foremost band still retreated, but slowly in order to stimulate them to greater haste, which would, of course, be attended with a large degree of recklessness. They were witbin half a mile, having lost ground, and were ap- parently beating the led horses to urge their lag- ging steps. But the sharp eyes of Scranton had given them timely warning without which they would have run into a fatal trap. They were now ona ‘‘reach ” and had space for a fast trot of a bundred yards or more, when they would reach the brink of a yawning chasm, black and gee: in its dark and ser- entine shadow, ere the guide stopped, fol- owed by the others, ‘It’s no use ter go any further,” be said. ‘“Do yer see that big gulch ahead? Wal, yer may bet yer lives that in tbat black sbadder more’n a dozen dirty ’Patchies air watchin’ us, We'll stop fur a change, right hyar.” “Here’s a splendid place fora stand,” said Jack, pointing to a deep fissure adjacent. ** Le’s climb for that, and if there’s any ’Pat- chies in the gully, yender, ye’ll see how quick they’ll come skinning out, when they find out we’ve found ’em out.” ‘* And we’H rout them out, right out,” said the Canadian, mimicking Jack’s speech. The ree turned upon him and grasped him by the roat. “This ain’t the first time you’ve insulted me,” be cried, ‘* but, by Judas, it’) be the last.” Huff! a steam of flame shot out from the shadow, a loud report sounded, and a bullet whistled past Jack’s head, His timely and sud- den change of position bad saved his life, Letting loose the malicious Canadian, he spurred his horse toward the fissure. “Come on!” he cried, ‘‘we are attacked! Yonder’s the other pack coming back to help: right down in this gully ; now, lively!” Pell-mell, helter-skelter, they dashed reckless- ly into the friendly fissure, while simultaneously a hideous, blood-curdling yell rung out from the black, shadowy gulch, and a barmless volley sped over their heads. They were discovered and perhaps entrapped—the fight had arrived, and they were opposed to and barassed by five times their number of wily, cruel, unrelenting foes. In five minutes the “reach” was swarming with yelling, screeching and bloodthirsty Apa- rae orming to pounce upon the devoted band ow. CHAPTER XII, A MYSTERIOUS SHOT. Arter the Canadian had trembled, shuddered and brooded awhile without being alarmed by a second visitation, he began to look into the why and where- fore of it. To follow his vague and erratic mind- wanderings would be a dull task, as he was too terri- fied and confused to shape his thoughts into any discernible matter. An hour perhaps passed and it was now the earl; morning. In the cave the torch cast its flickering light over a dull, gloomy scene. Pedro and Wheeler lay motionless in a semi-stupor; Duncan muttered disjointedly in his sleep, bewailing and cursing his hard lot; the horse of the Mexican stood in his giant proportions quietly in a corner; and only the Canadian was at all conscious of passing sounds and events. These had not come—were yet to arrive; and arrive they did in no very merry manner. All had been quiet, Duncan in his heavy sleep for- getting to snore, when the mustang, Dimple, tiv«
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ered loudly; at the same moment Pedro turned un- easily and muttered: “The Trailer—my precious, yellow gold.” The Canadian started, and springing to his feet glanced round in the darkness as though momentari- | ly expecting a second visitation of the man in the | towering hat; but all was quiet, the torch flickered | weirdly, and he again sat near the entrance, ‘“What does he mean?” he soliloquized. “The Trailer—that means that horrible ghost. And yellow gold—what ‘does that mean? He has seen the specter—thasI am satisfied of; it accounts for his strange alarm and apathy: but the gold, the gold—what gold does he mean? Another shrill nicker from Dimple outside; im his abstraction he noted it not but went on with his soliloquy. “T have hunted the moose on Mooshead Lake, and on the head-waters of the Penobscot; ve lum- bered on the Kennebec and Androscoggin; I’ve fished in the Thousand Isles; I’ve hunted the bear in’the Missouri Ozarks; but of all the ghastly moons that ever shone, this one to-night is the ghastliesv. The very moon in the Land of Silence is different from other moons—or the same moon at other places. There it is white; here it is yellow, red, and sometimes even blood-red, like a ruby. What a quiet, ghastly place—this vast yellow wilderness; how still the air always is; how sultry and hazy the days and dreamy nights; how— loa!”’ Again the mustang nickered, shriller and wilder than before. He was about to resume, when a wild unearthly yell broke upon the quiet night air—a yell as if Pandemonium Rad broken loose. Starting back with fear, he clasped his hands, then ran to the entrance and flung it open. He closed it as norm if not sooner, asarumbling sound came from ehind the hillock, a sound of thun- dering hoofs, and the hideous yell pealed again; then, as he peeped through a chink, he saw the cause. Riding like wild-fire, screaming and whooping, came a dozen Indians, charging on the wagons from behind the hill. Clustering together with tossin arms, they rode aie down upon them. He started down, then ran quickly to Pedro. **Pedro—Pedro Felipe—wake up—arise} we are charged by Apaches.” At the word Apaches, Pedro rose suddenly, from sheer habit, as eye was vacant, and his air that of a somnambulist; his energy was short-lived, and he sunk down again. * Pedro—for Heaven's sake get your gun: we are attacked.” ** Have you seen it?” **Seen them? Yes; they are oe outside—don’t you hear them? Come, hurry!” ‘Have they got my gold?” Robidoux was sharp ashe a to take advantage of this question, and he replied: “Yes, yes; all of it, Come, hurry!’ Pedro needed no other incentive, but sprung from his couch and grasped his rifle. Springing toward the door, he hoarsely said: “Senor, here we go—altogether; Caramba !” Before Robidoux could stop him he had flung back the trap-door and was standing outside, aiming at a slender Apache just entering a wagon, The broad, dusky back of the savage, in contrast to the moonlit, white wagon-cover, offered a ood mark; and quickly sighting the Mexican drew the trigger. The Apache, with a wild yell, sunk back on the pene nese and hung suspended across it, killed immediately. This was a decidedly favorable event; for, awakened by the sight of his habitual foe aroused by his successful shot, Pedro was himself again. SThe Canadian smiled as Pedro darted back into the cave, at seeing once more a natural expression on his features. Should he retain his equanimity they had but little to fear beyond the plundering of the train, and that might be prevented for the present, as the whole line of wagons was com- manded by the entrance. The utmost confusion prevailed among the dusky plunderers as the fatal bullet ended their com- panion’s career forever, Some darted behind wagons; some flew to their adjacent mustangs; two clambered into a wagon, while the rest scattered like rabbits, not knowing by whom the shot was fired, or where the precise marksman was sta- tioned. They were thoroughly alarmed, inasmuch as, not belonging to Red-Knife’s band, they had accident- ally fallen upon the train. They had been surprised at not finding a human being near the wagons; they were thunder-struck at the mysterious shot and its fatal effect. ‘ Their alarm and surprise was somewhat dissipated very soon by Pedro's firing from a chink in the trap-door. He had aimed at the prostrate form of a savage, lying on the ground behind a wagon; the bullet struck him fairly in the side, and, with a groan of mortal agony, he stretched himself prone, Sa apoede die. is ough’ by this shot Pedro had reduced his ene- mies’ number in some degree, still, upon the whole the shot was disadvantageous, in this wise ; pion he fi the chink being small, the force of the explo- sion had carried away a portion of the rotten plank- ing, making the aperture distinctly visible from the wagons. e lynx-eyed savages instantly dis- covered this, mes i instantly aware the was hollow—a mere shell, © A grunt of relief and gratification went around the skulking figures, speedil changed ‘to one of alarm. A hole, black and wide, suddenly eppeaned in the hillside; a stream of flame shot out, a repo sounded. and two savages yelled loudly, and, with their comrades, clambered upon the wheels in order | plundering the wagons, | anxiously mut | five, and one of them leaks. to effectually conceal themselves, and protect their bodies from the murderous fire. ‘* Well done!’ remarked Pedro, to his companions, all of whom had taken part in the volley. killed none, but made them howl, nevertheless.” Cool, deliberate, noble Pedro was himself again— the far-famed scout and feared Indian-fighter. Now was his brain clear; now were his nerves steady; and the famous master of Indian wires was rapidly running down his No. 1 buck-shot, with eyes sparkling like a ferret’s. ‘* Senors—sirs, fire not hastily. lt is a fault with you Americans—you are not sufficiently aware of the importance of keeping cool. See! they have quite .concealed themselves, we are entirely safe, well ammunitioned, and able to prevent them from Keep cool, watch every point, and when you fire be sure and aim.” “T hope ef won't hurt any of my tin cups,” ered Duncan. ‘ We haven't got but It'll be just like '’em to go and eat all my brown sugar up, oh, my _boot- heels! if they do how Ill get cussed. If the Presi- dent of the United States was struck by lightning you fellers ’d cuss me, and say I was to blame.” ‘‘Less taking, senor, if you please,” gently ad- monished Pedro, ‘* All tongue no sand,’ ” as Simp- son says.” A few minutes passed, and suddenly Duncan broke out again: ; “very hair of my head! Save it—oh, save it, for Heaven’s sake!” “Save what?” asked Robidoux. “Don't you seen that small stream running down through the wagon-bottom?” ‘*T see something dark, I think. What is it?” “Flour! flour! Oh, saveit! My boot-heels! won't I get a cussing when T tell ’em they can’t have any more biscuit? Everybody ‘ll swear at me: Cook, [ never saw such a clumsy bunch of darned careless- ness; cook, the next time you want buffler-chips or fire-wood you can get ’em yourself; never ask me to back water for you again, cook, for I won’t do it, you careless, wasteful old cook; then Cimarron Jack, or whatever you call him, ‘ll sure desert, *cause I couldn’t help myself. when the Injuns wasted the flour—he, a feller that don’t get bread of any kind once a year. Oh, every hair of my head! Tm the cussing-post for the world to swear at—me, the camp cook, @ low, thankless dog.” a Pitt eae they are informed of the true: affairs, now,” said Pedro, consolingly. Duncan burst out, in high dudgeon: “Think that 11 do any good? think ’ee, think ’ee? Sir, Isolemnly swear it!—if you _ your hand on the Bible afore an alcalde, or whatever you call him, and swear—yes, sir, swear upon your oath, they'd still cuss me and say I’m the one to blame, pons aaa the unlucky, miserable day I learned to cook! “Tf any young man should come to me and ask me for advice,” he resumed, after a brief pause ‘perhaps I couldn't tell him what ¢o do, but could just naturally tell him what not-to do. rd say, young man, don’t let any fellow inveigle you into learning the pastry-cook’s trade—it’ll be the ruin of you. Oh, look at my flour—going all the time.” During the time in which he had been speaking, the moon had been steadily moving on its down- ward, westward course, making the wagon-shadows larger, perceptibly. Though but little longer, they were of sufficient length to form a black isthmus between the wagons and the most distant end of the hill. Duncan, on stopping, observed a change come o’er the face of the grand old strategist. From a cool, impassible calm it had changed to an ex- ression of positive terror, which as quickly van- fahed, giving, in turn, place to a look of moderate anxiety. Stepping to the torch, he extinguisbed it, gazing anxiously to the roof before so doing. Then in the darkness he whispered: “Senor Wheeler, you will be of more use in guard- ing the door. Allow me toadvise you to look well to it. Men, you two place yourselves by my side, in readiness to fire.” They did so, and he continued: “T saw, just now, the entire body of Apaches scamper along that longest shadow to the right, They have discovered the hill is only a shell, and will endeavor to force their way into it before daybreak. There are now nine of them and they will at once go to work. There is nothing to be feared—the moon shines so brightly that we can see the slightest crevice they may make.” No longer they watched the wagons in the bright moonlight; but with every confidence in their famous leader, with hands touching his ents, they waited, looking at the small chinks in the roof through which the white sky shone plainly. Pedro was an infallible prophet when he prophe- sied, for this reason—he never prognosticated with- out mature deliberation, always ruled by existing circumstances. Men wondered and marveled, but, superficial themselves, considered it a marvelous power, when, like many other strange powers (‘) it was only the legitimate offspring of two healthy parents—shrewdness and thought. In this case he was right. Before five minutes had passed a slight noise was heard on one side of the hd root, rather low down, a grating, rasp- noise. They are boring. God grant they haven’t got my butcher-knife!”’ excitedly “whispered Duncan in a fever, ‘“ Where do you think they, are boring with —_ age dS ag and hatchets?”’ ro chu ° “They are working too low to reach us. There is quarter—of the hill that is solid, They ring at that place, ha! ha!” ‘e of are Cimarron Jack, the King Pin of Rifle-Shots. 13 The rasping continued, growing louder and harsher, ‘The savages were strangely bold and reck- less. No other noise was heard, only the same “We | quick, grating sounds—grate, grate—as the metal May tS glanced from the flinty, pebbly soil. * Tf they were boring on this side now, they would be nearly through, I judge, by their vigorous, rapid work,” observed Pedro, ** But, as they are at work on a solid part of the hill, they will get through tous in about a week, Ha! hal Apaches!” and he laughed tauntingly. “ T wonder where the others are?” interrogatively spoke the Canadian, ‘They might be in trouble for all we know,.”’ . ** Near the Dead Man’s Gulch,” replied Pedro. “T believe wey tek that route in pursuit.” “They stand a slim chance of recovering the horses.” “*T was not well at the time the attack was made,’’ and if it had been light a blush would have been seen on Pedro’s cheel’ “ How many did they number?” “About thirty _ believe,’’ Simpson said. “Six toone—Lum! Weill the odds are certainly against them. If we were only out of this hole, now, we might ride to their assistance.”’ “* And leave the girl—the sweet pretty lass?” ‘*Ah, that is a painful mystery—painful indeed. It quite astounds me.” ‘“Mr. Wheeler and Mr, carpenter are well-nigh crazy over it. It is lucky in one way that these cussed Apaches have been pestering us—they have kept their thoughts somewhat away fromher. Poor Miss Kissie! where has she gone?” “Hark!” A loud panort came to their ears, and at the same time, though unseen by them, the working Indians with a loud whoop, fled from the hill, A shriek o agony at the same time resounded from the roof, and a body dropped heavily with a hollow sound. “By every hair of my head!” cried Duncan, “ hear them rascals skedaddle!” “Who shot?’ cried Pedro. shot?” “It came from inside the hill, I'll take my oath to it!” declared Robidoux. “T know it did, senor—I know it did,” and Pedro's voice showed he was excited. ‘‘ No one shot here, and some one shot from inside the hill and killed a savage. Who shot?” They could not tell. CHAPTER XIII. A MIRACULOUS ESCAPE, On the “reach” above the fissure in which Cim- arron Jack’s band was concealed, danced and whooped the entire band of Apaches sa | go white blood, and, as prospects appeared, wi 4 6 e, to chances of getting it. Conspicuous amon painted pack stalked Red-Knife, the reneg: and fro, cogitating and framing a feasible plan for exterminat on, It needed not a very subtle brain of a very bold man to ferret out the whites from their present po- sition, and well he knew it. While many plans, ideas and means a ym presented themselves to his scheming head, but one was accepted—at once the most feasible, the easiest executed, and the one attended with the least danger—a surround, Conjectured, planned, advocated—done; so he thought, in his inordinate self-esteem, He did not for a moment consider that the noted “ squaw from the bitter river” was thoroughly versed in sav warfare—that he had a vast store of experience draw from—that he was crafty and brave as a lion. In his vast conceit, he entirely ignored the fact, and hey directly on with putting his plan into execu- tion. The whites were in an isolated fissure about fifteen feet in depth by twenty wide and one hundred long, in the shape of a horse-shoe, the party being en- sconced under the bank at the “caulk in the con- path A Here they were safe for the present, but a small ravine opening from the fissure, rendered their situation precarious, This ravine played an im- portant part in the tragedy, for whose acts the actors were now pre g earnestly, Where it entered the “ horse-shoe’’ fissure, it was narrow, being only about three feet in width, but in a hundred yards it ran under sandy banks, and widened out to forty feet or more. These sandy banks were crumbling and projecting, overhanging the ravine (more properly a “draw”), they pre- sented an unstable footing. Red-Knife noticed this * draw,” and at once, with- out consulting his chiefs, whom he ignored, com- menced operations. Detaching a party of three to take charge of the the distant draft-horses, he di- vided his party of twenty into two portions. One of these he directed to eh 4 along the shadow of a projecting bluff until they had made half the cir- cuit of the horse-shoe; the other, commanded in erson by himself, was to enter the “draw,” keep- ng in shadow as much as possible, Halting in the * draw,” they were to ee a preconcerted signal, then both parties were to prosecute a cross-fire with what arms they possessed. Such a position would aa) oe command the horse-shoe fissure with its hidden occupants, “ Boys,” observed Cimarron Jack, sitting on a mud-bowlder, ‘‘this is lovely; but the thorough- poke ah saeets don’t scare worth a cent, It es ty fine Mises Ag tace the grizzly domes- ticator—it does, for a f “Oh, quit yer durned, disgustin’ braggin’! It human race,” makes me feel ashamed of the hull growled Simpson. ~ roma ack went on, with a sly twinkle at the guide: “In addition to my noble and manly quali have the coveted aud rare faculty of nats “Senor, I say, who
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ee 14 women. Educated at college, of good looks, as you ean see, engaging manners, I cast rough rowdies like this knave of a guide into the shade. That, you see, makes ’em hot—red-hot; and when I give, as is my custom, a brief and extremely modest syn- copes of my talents, they call it, in their vulgar way, ‘pbraggin’.’ I’m the cock of the walk—hooray! I’m the scorpion and centipede chewer—the wildcat educator—hooray |” “Waugh!” it’s downright sickening. Durned ef I kain’t lick any man that brags so!” declared the guide, with real rising choler. ‘An’ ef he don’t like it he kin lump it—thet’s Simpson, the guide.”’ “ Dry up; what’s that!” whispered Jack. ‘“ Look out, boys—there’s something forming. Look along ts bluff yonder—I think I see something moving there The half-earnest wrangle was ceased, and shading his eyes, the guide peered, as if endeavoring to pierce the drapery of shadow under the bluff; but if Jack saw any thing, there was no repetition of the object. Taking his eyes from the bluff, Cimar- ron Jack turned round, then uttered a suppressed ery. % What is it?’ sharply demanded the guide, in- Stantly on the alert. “Whew look there—look yonder!”’ * They followed the direction of his pointing finger with their gaze. Up the draw, and its widest part were nearly a dozen Apaches, or rather parts of them moving rapidly about. They were visible from their waists upward, and their arms were tossing as if violently excited. The light of the yellow moon made this a most grotesque spectacle, but an ut- terly incomprehensible one to the whites, who watched them eagerly. It appease as if a dozen Apaches had been deprived of their legs at the loins, and had been cast into the draw and were tossing their arms in agony. Part of them were upright, part bending their necks forward, while others were bent skward; and all were gesticu- lating violently. It was strange, but they were all facing the west, at right angles to the course of the draw. Though wildly gesturing, and, as it seemed, struggling, they preserved the utmost silence, frequently gazin crane the whites, as if fearful of attracting the notice. “What can it mean?’ asked, Sam utterly con- founded. ‘ What does it all mean?” *T think I know.” replied Jack, after a moment's sone? scrutiny ; “don’t you, Simpson?’’ 80. *“ What is it?” and Robidoux’s face wore a look of the most intense surprise. es ‘4 upiter—hooray | it is, itis! Look, they are Tt was even so! Each and all were only visible from the breast upward, now, and their rifles, still clasped tightly, were thrown about in wild’ and vehement motions; the guide uttered a sharp ex- clamation: “ Quicksanded—quicksanded! See—the draw is darker than at t’other places, It’s the black sand— quicksand—hooray |” “Great Heaven!" ejaculated Carpenter. ‘‘ They are sinking into a quicksand—hurrah|!” “ They war make a serround and got cotched— hooray!’ shouted the guide; then the voice of Ci- marron Jack rope Suk: “Give it to ‘em boys—give it to’em\ Aim steady then— One!” ‘“‘Three!"}.. . f Crash—shriek! and then a cloud of dense, sluggish smoke obscured the river. They had no more than lowered their rifles when, a yell arose behind them, and a rush of feet was heard. Cimarron Tack drop his rifle and drew his knife and re- volver, facing round, “Draw, boys—draw! barkers and knives. A sur- round! here comes t'other gang behind us—draw quick and don’t faze!”’ } They drew, each a knife and revolver, and faced round, fearing nothing from the helpless band.be- hind, some of whom must be dead. They did so just in time. From under the projecting, bluff darted nine stal- wart Apaches, knives and tomabawks in hand. They had seen their comrades’ utter helplessness and discomfiture, and looking over the smoke of the volley, had seen four shot and instantly killed. Burning with rage and n, they were coming, fifty yards away, with determined faces gleaming hideously through the red war-paint. As they rapidly drew near, Jack cried: ‘* Work those pistols lively, boys—shoot a thou- sand times a minute.” They. obeyed. .Crack—crack! went the pistols, and, though excited, the aim was tolerably correct, and two Indians went down, one killed, another disabled.,, Seven still came on, though warily, fac- ing the revolvers of the whites, dodging and darting from side to side to prevent any aim from bei to head in another moment, they were fighting han and. Tt was a short, deadly le, briefly terminated. Jack, Simpson, and Burt.fell to the ground when their respective antagonists. were nigh, avoiding the tomahawks, which flew over their heads. Then, as an & tow over. they rose sud- denly, and throwing their entire weight and muscie into the act, plunged their knives into the savage bag eer the — nhs without a groan ina was a us, nice nm Ww have shied team it; but ino wing if they ‘kept their nerve and temver they would prove victorious, mtd accepted the chances, as we have seen, with the est success. Calculating nicely, each had an | re of two seconds to work in—the interval betweeh the Apache’s arrival and his downward knife-thrust. Gigantic, fiery Jack re he not to enjoy a second and sure thrust, but withdrawing his long knife, glanced hastily around. Back under the bank was aman fighting desperately with two Apaches—fight- ing wearily, yet strongly, and in silence. lt was Carpenter, cutting, thrusting and dodging. Jack needed but a glance to satisfy him Carpenter would soon prove a victim to the superior prowess of the Apaches, and with a wild hurrah, sprung for- ward, just as Burt and the guide were disengaging themselves from the dead bodies of their antagonists. But he was stopped suddenly, Covered with mud, dripping with water and glow- ing with rage and heat, a fierce. stalwart savage sprung before him, and he knew him in a moment. It was Red-Knife; he*had escaped from the quick- sand, and was now preparing to strike, his tomahawk glinting above his head. “Dog from the bitter river—squaw! ugh!” and down went the hatchet. But not in Jack’s skull. Bending low, with the quickness of a serpent, he darted under the savage’s arm just in time; but he stopped not to congratulate himself upon his escape, but turning, clasped the loss, diminishing their number by two. Duncan, incensed at the ruthless waste of his flour, and in perfect keeping with his disposition, had lain in watchful wait for an opportunity to present itself whereby he could revenge his loss. An opportunity oceurred as they fled toward the wagons. One sav- age, with a scarlet diamond on his broad back, offer- ing a fair aim, he took advantage of it and fired. At the same time Pedro, ever ready to embrace any opportunity, fired also. 3oth shots were successful. Duncan's Apache threw his arms aloft, and, with a yell, plunged head- long; the other sunk to the ground with a sharp cry of pain, then crawled slowly away, dragging himself painfully. But he was summarily stopped by Dun- can, who emptied one of his cylinders at him, This was sufficient; with a last expiring scowl back upon his foes he settled prone upon the sand, and his soul went to the happy hunting-grounds. ** There have been strange happenings here lately,” gloomily remarked Pedro, ramming down a bullet. ** Who shot just now—tell me that?” ‘*Who can?’ replied Mr. Wheeler. “Oh, God! if one misfortune were not enough to bear without a | mystery, deep and black, to drive one to torments, chief round the waist and suddenly “tripped him | up.” The savage’s thigh passed before his face as the chief was hurled backward. A stream of deep-red blood was spurting from a wide gash in it; the mo- | mentum from the hatchet had been so great Red- Knife had been unable to check it, and it had en- | | there remains but six. One or two more killed or | disabled would entirely free us, I think, from their tered his thigh and severed the main artery, The blood was spurting in a large, red stream in the air, and he felt the warm liquid plash and fall on his back. the whirled the faint chief over on his back, and with a sudden, keen blow drove the knife into his heart. With a last dying look of malevo- lence the chief scowled on his victorious enemy, then Where is my child?” and he buried his face in his hands. , * And where is my gold—my precious, yellow trea- sure?” fiercely demanded Pedro, ‘What misfortune can compare with mine? what agony as great to bear? how—” Seeing his companion’s eyes fixed interrogatively upon him, he stopped short, conscious he had been unduly excited and heedless. Turning sharply to his peeping-place, he said: ‘“‘Senors, we have lessened their number; of them annoying company. Come, senors, look sharp!” Duncan and bidoux exchanged significant glances but said nothing, only quietly taking their | places at the entrance, leaving Mr. Wheeler stricken _ again by his gloomy spirits, the death-rattle sounded in his throat, he was dead, | no longer a renegade. Jack sprung up and stood on his puard, but there was no necessity. Short as the combat had been (only three minutes in duration), it was now over, being finished as the guide drew his knife from a | conrulsively tairrie Savage, and wiped it on his sleeve. ; Save the eight prostrate savages, not an Indian was in_sight.. Cool, steady, reticent Tim Simpson mm ed his knife and picked up his gun and re- voiver. “*Durned spry work!”’ He was not answered. To the majority of. the band the thought was overwhelming that, where fif- teen minutes since thirty cunning Apaches were sur- rounding them, 70f one remained alive. minutes no one spoke, but all gazed around on the battle scene. The draw above was empty; the sinking savages, foiled in their bloody purpose, had sunk to their death. Carpenter moouily gazed where they were last visible, and murmured: “‘ God bless the quicksand.” , “ Ay, ay!” came trom the others’ lips. Cimarron Jack sprung up at the “‘reach” and looked around, ; “Yonder go. three—no, four devils, striking away for dear life. Durn them! they’ve got enough of it this time, I'll bet.”’ ‘** Hosses thar?” asked Simpson. ‘One, two, three, eight—every one of ’em.” **Le’s git out’n this, then,”’ ‘All right—before any more. come down on us. Devilish pretty work, wasn’t it?” admiringly queried Jack, looking down on the dead. bodies; below. * How'd you get away with your job, Carpenter?” “The guide and Burt came to my assistance just as 1 was giving out, A minute more and it would have been too late.” “And you, Ruby? curse me if I don’t forgive oe fou’t like thunder. Two on you, wac.’t ere " ‘*Yes; I stabbed one, and the other ran off, see- ing Simpson coming for him,” modestly replied | Robidoux, ‘Well, we’ve no time to talk. The red rascals are cleaned out. Pick up your bbe a boys, and Seg a your mustangs, and we'll get away from this te) ce.” They stopped not to gaze longer upon the bloody scene, but mounting their horses, which under the bank had bravely stood, rode toward the deserted draft-horses. They were easily collected, and then all rode away, just as the moonlight was yielding to the paler but stronger one of day. _Elated with vic- tory they left Dead Man’s Gulches (or that part of them) with the ghastly bodies, soon to wither into dry skin and bone, and under the paling moonlight rode away, bound back to the Hillock. Thanks to the guide’s memory and cunning, they Popa from the Guiches at sunrise, and struck out into the a aeerr ae and sound, wholly unin- jured, and victorious, 2 “ive men victorious over thirty Apaches,” cried Jack. “A tiger-feat—Hercules couldn't do better with Sampson and fifty gorillas thrown in for variety. Three and a tiger for the bravest, Smartest, hand- somest men in the world. With a will, now!” With a will they were given. CHAPTER’ XIV.’ W. at the inerhaas anh d death of one of . » at m us and dea ) their number, the Apaches fied down the hillock they ied for the wagons as offering the best concealment. However, their doing so was to their And now faint streaks of daylight slanted across the eastern horizon, and the yellow moonlight paled before the approach of the predominating daylight. Perched upon the hubs of the wagon-wheels the sullen Apaches grunted and growled at their con- stant defeats, not daring to return to the hill, and too wary to ea apy part of their bodies. The whites watched and waited with the eyes of a lynx | and the patience of a cat, but to no avail—both par- For several | ties were afraid to show themselves. “ Hark!’ suddenly cried Mr. Wheeler, springing into the center of the cave. ‘ What is it—who speaks?” “No one spoke, senor,” said Pedro, calmly lay- ing his hand on his shoulder; “you are ner- oe and excited, senor—lie down and quiet your- se Pays ‘Don’t talk to me of rest and peace—withdraw your hand! She ney Pts dang ter—and I will never rest until I have found her.’ In the gloomy light, bis eyes shone with at once the sorrow and anger of a wounded stag; and know- ing to resist him would be to endanger his present health, Pedro considerately witidrew his hand. As he did so, Duncan whispered: ‘*¢1"l] swear I heard her voice just then--every bair of my head, I did.” , “T too, imagined I heard a soft voice, but: un- doubtedly it was the band outside,” continued the Canddian. “ Hark—there itisagain!” | Alllistened. Certainly some one spoke in a soft, effeminate voice, though so faintly that it was im- possible to distinguish the words. All listened as though petrified, so intense was the interest—Pedro alive with hope for his gold, and the others, more especially Mr. Wheeler, for his lost child. But there was no repetition of the voice, and after listening for some time they returned to the entrance Pagar A sudden movement took place among the Apaches. Their mustangs were grassing out on the jlain some five hundred verde distant, being some halt a mile from the sorrel mustang which avoided them. Starting suddenly from the wagon-wheels, they darted away rapidly toward their steeds, keeping the wagons between them and the hillock, making it impossible for the whites to aim, even tolerably. : / “Bvery hair of my sorre] head! my boot-heels! what in Jupiter do them fellows mean? They're gefting away from us like mad. Skunk after ‘em, I reckon.” Pedro's face lightened as he said: f “There is some one approaching, possibly the party. Certainly it is some one hostile to them, r— He stopped short as a thought flashed over him. Could it be possible they had seen the apparition— that he had appeared to them? No—the idea was rejected as soon as conceived. Not knowing the Trailer, at least that he had been killed once, they would have promptly shot at him, which they had not done, No—it was something else. It was not aruse to draw them from their con- cealment, as every one of the six savages was now scampering hastily for their steeds, ey had all retreated—every on? and confident of no harm, Pedro stepped boldly out into the daylight and the open plain. Down in this country twilights are brief, and even now the sun was winking over the horizon. Dooking round, his gaze fell upon a small collection of objects directly against the sun, a league or more distant. , a “ Horsemen—whites.” The Canadian and his companions came out. ‘Horsemen, did you say?’ j =
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* Yes, senor—white horsemen.” “Ah, I see—toward the east, against the sun. Coming this way, too, ave they not?” «Exactly, senor.” “How do you know they are white horsemen?— there are many of them.” “Because they ride together. Indians scatter loosely or ride by twos. These are coming together and are leading horses.” “Every hair on my sorrel-top, but you've got sharp eyes!” admiringly spoke the cook, ; “Experience, senor—experience. Any Mexican boy could tell you the color of those coming horse- men. But look over the plain; see the brave Apaches scamper toward the southwest, hippy their tardy mustangs. They are gone, and we nee fear them no more—they will not come back for the present. We will meet our friends—for it is they.” Of course Pedro was right—he always was; and when the returning and elated party drew up before the hillock, the savages had disappeared. They had scarcely dismounted when Mr. Wheeler appeared from within. The old gentleman was greatly excited, and begged them to come at once into the cave, “What's up?” cried Jack, springing toward the | entrance. The old man, in broken tones, said he distinctly heard his daughter’s voice in the hill, mingled with a deep, harsh one—the voice of a mau. ‘* There must be another chamber!” Pedro shouted. “There are shovels in the wagons; get them and come on!’’ echoed Sam The shovels were quickly brought, and the whole party, wildly excited, sprung into the cave, “Now listen!”’ whispered Mr. Wheeler. They did so, and distinctly heard a female voice, in pleading tones, at one end of the first chamber, “There is another chamber, and here it is,’ cried Jack. “Shovel away—work and dig! Simpson, ou and Scranton go outside and seé no one escapes. an in a third chamber, and we’ll find her—hur- rah!” : “Hurrah! we’ll find her!’’ chorused the wild men, commencing to dig furiously. CHAPTER XV. TWICE DEAD. Trey had not long to dig, as the soil was yielding and the strong arms of the excited and determined men drove the spades deep into the hillside. Men clamored to relieve each other, and in their wild de- sire to force their way through, yelled and even itched dirt away from the workmen with their ands. Never before had the hillock, in all its ex- perience of murders, robberies and crite, looked upon such a wild, frenzied scene. Furious were the blows showered upon the old wall—strong the arms of the resolute, high-strung men that wielded them, and eager the hearts that beat for rescue. Indians, fatigue, hunger-ings were forgotten; and as fast as a shovelful of dirt was cast from the blade it was thrown far back by the rapid- 4 moving hands of those for whom there were no shovels. At last the foremost man, Sam, uttered a sharp cry, and struck a furious blow at.the wall; his shovel had gone through—there was a third chamber. At che same moment a loud report rung out inside, a woman’s yoice shrieked, and Sam. staggered back, clasping his left arm above the elbow with his right hand; some one from the inside had discharged a rifle at him. Furious before, the excitement now had become frenzy. Several ferocious blows were struck at the hole; it widened; several more, and the men plunged headlong, found themselves in a third chamber, with a body under their feet—a soft, pliant body. Regardless of aught else, they drew it to the ap, and recognized the features—the face—the orm of—Kissie. : ; ome heard a noise, a clamor above, and ran eagerly outside, leaving Sam, pale and sick, yet wild with delight, and. Mr, Wheeler, caressing the fair girl, who had fainted away. Arriving outside, the men, headed by Cimarron Jack, found the guide and Burt engaged in a fierce struggle with a gigantic man in.a serape, a conical hat and black plume, Knife in hand, backed up ainst the hill, with swarthy face glowing, and black eyes sparkling, he was Innging furiously at them in silence. Colossal in form, expert in the use | of his knife, renderéd desperate by his small chances of escape, the Trailer fought like a demon and kept is smaller opponents at bay. “Don’t ki Mim!” shouted Jack; “we must take him alive. Let me in to him—stand back, Dboys. I know who he is—the Trailer.” r - At the mention of his name, thelatter turned and scowled at him, and hoarsely cried: “Cimarron Jack—my old enemy—may you burn in —!” Jack, dashing’ forward with’ clubbed gun, and with his huge form towering above his companions, rushed at him, In vain the Trailer, endeavored to elude the descending weapon; in vain gee ote back; the gun descended full on his head, knocking him backward and prone to the earth, —e i Just then a man appeared, running, with a bag it one hand and a long, beautiful rifle in the other it was Pedro Felipe with his recovered tre eure which he discovered in the new chamber. ' Fin ng that the apparition that had haunted him tag get me other than the ex-robber, lieutenant, and tha » UR himself, he was probably in search of the treasure, he had burned with rage at his theft and crime, an ‘was DOW ue his life. “Dog of a robber—fit associate for your old cap- hillock, tain; coward, villain, I have come for your blood! Where is he? Let me reach him.” But they held him back firmly, and after being made cognizant of Cimmaron Jack’s desire to keep him alive, he calmed himself, and proceeded to bind the senseless robber securely. This he did with his lariat, which he brought from inside, keep- ing the precious bag with him wherever he went, Then after he had bound him fast, and given the body a slight spurn with his foot, he said: ** When he recovers, we will kill him.” *“ When the Trailer recovers, he will be shot dead!” added Cimarron Jack. “Ay, ay!” was the general response. “All right, boys—let us go and see the pretty girl, and leave the two Robidoux to stand guard over him, My eye; ain’t she beautiful, though?” “You bet!” responded Burt, proudly. Inside they found Kissie quite recovered, with her father and young Carpenter sitting jealously b her. Though pale and thin, she, in her joy, looked, < P er eyes of the men, more charming than ever eLore. What had come to pass? Was a revolution about to arise? for when she signified she was very hun- zry, Duncan stirred hastily about; actually glad of a chance to cook, Mind that—actually glad. As all were hungry, he was forced to call upon the men for assistance, services which they gladly ren- dered, and soon the savory odor of cooking filled the cave. ‘**So he gave you enough to eat, did he my da rh- oobi asked Mr. Wheeler, gazing tondly into her ace. “Oh, yes, plenty; and a warm, soft blanket to sit upon; and he was kind, too—only sometimes he would rave to himself, stricken by remorse.” “Did he maltreat you in any manner?’’ fiercely ; demanded Carpenter. ‘Oh, no, not at all. He was away most of the time; and when he was present he always kept busy counting a splendid—oh, so lovely!—treasure he had; all gold, and jewels and ornaments—an im- mense sum they must be worth.” “That is what brought Pedro here, then,” re- marked Sam;** he has the bag, now, outside, where he is guarding the Trailer.” “Oh, Pedro was 80 good to me. ' When he went out to tell you I was here, that horrid man stole in by a secret passage, snatched the bag from a small hole, then put out the toreh and carried me in here. His horse he kept there, and sometimes he would get stubborn and try to kick me; then you should have seen him beat him. Once some Indians tried to cut their way through to us, and he shot and killed one.”’ “ Yes, he lies outside now. We heard the’ shot, and it mystified us,” remarked Napoleon Robidoux, “That villain caused us enough trouble,” said Burt. “I’m downright glad he has lost the gold— Pedro has fairly earned it.” **So he has,”? was the ery. : A shout came from without, in Pedro’s voice: “Come out—come out!” Expecting Indians, all rushed’ out but Sam and Mr. Wheeler, the former being disabled by the bul- let of the Trailer, which had passed through his arm, though not breaking it: When they arrived outside they found the Mexican ‘lowering over thé ex-robber, who had recovered’ his sensés, and was now scowling upon the party. The blow from the rifle had not proved a very forcible one, as al ‘bunch ” on his head was the only sign of it. ‘Now he has recovered, we will shoot him at once!” and Pedro's eyes sparkled. “Ay, ay—take him out!” was the unanimous cry. The Trailer scowled. All of these men had seen“ Judge Lynch,” and many had assisted him. Following the order of the age, they did not hesitate, but proceeded at onee to business, They took him from the hillock, from the’ side ‘of the savage he had slain, and among other red corpses scattered about, they placed ‘him upon his feet. He immediately lay down. “Get up!’ commanded Pedro, who was the ac- knowledged chief. The robber only scowled in reply. ‘Get up, anddie like a man and not like @ cower ing hound!’’ urged Jack. eT his had the effect desired, and the Trailer rose, ** Now, senors, load your rifles!”’ “They are all loaded.” “Tt is well. Have you anything to say, Trailer?’? No answer save a scowl. ; “It is your last chance. Again, have you any- thing to say?” ** Si: car-r-ramba |” ‘It is enough.’ Take him out,” He was placed now in the open plain, facing the aaah he men drew up in line, not ‘twenty feet istant. ; “ Are you all ready, senors?” asked Pedro, aiming at the victim’s heart, ; “We are ready.” “Itis good. Aim well, each at his heart. I will count three. One.” ; ; The Trailer’s face was a trifle paler now, but his w: — blacker and more malignant. “~ wo ” 2 + The Trailer stood firm, ‘Along the line of men eying his heart he saw no‘look of mercy, nor look of pi yi a, a settled determination to execute the law of ‘‘ Judge Lynch.” “9L o8 ‘ Dead silence. 12 The Trailer fell fla e Trailer fe t on his face.’ Lifting him up they found him dead—twice dead--but now: forever on earth, , Nieves Our tale is ended, Cimarron Jack. with many Cimarron Jack, the King Pin of Rifle-Shots. 1 good wishes and blessings from his true friends, at length tore himself away, and rode off toward the Colorado river, to whieh place he was en rou‘e, long to be remembered by those he had_ befriended. Simpson parted with Pedro much against his will, but was consoled by the latter’s promising to meet him on the Colorado. Then he, Pedro, and Cimar- ron Jack were to unite, and well armed and equipped were to penetrate to the ruins of the old Aztecans— a much talked of, but rarely seen, country. They underwent many marvelous and perilous adven- tures, but we have nov space to relate them. Pedro was rich—enormously rich—and on return- ing safely to his ‘‘sunny land’’ was joyfully wel- comed back, and congratulated upon his success, God bless him, say we. When the party arrived at Fort Leavenworth, as they safely did, there was a tag and a joyful one it was, too, Sam, of course, being the happy groom. There the party separated, all but Duncan and Simpson continuing their journey east. Strange to say, Duncan—grumbling, unhappy Duncan—went back with Simpson, in order to ex- plore the Great Colorado Canyon with the three In- dian-fighters, in the capacity of camp cook. He was unhappy, of course, and he had no cooking con- veniences; but managed to assume complete mas- tery over his strangely-assorted companions, and to poe them alive with his original observations and half-s ulky grumblings., THE END. Beatles Weekly The Best Weekly of Popular, Entertains ing and Useful Literature Pub- lished in America! Its Unrivaled Corps of Contributors, ‘almost all of whom write exclusively for its publishers—embraces the following authors of world wide repute— : Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, Albert W. Aiken, Capt. Fred. Whittaker, Capt Mayne Reid, Joseph E. Badger, Jr. Edward L. Wheeler, Charles Morris, Oll Coomes, C. Dunning Clark, Buffalo Bill, White Beaver, Buckskin Sam, Major Dangerfield Burr, T. C. Harbaugh, Philip 8. Warne, William R, r, Anthony P. 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DIME DIALOGUES AND SPEAKERS FOR SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS ‘ AND HOME ENTERTAINMENTS, Dialogues, Nos. 1 to 30 inclusive, 15 to % popu- lar dialogues and dramas in each book. Hach vol- ume 100 pages 12mo. ps nk 9 Speakers, Nos. 1 to MUinelusive. Each speaker 100 pages 12mo0, containing from 50 to 75 pieces. YOUNG PEOPLE'S SERIES Dime Book of Winter Sports. ; a ast Dime Book of Summer. Athletic Sports, , Dime Gents’ Letter Writer. Dime Book of Etiquette. - Dime Book of Verses. Dime Book of Dreams. Dime Fortune Teller, Dime Ladies’ Letter Writer...» ime Lovers’ Casket. . | | : Dime Ball-Room Companion, + ; ’ Dime Book of 100 Games, Dime Chess Instructor. ‘| Dime Book of Beauty. wl Sr above baeke por mol iy peoaaante everywhere, or will. nt, g an. - dieay oH Re oF patel tee! cen each, BEADLE and Apams, Publishers, 98 William st., N.Y. Fate 219 ua Dae 5
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By Edward L. Wheeler. Yellowstone Jack, B: Kansas Kings. By Buffalo Bill, Whe Wild-Horse Hunters. Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker. By Oll Coomes. Dowlle Number, 10cts, Bill Biddon, Trapper. By E.5. Ellis. The Flying Yankee. Seth Jones. By Edward 5, Ellis. Adventures of Nat Todd. By E.S5S. Ellis. The Two Detectives. By A.W. Aiken, Gulliver’s Travels, By Dean Swift. The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes. Aladdin; or, Tae WonperrvL Lamp. The Sea-Cat. Robinson Crusoe, (27 Lilustrations.) Ralph Roy. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Sindbad the Sailor, The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. The Double Daggers. The Krontier Angel. The Sea Serpent. By Juan Lewis, Nick 0? the Night. by T. C. Harbaugh. Diamond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. The Boy Captain. By Roger Starbuck. Cloven Hoof, By Edward L. Wheeler. WaFQUm oO OCM IAD KN MwOW 71 he GO 0S = SS Qe DO RODS RS RS DOIG be Sa et prt rt prt pt fre et nw = Buffalo Ben, The Dumb Page. Roaring Ralph Rock LESS RANGER. By Harry St. George. Keen-Knife. By Oll Coomes, Bob Woolt, By Edward L. Wheeler. The Ocean Bloodhound. Oregon Sol. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. Wild Iwan. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Boy Clown. By Frank 8. Finn. The Hidden Lodge, By Edward L. Wheeler. Weds Con Death-Face, THE DETECTIVE. Roving Ben. By J. J. Marshall. Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes, The Phantom Miner. Dick Darling. By rept Fred. Whittaker. Rattling Rube. By Harry St. George. Old Avalanche. By Edward L. Wheeler. Glass Eye. 2 Capt. J. F.C. Adams. Nightingale Nat. By T. C. Harbaugh. Omaha Oll, By Edward L, Wheeler. The Boy Rifles. The White Buffalo. Jim Bludsoe, Jr. Ned Hazel, By Capt. J. F, C. Adams. Deadly-Eye. By Buffalo Bill. Nick Whiliiles’ Pet. Capt. J. Deadwood Dick’s Eagles. The Border King. By Oll Coomes. Old Hickory. By Harry St. George. The White Tne Buckhorn Bill, By Edward L. Wheeler. The Shadow Ship. B By Archie C. Irons, By C. E. Lasalle. ee ee Se ee re Ore ah i an he ap he i she 09 09 09 00 09 CS CO COO SSDs AU HON HSC MSR OW HOO Poke 61 Randy Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. Hurricane Bill, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr Single Hand. By W. J. Hamilton. Patent-leather Joe, By Philip S. Warne. Border Robin Hood. By Buffalo Bill. Gold Rifle. By Edward L. Wheeler. Old Zip’s Cabin, Delaware Dick. Mad Tom Western, Deadwood Dick on Deck, HWawk-eye Marry. By Oll Coomes. The Boy Duelist, By Col. P. Ingraham. 70 By Oll Coomes. Corduroy Charlie, By E. L, Wheeler, Blue Dick. By Captain Mayne Reid. Sol Ginger, GIANT Rosebud Rob. By Edward L. Wheeler. Lightning Jo. Kit Haretoot, Rollo, the Boy Ranger. Idyl, the Girl Miner, Buck Buckram, B Dandy Rock. By 37 The 88 ete ad Phil, a EK. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 90 The Dread Rider. By G. Waldo Browne. By T. C. Harbaugh. . Waldo Browne. MDP W WWW Makaha FoF -Fo FoF ak VION AW HOODIA ON 91 The Oaptain of the Club; or, THe Youne By Bracebridge Hemyng. RrvaL ATHLETES, 92 Canada Chet. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners. By Edward 5. Ellis, Midnight Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. The Rival Rovers, Lieut. Col. Robin Hood, By Prof. Gildersleeve. The Tiger of Taos, STRANGE STROKE FoR LiseRtTY. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye. By Col. Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea. ork, 0 08 Daring an oe By Harry St. George. 09 Deadwood : Edward L. Wheeler. 1 1 1 The" a il, B P. Ingrah 1e€ seis Vil. ° am, 2 The Mad Hunter,” By i Burton Saxe, By Jos, E, Badger, Jr. By Captain Vagabond Joe, THe Youna WANDERING JEW, By Col, P. Ingraham, Karon Wunchausen, By Captain Fred. Whittaker, His Seven Voyages. By E. L. Wheeler. By Edward §. Ellis. Antelope Abe, THe Boy Guipg, Oll Coomes. By Capt. F. Whittaker. wood, THE RKECK- S. W. Pierce. By T. C. Harbaugh. Ned Wylde, TH: Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. By Wheeler. By E. L. Wheeler, 1 Deadwood Dick, THe PRINCE OF THE ROAD | Black Jolin, tHe Roap-Acent. By Badger. Burt Bunker, THe Trapper. C. FE. Lasalle. By Edward L. Wheeler. F. C. Adams. By Wheeler. lian. Capt. J. F.C. Adams. Col. P. Ingraham, The Red Brotherhood, W. J. Hamilton. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. By W. J. Hamilton, By Wheeler. Abe Colt, THe Crow-Kiuier, By A, W. Aiken. RAPPER. By A.W, Aiken. By Captain J. F. C. Adams. By Oll Coomes, | By t. L. Wheeler. Capt, J. F. C. Adams, and Pirates. By Capt, Mayne Reid. azeltine. Watch-Eye, THE SHapow. By E. L. Wheeler. The Outlaw Brothers, By J. J. Marshall. By G. Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A By By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dicks Device, By-Wheeler. a . Holmes. 06.O01d Frosty, THe Guive. By T. C. Harbaugh. By 0 The Black Steed of the Prairies. A of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. . ~ Dak Cte --~ ~ or CUTE Ut Or abe vie ihe ahi nee phe He shee time Bm OO GOS 0 GS G9 GG GO G0 HS HOBO BO ND AD DD DS NOD tat pat et ft fet dt ore «* = OSD AED ODN HOD DE UO SDAA OOH OO DAD WO HMOOC Ms AH W OHM OOD OOH OSM OU EWN HOODOO WNRHO DE el eh el el el el el el eel cel el el el el ee ee ee el ee el ee | lle ate te .____) See vLeol=eoeye er ee WHMNWPBHNHW NWWwwW We OS SIA we i) 224 225 226 227 228 Jack Hoyte. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Black Schooner. Roger Starbuck. The Wad Miner. By G. Waldo Browne. The Hussar Captain, Col, P. Ingraham. Gilt-Edged Dick. By E. L. Wheeler. Will Somers, THE Boy Derecrive. Morris. Mustang Sam, By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. The Branded Hand, By Frank Dumont. innamon Chip. By fdward L. Wheeler. Phil Hardy, rue Boss Boy. By GC. Morris. Kiowa Charley. By T. C. Harbaugh. Tippy, THe Texan. By George Gleason, Bonanza Will, Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler. | Picayune Pete, By Charles Morris. , Wild-Fire, Boss ortrur Roap. By Dumont. The Young Privateer. By H. Vavendish, Deadwood Dick’s Double, By Wheeler. Detective Dick, By Charles Morris. The Golden Hand, By Geo. W. Browne. The Munted Hunter, By Ed. &. Ellis. Boss Bob. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Sure Shot Seth, By Oll Coomes. Captain Paul, By C. Dunning Clark. Night-HMawk Kit. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. The Helpless Hand, Capt. Mayne Reid. Blonde Bill. By Edward L. Wheeler. Judge Lynch, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh. Blue Blazes. By Frank Dumont, Solid Sam. By Edward L Wheeler. Handsome Harry. By Charles Morris. Scar-Face Saul, By Oll Coomes. Dainty, Lance, THE Boy Sport, By Badger. Captain Ferret. By Edward L. Wheeler. Silver Star, THe Boy Knieur, By Coomes. Will Wildfire. By Charles Morris. Sharp Sam. By J. Alexander Patten. A Game of Gold, By Ed. L. Wheeler, Lance and Lasso. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Panther Paul, B tn i. Badger, Jr. Black Bess, Wit. WiLprire’s Racer; or, WInniInG AGAINST Opps. By Charles Morris. Eagle Kit, tae Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes, The Swerd Hunters, By F. Whittaker. Gold Trigger, TH: Sport. T. C. Harbaugh. Deadwood Dick of Deadwoodyj or, THe Pickep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. Mike Merry. By Charles Morris, Fancy Frank of Colorado. Buffalo Bill. The Lost Captain. By Whittaker. The Black Giant. By J. E. Badger, Jr. New York Nell. By E. L. Wheeler. Will Wildfire in the Woods. Morris, Little Texas, By Ol] Coomes. Dandy Rocks Pledge. By G.W. Browne. noth | Baggage. By Charles Morris. Wickory Harry. By Harry St. George. Asa Scott, THe STEAMBOAT Boy, Deadly Dash, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Tornado Tom. By T. C. Harbaugh. A Trump Card. _ By Charles Morris. Ebony Dan. By Frank Dumont. Thunderbolt'fom. By Harry St. George. Dandy Rock’s Rival. By G.W. Browne. Bob Rockett, Tam Boy Dopcer. By Morris. Captain Arizona, By ag’ S. Warne. The Boy Runaway. By Lieut. Perry. Nobby Nick of Nevada, E, L. Wheeler, Old Solitary. By Oll Coomes. Bob Kockett, rue Banx Runner. Morris. The Sea Trailer, By Lieut. H. D. Perry. Wild Frank, By Edward L. Wheeler, Little Hurricane. By Oll Coomes, The Hidden Hand. By Chas. Morris. Whe Boy Trailers. By Badger, Jr. Evil Eye. By Frank Dumont, Cool Desmond. By Col, Delle Sara. Fred Halyard. By Charles Morris. Ned ‘Temple, THE Borper Boy. Harbaugh, Bob Rockett, rue Cracksman, By Morris. Dandy Darke. By Wm. R. Eyster, Buttalo Billy. By Capt. Taylor, U.S. A. Captain Kit. By Lieut. H. D. Perry,U.S.N, Captain Mask. By Philip 5. Warne. Buffalo Bill’s Bet, By Captain Taylor. Deadwood Dick’s Dream, By Wheeler. Shadowed. By Charles Morris. Little Grit, Taz Witp River, By Ingraham. Arkansaw. By T.C. pertouge. Featherweight. By Edward Willett. The Boy Bedouins. By Whittaker. The Black Hills Jezebel, By Wheeler. Prospect Pete. By Oll Coomes, The Boy Pards. By Jos. FE. Badger, Jr. Gold Plume, THE Boy Banprv._ Ingraham, Deadwood Dick’s Doom, By Wheeler Dark Paul, THe Tiger Kine. By OC. Morris Navajo Nick. ByT. C. Harbaugh. The Boy Hercules. By Oll Coomes. Fritz, tae Bounp-Boy Derecrive. Wheeler. Faro Frank of High Pine. By Eyster. Crooked Cale. ic Me E. Badger, Jr. Dashing Dave. By Charles Morris. Fritz to the Front. By E. L. Wheeler. Wolfgang, THE RopBeR OF THE RHINE. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. Captain Bullet. By T. C. Harbaugh. Bison Bill, By Col. Prentiss In am. Captain Crack-Shot, By E. L. Wheeler. Niger Tom, THE Texan Terror. Coomes. Despard,' the Duelist. By P..S. Warne. ‘Tom Tanner. By Charles Morris. Sugar Coated Sam. By E£. L. Wheeler. Grit, the Bravo Sport, 4 Ingraham. Ozark Alf, Kine or THE Mountam., By Edward Willett. Dashing Dick. By Oll Coomes. Sam Charcoal. By Charles Morris. Snoozer, THE Boy Saanr. By E. L. Wheeler. Dusky Darrell, Trapper. By E. Emerson, Little Wildfire. By Oll Coomes, By Willett. | BEADLE’S | HALF-DIME | LI3 ye os eee we ee ee ME MEME MIM) we | 299 A No, 1 erm wl ARY. |+__—— 229 ra Crimson Kate, By Col. P. Ingraham. 230 The Vankee Rajah. By ©. D. Clark, Plucky Phil. By T. C. Harbaugh, Goeld-Dust Dick. By E. L. Wheeler 3 Joe Buck, of Angels. By. A W. Aiken, t Old Rocky’s * Boyees,? Buckskin Sam. 5 Shadew Sam. By Charles Morris. 6 Apollo Bill. By Edward L. Wheeler. 7 Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain; or, THE Mysterious RaNncHERO. By P. Ingraham, The Parson Detective. By Oll Coomes. The Gold-seeker Guide; or, Tse Los? MountaIn. By Captain Mayne Reid. Cyclone Kit, By Edward L. Wheeler. Bill Bravo and His Bear Pards. By T. C. Harbaugh. The Two ‘ Bloods?, By Charles Morris, The Disguised Guide. By Oll Coomes. Sierra Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler. Merle, the Middy. By Col. P. Ingraham, Giant George. By Buckskin Sam. Old Grizzly and His Pets, By Captain ** Bruin’? Adams. Sierra Sam’s Secret. By E. L. Wheeler. Milo Romer. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. Midshipman Mutineer, By Ingraham. Light-house Lige, By J. F. C. Adams, Dick Dashaway. By Chas. Morris. Sierra Sam’s Pard. By E. L. Wheeler. The Half Blood, By Edward 58. Ellis. Captain Apollo. By T. C. Harbaugh. Young Kentuck. By Capt. Mark Wilton. The Lost Hunters. By Capt, Adams. 8 Sierra Sam’s Seven, By EK. L. Wheeler. The Golden Harpoon, By R. Starbuck. Dare-Devil Dan. By Oll Coomes. Fergus Fearnaught, By Geo, L. Aiken. The Young Sleuths. By Charles Morris. Deadwood Dick’s Divide. By Wheeler. The Floating Feather, By Ingraham. Whe ‘Tiger Tamer. By Capt. Whittaker. Killb’ar, the Guide. By Ensign Warren. Whe Buckskin Detective. By T. C, Harbaugh. Deadwood Dick’s Death Trail. Edward L. Wheeler. The Gold Ship. em DW GOomwWIO moO _ --~ - By By Col, P. Ingraham. Blizzard Ben. By Captain Mark Wilton. The Huge Hunter. y Edward §. Ellis, Minkskin Mike. By Oll Coomes. Jumbo Joe. By Edward L. Wheeler, Jolly Jim. By Charles Morris. Arizona Jack. By Buckskin Sam. Merle Monte’s Cruise. By Ingraham. Denver Doll. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Three Trappers. - Major Carson. Old Winch, tHe Rirte Kine. By T. C. Harbaugh. Merle Monte’s Fate, By Col. Ingraham. Denver Dolls WAGROFY. Hed Wheeler. The Typo Detective. By Edward Willett. Indian Joe. By Major L. W. Carson. The Sea Warauder. By Col. Ingraham. Denver Dolls Decoy. By E. L. Wheeler. Josh, the Boy Tenderfoot; or, Tar Witp Men or Buzzarp Bar. By Mark Wilton. 287 Billy Blue-Eyes. By Col. P. Ingraham. 288 The Scalp King. By Capt. J. F.C. Adama, 289 Jolly Jim’s Job. By Charles Morris. 290 Little Foxfire. By Oll Coomes, 291 Turk, the Ferret, By E. L. Wheeler. 292 Sancho Pedro. By Major E. L. St. Vrain. 293 Red Claw, THe One-Evep Trapper, By _ Captain Comstock. 294 Dynamite Dan. By T. C. Harbaugh. 295 Fearless Phil. By Edward Willett. 296 Denver Doll’s Drift. By E, L. Wheeler. 297 The Tarantula of Taos. By Buckskin Sam. wwnwnrmnwnwnwnr DW EaFaFab aba aka d Ht S CHHOukwre to 298 The Water- Hound, By Charlies Morris. the Dashing Toll-Taker. By Edward L. Wheeler. 300 The Sky Demon, 301 Leadville Nick, 302 The Mountain Detective. Harbaugh. 303 °Liza Jane, THe Grau Mrmer. By E. L. Wheeler. By Oll Coomes: By Major E. L. St. Vrain. ale tO 304 The Dead Shot Dandy. By Ingraham. 305 Dashaway, of Dakota. By Chas. Morris, 306 Neck-Tie Ned.. By Major H. B. Stoddard, 307 The Strange Pard. By Buckskin Sam. 308 Keno Kit, tHe Boy Bueier’s Parp. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 309 Deadwood Dick’s Big Deal. By Ed- ward L. Wheeler. 310 The Barranca Wolf. By J. E. Badger. 311 The Roving Sport. By Edward Willett. Rube, THe VIGILANTE Prince B 312 Peer EY L, St. Vrain, A 313 Cimarron Jack. By Frederick Dewey. sterious Marauder. Col. PAS zee ngraham. sid A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is oe — 4 all sdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail og peau of six cents each. BRADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York,