Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 335) (1883 12 25)
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a, Metallalialalelollalial Setar NY by ep ya ») Y, \N ws : t L Ss SEAR. STOO NMA, NNO RA, . M. OVR= Co Hs il a ofan a2 a aS hel Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS. Price, Vol. XIII. Number. No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. No. 335. OLD DOUBLE FIST; or, The Strange Guide. BY JOSEPH FE. BADGER, JR,, AUTHOR OF ‘CROOKED CALE,” ‘‘ THE BOY PARDS,” ‘DEADLY DASH,” ‘‘ PANTHER PAUL,” ETC., ETC, net a es is. wo se xe Pm ( e SR Wd 4 0728 4 TEARING HIMSELF FREE FROM BRYAN’S GRASP, HE SPRUNG TO HIS FEET, ONLY TO GO DOWN BEFORE ANDERSON’S IRON FIST,
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2 Old Double Fist; THE STRANGE GUIDE. BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR., AUTHOR OF “‘ THE BLACK RIDER,” ‘‘THE BAR- RANCA WOLF,” *‘CROOKED CALE,” ETO., ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I, A DISGUSTED SET. ht had settled over the valley. ‘Gradually the shadows blended together, until they b came one. The bushes an shrubs, the ‘stunted trees and gray bowlders grew indis- tinet, as the crimson glow of the setting sun ‘slowly crept up the mountain-side, and it was might below even while the peaks of the Mogol- lon Range gleamed brightly with the yellow Dark ni r “Then a light shot up in the valley—clearer and brighter, seemingly less hazy. The dark figures that moved to.and fro or around this light, pronounced it a camp-fire, A camp-fire it was, in truth. And those dark bore? ons pre those of. white men—of dia- m ers It =? t arty that we have mainly to do, and | ch brief fatrgte solo? is nbosseavh After, the different parties will speak for them- selves. Gathered around the camp-fire are five men; one other member is slowly gliding to and fro at some few yards’ distance from his comrades. Now and then he glances impatiently toward the camp-fire, where the quintette devour rather — eat their evening meal. Then he starts, iebing = down as he bends his ear in pain- with thumb on hammer, fore- ae inch ng the trigger of his short rifle. * the quintette, one is old, one is perbaps years of age; the other three are young also the guard—ranging between twenty a twenty-five eldest—he in the suit of greasy, stained and Kemet buckskin—is the guide, Mathew , as he is betfér known, “ Two- Handed d Mat, ” and *‘ Double Fist,” the sobriquet arising” from. his ambidexterity. That is, he had-two ‘right hands.” Years before, when ot was in his - during the “ gold-fever ” arr oleae vis name was won by his deeds ’ when*he cut, a bloody swath pd dtm the ripters With his two knives. Dubbed thus er an enthusiastic eye-witness, the ce | clung to Anderson, and as such he became known from ‘St, Louey to bear al Gray as a rat, Mat holds bis own remarkably ‘well, ly a of customer that few would care to nte a grapple for life. Of medial ig, "be he is” brand. uldered, aa armed and round-waisted, with, le feat that a Dar a tour nilaeater would have eye with ane iy 3 t in age, James Cook, tall and ie Te oe taciturn member of ne pet handsome features, rare st a iin da and his coulfatios har y under- stand him. ik, seems to be a secret in his life, Hither he has committed a k and heinous crime, remorse for which now tears bis heart-strings, or in tho days gor by he bas met with some great lors. Such is the whispered ‘verdict of ‘‘ the boys,” Of the other et little can be said, since they had exhibited no peculiar traits, save that of courage. That was proved by their presence here, in the heart of the Apache country. Harry Gilmore and Sam Bryan were cousin§, from Kansas. Ed Dane’was from the land of Becameens Paul Jayne hailed from Vir- zinia , These, then, are the ‘* Diamond-Seekers.” Hastily dispatching their evening meal, the “f camp-fire was carefully covered up, and. ‘then . withdrawing to one side, where a leafy couch had been spread close beside a huge bowlder _ the comrades | lighted ‘their pipes, so gratefu after the day’s toil and disappointment. ‘¢ Wal,” grunted, Double Fist, puffing furious- ly, “you fellers satisfied yit?” “ Satisfied!” echoed Dane, the loquacious, “ Satisfied—when we haven’t found. even the smell of a diamond?” “Jest what I mean—you’ve hit it edzactly. ‘We've bin here close onto a month, now, an’ what better air we for’t?, As * say, we hain’t otasmell. I don’t say it’s all a sell, "mind ye, t I do say this. All t aiamancs they. is here you mought put in a hummin’ bird’s quill am - OM Dowbie Piste Double Fist. eee ee ee blow ’em in a skeeter’s eye ‘thout makin’ him wink once’t. That’s the way I lays my dust.” Double Fist had visited the ‘* Bella Union ” at Fr’isco, during the reign of Joe Murphy. Hence his. oetic simile. ut diamonds.have been found here,” ven- shied Gilmore. “They say so—in the papers. It must be true, for, as everybody knows, they never lie. But now look here, Harry. ‘You're a edicated man. T'll give you a little ‘rithmetic. Ef we six fel- lers, th two good eyes apiece, hain’t found a diamond in four weeks, how many kin we find in a ear?” ut we may find one to-morrow that will richly repay us all for our work.” . . ‘ey ond s the biggest little word I know uy begin to think with you, Anderson,” inter- osed Cook, “ that our chances are slim of find- log any diamonds. But, for all that, I believe that we can pay ourselves for our time and la- bor before leaving this valley.” These words, quietly spokey, roused even those who, wearied with their hard day’s work, were falling asleep. They knew that Cook would, not speak so positively without good grounds for his belief. “Vl tell you what I mean. Anderson, you have been i in California, Were you a digger there?” “ For a bit—but soon got over the fever, It’s a dog’s life,” grunted Mat disgustedly. “Then I wonder that you have not ‘noticed it before. To-day I passed by several places that, if this was California, would be pockets of gold. One spot [ noticed in particular. Only that it was then near sunset, I would have investigated the matter. Perhaps you may, some of you, have noticed what seems the dried-u bed of an old water-course, running close by the bill-foot to. the southwest. If, palew the surface of that bed, you can find a whitish pip pe-clay, Pll guar- antes your finding gold wit it,” quietly added ~ “ Le’s look there the first. thing in the morn- ing, ” cried Dane, ‘Tt can’t do no harm, as I see. We're just us likely to find diamonds thar as elsewhar, I reckon,” and Mat laughed shortly. ‘Don’t let the matter keep you from sleep- g, boys,” laughed Cook, as he rolled himself ti vatly: in his blanket, he tight passed in quietness and comfort to all save the sentinel, the night being divided in- to three watches, Though as yet nothing bad been seen of the dreade Apaches, none could tell how long this apparent security would last. The fiearly full moon sunk behind the moun- ‘tains in the early part of Paul Jayne’s watch, he being the third. The valley became intense- ly dark, despite the stars that studded the vast canopy of heaven. Memories of the dead past thronged fast yes bis mind, and meanings against the gra nt Paul forgot the duties intrusted to him. Rute ically hefilled his pipe, and then struck a ‘match | upon his sleeve, The bright glow lighted up his face as Paul ignited the fragrant tobacco. Only for a fleet- ing ergo but long enough to do its work. ‘The air seemed agitated, and a faint, peculiar’ hissing sound canghe the young man’s ear. Tnen followed a sharp click, and some splinters fell from the rock above him, Roused as if from a dream, Jayne started and crouched down, rapidly cocking bis rifle. He was fully awake now, but half-believed that the, alarm was only the ‘offspring of his imagina- tion This is why he did not at once give the alarm and rouse his slumbering comrades. For several -minutes be bearkened intently, scarce breathing, but not'a sound met his ears save the faint breathing of his friends, and the dull moaning of the morning breeze as it swept down the rocky valley. “Bah! ’twas only imagination,” muttered Paul, lowering the hammer of his rifle, and once more rising erect. “The rock is frost-eaten—a bit tumb!ed down and struck me.” But with daylight came a discovery. The quick eyes of Mat Anderson were the first to notice a slender bit.of wood that lay several yards from the base of the rock. The manner of the guide was peculiar to him- self. Forafull minute be sat wy as a statue, one his eyes at work. Every foot of ground visible from bis cen was-*rapidly but thoroughly scanned. Then he arose and glided round the huge bowlder. Not a trace of buman life rewarded his scrutiny. The valley seemed uninbabitated save by his own party. ce ee ee ee ——— 4 —<—__—_—__— Mat returned and picked u the bit of wood that had so perturbed him. is brows knitted and an uneasy glitter filled his eyes. ‘““What is it, Double Fist—what have you there?” suddenly called out Gilmore, hi§ atten- tion arrested. ’ “A Injun arrer—Apasb, at that!” - ‘¢ What? ‘You kin see, It’s hére—but whar did it come from, an’ when?’ The long, feathered shaft was curiously ex- amined he polished hickory was white and unsoiled, the feathers that hagl once formed part of a wild turkey’s plumage, were stiff and unbént. The sinews that strengthened .the notch, were bright and unfrayed. * All was perfect save the head. That bad been formed of black flint, but now only a portion remained attached to the shaft, The least experienced of the party could not doubt the freshness of this fracture. No dew had dampened it, Paul Jayne suddenly recalled the event of his guard, and instinctively glanced toward the bowlder. It was easy to define the exact posi- tion he had occupied; a slight depression some- thing similar to that made by one’s lying at full length upon a partially frozen snowdrift. ot more than a foot above where his bead had reached, Jayne noticed an abrasion of the frost-eaten surface. Springing forward he close- ly scrutinized the spot. Then he knew that,his alarm of the preceding night had not been with- out foundation, Tiny splinters of black flint still adhered to the rock. ‘That settles it, then!” be exclaimed. “ Settles what? “That arrow was shot at me, while on watch last night. 1 heard it bit, but as nothing fol- lowed, I concluded it was only fancy.” “T don’t onderstand it,” muttered Mat, in a perplexed tone. . “ Ef a red-skin fired the arrow —au’ itkem from the quiver o’ an Apash—he must ’a”seen you, An’ ef he was close enough to see you, dark as it was, then he didn’t ought to miss ye thet wide. I don’t onderstand it— thar’s somethin’ nasty in it.” ‘May it not have been shot as a warning to leave, or as a declaration of war?’ suggested Ed Dane. ‘“‘Not much—Apash don’t do business that way, theydon’t. But jest you stan’ still. Mebbe I kin find out somethin’ more.’ Mat closely scrutinized the face of the bowl- der. Hesaw at a glance that the arrow ha been discharged point-blank at the rock, else it would have glanced to one side or the other. Instead it had rebounded. That fact told him ja which direction to look for further inferma- ion. And yet the solution of the mystery lay at his feet—literally so, in fact. Had he thought of looking among the loose Sa at the bowlder’s base, the truth would have | plain With head bent low, Anderson glided in a flirect line from the bowlder, toward the mid- dle of the yalley. Then he paused abruptly and knelt down, at a point not two-score y ards distant. A long, low whistle of surprise called forward his comfades, and then they two bent down at the edge of a small patch of smooth sand. Near its center were several footprinis, clearly de- fined, especially two of them, as though the maker had stood still for some seconds. The toes were pointed toward the bowlder. Beyond all doubt they bad been made by the one who discbar the arrow, Paul— your foot is the smallest, Step here in the aid e, 8o’s not to distarb them others.” aasne d as requested. This proved incon- cere ly that none of their party had made the track * " It can’t be the track of an Indian,” observed ane. ‘* How d’ you know?” sharply retorted Mat. ‘“Why—you see the toes are turned out, and Indians always walk pigeon-toed,” added. Ed, who had read many a ** border-romance” in his da ; "x outh! you got that from some 0’ your story books, 7 bet a huss.” “* But isn’t it true?” ‘‘Gen’ally speakin’, mebbe thar’s somethin’ in it; but ’twon’t do to bet on alays. A buck Injun gen’ally toes in, or else ail straight for’ard, pervided be don’t drink too much rot- gut, Oneo’ them kind, even when he’s sober, ll toe out, for it kind o’ ‘steadies him, like.” “Then you think—” ‘No, U'don’t, nuther—I know. Look at that track... No buck Injun ever wore sech a foot as thet. See how it arches in the middle—a buck ‘d make a flat, print, like a Car’liny nigger. It’d be longer an’ twicet as broad. The toes would
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Old Double Fist. be spread out flat an’ n’arly o’ the same len’th. Tnar’s why [say a squaw made the track, Do the Apash squaws git drunk? Not of’en; the bucks don’t give ’em no chance,” and Mat paus- ed to gain breath, ‘You don't mean that is a white woman?” ‘© No, L ain’t sech a fool,. Whar’da white wo- man come ‘from here? an’ what’d sbe be doin’ th Apash arrows? No, it’s a squaw. -I’ll tell you why. You fellers go by the books you read—that’s why you’re sech blessed. greenies, I goby what Pve seen an’ studied out for my- self. Now lis’en, “Did you ever see a white woman as was pigeon-toed, onless she was deformed? No—I ess not. They all toe out. They can’t help it; it’s nature, You take an’ stan’ a woman u straight, then see ’f her knees don’t tetch each other. They will, every time. Must, the way she’s built.. Then ’f your knees tetch, kin you foein? ’?F you think so, try it. You've got to toe out. Thar it is, then, A woman isa woman no matter what color her skin may be., So’s a Injunsquaw. You kin find some as walks like the bucks, but it’s shore to beaold an’ worn- out one, An’ when they git that-a-way, thar foot is like a buck’s, too.” ' ‘But, if a squaw, what is she doing here, and why did she shoot at me?” ** Did she shoot at ye? Look—'tain’t more’n forty. yards from here thar. Think anybody who could shoot hard enough, to make sech a hole in the rock as that is,goin’ to miss the big- ness o’a mano’ your siza, ‘f they meant business? More like she jest meant to skeer you,” ‘*But why? I don’t understand.” ‘* Why is it that thar’s, places whar you kin squat on. the ground an’: put a band in one spring that'll scald you, then t’otber in another whar you'll _freeze?,. Kin you , onderstand that?” ‘‘Come—we are losing time here very foolish- ly, I think,” impatiently interpose1 Cook. ‘* What kin we do? Kin, you foller sech a trail through these rocks an’ over this gravel? I cain’t.” ‘You say this is a squaw—then of course she must have friends near, Of course she will, tell them where we are, even if they do not know already.” ‘*They don’t—or we'd ’a’ got more’n that one arrer—an’ planted whar we’d ’a’ found ’em out a good deal quicker, too,” dryly added Mat, ‘Come—speak out, man,” impatiently cried the Californian, ‘‘ What do you intend doing? To stand here until those devils come?” se ‘cely.. We've got to travel—but the day’s afore us. They won’t do nothin’ afore night.” An animated discussion now took place, The young men, brave in their ignorance, protested against fleeing from an unseen foe.. Even Cook spoke in fayor of remaining, at least for a time, though he, next to Double Fist, realized their peril. : **T don’t care about leaving until after we see if there is anything in what I told you last night. { firmly believe that we are within reach of.a vast amount of gold, ea$y to obtain, that will pay us well for the risk, mipen we set out, and I lon’t like to run away ty-handed at the first siga of stormy weathan . - ** Suit rh tenlyersee' ty only spoke for your good. Ireckon I kin stand it éf you feilers kin.. But ’f you’re goin’ to try diggin’ thar, we must git to work, The trouble ’ll open to-night, ’f at all. Fust, reckon we'd better grub,” quietly remark- ed Anderson, Scant time was wasted in our friends dis- patching their breakfast, and an hour later found them at the edge of the dried-up water- course alluded to by Cook, During the walk nothing had been seen of human beings other than their own party, and now all but, Ander- son seemed to forget their probable danger in the reflection that perhaps untold riches lay at their very feet, “*Tt ishere that we will find it, if at all,” mut- tered Cook, his face pale and stern set, his eyes glowing with a strange fire. _The spot he had selected for the test, proved his experience as a gold-hunter. If the valley contained ts gold, this, as he said, would be the most likely place. They stood in what had once been the bed of a goodly-sized stream. The. round, smooth- worn bowlders plainly evidenced that... The bed ran close to the foot of the bills, naturally following their conformation. The point selected by Cook was where the bed made an abrupt bend, thrown aside by a rocky spur, At this bend thera had been a strong. eddy. The ridge of heavy, rounded pebbles thrown up proved that. And beneath this ridge mighty flowing stream, must have settled, ' All this Cook pointed out to his. comrades. He dwelt upon his theory, at. some length, as though anxious to delay the moment that must decide the truth, or rather make it known, Hope and fear struggled with each otber, On the faces of all it was written, even thatof Dou- ble Fist. Their emotions were, something akin to that with which a gambler. watches the de- liberate turning of the card that, is to decide bis fate. Itis such momepts.as these that try a man, With an effort Cook struck bis light pick into the ridge. Thespell broken, each man fell to work with an energy that was almost appalling. The pebbles and gry were cast aside in a con- stant shower, nly one thought—one idea— filled.their minds, At that moment,they would have fallen an easy prey to the Apaches, had they been at hand, That thought was forgot- ten, The gold fever was scorching their veins. ‘* Stop!”. suddenly ;cried Cook, rising erect, when the ridge had been lowered several feet below the level .of the.bed,,. ‘‘We are low enough now, If I am right, the next foot in depth is-all we want. ‘Some of you fetch water. Fill all the pans,” Panting and. breathless, more from excite- ment and suspense than fatigue, he sunk upon the beap of fresh earth, and gazed into the ex- cayation. . They had dug below the sand, reach- ing a brownish clay. Thus far his. hopes had been. fully realized. And one more blow of the pick or shovel would have told him the truth— whether this was. like the gold mines of. Cali- fornia, or not. But he could not deal that blow then. He must compose.himself first, is heart throbbed too vio ently. And yet greed for wealth had not, brought this man here. For years be had never known a want that gold could gratify, .He was one of the few who had torn an immense fortune from the beart of the Golden Land, F. had scarcely spent the interest of bis fortune, Instead, he was bnying to flee from the dread Pee ront Oe memory. © did not fear death, ecause to die would be oblivion. But he, too, was. a victim tothe yellow de- mon, for the time. Carefully Cook scraped away the brown clay and cast it aside, He knew that it was too por- ous to contain gold—that the RPOYK metal would sink through it much asa handful of shot will work its way to the bottom of a keg of powder. Then. he paused again. . The glow deepened his eyes. is cheeks flushed, hotly, then faded to a sickly pallor, Below the grayish brown clay, lay revealeda thin stratum of almost black clay; two inches below this, as a stroke with his knife showed Cook, wasa white clay, hardand solid, Through this gold could not sink. If any, it must be contained in the two inches of dark clay, Cook did not stir until his comrades returned, bearing water. Carefully. thia>lack dirt was scraped up, and them the washing was. begun in breathless silence, — ' Little by little the clay dissolyed and the thickened water was poured away, then more dirt and more water were added, The actions of these men may be described—but not. their looks, their thoughts! In those busy minutes they felt like the pris- over as he beholds the jury about to deliver the verdict that shall give bim life, or doom him to a shameful death,. The suspense was terrible. At last it was over. Slowly and carofully Cook poured the water from the pan, Then he lowered it. to the ground and sunk back like one fainting. A low cry burst from the lips of those hag- gard men, a cry that is, frightful in its in- tensity. : Over an ounce of dull yellow flakes and beans lay in the bottom of the pan. yt was gold! ‘ Perhaps it was fortunate that an.interruption occurred just at that juncture; an interruption that instantly recalled their senses, and broke the terrible spell that this discovery cast upon them. Asharp, whistling sound—precisely similar to that which had startled Paul Jayne buta few hours before—followed by a light, thud caught their ears. The latter sou directed their eyes. In the fresh mound of Ab ey ot a few paces behind them, quivered the feathered tip of an arrow, buried two-thirds its length in the dirt. Instinetively, the men sprung, forward and crouched down close to the rocks, clutching their rifles in readiness for defense. - For years he the gold, slowly washed downward by the A 3 — The direction in which the feathered shaft ointed, told thew that the arrow bad been sped rom the hillside above. But as no other mis- siles followed the first, the truth flashed upon Mat’s mind, and darting forth he clutched the arrow. A cry broke from his ‘lips as he noticed some- thing wound round the shaft, secured with a bit of sinew. He toreit loose, and saw that the in- ner side bore traces of writing. Then his eyes flashed up to the mountain-side, pyrnai. “What is it?” cried Cook, springing for- ward, ‘**Don’t know—for shore. A female critter, I think. She jest dodged round the p’int vender,” excitedly muttered Double Fist, Cook seized the square of fawn skip: it was tanned sofg and white. Rude letters, in- what seemed, to be blood, covered the inside; letters that were printed, not written, ph te “Strangers,” it began, “ your lives are in danger. Flee while youcan. An hour's delay may be fatal. A bandof Apaches have discovered you, and ae attacking you this night. I risk my life to warn you,” 9 Thus read James Cook’ the contents of this strange missive, In silence bis comrades 1is- tened. At the last word, their eyes met; then f urned toward the pan with its mite of yellow ust, a we. Be Could they abandon the treasure they hat just found, after so long a search? That was the thought each pair of eyesrevealed, iy la CHAPTER I TWO BRAVE WOMEN, ‘ Foster, have you discovered any thing?” ‘* Nothing, Slouae it. gives jer viet f miles and miles around, I could detect no. of buman life,” gloomily responded the gray- headed man, tel pole adh ld and Sei erhaps. never before had that wild and lone- ly valley held such occupants as now, There were, three human, beings,, one. man, two women, rt Not far from the. rocky side of the vailey stood a light, white-tilted. wagon. Lazily.crop- ping GairiOh, grate that bordered the tiny stream, were two stout mules, both ‘ side-ho / straps connecting the fore and hind foot upon 7 side. godly, 44 se @ women were young, the eldest not have, been much, i any. beyond, Boy olen Wha’, then, were they duing here? A, few words will explain. er Jobu Temple was what mi e termed a “rolling stone.” Almost every occupation in life he bad tried, only to aban ye of a later fancy. Twenty years before be had married a woman who had waited for him ttle altered. He moved nearly ey: year, scarcely waiting to get se in one lo. cms there he buried his wife, who left him only two dng erie his. roving impulses, and it seemed t home, lately carried from. world to. world hy. t winged messengers of the Press—the acco diamonds and other precious stones being found in great profusion amid the mountains and foot- hills of Arizona? Apers This was the glittering bubble that lured Jobn Temple from his cosey home that nestled in the shadow of Pike’s, Peak. He forgot. the pledge be had given his dead wife, but bis children had not forgotten theirs, They knew how vain would be the attempt to dissuade him, and so, though sadly and sick at heart, they prepared to accompany him in his search after the phantom riches. x | Though foolhardy and reckless at times, John Temple knew better than toattempt the journey alone, He joined a small caravan, tly. of triends, partly of strangers, and turned bis face toward wh@ was fondly believed to be the new Dorado, y ge i ¢tot? As the goal rs neared, the ae rad srew more and more e an tof Slay! And, when within view Of the distant ; of the light wagon. driven b Reimpte Boy Raita be was left rio in ald Who . bas forgotten the marvelous tale. fe C) of
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4 the damage, and then to overt: ke the party by traveling a little later than usual. This gave him little anxiety, as a spare axle was strapped beneath the wagon-bed, and an hour’s work would fit it in Pp ace. Sobe saw the party pass on without a thought of uneasi- n e8s, Yet the band of fate was in the accident. The cruel jolt that bad snapped the axletree was the first link in the chain that was to end in sorrow and death, Unloading the wagon, Temple removed the bed, having loosed his mules to feed upon the grass, while Mary and Minnie kindled a fire to prepare the mid-day meal, By the time it was ready the new axle was fitted into place. Far away, just crossing aswell in the ground, they could see the tilted wagons of their late companions, With their he at rig it would be easy to overtake them; so believed John Tem- 1 e. m But fate was against him. As he started to catch the usually docile mules, the nearest flung out bis heels s eins, and, though barely reaching Temple, hurled him to the ground severely bruised. Then the brute, joined by its mate, galloped away over the sand-bills. Though momentarily stunned, Temple was not seriously hurt, and started in chase. Aided by his daughters he finally succeeded, but when once more they took up their journey, the sun was far down in the west. The caravan had full four hours the start. Angry, rather than anxious, John Temple lashed the mules to a trot, and kept them at speed until long after the sun hed set. hough it was now dark, he, in his ignore n*e of he 6 lore, never’ once doubted his ability to eep forward in a straight course, Or, even a trifle to one side, what did should he stra that matter! The glowing light of his friends’ camp-fire would easily lead him back. So he reasoned. ' He saw that a storm was brewing; one that Prcaitees to be of unusual severity, and he ashed his animals on, anxious only to join the camp before the storm burst. But the expected beacon light did not dawn for them, though hour after hour they rumbled on, and then the storm-cloud burst, the cold rain chilling them to the bone, Sullenly-Temple unhitched and staked out bis mules. Then huddled together for warmth, the trio a long, miserable night in sleepless discom- ort, Day dawned bright and clear, but hatin in they were upon rising ground, nothing could seen Of their friends, And yet Temple felt confident that he bad kept a straight course, for direct before them loomed the dark range. For two days more they pressed on, hoping against > but never fin ing a trace of the caravan. Still, they believed it would be all right when once they gained the mountains. ‘Sooner or later they must meet with the lost ones. After dark the foot-hills were reached, and in the little valley where we now find them, the father and children encamped. With the first light of day Temple sought the high ground and anxiously scanned the surrounding country, but the Jonged-for sight did not greet his eyes. “But they must be near, father,” added Mary, the eldest, though in a troubled tone, “1 think so, We may have passed them in the night, as they may have grown anxious for our safety and encamped to wait forus. We ieee surely see them some time during’ the ay. “But will they come here—to this valley?” queried Minnie. . * Possibly—but not likely. However, it will be easy to find them. Only—” * Only what, father?” ‘“T meant if there was any one to keep a watch for them. We don’t know what danger may be hidden in these bills, and I don’t like to leave you here alone.” ‘*But you must—and then we are able to take care of ourselves for that length of time, surely,” laughed Mary. ‘‘ You forget our rifles, and that you taught us how to use them.” “ That is like you, darling,” and John Temple lovingly touched the sunny cheek of bis black- haired child. ‘ Really I don’t know as there’ll be any danger, for I shall not far away. Only up on the mountain yonder, where I will have a long view. I must see them from there. ‘You are sure you're not afraid, child?” **No—are we, Minnie?” ; ‘““Not much, if you don’t stay long,” mur- the golden-baired girl. ““ Well, then, I will go. There is no time to Old Double Fist. lose, for if they once get in among the hills, it may be hard to find them. Keep close to the wagon, and have your rifles at band, I don’t think there are any red-skins near, or we would have heard from them last night. Still, there may be wolves, or such like. Don’t fret, now; I'll be back in an hour,” and kissing his children, John Temple strode rapidly away. The girls stood together watching him until he bad disappeared from view. And a right comely picture they formed, too. banet the eldest by some two years, was scarcely twenty years of age. She was tall, her figure fully developed and beautifully—almost See, tae seal Her hair was jetty black, heavy and straight, yet silken aad lus- trous, worn ina simple coil at the back of ber head. Her complexion, though clear, was of that peculiar Oriental richness that words can scarcely describe. This, with her hair, and reat black eyes, she had inherited from her ather. No one-could deny her beauty; she was beautful, almost peerlessly so. Minnie was shorter, lighter—in a word, petite. As Mary resembled her father, so Minnie re- sembled her mother, To say that her com- plexion was fair, of ‘‘ the blended lily and rose,” that ber hair was a beautiful nut-brown, with a pure golden glitter as the ‘sun’s rays glinted athwart it, as it bung slightly curling adown her shoulders, unconfined save by a simple ribbon band; that her eyes were large, lustrous, of a ag melting blue, at times half-concealed by the lcng, slightly-curved lashes; that her bosom was full and swelling, her waist round and compact—in a word, that her form was symmetry in every detail, is an apology for description; but sométimes one meets a face or figure—rarely both combined, as in this case— that only the eye can describe. If Mary Temple was beautiful, Minnie, her sister, was lovely. The sisters seated themselves upon the green- sward, beside the wagons, and with true house- wifely instinct, busied themselves with mending such rents as the long and rough journey bad made in their stout calico dresses. But their gaze frequently wandered away over the valley and upon the mountain-side, as though ill at ease. And that they should be, is but natural, for they know that the ground upon which they sit is a portion of that still claimed by the wild Apache nation. And where could that péople find a more solitary or wild retreat than among these hills—almost mountains? An hour—two hours passed by; and yet Jobn Temple had not returned. Though neither spoke of it, the sisters were growing anxious, and they read the fact in each other’s faces. Mary arose, and lifting the front curtain, handed forth two rifles, together with their equipage. And in the manner with which the weapons were bandled, both sisters betrayed a familiarity this is seldom met with in women, where fire-arms are concerhed. ‘‘What are you going to do, Mary?” queried Minnie, as she took the light weapon from her sister, and a inspected its cap. ‘** Nothing—only you know father told us to have them in readiness. I: can do no harm, and then there is something in the air that dis- tresses me. I don’t know why, but I believe there is danger pnnesding I feel a yaa ment of evil—ever since lry)', night it has been upon my mind,” hurriedly epoke the girl, her : ecks glowing, her eyeasfiled with a strange i ght. 16" be: “It is this strange~y!4a¢;Mary—so lonely, 80 different from our dear, figsey: home, If father had never left it!” and Ryo 53, sighed. “J dreamt of mothber,:.ast night, sister. I know it was a dream, and yet it seemed more like a vision. She came to me, I thought, look- ing so sad and mournful, Then I saw she was weeping. She motioned us to turn back—for it seemed that father and you and I were riding over a prairie. Father and you looked steadily ahe:.d; [seemed the only one that saw her, I tried to speak—to touch you, to draw your at- tention to her, but could not move. Father drove on and on, and mother seemed to hover ae before us, now waving us back, now wring- ng ber hands in grief, And I could not move —1 could not utter « word. Then a great bot- tomless pit seemed tc ppen just before us. I could see it plainly, ly.t father drove straight on. As he fell down wit seemed forever and ever—I thought I heara: aother’s voice crying. Then T awoke, trembling and damp with a cole For several moments neither spoke, but then Minnie, rallying, uttered: “But, after all, Mary, darling, it was only a dream, and we must not let tbat discourage us. Think how father would feel if he saw us sad or despondent. He would blame himself for bring- ing us out here so far from home. And then— your old motto—hope for the best. To-morrow you will be the first to laugh at your fears of to-day.” Mary smiled, but did not reply in words. And then she changed the stakes to which the mules’ lariats were fastened, that they might have better grazing. Scarcely had she accomplished this than a faint exclamation from Minnie startled ber. Quickly turning, the maiden beheld ber sister gazing rey toward the opposite hillside, ber eyes widely distended, her cheeks pale as with apprehension, ‘Minnie—what is it? What do you see that frightens you?” hastily uttered Mary, as she glided rapidly to the younger maiden's side, “T think—I’m sure that 1 saw a man jump behind that rock—the big one with the thic bush upon its top,” faintly murmured Minnie. “ Are you sure it wasn’t father/’ muttered Mary, keenly eying the point indicated. ‘* Yes—it was dark, almost black, as it crossed the sunshine there, it looked like—like an In- dian!” “Most likely it was your fancy, Min. But we will soon know. If an Indian, we will hear from him soon. Come—be brave. Don’t show that you were frightened. Turn your eyes away. Look as careless as you can. ; Now go and get in the wagon. Leave the cur- tain up. If there is only one—or even two, we ni manage them, I guess. Gonow—but quitet- While mp cmripy Ameer was rapidly thinking. She knew that if Mimnie was not deceived, their freedom if not lives were in imminent peril, for even were the savages of a tribe professedly at peace, they could never resist such a temptation as this. In a moment she had taken in the entire situation, and resolved upon the best course to pursue. She knew tbat, if the Indians really meant mischief, the wagon was their only re- fuge. True, its sides were of thin pine boards that would not turn an arrow, much less check a bullet. But these, together with the canvas covering, would conceal their forms so that a shot must be aimed almost at random, And to discharge these shots, the enemy must expose theméelves to the occupants of the wagon. Knowing this, Mary relied upon being able to pick them off in time. She was more confident because she felt as- sured that there could not be more than two or three of the Indians, else they would have ad- vanced at once, boldly and opeuly, since the valley contained only one ligbt, small wagon. Then, too, why their suspicious skulking, if friendly? A qetek glance showed Mary that Minnie was safe within the wagon, taking with her one rifle; the other rested against the bed, where it had been he while changing the mules. Mary glided rapi@ly to the wagon, then stooped as if to tie her shoe, close beside the rifle, This action was to cover the quick glance cast toward the suspected rock. The maiden felt her heart throb rapidly as she saw that Minnie had not been deceived. Just stepping from his covert, she bebeld a tall, half-naked Indian, bearing a rifle in bis hand. With mai-“elous quickness, Mary rose direct and turned round, tacing full toward the sav- age. He started as if to spring back, but then paused as the maiden raised one hand, its open yay turned toward him. For a moment he esitated; then the half-poised rifle was low- ered and he started forward. a Mary instantly caught her rifle aud flung its muzzle forward, With ludicrous celerity the red-skin again paused, as if nonplused. ‘Who are you—what do you want?” said Mary, mechanically, without a thought of be- ing understood. . ** Me frien’—want talk,” promptly replied the savage. ‘He is not an enemy—thank God!” exclaimed Minnie from within the wagon. “‘Wait—he may be lying,” replied the sister, more prudently; then adding, to the Indian, Stop—I'll shoot if you come any nearer. How do I know that you speak the truth?” ; « ae talk straight—don’t never lie,” replied the red-skin, with a fair share of dignity. “Then lay down your rifle on the rock by ou. Do that and you may come in.” The Indian hesitated, and though she could not hear a word, nor yet detect his lips moving,
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——- —— Mary felt balf-convinced that he was consulting with others, After a mioute’s pause, he added: ‘You lay gun down, too, den.” “Very well,” was the prompt reply, and Mary adroitly thrust her rifle into the wagon, adding in a low tone: ‘ Keep close watch, sis- ter, on those rocks. Be ready to fire, if Ido, I have my revolver and can manage this brute if he tries miscbief.” The reader may think strange that the maid- en should agree to the Indian entering the camp peacefully, if she suspected him of treach- ery, but a moment’s reflection will give her reason. If the Indians were peaceably disposed, it ‘would be worse than cour, to irritate them into an attack, By treating them kindly, all trouble say te be averted. nd then, if they really meditated treachery, she was taking the best course to meet it. This would insure her first blow being a deadly one, Whether the Indian was satisfied with Mary’s movement or not, he gave no evidence to the contrary. Laying his rifle and ammunition upon the rock, he glided down and across the valley. Gaining the encampment be extended his hand as in friendly greeting, while a smile wreathed his greasy features. Mary knew now that he meditated treachery, ‘but she did not flinch, though her cheek paled, and the glow deepened in hereyes, A faint, cautious whisper from the wagon gave her the cue, “* Beware, —some one behind the rock ‘has slipped away his rifle. Ican see it pointing toward you now!” “* All right—mark the spot, and shoot at the smoke, Don’t fear for me,” muttered the wo- man, between her teeth, her lips not moving. Hoty How—how?” grunted the Indian, extending bis hand, an exultant glitter shining in his ‘snakish eyes, “How do you do, brother?” quietly replied Mary, as she lifted her hand. It was her left hand. At the same time she advanced a pace with her left foot, The move- ment put hér en profile, her right side toward the wagon. Had she doubted the truth of Minnie’s words, the maiden could not bave misread the ven- owous glitter in the Indian’s eyes as his broad palm closed upon hers. Tightening his grip, the Indian flung cut his left arm, intending to sjeap the girl to his breast, thus making her a shield against any sbot from the wagon. But he was doomed to disappointment—and ‘worse. The brave girl was ready for his action, and promptly frustrated it, As she stepped forward, her right hand was thus thrown out of sight. Until then her hand had been hidden in her pocket. Now it was drawn forth, clasping a revolver; 2 Smith and ‘Wesson, seven-shooter, ivory-handled and sil- ver-plated. A very pretty toy to look at, but in experienced hands, a terrible enemy at close quarters. As she read his p se, Mary swiftly raised ber hand until the gleaming tube struck the savage full in the face. At the moment of con- tact, the hammer fell and a half-smothered re- port follonen. ible th a horrible, gurgling cry, the savage reeled back, both hands seeking tis face. The bullet, tiny as it was, bad pierced his brain. At the instant of firing, Mary had crouched low down, and att to one side, The pre- caution in all probability preserved her life. Almost like an echo, though Yénfold louder, a vifle-shot rung out from the roek on the bill- side, and a bullet cut the air close above her head, then passing through the canvas cover, spent its force upon the rocks beyond, Scarce- ly a thought later, came a third report, this time from the wagon. Minnie strictly obeyed her elder sister, keep- ing her rifle leveled toward the rock as she lay @lat upon the bottom of the wagon-bed. As she saw the tiny curl of smoke and heard the re- port, she fired with nerves as steady as when, in days gone by, she had practiced upon the sand snipe that ran along the prairie before ber Colorado home. Half-drowned by the report, a wild, unearth- ly shriek of horrible agony rung upon the air, and from the rocky covert a bronzed warrior sprung quivering into the air, falling to the rons a corpse. bullet bad pierced his eye. did not pause to await further develop- ments, but darted at once to the wagon, and ringing upon the tongue, was safely within the bed ere the sulphurous smoke had cleared the wagon cover. Grasping her rifle, she raised Old Double Fist. the hammer and crouched down in readiness to use the weapon. Minnie, now that actual danger threatened, was in no wise behind her sister in coolness and bravery. Lying upon her back she was already driving home the well-leathered bullet. Though so gentle and retiring in every-day life, the knowledge that she had slain an Indian gave her no compunctions. A true daughter of the West, their barbarity bad led her to class them among ravening wild beasts. “Do you see anything of them, Mary?” she bastily muttered, as she capped the weapon. — “ Only two—yours and mine,” slowly replied Mary, alluding to the dead savages. “Maybe these two were alone.” “Possibly; but that would be too good for- tune. I can hot help thinking of my dream,” gloomily added Mary. . “Tt was a dream, nothing more.’ Even if there are others, we can beat them off until father returns.” ‘That is my greatest fear now—for him. He is so brave, and loves us so, that seeing us at- tacked would set him wild. He would not think of caution, but would rush upon certain death. If we could only warn him!’ “ Perhaps we can, if we see him in time. By our firing from in here, he would see that we were safe, and then he would know the ground.” ; “Sh!” hissed the maiden, as the light rifle rose to her cheek, but even as the white finger touchee the set trigger, her head’ was slightly uplifted. “ What is it, Mary?” ‘“‘T had a glimpse of two Indians then, but they’ve hidden again, To the right of where our game lies, notice a moss-spotted rock. hey are behind it. The cowards! skulkin from two girls!” and the red lips curled wit scorn, : “Tm content that they should,” and Minnie laughed slightly, ‘‘But they’ve had a speci- men of our shooting, and— Mary, we are lost!” she abruptly added, in an agitated tone. “There are more coming, near the hill-top you- der. I saw them dodging behind the rocks!” * Sure it was not father?” “He would be aloné—I saw tbree or four.” ‘So be it, then,” Mary rejoined, desperately, her black eyes glows ‘‘Let them come. We are only two girls, but they may pay dear for their victory. Minnie, you are not afraid?” “Not. so much so that my. nerves are un- steady. I think I can send a bullet home,” she quietly replied. ‘See to your pistol, We will need them, if only for ourselves. You know what the lot of a captive woman is in their hands?” r “Tunderstand you. Butsee—toolate! They have reached that pile of rocks. They mean to get where they can rake the wagon from end to end!” Mary quietly dropped the curtain, only sever- ing a small hole through which she could take aim. The end was near. Their forms nearly filled the narrow wagon-bed from side to side. A raking fire must be fatal. CHAP’ ER III. THE LONE LADY OF THE HILLS, “Waar is your opinion, Mat?” at length asked Cook, 1, ‘sting the strange missive thoughtfully, “T bain’t got: one, I’m all mixed up, like. If we could on’y ‘etch the squaw as sent that, mebbe we couid know better,” and Anderson scratched his hea! doubtfully. “It’s plain enou ch she’s a friend, anyway,” ventured Dane, .ancing up the _ hillside. “Maybe a whi |." vtive—who knows?” “White granny. “Captyves don’t run round loose like that, nowadays. Mebbe—mind yer, I on’y say mebbe—it’s a plan—a sell, Mebbe them words is a ’cute lie, got up jist to skeer us away from the dig n’s,” “ But who would do it? You say the track down yonder was that of a woman.’ “I don’t say anybody 'd do it; I'm on’y s’posin’ a case. S'posin’ somebody else knows thar’s gold here—it’s not onlikely, Tiey don’t want to share’th us. How kin they drive us off? By fightin’? That thought be onbealthy, bein’ as we karry barkefs—the kind that bites, too. S’posin’ they 7>*t know who we are— likely agi. Mubbe ‘they think we're green- horns, n’ we ar—what’d skeer us off quicker’n Injuns? | ‘thin’,” — te yuldw't be he fust, b that hed wouldn’ the a heap, @ a Injun sqnaw ’th ’em. Tye toted wore'n one, myself, in my time.” 5 “Ts this your real opinion of the matter?” “Its one way. ‘T’other is, that, the hull thing is bony-fidy true. The critter may hey white blood in ber. Mebbe some white feller hes did her a good turn,’an’ so she tries to pay it back. Some Injuns is that-a-way—but not very many.” ‘Come, come, Mat,” impatiently cried Cook, ‘You're the oldest, and have bad more experi- ence than all the rest of us put together, so we naturally look to you for advice, Drop your suppositions, and come to the point,. won't ou?” y ‘Wal, lll tell you jist whatJ’d do ’f I war alone. Fust, I'd look’round a bit, | wouldn’t be sech a durned fool as to'run away from a vile o’ gold jist ’ca’se somebody hollered: Ivjuns. har’s a-plenty o’ hidin’-places hero. in| these hills. Ef the buckskin is true, we'll see or,hear the Apash tonight. Ef they don’t show u then it’s a sell. Ef they do, then we kin te better whether it’s best to buck ag’inst’em or to make tracks, To my notion, thar’s nothin’ else we kin do. How long’d it take to keteh up our critters from the .valley yender, ef they’ve scattered, asin co’se they hev ? en, how fur could we ride over yender prairie afore the Apash'd sight us? Tharfore, I say stay here ortil night, anybow. Ef we must er ee g it must be onder kiver 0’ the dark.’ : , “I believe he is right, boys,” thoughtfully uttered Cook, ‘‘ And J for one bate to, leave this gold if there is the slightest chance of carrying any,with us.” Stat. tad Ww" The young men eagerly coincided, perhaps because they were ignorant of the real peril should the Apache have discovered them. Brave, hot-headed and well-armed, a with red-skins—not too severe, of course—was just what they sccretly pined for. * Then it’s a stay—fer a time, anyhow, Wal, ’twon’t da to work any more now. I'm to take a little scout round tbe hills; mebbe I kin find that squaw, or Varn somettin’ 0’ Apasb. LI you fellers stay bere?” Tet ‘I'm going with you, Mat,” said Paul Jayne. Jat ; thy pt, “T don't think there'll be any real darger,” said Cook, musingly, “If the warning isin faith, the Apache must have seen us esterday or last night, else how ceme she to give us the warning this morning? For their own skins they'll try to take us by surprise, Then let's divide into three parties. You can bunt the squaw, and I will take a look after the mules. Ve can eet pee in coneie of eb witeke. ive us ample 8 nd a ding- ce be- iors ni bt? ‘‘Mebbe it'll do 'f ye’re not tou brash, Be jest like you youngsters to run your beads right spang in a ho’net’s nest,” commented Anderson, not exactly satisfled. But the boys bad wills of their own, and he knew tbere was little use in diepattee them. © it was settled that Dane should go vith pan Jayne with Mat, while the cousins other company. Then with renewed cautions they separated, Mat ome BY ‘the hillside, here he had lost sight of the my 1 he 4 Ap \y steHous aw. | "Little did they dream of the conse this bold and rash step, of. ma ea that fore them, of the,danger and 8 th undergo before io madlon’ iE plece, at all, eee tf “Now, Ed,” observed Cook, as the part separated, “ we'll strike Prec it into the valley yonder, and look to thé animals, Sire may or may not be danger, as as ow, it there is, we must. work toget Either you take the lead, or else follow me.” Gate: ae “T'd sooner trust your h than © ine, Cook,” returned Dane, who had ‘not a little Anapapseed by the Californian’s discovery of goic. : ‘ All right—then do just as I do, whether think it right or wei oubt would 1 id be all worse in case of trouble,” aie aki “T geareely know what T do’ think, #4," tut “T scarce ow wha Oo Ed, something tells me that we. Shona ehtes trouble before we're out this scrape,” thou peuy. added ar: ’ 5 kod aa’ ‘* Well, strike out, I'll watch yot jo the best I know how when the Wine GomeuL ar i does come,” Ed quietly responded, == Cook, with bis ri “real tbe nd, sprung forward, rapidly | uick and surefooted as the mountain goat. bat Dane lacked ip pence was made up by ADAG steers tae ovat ooh e near , Cook used more cau- tion, and ‘final! used Ui; i Pomider, from wbenoe be'eould petr dewhhings
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~ 6 the valley where their mules bad been turned loose to feed+-of course being hoppled. The diamond-seekers had chosen these animals not for speed or beauty, but because of their a, aie over horses in rock-climbing and difficult travel- ing, a great deal of which they expected to do, The diminutive, gray, rat-like Mexican mules were active and surefooted; and would fatten where a horse would starve’ to death—a thistle or thornbush they considered a luxury. **T see one of the mules,” muttered Dane. “ Yes—but wait. They are there, I know, but there may be something more dangerous, Use your eyes well, now; take the valley, while Isearch the hill.” A long and careful scrutiny satisfied the friends that nothing was to be apprehended, and then they descended into the valley. As yet they had only noticed one mule, and though that was tolerable proof that the others were cont something might possibly have separated en. ‘Yonder they are, now,” and Dane pointed up the valley. “T see, but— Hist! down, man, down!” ‘The last words were hissed through Cook’s clinched teeth with startling force, and his strong ‘hand closed with crushing force upon the young man’s arm, And as he uttered the ning, the Californian sunk suddenly upon the ground, amidst the rank growth of grass and weeds, “What is it?’ muttered Dane,,as he cocked his rifle; but though his face was pale, he did not tremble, or give the faintest sign of fear, ““ Something—an Indian, I thought, upon the hillside’ yonder—near that red, cone-shaped rock. © There—” “Tsee it—lay still,” hastily muttered Ed, as the rifle rose to his cheek, and bis eye glanced ‘along the clouded tube. . *8top—don’t shoot—it’s a woman!” eried Cook; but only bis ‘lightning-like motion frus- trated the deadly aim.- ' \sAs he spoke, Cook saw the finger pressing the trigger, and instantly flung back his.open bar Bo As the hammer fell it was caught upon € oct Re mM... : , ‘*Cockit, Ed,” whispered Cook, his eyes once more reverting to the hillside, ‘‘ bat don’t shoot until I give the word. .l only see the one—per- 3, Lis the one, who sent us that warning.” Dane raised thehammer and freed his friend’s Band, The small nipple had cut deep into the flesh, but Cook did not feel pain then, nor heed the blood that, spurted. from the wound. Both pair of eyes were bee palig ai eaters Greet e- .bowlder, at the base of which st fhe erfirst, noticed by Cook. Sudden as had ego their, concealment, it was evident that stranger had observed them, for with one hand sb ging the eyes, she was gazing steadily Se A brief scouting satisfied the Californian that the ie ender alone, and in his belief that she eo} is ope zi . , then, but leave your rifle. She have seen us both, and that will show her a) uf _We mean no treachery.” 2 ss hen raising his, voice he addressed the i ae “Can you speak English?” ute cone fens tewer: clear and distinct. als Goat en. tell me—are youa friend or an aaa tril to all ey pale ga but there are.¢ $s, Cr and treacherous ene- “mie, olose ‘at hand. You ere of those I warned —then why are you here? Are you weary of life that you tarry.here, when the snare of . death;is closing inpupon you! Take warning— pf bi Peer your death-warrant. n . Beak eatony ia ig Afar cwe live to see the wmorrow’s sun rise. opighe you and your . friends. will be murdered, idly and earnest- “Ayetied te unger, in tones that could not be ubdted, hahn _ - +} ' SW. en? You are an Indian?” ‘eurlously isk Clay his wonder at such speech —I. am. white, like yourself, . What I was > Sup bite, ike ZoRrs Shaws r voice eh te ther eid ‘Outlined ‘by the “bright sun against t " baat rock’ the strange Old Double Fist. woman formed a remarkable picture. And the two comrades gazed upon it with wondering eyes, She was tall—unusually so for a woman—and of erect carriage. Her skin was dark, yet lighter than that of an Indian, clear and healthful, Jetty black bair bung in masses below her waist. A band, shaped like a coronet, encircled her brow, glittering in the sunlight like beaten gold. To this was attached a number of eagle- ety their tips stained scarlet. A neatly- tting waist of whitely-bleached doeskin cover- ed her bust and waist, in perfect symmetry, gayly embroidered tunic or skirt reached to her nees, and, with leggins and moccasins, com- pleted her costume, In the girdle, at her waist, gleamed the haft of a knife; in one hand she held a tightly -strung bow; above the left shoulder peeped the top of a quiver, filled with feathered shafts, The distance precluded more than a general idea of the stranger’s features, “ But why are you, a white woman, consort- ing with the Apaches? Trust yourself to our protection, and we will see you safe with your friends and people,” earnestly cried Cook. “I have no friends—no people. And I fear you pledge more than lies in your power. You may not be able to preserve your own lives, even when unincumbered witha woman, Yet I thank you for your brave offer, though I must refuse it. I have ties here that I cannot break. No—think not of me; seek tosave yourselves, The danger is great—very great!” and raising her hand in warning, the strange being turned to ascend the bill. ‘*Wait—one moment,” cried the Californian. ‘‘ At least tell us your name that we may re- member you as a friend, not a stranger.” ' ‘*} have no name—I have been dead to the (world for fifteen years! Remember—you are warned!” Turning, she sprung lightly up the hillside with a lithe activity that proved her long train- ing. Once more she paused upon the ridge to repeat the warning gesture, and then disap- peared from view of the comrades below. “Well!” finally exclaimed Dane, drawing a long breath. ‘‘Here is an adventure with a vengeance!” “Eh? Did you speak?” muttered Cook, start- ing up as if from a dream. “ Strikes me I did,’ dryly returned Hd. ‘You seem to be struck with our fair savage.” “Tm a fool—but the voice, the form—and then the time—fifteen years! It all opened the wound I thought forever closed. I almost be- lieved that I saw my Jessie before me, But that is folly—she could not be here,” muttered Cook, brushing a hand across his forehead, as though to banish the tormenting memories. ‘Maybe it is—such things have been, you know,” eagerly put. in Dane, who was a con- firmed novel-reader. ‘Did the Indians have anything to do with it?” “No—sbe married and went to England,” shortly replied Cook, arousing himself witb an effort. ‘‘ But come—we must go,” “ Where?” “First, up the valley, to see the mules, We must tie them up, for we may need them before long, if that woman spoke true—and I believe now that she did. Then we must join the boys and tell them what we have seen and heard.” “But you—you’re sure there’s no mistake about—” muttered Ed.a little doubtfully. ' * “ Mistake—about what?” “This woman—you’re sure she ain’t the same one you used to know—the one you called J epsle! Just. think what a story it would make— “Let up on that, Dane,’ and Cook’s face darkened. “If I unwittingly gave you a glimpse of my past life, let that satisfy you. It is my secret—and you will only make bad blood by harping upon the matter. So drop it, unless you are anxious for a quarrel.” “ Bless you, man, J don’t want to quarrel with you. Only I couldn’t help thinking—” ‘Keep to the right there—the mule will dodge vou, if you don’t louk sharp, Turn it up the valley.” Half an_hour later, their task was accom- plished, The mules were secured in a secure nook, their hopplé-ropes were serving as halters, and an ample quan ity of green boughs placed before them. . While this lasted, there was little danger of the animals betmying their where- ‘abouts by stamping.or braying. Ne _— wey — Ome “2m ty - ck to the rendezvous, I guess, though we will have walt for the others, unless they, too, are ahead of time.” lly 4 “aris he “Mat and Jayne must be to the west of us, a ‘| ess. from the way they set out. S’pose we climb the hill yonder, and maybe we'll, meet them,” sug- gested Ed. “Tt may be as well, seeing, we have to gain the other valley anyway. Come on, then,” and the comrades breasted the steep ascent. “Hark!” and with the exclamation, Cook abruptly paused and bent his ear, when mid- way up the hill, ‘‘ Did you hear that?” “What?” “The sound of fire-arms, I thought—listen.” ‘*T can hear nothing,” said Dane after a pause of acute listening. ‘In which direction?’ ‘From over the bill, 1 thought, but I may have been deceived. An uncertain sound always seems to come from the direction in which one is pres ‘‘ Maybe we can see from the hill-top.” “Right; but be cautious. Keep your wenpone ready; though we have notbing to fear from those who were firing. It must bave been miles away.” The men cautiously advanced, and in a few moments gained the crest of the hill, and crawl- ing forward, keeping behind the numerous bowlders, they gained a position that command- ed a fair view of the valley below them, or rather a portion of it—that upon their right. A dense clump of stunted trees and shrubbery cut. off part of the view they would otherwise have had, Scarcely had they crouched down, when the faint sound of several rifle-shots, clearly follow- ing each other, came to their ears. They could no longer doubt the evidence; their friends must be in danger. ‘‘ What had we better do?” excitedly mut- ‘tered Dane, ‘* What is your opinion?” ‘* The boys must be in danger, and I say let’s take a hand in!” ‘Good! you'll do, Ed. Come on, then. We must skirt this brush-patch—the sound comes from beyond that, Once sround it, we may see what is going on. Follow me, and keep close up,” “ Allright; but hurry, or it will be over be- fore we can get there.” Though really anxious for the. fate of his friends, whom he believed concerned in the fir- ing, Cook could not help smiling at Dane’s eager- Though green in scme respects, Ed was nothing of a coward. They hastened forward as rapidly as the na- ture of the ground wculd permit, and soon cleared the patch of underbrush, In their ea. gerness they forgot all thc ughts of caution, and rushed on with a reckless disregard of noise, stumbling, slipping and sliding, as they begam the steep descent. But they were soon awakened to a sense of their imprudence, and driven to think of their own peril. A shrill whicker broke the air, un- mistakably the neigh of a horse. ‘“Down bebind the rock, Ed,” muttered Cook, squatting low down, and raising the hammer of his rifle, ‘‘ It came from round that point.” “You think it’s Indians?” “What else? Who else would be riding horses here in the mountains?” and Cook glanced kcen- ly into tlhe face of bis comrade. What be read there was gratifying, and a stern smile lighted his face, for he knew that he could depend upon Dane as upon himself, And nothing nerves a man more surely than such a confidence, for it tells him he has only one life to fight for—his ewn. ‘“‘ Maybe it was only an accident—tbat is, we may not have been heard,” muttered Dane, ‘“No—if the Indians are there, we will have to fight, for the horse was startled by our noise. They act as sentinels, and will direct their masters where to look for us.” “ Well, give a fellow a chance—I mean, don’t shoot before I can spot my man. Seems to me a man must be bard to draw a bead on.” ‘““What—you are not afraid—-” ‘‘ Not for myself, but I don’t know whether I can drop one of the imps the first shot or not. It’s a new game to me,” quietly replied Ed, and again Cook smiled, He understood the young man. The time had been when he himself felt the same doubt. “Tf you miss, I'll crow over you, sure, Ed. But list—you hear that?’ he hastily ‘added, as a bo tl rattling sound told of a displaced stone rolling down the hillside, He knew now that the enemy were afoot, and felt a stern, wild joy in the thought that he must scon be engaged in a deadly struggle, even though its end, in all probability, must. be death, And then the two rifle-barrels peered over the top of the bowlder. A brief description can hardly give a correct
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Old Double Fist. idea of the spot where the two comrades were now at bay. The point they had chosen to descend, resembled the blunted point of the let- ter V. They had kept on the right side of this ridge. At the hill’s base, the valley swept rcund on either hand. Directly before the mo a narrow defile led out to the level ground seyond the foot-bills. Half-way up the hill, a narrow ledge of rock ran transversely, like a belt, some six or eight feet in width. Above and close beside this natural road, rested the bowlder behind which our friends crouched, Their rifles commanded the road where it turned round the ridge, but from above, below and behind, they wouldgbe exposed to full aim. A single leap would carry them into the wood. From around this point had come the sounds they heard, ‘*Look! I can see the top of one’s head—there are the feathers—see!” hurriedly whispered Dane. **E see—but keep cool. muttered the Californian, The plumed head-dress slowly rose until the eyes of a savege were visible, Then it remained motionless, as the Indian closely scanned the hillside, A moment later two men appeared. Knowing that discovery would not long be de- layed, Cooke gave the word, and two reports were blended with a térrible, blood-curdling shriek, and then the heads disappeared. ‘*T didn’t miss it!” cried Ed, exultantly. “Follow me—to the rocks yonder!” shouted Cock, leaping into the wood, closely followed y Dane. Knowing tbat, after the first shot, it would be impossible to hold this station, Cook had sought another. Fifty yards away, along the road, he saw several bowlders piled up like a fort, hollow in the center, Once inside these, they could at least sell their lives dearly. A storm of angry yells followed the death- shots, and a volley of bullets hurtled around the fugitives, as the savages darted forward in pur- suit, numbering over a score in a’, Side by side the comrades reached the rock, and Cook sprung lightly over it, then Dane. To their horror they felt themselves falling— down—down! Squat low, and wait,” CHAPTER IV. THE OVERSHADOWED CAMP. Nor was that day to pass by without giving other of the diamond-seekers good cause for re- membering it, and to them—the cousins, Bryan and Gilmore—we must now revert, They bad set off up the valley without any particular purpose in view, unless it was that of searching for “sign.” And their hope of finding tbis in that rocky section, inexperienced as they were, was far more sanguine than well- founded. For the first hour nothing occurred to interest them, or check their progress. The foot-hills seemed deserted by all save {hemselves, ‘““We may as well turn back, Harry,” at length observed Sam, brushing the perspiration from his brow. ‘ There’s no sign in this di- rection—and then it’s such confounded rough traveling.” . “Ha! ha! I’ve been listening for that for an hour, nearly, lad,’ laughed Gilmore, gleefully. “Own up that | can outfoot and wind you!” ** Not when there’s anything to be gained by it. But I do-say that I'd prefer a pipe while lying down in the shade, to this rock-climbing.” ‘Well, PH tell you. Let's cross over to that next ridge, and then if we see nothing, we'll about face for camp.” “Strike out, then, But I'd agreo to eat all the red-skins there are in these hills, for lunch, be either salt or pepper,” grumbled aT ibtok it’s a stall, myself. But we'll see to-night.” ; : . The cousins relapsed into silence, for further conversation was aimost impossible while clam- bering over, under or around the broken and is ped masses of rocks, that were in places alf screened by shrubbery and rank-growin vines. However, though at the expense o sundry annoying bruises and scratches, the cousins gained thevalley. Seip. - “Say—hold on, Harry,” panted Bryan, as he squatted upon a bowlder, dolefully rubbing bis shin. ‘‘ What’s the use of going up that hill just for the fun of turning round and comin on again? Let’s keep right on down the val mes You can wait here—I'’m going up as we in- tended. You can rest, Sam, until Icome back,” coolly added Gilmore, his eye twinkling. ““Yes—then you'd crow over me to-night at 7 the camp. No ye don’t—I'll stick to ye tighter ’n a woodtick,” Laughing, Gilmore crossed the valley and be- gan re, the hill, with Sam Bryan close at his heels. Suddenly they both paused, ‘*What’s that?’ cried Gilmore, throwing for- ward his rifle. “A rock—can’t you see? It’s big enough, and makes enough noise, too,” returned Bryan, as a } goodly-sized bowlder bounded past them with frightful velocity and force, covering them with dust and dirt, then settlipg in repose far out in the valley. a Yes—put what started it? That’s the ques- tion.’ ‘“Got tired of lying still, perhaps, and took to rolling for a change. They often start with- out help. [ve noticed it, dozens of times, on our own hills,” ‘Yes; in the spring, when the frost rots the pecan, but not at this time o’ year, I tell you— ere!’ Gilmore suddenly interrupted himself,‘ and then bounded like a mountain goat to one side; an example that was faithfully imitated by Sam. And one moment later would have been their death, fora buge jagged bowlder, weigh- ing tons, crashed resistlessly over the very spot where they had crouched. ‘‘There’s your answer, Sam,” muttered Gi'- more, his eyes glowing, ‘‘and a better one than 1 could give you, ose rocks never started without help.” : “you don’t mean that they were rolled at us 7 **Ld6ok yonder!” . _As he spoke, Gilmore pointed up the sterp hillside. Near the Great, Bryad now detected the figure of a man, crouching down beside a huge bowlder. With a power that seemed superhuman, this man pusbed the moss-grown bowlder from its bed, and sent it thundering down the hillside. As it gathered Momentum, he rose erect and raised his arms wildly, uttering a hoarse, roar- lop eey, that sounded almost unearthly. ne comrades, after the first glance, natural- ly turned their aivedgion to the passage of the bowlder, that now Gime dashing down like an avalanche, followed by smaller stones and dvbris that its foree had torn loose. To their reliéf the bowlder was gradually veering to the sade bidding fair to give their position a wide erth. . But then one of its erratic bounds carried the ‘pe ee full against a huge mass of rock, and ‘failing to shake the pile, was cast diagonally aside. A knowledge of their danger came too late for the young men to do aught to avert it, and awe-stricken they crouched to the earth, directly in the path of the buge bowlder. .Another bound—a hoarse rushing sound—and then Harry and Sam felt themselyes crusbed irresistibly to the ground while the thunderous sound rapidly receded. Truly their escape had’ been a narrow one, and only their crouching so low down saved their lives, As it was, the jagged bowlder barely missed their persons, as it bounded along, Thus, half stunned and blinded by the debris that had well-nigh buried them, the two friends staggered to their feet, and brushing the dirt from their eyes, glanced wildly around. Noth- ing could be seen of the strange man who had saluted them in such a novel manner. The hill crest seemed unoccupied, and he had vanished as suddenly as be had appeared, “What do you think it was, Harry?” mut- tered Bryan, after a moment’s silence. **T don’t know—it looked like a devil—or some wild beast walking on his hind legs!” And the brief glimpse be had obtained, par- tially favored. this last idea. Indeed, this strange antagonist quite as nearly resembled a wild beast as a human creature. A tall, massive form, seemingly clad in skins with the shaggy hair outside. Great masses of long matted hair around the head and face. ane the voice had seemed that of a roaring wild ast. : Such was all that the fleeting glimpse, im- pressed upon the memory of our friends. Little wonder then that they hesitated to pronounce the object a human cfeature, : “Look to your rifle, Sam,’ muttered Gil more, his eyes glowing. ‘‘ I’m going to see fur- ‘ther into this matter before 1 return to camp.” ‘“‘Here’s with you, Harry,” coolly added Bryap, entirely forgetting his natural indo- ence, " slightly separating, holding their weapons in readiness for instant use, the young men slowly scaled the hill. They soon gained a point from whence they could see that the real summit of the ridge was beyond where the wild-man had stood, that being a sort of shelf, running par- allel with the ri Be. A few minutes’ scrutiny satisfied the friends that the strange being must bave fled, since the ledge was unoccupied, and then they advanced more boldly. ty Look “need is blood, Harry,” muttered Bryan, pointing to a little pool of gore that filled a depression in one of the rocks, ‘‘ And bere’s where he started the last rock—so it must be bis.” “That's so—and see! yonder goes more blood —where he must have passed. hoever he is he's bad burt to bleed so much, Shall we trail him up?” “Yes. Maybehe ir—” Bryan abruptly paused * and exchanged glances with Gilmore, The same sound that had so startled Cook and Dane, as already nar- rated, now came to their ears with unmistak- able distinctness; the report of fire-drms. “Tt’s from the next valley—mayhe some of: the boys in trouble,” slowly uttered Gilmore, “We can see from the ridge—if it is them, they may need our help,” muttered Sam, as he » sprung forward, closely followed by Harry. After balf a dozen bounds, the friends abruptly paused, with Jow murmurs of won- der. Anda truly peculiar scene lay spread be- fore them. A aes A beautiful valley lay winding at their feet. But its loveliness was now marred by death and evil passions, * A small white tilted wagon was plainly out- lined against the green sward. wo mules danced at the length of their lariats in terror, kicking and plunging. Close beside the wagon lay the still struggling figure of a red-skin, bis brawny limbs writhing in the agonies of death, But stranger still the form of a womar—and by the garb a white woman—wes there. Only for an instant; then she disappeared within the canvas-covered wagon. ‘'Tain’t the boys,” muttered Bryan. “No—but there’s a white woman in trouble— we must do what we can,” burriedly returned Harry. ‘“Yes—and like’s not get peppered by the folks in the wagon for our trouble. It'd take a sharp pair of eyes to tell whether we are whites or reds just now,” grifmbled Sam, disgustedly, and not without cause, for the bownding bowl- der bad plastered them with dust. ‘But go abead—l won’t take a dare from pry bodt a “Keep your eye cpen for red-skins among the rocks then. If we sight them first, then we’re all right,” and Gilmere cautiously glided from one rock to another, “The game’s curs then,” abruptly added Sam, checking Harry, ‘‘for I can see two red devils now!” Near the edge of the valley, well concealed from the eyes of those in the wegon but fully exposed to the view of cur friends upon the hillside were two Indians, ercuchirg low behind a bowlder, apparently engerly ecnsul,ing. — ““Down—squat low, Sam!” hastily muttered Gilmore, concealing himself behind the rcck. ‘*We can pick ’em off from here if needs be. Butepatience—let’s see what they’re up to first,” With rifles in readiness the two friends knelt there, poertan through the scrubby bushes that grew close beside the bowlder, eagerly erhewt f the scene below. Tbat they should be excite was but natural, since this was their first real adventure with the savages, Lut their nerves were never more steady than at that moment. The distance separating them frcm the red- skins was not more then berg A yards, and as they could not see any more than these two, the cousins felt that the game was, fairly in their hands. This fact, in part, may account for their coolness. ~ , That the savages had at eich seh i some plan of procedure soon became e t for like shadows they darted forward and gained covert behind another bowlder just within the edge of the valley. _ de ah “What's the use of Waiting? impatiently gritted Sam, his eyes glowing with a light new to them. ‘“‘We know what they’re up to—and law’s on our side,” : . _ Harry Gilmore smiled grimly at this remark. ‘The only law that bad.jurisdiection in that,sec- Gap. was the law of the border—blood. for . * a , ‘ * Mae 3 “All right—now, before they can fire,” ‘he muttered, as he raised his rifle, et But only one report rung out, as the hammers fell. The worthless cap on the nipple of Bruja rifle refused to explode, “od ith a fierce curse, Sam jerked back the ’
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ee bammer and tore the cap away, then replaced it witb a fresh one from his pocket. At the report one of the red-skins sprung up, then fell to the ground, writhing in his death- agony. His comrade for a moment seemed petrified by this unexpected attack in the rear, and glared wildly around, unconsciously dis- charging his rifle when the muzzle pointed to- | ward the heavens. Then witha yell of dismay as he caught alight of Gilmore bounding toward him, he leaped. to his feet and fled at full spced up the valley. But Bryan sprong up and leveled his rifle, his gray eye flashing along the tube, as it followed the rapid motions of the red-skin, -A loud yell of exultation broke from his lips as he saw the Indian leap high into the air, falling upon the green sward in his death-throes as the rifle spoke, And truly Sem had cxuse to be proud of his ‘* shot on the wing.” : ‘* Hooray! for we, us and company!” he yelled, as he sprung over the bowlder, ‘‘ D’ye see any more, Harry?” ‘“No—and yet there may be others hidden among the rocks. Look to your revolvers, and if so we'll soon unearth ’em,” coolly returned Gilmore. “Thunder / what hair!” almost, gasped Sam, his eyes wildly staring toward the wagon. Mary Temple was just emerging from the canvas, and as her hair bad become unfastened during the excitement, it covered her as with a vail, fully justifying Bryan’s exclamation, oT guess there are no more, or she would not be so venturesome,” muttered Harry, as Mary flung back her hair and gazed steadily toward the cousins, ‘‘Come—let’s go down and see what harm has been done.” Though glancing ruefully at his soiled and ragged attire, Sam followed Gilmore, with far more trepidation than he would have felt had she been the most formidable of savages. As they advanced, Mary turned her head as if addressing some one within the wagon, and then Minnie emerged. As may be imagined, the cousins were not a little surprised to find that these two maidens were the only occupants of the wagon. Mary smiled-as she noticed their looks cast around the spot, and said: ‘You ~ eae to be looking for something, gentlemen?” “ Excuse me—but I was wondering how it comes that we find you here alone, for surely you must have friends with you,” stammered Gilmore, ‘We expect father every moment—indeed he sbould have returned an bour since.” * But who—surely you did not kill—” ** Yes—sister Minnie and I. But your face is not familiar—surely you were not with the caravan from which we strayed?” **No—we have been here fur two months, Luckily we heard you firing, and came in time to punish a couple of the peypes rascals,” “Tn good time, too, for had. they once gained yonder point of rocks, we would have been completely at their mercy. We owe our lives to yourself and friend,” earnestly said Mary, frankly extending her hand. Ot course Harry expressed his delight at having been of service to her, and then fo owed a mutual introduction, when fair-haired Minnie timidly greeted the stalwart Gilmore, mentall ronouncing him much more handsome wi is j-tty curls than the fairer cousin. And per- haps Mary entertained a similar suspicion con- cerning Bryan. Certain it is that in those few minutes the quartette became far better ac- quainted than they would have done in a month under less romantic auspices, But as the minutes passed on without the return of John Temple, the uneasiness of his daughters” grew deeper and more plain, now that they knew there were Indians abroad, bent upon misebief. For that the four who bad been slain were the only ones in the vicinity, was far from Seay Naturally the cousins thought of the strange bios that was now partially confirmed, and prs gue that their comrades should be put upon their guard. Still, they were men, better able certainly to take care of thea.selves than these women. your d. ere, ; “Ob if you only will! Idid not like to ask you, after ‘what you y done, but if 7 ‘IT would do more than that to please you,” ——————————————— : | * Old Double Fist. abruptly whispered Gilmore; then as her face suddenly flushed at the plain meaning of his tone, be turned away, calling to Sam: “You stay here, Sam, while I take a run over the hill to look for Mr, Temple. Keep a good—” . > His caution was interrupted by a rifle-shot, coming clear and distinct to their ears, seem- ingly im just beyond the ridge last crossed by the cousins, A simultaneous ery broke from both Mary and Minnie Temple. ‘* Tt’s father’s rifle—be is in trouble! Go save him—for the love of God, help him!” gasped Mary, in agony of apprehension, that #° would never have felt for herself alone, **T will—but Sam must stay bere to protect ou,” and Gilmore glided rapidly across the evel valley. ‘ **Go too—we can protect ourselves if there is any need—go—go!” am caught up his rifle and darted after his fleet-limbed cousin, fired by the imploring glance of black-eyed Mary, with a half-formed fancy that it would be the most fortunate event of his life should he be wounded in her cause, so that she might nurse him back to life again. Allof which goes to show that the poor fellow was already hard struck. In suspense almost killing, the sisters waited, each minute seeming almost an bour, though no further sounds wore heard from beyond the bill. And this fact apparently co: firmed their worst fears, for they knew that John Temple was not one to tamely submit even to the force of num- bers. Pht enough they never once im- agined that hisshot might have been discharged at some game; Mary’s presentiment, added to their own peril, forbade any but the worst con- struction, And their fears seemed only too well founded as they saw the cousins reappear upon the pL peu S Between them they bore a heavy. load; what seemed the limp and lifeless form of a dead map. Ap With a low moan, Mary sunk to the ground half fainting. Then Minnie gave evidence of her bigh courage, as she ever did at times the most trying. She became the comforter now —the staff upon which her sister leaned. “Cheer up, sister,” she murmured, “it may not be so bad, Perhaps he only fell and burt himself. He cannot be dead, or they would have broke the news to us first, before bringing bim here.” ; ‘‘ Right, Minnie—you are more of a woman than I, after all, There—I ‘will be calm. Help me arrange the mattress for him here in thes shade, asten—basten,” So Sat did the cousins descend the stee and rocky hill, that ‘the sisters met them half- way. Their burden was indeed ‘John Temple, covered with blood and dirt—a. sad sight for his childrens’ eyes to behold. Harry had flung his blouse across the man’s breast, but it didn’t lay flat. Near the middle, it rose to a point in a strangely significant manner. A As he heard their voices, John Temple lifted his heavy lids, and smiled faintly, as if to re- assure them. But then rice | drooped, a8 a heavy groan of agony p*rted his pallid lips, Nobly the sisters bore up, as they assisted the cousins with the heavy burden, though each moan of the wounded man seemed tearing their beart-strings. Temple swooned before they reached the wagon, and only for his fitful breathing, he would have been thought dead, “How did you find him—tell me?” faltered Mary, after doing what they could to ease the wounded man’s pain, ‘* We found him lying by a rock, beyond the riGah. He must have lain for some time insensi- ble, but then Di ibets bal consciousness, have dischane his rifle, in the hopes of your hear- ng it. * “ And that?” shuddered the maiden, pointing to the blouse that covered her father’s breast. “It is where he is burt,” and Gilmore glanced keenly into her eyes; then as if reassured by what he read there, he added: ‘‘ He was shot in the breast with an arrow, and for fear it would shock you too greatly, we covered it, as you e. “ Why did you not extract it?” “T darod not try—he is too weak just now,” evasively replied the young man, his eyes droop. You ara not candid with me—you think to hide the truth,” cried .Mary, hysterically. “ You think we are children—that we have no courage.” “It may be better that you should know the worst, at once,” ravely acess taking pdb nie a og Moy we can It as to what had better be done, for the events of this day have plainly shown that we are all in real danger. ou will be careful—you can guard your feelings, for his sake?” ‘** Yes—go on,” calmly added Mary, clasping Minnie’s band in herown. ‘“ After him there is nothing left for us.” “Tben—though J may be deceived—I fear that your father’s hours are numbered, The arrow is planted deep in his breast—the barbed head must be fast in tbe muscles of his back, for I could not move the shaft. I don’t think we had better try to. remove it, for it would only hasten his death.” ‘ Mary shuddered convulsively, but did not speak. And then, as the sisters bent their heer and wept together, Sam and Harry drew aside, Their position was a peculiar one, yet they could not doubt as to the course they ought to pursue, Thcse women bad a deeper claim upon them, in_tkeir sorrows, than mere personal safety. While their arms coyld wield a weapon, the helpless ones should not come to harm. Suddenly Sam started, and gazed intently up the bill, a aty o to that where they bad de- scended, uided by his glances, Gilmore be- held two buman figures dimly outlined against the crimson sky. For a moment he seemed in doubt, but then an expression of hopeful joy lighted up his fea- tures. In an instant he sounded the peculiar whistle that had been used as a rallying signal for the diamond-seekers; and almost immedi- ately it was echoed back from the hill-top. ‘They are cur friends, ladies,” he hasténed to explain, as the sisters started at the sound; ‘*and so will they act as your friends, when they bear your story,” Ina few n oments more Old Double Fist and Paul ae joined the cousins, and were warm- ly greeted. Gilmore bastily explained the meaning of the arenke scene, ‘It’s bad—pretty bad, boys,” muttered An- derson, gloomily. ‘‘ Better we hed tuck that squaw’s advice, an’ pulled out o’ here. But first —let me see this critter. He’ll soon go under, unless that stick is got out o’ his karki ge.” With a slight nod, and ‘how d’y’,” to the sisters, Mat removed the blouse, and cut away the clothing around the arrow. After a careful examination, he nodded to Gilmore. ‘* Squat down here, lad, an’ rest bis shoulders on your knees, I kin take it out, Lreckon, It’s a misty a’fa’r though. Apash arrer, an’ the skelp left! But never mind, mebbe I kin *xplainit. Steady, now!” lowly and steadily the hunter bore down upon the shaft, while ott ers held Tem ple’s arms, as he groaned heavily. Shudderingly the daughters crept away, covering their ears to sbut out the sickening sound. Then, with bis keen knife, Anderson cut thrcugh the skin, where tke arrow had made alump, after which be severed the feathered end, then drawing the shaft through the wound, The blood flowed freely, but this was soon checked by the rude surgery of the guide. Wiping bis hand upon the grass, Mat glanced at Harry and Sam. They saw that he had black news to wre them. Glarcing at, Paul Jayne, they read the truth, even before Ander- son spoke. . “T said I’d somethin’ to tell ye. boys,” mut- tered Mat. “ Wal, then, Jim Cook an’ Ed ts gone under |” —_-— CHAPTER V. GROPING IN THE DARK.. WE left the tall Californian end his comrade, Ed Dane, just as they sprung into what seemed, from where they first observed it, a natural fort. Tn this smal] square, defended upon all sides by the rocks, they hoped to make a good ht be- fore being rub out, selling their lives as dearly as might be, They ogee the outer side in safety, despite the bullets and arrows that hissed past them, the volley being too hastily aimed for success. Then, almost by side, the comrades vaulted ont 12 hie f alighting fois! a ut, instead o gbting fs u the ground within, as Anticipated, they folt them selves falling—falling through what, in the sur- prise, seemed an immense space, Fortunately, a pile of dirt, soft and springy, broke their ’ and glancing up, the hunters saw the trap they bad fallen into, j Only a few yards above their beads was a nearly re opening cut th h the rock. Around this were the oblong bow dere, serving much, Fhe. see PONS 98, 8. eaND.A round a we A single glance showed our friends this; th ' had not time for more, Maddened by the deat
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ea Old Double Fist. 9 a RE RN A en SS ES Se SSR ERR we SS Se FR ESET TS TST ST SRST -of their comrades, the Apaches rushed forward as if to carry the stone fort by storm, the fore- most following close after the fugitives. Beyond all doubt, they were quite as much surprised by the result as were our friends, and with wild yells of prewar A two savages came sprawling down through the hole, while a third managed to catch upon the edge and support himself by dropping his weapons, yelling lustily for help at bis companions. Cook and Dane were still gazing upward when the half-naked figures appeared, and roll- ing hastily aside xp avoided an awkward col- lision. The sight of their enemies so close at hand quickly restored the Californian’s coolness and decision, and he gritted: “Use gone pistol, Ed; it’s either them or us!” Dane had already realized the situation, and his revolver spoke full as soongs Cook’s, before the Apaches recovered from the surprise of their tumble. Being almost witbin arm’s length, even in that semi-darkness, there was little need of a second shot, and yet, like a great many others in their maiden affray, the taste of blood seemed to set Dane wild, and he emptied half the chambers of his revolver into the quivering body before he realized that bis work was done. Not so the Californian. Thesight of blood appeared to set bis nerves like steel, and be was never cooler, After touching the trigger, he gave no further thought to his game, but glanced quickly eget A fiery glitter filled his eyes as be saw several plumed heads overtopping the curb, where the Apaches were glaring in angry dismay adown the black bole that had swallowed up their comrades as well as their prey. uick as ‘thought the black muzzle was uplifted, and again its spiteful report reverberated through ‘the den or cavern. Through the film of smoke Cook saw that the weapon bad not failed him. Like magic the row of feathered crowns disappeared; all but one, besides the savage who was frantically urying to climb upgfrom the entrance, he bronzed .head half-lifted, then slowly sunk over the edge of the bowlder, while the brawny arms quivered and the muscular hands clinched and ane spasmodically in the throes of death. A tiny stream of black blood trickled from the stricken brave’s forehead, dropping ‘with a peculiar patter upon the upturned face of the other Apache, who now yelled uloud in terror, Cook smiled grimly, and then toucbed Dane ‘upon the shoulder, pointing upward. The young man read his meaning, and eagerly raised his weapon, but the excitement bad un- ‘steadied bis nerves so that he could not secure an aim, “Here, rest on this,” and the Californian laughed with a chilling glee, as he outstretched onearm. ‘ Take the rascal under the ear and ‘put him,out of his misery.” The pistol cracked, and Ed Dane eagerl watched the effect of bis shot. A bloody pa marked the spot at which he had aimed, and a crimson spray fell over their upturned faces, yet the savage did not fall. In the agony of death bis fingers tightened their hold, and with a convulsive effort—the same that sent the death-shriek bubbling from his lips—he drew his body half way out of the hole; then for a moment remained stationary. ‘“*Hold—don’t waste your powder, Dane,” coolly muttered Cook. ‘“ Save it inst the time it’s needed more. The varmint is dead; if only wounded, his screech would have sounded different from that. See! the body is beginning to slip down already.” “That makes three!” hoarsely gritted the oung man, but without a grain of compunction = the blood he had shed; instead, his eyes glared jsirangely, and his form dilated with um 1 That day marked the praing eat in his life. He had shed the blood of a human being, and exulted in the deed. He would never be the same as in days gone past. He had taken the step that put boyishness forever behind him, He was now a man. , Unconsciously, the Californian sighed as he this in his young friend, He re- membered the time when he had taken the same step—when he felt the same half painful, half-ecstatic sensations that were now strug- gling for mastery in Dane’s breast. : he time must have come, sooner or later,” he muttered, mechanically, as he dexterous! loaded the ed re bers of his revol- ver, ‘and perhaps better that it is now. will be a man now, only barder to control.” ‘* What did you say?” asked Dane, with a long- drawn breath, as the figure of the last-slain Apache suddenly slipped from its perch and fell heavily to the ground, ‘* Nothing—l was only thinking. But now load up—we may need every shot, Those bounds will not give us up so easy, if only for vengeance, They have a heavy score against ‘“"T will be heavier before ‘tis less,” and again the deadly fire filled the young man’s eyes. ‘* Let them come—I don’t care how soon, I’m not afraid of missing them now !/” ‘‘Pm in no burry for them,” laughed tbe Californian, ‘‘ but I’m glad I wasn’t deceived in you. | I knew there was the making of a man in you. ‘““And you'll tell the boys that I was not afraid?” **Indeed I will+if we ever see them again, thas jis. Just now our chances look rather slim,’ ‘‘How so? We can pick them off as fest as they try to get in. e’ve got the advantage.” ‘*In that sense, yes. But if we can keep them out, so can they keep us in. And unless we make up our minds to dine. on cold red-skin, I don’t see what there is to hinder them from starving us to death,” quietly observed Cook. While speaking he was not idle, but dra. gin the dead Apaches aside, he carefully examin their rifles, His own was unhurt, but the stock of Dane’s was broken. This, however, was re- placed by that of one of the Indians, a weapon seemingly quite as serviceable. Finding the right bullet- pouch, Cook directed Dane to chang ‘*Now do you keep a close watch upon the hole up yonder, while I try and locate ourselves. If there’s another entrance we must find it be- fore the Apaches or all’s up. Blaze away at every inak of red-skin that shows itself, and call me if you need help,” : Leaving his rifle with Dane, the Californian glided cautiously along tbe side of the cavern groping with both hands and feet, to guard against another fall. By the faint light that shimmered through the hole in the roof, he could easily estimate the dimensions of the den, and when half the circuit was complete, he found the entrance to a tunnel-like passage apparently leading directly into the heart of the ii Even in the darkness Cook fancied be could detect the trace of tools wielded by the hands of man, perhaps in ages gone by. @ passage appeared cut through solid rock, and was too regular in its lines to bave been the work of nature alone, A peculiar thrill crept over bim, and for a moment he paused, gasping for breath. Re- membering the precares of gold in the neighbor- hood, the thought struck him that perhaps he was even then standing within one of those stu- pemvoss gold-mines that bave from time to time en discovered, to the wonder of the civilized world, ages after the bands that formed them were crumbled into dust, With an effort -be cast off this feeling, and completed the circuit, Dane started as he s beside him, ‘* What have you found?” be asked, a ‘‘ There’s a passage that leads back into the hill. How far, I don’t know. There may be another entrance, but I hardly think it, Abt a'l events, we must remain here until the Apaches show their bands.” **T hope that will come soon—this waiting is not the most pleasant thing imaginable.” ‘‘Depend on’t, the imps are up to some deviltry,” and the Californian laughed care- lessly. ** You'll see enough of them before it’s over. : He was looking at Dane as be spoke, and abruptly paused, a change came over the young man’s face like magic, The bloodthirsty glitter filled his eyes, and the lips drew back from the white, close-set teeth, and bis rifle sprung to bis shonlder, ‘* Keep cool!” muttered Cook, as he glanced upward, ‘‘ Wait uotil I tell you, It's either a trick or the varmint is crazy!” A plumed head-dress was slowly rising above the rocks above, and as he a ne Cook could see the stiff black hair and forehead of a savage. Slowly these were raised until the eyes and nose of the savage were plainly revealed; then they remained stationary, as though peering down into the cave. : “Save your powder. Ed,” and the Californian laughed g . ‘The imps are only trying to find out whether we are still on guard,” ‘* But it’ll make one less,” pleaded Dane, ‘* It’s ill sport shooting a dead dog, Ed, Look at the eyes—did you ever see the } in a living man? No, no; they're glazed and sightless, It’s rr one of those we dropped out on the hillside. They're holding it up from behind the rock, Give them a yell—tbat will tell them weare not so easy fooled,” and the Californian uttered a shrill, taunting cry, that was answered back from without by cries of angry chagrin, as the corpse was hastily lowered from view, ‘* But if there is another entrance,” uttered Dane, as if recalling the words of Cook, ‘‘may not the Apaches know of it, and creep up to surprise us in the rear?” ‘*It is possible, but that is a risk we cannot avoid. Though as they did not know of this hole—as their following us proved—they may be ignorant of the other. 1 think we'd better watch here where we can keep the devils out, Let them once get in and we are gone, sure.” Lighting their pipes and drawing to opposite sides of the little earth mound, thus command- ing all sides of the peas} the comrades sunk into silence. Dane had enough to reflect upon in the new life that had been awakened within him; the Californian was brooding over the dead past. Thus they remained for an hour or more, when their weditations were brought to an erd by a movement from the enemy with- out. It was now nigbt, but the sky was clear, the stars shining brightly, and the rocky para above was clearly defined; Suddenly a portion of the bole was obscured, and then with a- rustling sound, a bundle of dried grass and brush came through the aperture, ‘* What does this mean?’ muttered Dane, as he picked up the bundle, “The imps intend trying fire—to smoke us out, I judge. But they must go to work differ- ently trom this,” quietly replied Cook, * Can they do it, though?” ‘“T could—and ‘so may they, if they have common sense,” ‘I'd rather make a break-out there, and die like a man, fighting, than be smothered here like a skunk!” bitterly gritted Dane, “Even if we could climb out—which we can’t do without a rope—they d aig us off before we'd get ina single blow. o; when the time comes, we must try the passage, yonder, That way wecan fight the smoke 6 r—though ivll amount to the same in the end, I suppose,” ‘“Why not start now?” ‘‘ Because they may try toenter, Wait until the fire is kindled, then they can’t come in.” Several more bundles of inflammable mate- rials were flung in, and then followed by several that were ablaze. With yells of exultation the savages now flung iv dried sticks and branches doubtless in the hope that the whites had n noticed the fal] of the first bundles in time to prevent their taking fire. But.a few mcments convinced them of their mistake, as but a trifle | of smoke escaped from the aperture, After an bour more of painful suspense, the Californian frowned gloomily, He saw that the very ruse be bad hinted at was now being put into execution, ‘Get ready for traveling, Ed; we yo A the passage,” he muttered, pickivg up his and several dried sticks that he had selected from tbe debris flung down, Several slight polcs were slid across the aper- ture above, and upon these grass and were piled, On top of all were piled gre and weeds, to increase the suffocating smoke, A blezing torch was now thrust } mass, instantly ignit it, the ( curling in a beavy cloud down tbe pee. soon as the dried poles were burned t rough, the entire mass would be precipitated into the cavern, so fully ignited that to approach it would be impossible. The comrades did not wait for this occurrence, but plunged at once into the e, cl each other’s bands and proceeding with as haste as possible, Already they fancied the damp atmosphere was impregnated with tbe aT r wes ' 4 ai ! ‘If we could only see,” muttered Dane, rue- fully rubbing bis head that came in contact witha ae point of rock, ‘‘ We willsoon, That’s what I brought these sticks for. I'll light them soon.” ‘‘Here’s a passage leading to the left,” sud- deuly cried Dane, after half an hour’s groping from the time ba (4 left the cavern, ‘If possible, that’s the one we must take, Can you remember how the side of the bill lay?” eagerly muttered as he knelt to light bis rude forob that he bad already pire- They spoke huskily and with none | increas- ing difficulty, for the smoke to com- pletely fill the narrow passage. Their nostrils seemed sore from breathing the pungent vapor;
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10 thei: throats were dry and parched. Already they suffered po slight torture. “If thi. goes straight, it must be the shortest. If it Jeads to the outer air, then we are safe—if not— Little need for Cook to cone’ude his sentence. Both knew what it meant. Jf not—then they were doomed to death—to death by suffocation the most horrible! . As the tiny toreh flared up, Cook glanced around him, the thought of a gold-mine once 5 a him, but then he strode forward. H Mar ane followed him, Thedeadly vapor as fast weakening their brains, Each moment was one of agony. Every breath seemed death. It was as though inhal- ing liquid fire. Only that the phantom-like figure before him moved onward, Dane would have sunk to the ground in despair. Scarcely without thought he followed in the footsteps of the Californian. The flickering torch was held unsteadily, but still Cook staggered on, half-blind, gasping for breath, suffering tortares the most horrible, The und beneath his feet grew more cool _ and damp, but he did not notice it, even when he began plashing through water several inches in depth. He did not heed the gasping moan for help as Edward Dane sunk to the ground, because it seemed only one of the phantom voices that shouted in his ear. Then a ery of horror broke from his lips. The passage abruptly ended in a mass of earth, He could go no further! The torch fell from bis hand and expired with a faint hiss in the water. The smoke seemed doubly intensified. 1t choked—suffocated bim. With a gasping moan, James Cook fell forward with’a sudden splash. Then all was still. CHAPTER VI. THE DEATH CARNIVAL AT MAT’S FORT. ‘‘In's true; the boys is gone under,” reiterated Mat, gloomily. For a time the cousins, Gilmore and Bryan, were too greatly confounded to speak, but then they closely questioned Anderson and Jayne. But there was not a ray of hope to be gained from their words. Tt seems that Mat and‘Paul soon lost the trail of the strange squaw upon the rocky ground, and then set forth on a reconnoitering expedi- tion, penetrating the foot-bills tora considerable depth, though without finding any signs—at least recently-made ry of the presence in the vicinity of Indians, They were upon the crest of a hill nearly a mile distant when the sound of firearms attracted their attention, first to the valley where they now were, and then those shots discharged by and at Cook aud Dane. The two latter and their antagonists were in comparatively plain view, and Mat detailed the stand, the flight and pursuit; and then the ap- rently desperate struggle within the stone ort, “No —the boys is wiped out, for we could see the red imps roamin’ all over the spot, as ef holdin’ a pow-wow.” Drawing aside, the diamond-bunters earnestly cousulted as to what was the best course to pur- sue. Beyond a doubt there was great danger ending, for, of course, the dead Apaches lay around had formed part of the band Anderson had espied, and their long delay would doubtless be investigated. “* Only for the old man, we could strike for a hiding place that I know of—but it ’d be the death 0’ him.” “Then you think he can live, if kept quiet?” “No, I don’t. Ef he hadn’t the constitution o’ a wild bull, he’d ’a’ bin dead long ago, But yh he can’t stand it al’ays. I doubt ef he sees d light in.” ‘* Poor girls!” muttered Gilmore, compassion- ly. ; ‘*Poor gals—shore enough; but come—for them gals we must set to work. There’s boun’ to be powder burnt afore day, an’ we must git ready for it.” ~The keen eyes of Double Fist had already selected the spot that seemed most easy of Je- fense, and in a few words made known his plan, Then the four pair of stout arms were strained to the utmost, lest the attack should come too soon. : Anderson rudely*traced out an oblong square of some forty feet in length, by ten in width, the back being formed by the bill. Along this line the mules were employed in dragging heavy bowlders, upon which were placed still others, the crevices being snugly blocke up, so that in one hour’s time a wall some four feet in higit war formed around the traced line, im- Old Double Fist. =o pervious to a rifle-ball or arrow. The rear was even better protected. The base of the hill was formed of an unusually heavy ledge of rocks, resting at an angle of perbaps forty-five de- grees upon a level bed of slate-stone, sloping backward. The weatber and action of frost, alternately freezing and thawing, had gradually rotted the slate-stone, so that it crumbled away from the harder rock, thus leaving a cavity that may be likened to the cut made in the lower side of a tree by an ar ae tp chopper, preparatory to falling it. The ledge of rock rose up some forty feet above the levei of the valley, and then the hill sloped back as usual. A line dropped from the edge, would have touched the valley ground at least ten feet be- yond the outer wall of the little fort. Thus its defenders need only guard against attack from the valley, before and upon either band. The wounded man was tenderly placed in one corner of the little fort, resting upon the mat- tress, with his children beside him. The wagon was drawn up close to the hill, 4nd the mules were tethered to the whéels. Temple had recovered his consciousness, but seemed to be sinking rapidly, though in feeble tones he strove to reassure the fears of bis chil- dren. Still their future seemed to be weighing heavily upon his mind, and seeing this, Gilmore sought to relieve bis anxiety. * As long as we can use a weapon, Mr. Tem- ple,” he cried, ‘‘no harm shall come to your daughters. I pledge you my word and that of my comrades, that we will fight for and pro- tect them as though they were our sisters. And, God willing, we will see them safe home to their friends.” “You look and speak like an bonest man,” feebly muttered Temple, *tand I thank you. As you deal with them, may God deal with ou!” * Shortly after this his sens@s seemed to wan- der, arfd he raved of the pust—then of some strange creature that appeared threatening his iife. And as bis eyes glowed with insanity, he seemed wrestling with this horrible foe. Choking back their grief his children sought to quiet Lim, and after holding bis arms until they were nigh exhausted, to keep him from injuring bimself, the wounded man gradually quieted down and sunk into a fitful, broken slumber. Heart-sick and weary the sisters crouched beside him, dreading the approach of death that would leave them orphans, Thouzh crouching at the — keenly seruti- nizing the valley, Double Fist could net but hear the wounded man’s ravings, and they deepening his desire to know whose band had dealt the blow. Ktowing the old guide’s na- tura, Gilmore volunteered a solution, Recalling bis strange encounter with the wild man—for by no other term could he describe the hairy, skin-clad monster—he believed that Temple had fallen by bis hand. Such in reality had been the case. ; While returning after a disappointed search for his recent comrades, Temple fell, shot by an arrow. Then the wild man sprung upon him, and with a heavy club, almost crushed his skull Dubithe ‘bie glimpse’ bad ‘indelibly iinprinted the face and figure upon Temple's brain. ‘‘No doubt you’re right, Harry,” muttered Anderson, ‘‘ but it’s queer that we never met the cuss afore, Think he was white?” “T could only tell from his beard.” “T’ve seen Injuns as hairy as a grizzly—so that’s no shore sign. Ef we oncet get out’ this scrape, I mean to hev a hunt a’ter the critter, anyhow.” ‘But do you think we will—is there any hope?’ BS You know the sayin’—whar thar’s life, thar’s hops. We're wuth a heap o’ dead crit- ters yit. Mebbe these imps as you an’ the gals rubbed out wasn’t vu’ the same gang as them [ see’a rub out Cook and Ed. Ef’ so, we mayn’t be bothered, for they was too busy jist. then to notice the rumpus you made here. But don’t bet too much on that. I feel in my bones that we'll hev to burn powder—aw lively, too, afore pete) “Tf they should find us—what hope have we? They can hold us here until we starve!” With them mules thar? They’re tough, but suet.” ‘*And water?” “‘Thar we’re short. But,” and Nat lowered his voice, ‘‘we kiu stand it until to-morrow night, an’ then we kin travel. The old man ’ll be gone afore then—an’ that’s all that need hen- der eae | ht low whistle from Paul pone abruptly ter- minated the conversation, telling that he had | discovered something. Gliding to bis side, Mat gazed keenly out upon the valley in the direc- tion Paul indicated. **[t looks like a rock, but I saw it move.” For half an hour more the little band waited in stern-suspense, During that time they be- came convinced that the Apaches were close at hand, and that their own position was known: indeed, the white-tilted wagon easily revealed that. nowing that the Indians must haye dis- covered the dead bodies of the Apaches slain at the hill foot, Mat felt assured that an attack would be speedily made, and giving the savages credit for his own judgment, he soon settled the points that most required guarding. Favored by the formation of the hill, the Apaches could approach unseen to a point with- in tifty yards of the stone fort by closely bug- ging the rocks, while to mf moe in front, they would be exposed in the bright moonlight for fully twice that distance. ‘*'They’re comin’, boys!” muttered Anderson, cocking his rifle. ‘See that glitterin’ p’int 0’ light? It’s the eend o’ a rifle-bar’l. Keep cool, now. ‘Don’t fire ontil I do; then in order as you stan’. Ef-they don’t stop then, out wi your *volvers an—” He abruptly ceased speaking and raised bis rifle, As it spoke, an Apache sprung out into the moonlight,dn the agonies of death, bis yell being echoed ‘fiercely back from a score of throats, as the Indians leaped forward in a mad onset, Cra k—crack—crack ! Crack—crack ! First came the rifle shots of the three men; then, with a double report, two spouts of flame. tinged smoke shot past the diamond-seekers. So unexpected was this aid, that each man turned bis bead in wonder, Mary and Minnie stood there, rifle in hand, pale but determined, Instead of four, there were six defenders of the little fort. Cowed by this deadly greeting, the Apaches, with yells of chagrin and surprise, hastily sought cover, leaving several of their number eitber dead or disabled on the ground. Cen- vinced now tLat a desperate resistarce would be made, they, being foiled in effecting a sur- prise, would now be more cuutious, “Minnie,” said Gilmore, as he turned to the} fair-haired maiden, ‘‘promise me not to risk yourself this way again, Think—had thev been abr you could scarcely have escaped being shot. **We risked no more than you and our friends,” Minnie quietly replied, as she re- charged her rifle. “True—but that is our duty, and we could easily have driven the dogs back alone. It will only unnerve us to see you exposed to such dan- er, And then your father—be is waking. ‘ompose bim if you can; much may depend upon it.” “Tf you really need our rifles, you will ea'l?” “* Yes—yes; but let us hope that such emer- gency will not arise,” and—no d-ubt unern- sciously—Herry warmly pressed the little band Minnie extended to him. Gilmore bastily turned away toward the bar- ricade, as the rifle of Double Fist again spite- fully spoke. But his fears were dispelled as he gaw the others quietly kneeling at tl eir sta- tions. “What did you fire at, Mat?” asked Gilmore, as he glided to the guide’s side. “ Jest puttin’ a imp out o’ his misery, yonder. Some o’ you fellers must ’a’ broke bis back, by his squarmin’ round so, and as I hate to see a varmint suffer, I dropped ‘im,” coolly returned Anderson. A For an bour or more the besieged lay quiet and undisturbed. Indeed, only for the stili and gbastly dead lying out in the moonlighted valley, one might have fancied it only a peace- ful encampment, fast wrapt in slumber. Yet this death-like silence without was ver bard for Mat to bear, knowing, as he did, that it - covered the subtle plotting of the Apaches, whose blow must soon fall with deadly f:ree, Tt was hard to lie still and wait, not knowing from which quarter the blow was to fall. Presently Anderson ‘began to fidget, as though uneasy, though nothing ana his lips. © peered keenly out from his loophole, then slowlv shook bis head, - iN ‘“What is it, Anderson?” whispered Bryan, who was next to him. : } ‘Look "long the foot o’ the bill—an’ that is growin’ wider an’ wider ev minnit. Go an’ tell the gals to keep a good lookout at thar eend, Don’t make no noise so’s to wake up the old man.” * ‘ : The moon, that thus far had been the ‘
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Se besieged’s friend, now threatened to endanger them. Rolling along its path, it had passed the a whence it flooded the entire valley with ight. The jutting ledge of rock overcast a deep shadow at its own base, several feet in width, the more dense and impenetrable from the light just without. Protected by this gloom, the Apaches could crawl up to within a few yards of the barricade unseen. Suddenly a loud bang—far different from the sharp, venomous crack of a rifle—rung out from the opposite side of the valley, where its flash momentarily lighted up a rocky pile. Simul- taneously a jar was felt against the barricade, and the defenders felt that the bullet had been well-aimed. ‘They've got a army-musket, I reckon,” mut- tered Mat, withasneer. “Sounds like it. But *tain’t a cannon to knock down these barricks. Let ’em burn tha’r powder, boys, Lay close, but keep your eyes skinned.” The next shot was aimed at the wagon, as the sound of a ball striking wood was plainly audi- ble. Even Mat was puzzled to divine the pur- pose of the Apaches in these tactics, but re- doubled his* watchfulness, confident that this wee but a mask to shield some more deadly ow, The third shot was half-drowned by a horrible scream of agony. Then came a heavy fail and scuffle, The young men glanced quickly around, in ainful suspense. invie uttered a cry, as Femple aroused from his stupor, shouting hoarsely and incoherently, struggling to arise free from the clinging arms that held him down. ~ ‘It's on’y the mules, boys,” hurriedly. cried Anderson. ‘‘The varmints hey shot one or both of ’em. Hurry, you'd best go and help the als. It’ll be the death o’ the old man ef he on’t take it more easy.” Gilmore glided to where the wounded man lay struggling, just in time to prevent his afising. Anderson turned to his loop, and keenly scru- tinized the gradually widening belt of darkness, From this point he felt assured that the attack, if any, would be made. The stricken mule was evidently dead, as its straggles and screams died away, but the sur- vivor kept up a snorting and prancing that rendered the ears of the besieged of little ser- vice. The events that followed, are such they can scarcely bedescribed in detail upon paper. They » were simultaneous—confused and bafiling. The valley seemed filled with ravening beasts, yelling, screeching and pr rhage 1 then the quick rush of feeb was heard, The dreaded moment was at hand. The belt of darkness that stretched out before the guide seemed to spring into life, and searcely giving him time to discharge his rifle, tbe Apaches were at the barricade. Dropping the empty weapons, Mat pealed forth. bis defiant war-cry, and then exhibited the powers that had gained for bim his noted sobriquet. While one hand rapidly emptied the cham- bers of a revolver, the other cut and slashed with the broad, heavy bowie-knife, bere, there —wherever a foeman showed himself in trying to scale the barricade. Growling, snarling, tting his teeth like a. madman, the guide attled desperately, nobly seconded by his young comrades. Suddenly he started and half-turned; not be- cause wounded, though the blood streamed free- ly from more than one wound. A horrible fear assailed him, in common with the other whites. A piercing shriek broke the air—the scream of a woman, coming from the further end of the fort. ‘Then came a hoarse, maniacal screech —followed by a confused struggle. | ‘‘ Help!—for God’s sake belp!” : These words came gaspingly from the lips of nae Gilmore. . ’ » ‘Tend to this eend, boys,” yelled Anderson, his voice rising high above the devilish tumult. “ Fight like devils or we're gone suckers!” The warning was indeed needed, for, startled by the shriek and appeal for belp, from their comrade, the defenders faltered and moment- arily gave way, With fiendish yells of exulta- tion the Apaches improved their opportunity, several fairly gaining the top of the barricade, when the young men returned to its defense with double fury. - As be shouted. this warning, Mat darted to arbone the joer and aon had been left, truly bis aid was requi In the dim light he beheld a confused, strug- gling mass, and saw that the upper figure was that of an Indian, with blood-stained knife up- Gld Double Fist. ee lifted. Uttering a snarling cry, Anderson clutched the savage by one shoulder, jerking him backward, at the same time burying the bowie-knife half its length in the red-skin’s head, with a quick back stroke. Freed from this foe, Gilmore quickly arose, leaving his first antagonist gasping in death upon the ground. He glared quickly around, as if confused, then cried: ‘‘My God! she’s gone—the devils have car- ried her off!” and would bave leaped over the barricade had not the strong hand of the guide restrained him. Another of the maniac-like screams came from without the wall; then suddenly died away. Aglance showed Anderson that Tem- ple was gone, Breaking free, Gilmore leaped the wall and disappeared. With a curse, Double Fist fol- lowed, though it seemed like rushing upon cer- tain death. Scarcely had he touched the ground than he heard a heavy thud, and then staggered back against the barricade as a body was flung forei- bly against bis breast. The faint light revealed a white face, and from the garb, Mat knew that he held the form of young Gilmore. Flinging the body into the fort, he rapidl followed, for a moment confused and bewil- dered, Witbout, he could hear the frightened plunging and snorts of the mule, mingled witb a horrible crushivg sound. Then he turned and crossed the inclosure with a single bound. He found it partially carried by the Apaches. For several moments there was a horrible, in- deseribable melee, Then, like magic, it ended, save in one instance, where Sam Bryan was rolling over the ground tight-locked with a savage foeman, A single, quavering yell came from the dark- ness without. It was the signal of retreat. Had the one assau!t beem as determined as at this end, the Apaches must have couquered. As it was, an instant after the sigual, only the dead and the whitef oecupied the fort. Tearing himself free from Bryan’s grasp. the Apache sprung to his feet, only to go Seon be- fore Anderson’s iron fist. Then the Hercules bounded into the air, alighting with a crusbing force upon the savage’s head and neck, One gasp—a convulsive shudder, and he was dead. ‘Fodder up, boys—they may come ag’in,” eried Mat, setting the example. ‘‘[—I’m played, boys,” faintly muttered Paul Jayne, staggering back against the wall. “Eh? you're jokin’—you ain’t hnrt bad?” cried Mat, supporting the sinking form. “Yes—L tried to hold up till we whipped them—but—” His head fell forward, a stream of hot blood aan over Anderson’s hand. Paul Jayne was ead! ‘« He’s fainted,” faltered Mat, fearing to tell the truth at that moment, when the danger was so great. ‘‘Let bim lay there for a bit. Keep a lookoutshere. Il take t)other eend.” Double Fist glanced around the spot. Five bodies lay there, around and upon the mattress where Jobn Temple had rested. Three of these were Apaches, one was Gilmore, the other—by her drapery, a woman! Stooping, be reised her head; it was the eldest—Mary. She seemed dead, His trem- bling hand could detect no pulse, no heart beat, The wet and matted hair told him the cause. He shuddered, as he felt.the clotted blood, and hastily wiped his fingers. Fearing that the Apaches should again creep upon them, he sought his post, and strove to pierce the darkness, that soon filled balf the valley. Then a faint groan startled him, and turning, be saw Gilmore sitting up, gazing around with a dazed look. ‘ Suddenly the truth seemed to flash upon bis mind, and he sprung erect, only to siok back again with a groan of despair. In his rade way, Mat strove to. comfort the young man, but with small success. : ‘‘She’s gone—gone, and I promised to protect her!” he would mutter, until Mat feared his brain was injured, . “ Harry—take my flask,” he at length ut- tered. ‘‘Mebbe the gal yonder ain’t dead. You kin try to bring her to, I’ve got to keep guard here.” f ‘ie Gilmore obeyed like a child,.but then as he felt Mary breathe faintly, he nerved bimself, and worked diligently. Inafew moments m-re she opened ber eyes; then with a sigh, fell. asleep, soothed by the strong liquor. .v The gray light of dawn fell upon a sad and horrible scene. lood oy re A The fort was one mass of . dozen dead Apaches lay around its w 11 ———- --— = Paul Jayne was dead. All the whites were wounded, Close beside the wagon, trampled and crushed to a shapeless mass, lay.the body of John Temple, together with a brawny. sav- age. It was the mule, also, that had strickew down Gilmore. Leaping over the barricade, regardless of the risk be might be running, Mat, with one stroke, cut the brute’s throat, then brought in the mangled father. Carefully be covered it with a blanket, lest the eyes of Mary should fall upon it, And Minnie--the fair-baired? She was gone? Truly, it was a sad scene. CHAPTER VIL THE WOMAN GUIDE. Tue same gray light fell upon Minnie Temple a prisoner in the hands of the Apaches boun and helpless. Fearing the worst, she yet knew that the Apache attack had not entirely suc- ceeded, since they were still in the valley, and acting as though upon guard, It was while bending over the wounded man that the attack came, and several savages ha leaped the barricade, ere a weapon could be raised. Minnie saw Mary fall, with a faint groan, beneath a hatchet-stroke, and then @ brawny Indian seized upon her, scrambling back over the rocks. John Temple seemed en- dowed with superbuman strength, as the shrieks of the girl met his ear, Minnie’s lest glimpse had been of his struggling furiously with sev- eral savages. Tightly bound and gagged, she had lain in @ rocky niche ny noe view of the fort Seonge the remaining hours of the night, and now, in painful suspense, watcbed the motions of two Apaches who were standing near, conversing rapidly. From the deference shown him, the smaller of the twowas a person of rank—pro- bably the Apache chief; the other, a middle- aged warrior, whose left hand had been cut ff. Then the chief turned away, and the brave drew near to where Minnie lay. Stocping, be raised her, not unkindly, to her feet, first cut- ting the withes that bound them. Minnie gazed earnestly into his face. The brave nodded, then, by signs, told her that she must follow bim, tracing an intricate conrse through the hills with bis finger-point. Though fearing she was to be taken to the Indian vil- lage or encampment, Minnie saw the folly of resisting, knowing that it could not better her situation. As the brave motioned her to follow him, ber hopes arose. If alone, might she not contrive to escape? Her hands once free, the task would be easy. The weight in ber ket told that the Apaches had not discovered her revolver. Bat this bope soon vanished. Tbe green cords were too firmly knotted to slip—too strong to be broken. Nor did the Apache seem inclined to loosen the bonds, A long, wearisome three hours’ toil through the broken, rocky foot-hills, brought Minnie and her captor to their journey’s end; a smal} encampment, containing barely a score of lodges. Minnie quickly reasoned that the party bad been changing their location, when, p ly, the white tilted wagon, promising them plun, der and scalps attracted their attention. hb, in fact, was the case. Little Gray Bull com- manded this band, bis villages being many miles distant. As it was nearly the time to begin their annual bunt, be, together with ae squaws and pappooses of bis braves, struck their lodges, and started in search of a more favorable location. ; _ The Apache brave drove back the yelling squaws and dusky, naked little}imps, and led Min- nie in to a lodge something larger than the rest.. Here a wrinkled, hideous old woman crouched before the fire, smoking. ‘ ‘* Feather-foot,” uttered the brave, in a tone of respect, ‘‘here is white squaw that the chief sends to your care. He says she is to enter his. lodge, and become the mother of great war- riors. He bade me tell you to keep her safe un- til he comes, but that those who wrong or in- jure ber, had better paint their faces black.” Venomously the bag glared at Minnie, then arose, 2nd hobbling forward with a clumsiness that sadly belied her name, clutched the maiden by thesboulders, Evidently the implied threat. delivered by the brave, was not unheeded, | “ Feather-foot bears, and will obey. But why did Gray Bull send, instead of coming him- self?” va “The pale-faces fight well. The chief sends for more braves. ne-Hand must go now. The trail is long before him.” The maimed warrior left the lodge. The bag
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‘sleep. 12 motione1 Minnie to the ms sare side, where was a small pallet of skins, Fatigued, she sunk down, hes hands still bound bebind her, while Feather-foot resumed her position before the fire. The maiden’s thoughts were gloomy and bit- ‘ter enough. At that moment she believed that «she was indeed alone in the world. Mary had ‘fallen before ber eyes; her father she felt was fatally wounded, if not also dead. Bowed ‘down with sorrow she lay motionless upon the pall. t for an hour or more. Then the sound of vo'ces aroused her, and raising her head, a faint cry of wonder broke from her lips, Feather-foot was speaking with a woman; and as the light from the hole above fell] athwart it, Minnie saw that the new comer was a white woman—though tanned, she could not mistake the face for that of a squaw. At the same moment the woman turned to- ward Minnie. Her figure was lithe and grace- tul, about the average hight of women, The face was that of one who had suffered and en- ured much, but the features were regular and clear-cut. In youth—for she could not have been less than thirty-five yearsof age, though the long black hair that hung past her waist, ‘was unmarked by silver-threads—she must have -been comely, if not beautiful. A glow as if of pity fill ber large dark eyes, and Minnie was on the point of speaking, when she, with an effort checked the words. The stranger made a slight but meaning gesture with one hand—the hand that was hidden b her dress from the eyes of Feather-foot. vague hope sprung up in the maiden’s heart at that gesture—she believed that in this strange woman she had founda friend. Then like a flash came the recollection of what Harry Gil- more had told her of the warning arrow—she felt that this woman was the one who had sent it. The woman seemed a privileged character, though the old hag did not appear to regard ber with much favor. In a few moments the ceased talking, and both crouched down beside the fire, Then the woman began a monoronous chant, rocking to and fro, Feather-foot closely eying her motions, though with an evident awe, From a small pouch at her side, the white woman took a pinch of some powder, and flung it into the smoldering fire. A thin spire of blue flame ascended, casting out a strong and not unpleasant perfume. Then her voice rose and became clearer. Suddenly ae a start of surprise, her face flushing eeply. Though seemingly ignoring her presence, the strange woman was addressing her, in brief sentences mingled with the words of her chant, ‘Be cautious—give no signs that you under- stand me. Appear downcast and dispirited. I am afriend—I -will save you. Tonight I will ‘set you free—will guide you back to your friends. Do not fear—she understands no En- glish. When I go, ask her for food, «Eat and Srinke-you will require all your strength. She will be your only guard, I will drug her tobacco—with a powder that will make her Be brave, and allis well, Betray your yet and you are lost.” uch were the words that Minnie extracted from the string of gibberish that flowed monoto- nously from the lips of the woman, Her start had attracted Feather-foot’s attention, and lest her countenance should betray her, Minnie ‘buried her face in the robes, though listening with a painful intentness. Abruptly rising, the woman glided from the lodger But it was not for some time that Min- nie dared trust her conmpostire, enough to fol- low her instructions, Tnoen by motions she in- dieated her hunger and thirst, Grumbling disgustedly, Feather-foot yet ministered to ber wants, and really feeling the need of nourish- ment, Minnie made a hearty meal on the corn- cakes and boiled meat, Then, weary and jaded, she lay down and sunk into a peaceful, dream- less slumber that lasted till after sunset, When she awoke, with a start, the strange woman was again in the lodge, seated beside Feather-foot, both smoking. As though in her -own lodge, the woman arose and brought a bark platter filled with meat and bread, placing it before Minnie, muttering as she stooped. ‘* Wait patiently—I will keep faith with you. ‘In two hours more you will be free.” ‘God bless you!” softly breathed the maiden, bowiug her head lest the keen _— of the hag ‘should read too much in the brightened face. After what seemed twice tw bours, Minnie saw ber friend fill a pipe from the pouch at her side, and then pass the bag to Feather-foot. While the bag lighted hers, Minnie saw the CS Old Double Fist. other slyly substitute another pipe for the one first filled. Breathlessly she watched the result. Feather- foot smoked placidly, exbaling the fragrant vapor through her thin nostrils in twin streams. Her eyes were closed, and only for the smoke, one might ea-ily have believed her asleep. But then the columns came less regularly. Her head slowly drooped. The pipe dropped from ber lips, and she sunk forward, falling almost into the fire, Dragging ber back a ways, the woman arose and glided to the lodge door, gazing keenly around, Then turning, sbe sprung to Minnie’s side, muttering: ‘* Come—the coast is clear. There is no t’me to lose, for I must be back here before day- dawn, or my life may pay the forfeit. Can you trust yourself? Ws must pass among the lodges, and though there are none but squaws and children here, they could easily stop us if aroused,” ‘*You need not fear for me, I am used to dan- ger. I will be cautious—never fear.” ‘*Come, then, I must stop at ay lodge, for a bundle of food. You will need it before I can see you again,” Together they kft the tent, Minnie first shrouding her form in a larger blanket, The bundle was obtained, and then they glided nviselessly through the line of lodges. Ten minutes later they were hidden from view of the encampment by a point of rocks. “You mistake—this is not the way I came,” murmured Minnie, suddenly pausing. ‘*] know—your friends are still surrounded by enemies, You can not go there, I will put you in a place of hiding where you will be safe until their fate is decided. To 9 to rejoin them now, would be death to us both.” “IT will do as you think best—surely you would not wish me wrong.” ** No—or I would not be running the risk Iam for your sake,” simply replied the woman, bas- tening on down the valley. For nearly two hours they pressed on, without pause or stoppage, through the valley, over bills and rocky plains, until Minnie’s strength began to fail her. Still she uttered no complaint, and had not the guide caught sound of ber heavy breathing, the maiden would have kept pace until she fell. ‘*Come—you need rest. I forgot that you were not as toughened as J. But sit down. There is plenty of time. Our journey is nearly ended,” kindly said the woman. ‘* Ended—where is the end?” faltered Minnie. ‘You must be contented with a cave, my child, until something better offers, At the worst, tis better than the lodge of Gray Bull.” ‘But you—you stay there—with the In- dians.” *Yes—though not with him,” and her voice pe with contempt and scorn, ‘'Heis a cow- ardly tyrant—a disgrace even to the savages, though they be more devils than human crea- tures.’ **T don’t understand—if you despise them so greatly; why not leave them? ‘You seem free— and surely you are white.” “T am not free—I am bound to them and their life by a tie that I cannot break. It ma not always be so—some time I will be free,” gloomily muttered the woman! “Tam sorry for you, lady—” began Minnie, taking the other’s hand in hers. ‘‘ Jessie—call me Jessie. It is my name—but I have not heard it for years, The sound from your lips will aid in banishing the black thoughts that throng my brain to-night, Time was when I heard—but there, I cannot talk of the past now. Something chokes me. Some time I may tell you my story—a sad, gloomy one it is. But not now—not now!” Minnie made no reply, but sat quiet at Jes- sie’s feet, still clasping ber hand. The woman’s face wore 4 hard, stony look as her dark eyes stared out in the darkness. It was the face of one who had suffered much and long. ** Come—time wastes,” Jessie at length said, rising to her feet. ‘We must be going. You are rested?” ‘*Yes—but listen,” whispered Mionie, tight- ening her grasp upon Jessie's band, - “Tis only the wolves howling, child. The brewing storm renders them uneasy. But never fear. erun no danger from them. ’Tis not Jate enough in the season for that. Follow me, now; carefully—the trail is rough and slip- : a lugubrious howlings that had alarmed Mionie now ae! plainer and more distinct, the chorus swelling in volume, Jessie unslung the bow that bung at her back, and tightened the i RR — string. Minnie’s hand stole into ber pocket and clasped the little revolver. ‘*T hardly think they dare attack us, but for- tunately we are near the cavel spoke of. Has. ten—once in there and we Can laugh at the wolves, unless—” Abruptly she paused. A shrill, horrible cry rung out upon the night air—the sbriek of a human being in agony, or in mortal terror, ‘*‘My God!” gasped Jessie. ‘I know that voice! William—I’m coming!” and then she sprung forward like a startled deer. eeemerarsmng Minnie Temple followed hard after, CHAPTER VIII. THE NIGHT-CHASE. A SAD, heart-sickening scene! Mary Temple darter bitterly as she raised her head from the blood-stained mattress, and glanced around the little fort in the light of a new day. She noted the two bodies lying side by side, covered with a blanket; the same glance showed her that Mat, Harry and Sam were still alive. She knew then that. her father lay there —for both forms were too long for either to be ber sister’s. Old Double Fist and Sam Bryan were busily engaged in digging in the bard soepstone. She knew that this was intended for a grave. Her groan caught the guide’s ear, and he, with a few words to Sam, crept toward her. Though no enemy was in sight, he knew that they were not far distant, and an exposure might be vents a black d poor gal,” muttered A “It’s a black day, r ,’ muttere n- derson, as he sti: eet athena kindly. ‘* We did all we knew bow, but everythin’ was ag’inst us. It’s a awful blow for one so young as you, but b’ar up—ef not for your own sake, for ourn, We need all our grit now, to save what’s left, You'll try an’ b’ar up—be the true child o’ your father—poor fellow! ‘* Minnie—where is she?” ‘“‘Gone—not dead ; I don’t mean that. But she’s a captive. We've sworn—the boys an’ me —to git her back, ef so be any o’ us lives to git out o' the scrape. An’ we'll do it too.” ‘‘God grant it! But then you need not fear forme. I will not give way. Trough but a girl, ’1do a man’s duty while tbere’s need for me,” and Mary smiled wanly—a smile that sickened the old scout’s heart to the core, so full of beart-broken woe was it. Selecting ber rifle from those standing against the barricade, Mary took ber place, nae and stonily calm. Sbe seemed scarcely to eel the wound upon ber head that the guide had rudely bandaged while she slept. The sun was an hour bigh when the shallow grave was completed, gs notbing bad been seen of the Apaches. All but Anderson began to hope they had abandoned the siege as hope- 8s, ‘*Let me look upon bis face once more,” gasped Mary, as she saw the time was at hand when the dead must be covered from mortal view forever. ‘*My poor gal, it’s better you didn’t,” mut- tered Anderson, interposing. ‘It ’d ba’pt your dreams forever. Better think of bim as you last see’d him; believe me, I speak for your own good. He was awfully burt in tbe scrim- mage. ary staggered back, but Dane’s s'rong arm parte aee her from falling. Then, with a pain- ul effort, she recovered herself. ‘**Be it so, then. I know you would not de- ceive me. But it’s bard—very hard! Even that pocr consolation denied me!” “You kin pray for him, gal—an’ that’d be better. For pore Paul too. e fit like a man, he did, for you av’ yours, He beld up ontil we'd driv’ em beck, though be bed the death o’a dezen men in his karkidge. Pray for him, too,” brokenly said Mat. Tenderly, quietly, the two men were placed in their ve, side be sice, still wrapped in their blankets. Then = knelt, and in a voice broken by sobs, prayed fervently for the eter- nal repose of their souls, Mat turned aside, his shaggy beard glistening in the brigbt sunlight, wet by the tears that dimmed his eyes. Then, bowing her head, Mary gave way to her grief, as the cousins covered the bodies with the dirt and bits of slate. It was an hour that none of the little party forgot te their dying MBlowty: hedvily; the hours 2 gged by, until ow eavily, ours dra y, un the on ssed its meridian. But few words were spoken by the bes‘eged after Bryan’s doubts as to the spe being in the vicinity were so significantly silenced by their brave guide. Stationed upon the onposite hillside
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were two savages, pcideiitli teal tae Sua oie | aid there for the pur- e of making known to the main party any movement the besieged might make. cet T- son’s keen eye soon detected them, and it was his RS inting them out that silenced Bryan, hey must be thinking to starve us out then,’ muttered Dane, disgustedly. “Hither that, or they’ ve sent for more help, Mebbe one, mebbe t’other.” ‘Honestly, Mat,” added the young man, with a furtive glance toward Mary, as though fearful lest she should hear th: words, “* what show have we got? Cun we escape from here?” “Wal, I'll say the best I know how. Ef to- night’s as cl’ar and bright as last night, then we're gone. But ef it’s c loudy, as the looks bid fa’r to be now, an’ the gal’s got true grit, then Pats 3a chaince, Now you know jest’s much as 0,” Bryan was forced to be content with this rather vague explanation, for Anderson, though never gad is eyes to rest, seemed deep in reflectio), Gilmore felt confident that Mat was planning some scheme of escape, and was con- tent, to leave him alone, Mid-afternoon a wild tumult arose in the val- ley; yells, sbouts and cries of exultation. Mat’s brow corrugated as the chorus broke forth. He easil read its signification. s [ said, the imps hes got help,” he pany remarked, though his eyes glared dee For the next hour his gaze was a aie con- stantly directed skyward. Each cloud was slowly observed—its shape, color, course, and such apparent trifles. Then tbe grim, anxious look softened, and Anderson half- smiled, “They're gatherin’ together—I know’d it! Little shine the moon ’l] give this blessed night, please the pigs!” “Then you think—” **Yes, 1 do—or would, ef I knew what you meant, But never mind. Thar’s work for you to do now. Them imps won’t give us much time a’ter dark comes, so we must be Pag 8 Watch. the valley cluss, now, an’ be read take any varmint as tries to pick me off, Bom on the bills don’t matter—they’re too fur for more ’n chaince shootin’,” hurriedly uttered Anderson, drawing bis knife. Lvaping lightly over the barricade, Mat dart- ed swiftly to the wagon, The keen-eyed savages on the hillside noted the action, and uttered a warning yell, at the same time dashing along the ridge, as if to cut off the fugitive. Mat laughed loudly as they saw their mistake, and then set to work. First he removed the lariats that had been used to secure the mules, and tossed them into the fort. Then tearing loose one of the ashen bars that supported the wagon-cover, he severed a long stri P of the can- vas, and with these returned to his comrades, who were eagerly watching the movements of several savages who had been alarmed by the signal-shouts, but who kept well sereened behind the rocks and bowlders ‘Don’t be afeard, boys,” laughed the guide. “Tuar’s no danger o’them makin’ a dash. They’ve other plans, an’ last night was too rough for’em to try it on in beond daylight, Harry kin watch, though, while you, Sam an’ Mary make me a light string out o’ this cloth. Cut it len’thways, so’s to leave two or three threads together, Then tie them tight. Do the job neat. We don’t want no foolin’ when the time comes for work.’ Seated beside bis loophole, with now and then a glance out upon the valley, Mat began whit- tling, first a bow, then an arrow, rude and clum- sy enough, but such as seemed’ to satisfy him. For this purpose be had got the wagon- bow. Putting ‘‘ this and that together,” the young man began looking around, then upward, at the rock above them. Theu, as they believed, they read Anderson’s plan. As stated, the ledge overhung the stone fort; still, from their position, they could see a thick, stunted cedar tree that seemed firmly growing out of the rock, Once at its foot, it would be easy to scramble up the bill. And this was just what Double Fist intended doing, when the storm-clouds should render all dark below. By sunset, all wasin readiness for the attempt. The bow was strung, the light string attached to the arrow. The lariats lay coiled and knot- ted to the twisted cord, By shooting the arrow over the bent tree- trunk, the rope could be hauled up, and as it was long enough to double, the ends could be made fast below for the first ascent. Then Mary could be hauled up. After which the would be comparative] easy. It was not likely that the Apaches would consider it neces- _ Old Double Fist. _is sary to erat that hillside since the eitintiging ledge appeared impossible to scale, Night fell, dark and dismal, though the storm still held off. The wind was high, howling fit- fully down the valley and amid the rocky crags. Doubtless the Apaches hailed the night as one one most propitious; they could almost gain the barricade walls before being discovered, and then, with their reinforcements, one desperate rush would ¢arry all before them. Knowing there was no time to lose, Mat quick- ly set about bis task, At the second trial, he succeeded, The next minute found him safe at the foot of the tree, With the rope noosed beneath her armpits, Mary was hoisted up beside the guide, then di- rected to crawl out of the way. Ten minutes after the arrow flight, the barricade was desert- ed by all save the dead, and the fu,itives, led by Old Double Fist, were stealtbily gliding over the hillside, the ropes wound around his bod re leave no trace by which the Apaches might ee in their pur-uit. Though betraying no hesitation, Double Fist was far from being at ease, He was in doubt which would be the best course to pursue— whether to strike directly out into the level plain, trusting to the rain that must come soon to obliterate their trail before day, or to seek a — peng among the bills, until the Apaches should have given up the quest as hopeless, During bis explorations while searching for the much-talked-of diamonds, he had stumbled upon a.snug covert, but was now in doubt whether or no the Apaches might also know of it. Ifso, then that cave would be the first spot searched, Thoughts of Mary and her weakness from her wounds, at length decided bim upon trusting to the cave, feeling that she could never make the long march across the desert on foot. Easier in mind now that he had decided, Anderson bhus- tened on toward the refuge. The traveling was difficult, under the most ropitious circumstances; doubl so now in the Intense gloom, that was only relieved by occa- sional flashes of lightning. Thus, though half an bour had elapsed since their leaving the stone fort, a mile had not been traversed, “Thar it is—D’ve been listenin’ for it,” mut- tered Mat, as the party involuntarily paused. A single yell—loud and exultant, as though sent up by a score of throats in the flush of triumph, came clearly to their ears, borne by the favoring wind. Then, after a moment of deathlike stillness, there followed a series of yells and screeches almost diabolical, telling that the empty nest bad been found—but not the fugitives, “‘Come—we must travel, now; they’ll be spreadin’ all over these hills, "lookin forus. Ef we kin git to pod hole first we may be all right.” Sup eg between them, the fugitives scram Kaen! e hillside as rapidly as they could nt the gloom. Then across the narrow valley, and up the next ascent. Scarcely had they begun this, than a bright flood of lightning lighted up the scene with dazzling brilliancy. Anderson uttered a fierce curse and flung bimself beavily ag .inst his com- panions, almost prostrating them, The solution of this strange action, was evi- dent. A clear report rung out—from only a few feet before them a dezzling spout of flame lighted the air, and the vicious whistle of a ragged bullet cut the air close to their heads, The lightning flood had shown Anderson the Ce aa of a savage, his rifle leveled toward them. Doubtless be had cought the sound of their approach, and prepared to receive them warmly, if enemies. With an angry snarl, Anderson sprung for- ward, so suddenly that it seemed but a continu- ation of that which had saved one of his friends, He seemed guided by instinct, for bis brawny -hands clos aoe the Apache's throat, and re- sistlessly bore to the ground, Then a quick motion—a thud, and that foeman was disposed of. Wiping the blade that was drippsd with the Indian’ s heart-blood, Mat signaled his friends to approach, His words were almost drowned by a wild yells that arose from the valley below em, The truth was plain. A portion of the Ap- aches in search of the fugitives had been guided by the shot, and were now close at hand. The brief flash that showed Anderson’s dripping knife, also served to reveal their forms to the Indians, uick! we must run for it!” cried Mat “The hole is is only acrost the hill- to Senseo me,” murmured Mary, sinking hastily | after Jessie, tight elinching back with a faint cry. ‘‘I sprained my ankle when I fell.” “We must fight, then,” gritted Mat, as be sprung te her side ’and lifted her like a child in his arms. *' Foller, boys—thar’s some rocks here that'll a us, Hurry!” Scrambling up the hill, be reached the rocks, and then sprung into their middle, <A cry broke from his lips as be felt himself falling! By astrange coincidence, he bad fallen into the same trap, as, some hours before, James: Cook and Ed Dane had done, Like them, too, be had alighted safely, aT now a carpet of ashes covered the dirt mound, ‘What is it--are you hurt, Mat?” cried Gil- more, with wildly beating heart. “‘No—tbank God! Come down—it’s our best: chance, Jump—it’s on’y a few feet,” The yelling savages were now at the bill’s foot, and a moment’s delay might be fatal. And the cousins, side by side, made the leap in the dark. They two were uninjured, though rolling over and over in the still warm ashes, The yells without suddenly ceased. All was still as death, Could it be that they knew of the cavern? This was the question whirpered to each other, ‘*Most like they do,” answered Anderson. ‘*Blse why was that red-skin thar? He wa’n’t: one of those after us; be bedn’t time to git here so soon. An’ it was on this hillside that the boys went under, near as I kin judge.” « Mary uttered a faint cry. She had placed ber outstretched band upon the face of a dead or sleeping man! Then came a faint, rustling sound at the hole above, CHAPTER IX, A STRANGE MEETING. Hesiratina only for a moment, Minnie darted the tiny revolver, which she was so soon to use in defense of her life. Hor- rible as were the yep snarls of the ravening wolves, the idea of being left alone in that wild, dis- mal spot, with the storm fast gathering over head, possessed still greater terrors to the maiden’s mind. A few moments sufficed to cross the intervening; spent, and as she sprung round an abrupt curve in e hill,a faint cry escaped Minnie’s lips, Even through the gloom she could distinguish a frightful scene, Here the hill seemed to end in a gentle slope that extended clear to the bank of the creek winding down the valley. ape soil was entirely free fron: shrubbery and grass, save & fringe of bushes along the rocky ledge Finat at divided the hill from the slope. Gravel and slate-stone, dry and crumbly, bleached by the sun and weather to an almost posers: such was the spot upon which was now ragi horrible, unequal struggle, between scores of wo em and a single man. The man—whether white or red, in Ha os light cast up by the slate, Minnie could not t was stil? upon his feet, battling ceeperarey with either a clubbed rifle or a heavy sti Around him raged the wolves, their eyes glittering brightly, their teeth clashing continuously, like the cliek of a modvenn: now springing Bees heir victim from bebind, t retreating from his frantic rush, frightened as Bee 5 by his hoarse shouts as the crush ng club. More than one brute lay Reiniess and erippled upon the ground, , yelping and whining, awelling the diavolical chorus, The man slip -stumbled, and sunk to his knees. The wolves, with what seemed & ery of triumph, swarmed upon bim, With a husky cry he arose, flinging the venomous animals here and there, tear- ing them from his person with his naked hands. For arms he had none new. Falling, the club was lost. It ee hidden from his sight by the dusky mass of wolves, All this Minnie took in at a glance, as she stood yetrified with horror, Then she saw Jessie spring orward, almost to the outer line of brutes. To her strained’ hearing there came a male tuwang—inetant- ly following, the shrill yell of a wolf as he: rolled up- op ie shingle, literally spitted upon the feathered shaft And as the faithful weapon sent shaft after shaft into the writhing mass, the voice of the strange wo- man rong out clear and distinct, betraying Lo fear for self—only solicitude for the w e: ing man: “Courage, William—courage! Struggle on—be brave—I am here to share your fate!” And the lightning shafts sped upon their mission, the yelps of pain, of death came mene rs nidly, And the man, as fired by her words, fought like a mad- man, striking the rus ing curs with his feet, hurling een aside with his hands as they eprung at his nroat. By these efforts, truly wonderful coming from one so long struggling against deadly odds, the man freed his person entirely, and then with w hat seemed i ery of recognition, bounded through the writhing mass, reaching Jessie’s side. However natural, this act bade fair to be the death of both. Now, instead of one, both man and woman were surrounded by the ravening monsters, ery of pain—inyoluntarily wrung from her lips —broke the spell that until ot had 1 held Minnie as if bound with a chain, and she sprung forward, her t hand outstretched. Crack—crack went the Sevclien: and though discharged almost without
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14 a Old Double Fist. pa the leaden missiles could not avoid finding a victim. The wolves, with low, sullen snarls, fell back ,until | they no longer ae a cirele. Not the report | alone, nor the death of their fellows caused this. It was the bright sparks of flame that awed them. . * Fall back to the rocks,”’ cried Minnie, in a shrill tone, as her pistol spoke once more, ‘‘They can only attack us in front, then.” At their first step of retreat, the emboldened wolves se I hgh their eyes glaring phosphor- escently, their jaws clashing like castanets. Once more they hesitated, as the jet of flame darted to- ward them. But what when the last load was fired? Already four of the seven chambers were empty. Minnie shuddered convulsively at the thought. It seemed death! And to die—it seemed horrible! The feathered shafts flew less frequently than at first. Not that Jessie was seriously injured, though her person bore more than one trace of the keen fangs, but the. quiver was neasly empty. Little wonder that her heart grew sick. Once, twice, the wolves shrunk back; but in a moment were creeping closer than before. And now but one charge remained in the pistol—but two arrows in the quiver, , For a moment Minnie hesitated, and turned the smoking muzzle toward her own brow, It was a temptation—better death thus quigk and painless, than to fall beneath those horrible fangs—to be torn into pieces, and devoured while yet alive—while the warm flesh was ace Bay orine with agony. “*Merciful God of Heavens! save us!’ * The prayer broke from her lips unconsciously, rising clear and high above the din. It was then a huge, gaunt monster sprung forward, its paws resting upon her shoulders, its white fangs.gleaming in her eyes, its hot, reeking breath steaming into her face. A touch upon the eS ans smothered report and its hair scorched by the flash the monster fell in a writhing Hieap at the maiden’s feet, shot through the heart. And that was the last charge. Only the empty ‘weapon remained; faithful so long, it was useless now. And the wolves crept nearer. It seemed as though nothing short of a miracle of Divine mercy eould longer avert the horrible fate that stared the trio in their faces. ; But this was not to be the end. Through all that Cerverare struggle for life, between human and ru the eye man had been upon the scene, eagerl watching the contest, though little else but a confused, shadow could be seen. In hiding themselves, with each Roe a moment expecting to be called upon to fight for their lives, they had believed this struggle to be between wolves and their enemies. But then they heard the voice of a woman, crying for help one more, they knew By the words and accent, that this was a woman of their own race and color. Hesitating no longer, they pprune forward, and took partin the drama. Swiftly spoke their fire- not ta the despairing ones knew of their ap- proach, The wolves retreated; that storm of lead and fire they could not stemach, Paty the dead and dying were left behind. Quick-witted, the new-comers read the truth—knew that in a moment more the survivors would return to the attack. “Come—it’s death to stay here,’’ shouted one of the men, as he caught the fainting maiden in his arms, and bounded over the shingle to the rock- lode. ‘Help! he is dying!” gasped Jessie, as the man she had called William, dank pow his knee, witha en gasping groan. “Do not leave us here to **T won't—help me—the wolves are coming back!"" the second man, as with the strength of manly youth, he half lifted the reclining figure from the eevee “Take his arm—if he falls now, he’s lost!” added, and the two between them dragged the man up the slope. The wolves were gliding near, and might have ht them, only that he who had already carried e@ to safety, suddenly reappeared, Dearing in his hand a blazing brand. As this was flung, into Shot midst, the demons fled, yelping and howling in error. “There—they’ll scarcely trouble us again—at least not immediately. Now. if you please—my arm is stronger than* yours. You can follow after us,” kindly uttered the man, relieving Jessie from the wounded man's weight. ‘You are very kind—” ‘“Not at all. If I am not mistaken, you are the lady who warned us of our danger. You know one good turn deserves another.”’ The quartette pushed apg: the belt of bushes, and for a few yards, passed along beneath a ledge, that. project above the crumbling slate-stone. Then stooping, they entered a small cavity, where | all was dark and dismal. “Keep close to me, madam, A few steps further, | and our journey is done,”’ “I know it,” quietly replied Jessie, ‘This is not my first visit here.” : e two men appeared surprised, but said noth- ' ing. Shortly a faint glow became visible, and then asmall fire was seen, dimly lighting up a spacious ee: the outlines of which could only be imper- ‘ectly seen. Beside the fire crouched Minnie, pale, but con- scious. Gently laying the injured man upon the dry sand, the elder of the two men proceeded to examine his hurts, probed ane serious expréssion, that bade Jessie the worst. Tremblingly she watched his face, wa and waited, het tasat sick and fainting. She now recognized the men, They were of the i, she had warned of danger from the Apaches. hese two were those she had met and warned a second time; the ones with whom she had conversed briefly, scarce thirty-six hours before. : They were, indeed, James Cook, the Californian, ee Ed Dane, of whom we have lost sight for some ime, It will be remembered tl .t Dane swooned, over- come by the stifling smoke, while groping their way through the tunnel-like passage. A few yards fur- ther, Cook came upon what seemed the termination of the passage, in a heap of earth. Then he, too, gave way, and fell into the pool of water, that in- stantly extinguished his torch. ’ Fortunately the water was not deep enough to drown him, though he fell face downward, and the cool liquid tended to revive his sinking senses. Slightly raising his head, a current of cool, fresh air sete his lips—or was it fancy? No! it was truth, Even in such a moment, he reasoned clearly and logically. If there was a constant draft, then there must be an opening to the outer air. If the air could find a passage, might not he, as well? He breathed more and more free. Hope was re- viving him, nearly as much as the fresh air, He listened. for his comrade—he fancied he heard a faint groan, at no great distance. He called aloud; but only the moaning gasp replied. Holding an arm over his mouth, he staggered to his feet. "The flannel shirt was saturated, and to his great joy, Cook found that he could breathe through it with comparative ease. He staggered on until he fell over the senseless body of his young comrade. Exerting all his strength, the Californian dragged Dane to. the water, and bathed his face. Ten minutes later the young man had recovered his consciousness. Then Cook whispered his hope—and that too re- invigorated Dane. Together they examined. the end of the passage before them; by the sense of touch. All their torchwood was out. The dirt felt loose—as if it had lately been placed there. And then, standing upon Cook’s bent back, Dane found that the surmise was true—that a por- tion of the roof had caved in, thus blocking up the passage, Only for a very brief time could they stand erect; the smoke was dense, hot and suffocating. But the water. proved, an invaluable ally. Through its aid they were enabled to live, to breathe, to work. It was a long task, for the cave had been consider- able, but at length they bored a hole through to the passage beyond, large enough to admit their per- sons. Then comet ly soaking their clothing, they boldly ventured on through the darkness. The draft seemed to increase as they progressed, and the air to be less laden with smoke. » Or that ed have been fancy, now their hopes were rising. Still it was a bitter struggle, and they nearly sunk beneath it. Yet, as we know, they succeeded in reaching rant 9 Jaded, completely exhausted, they dared not ven- ture entirely away from the cave, knowing that such bitter enemies were near, and sheltered amid the fringe of burses, they lay down and slept long and peacefully. It was day when they awoke. aes the first ob- ject that met their gaze as they peered forth upon the slope, was a party of Apaches filing by. at told them the folly of venturing forth, and isering the worst had befallen their friends, they returne to. the cave and sought out a. snug place of conceal- ment. This they found—and more besides, But of that anon. -- Through that day they suffered hunger and thirst rather than run any risks. Expecting a search for their bodies would follow as soon as the rocks cooled after the fire, they had not dared even indulge in a pipe, but the day passed by without their hearing or seeing anything more of the Apaches. The reader, doubtless, knows why this search was not made, The Apaches fad their hands full of other work. The Californian looked grave as he arose from ex- amining the wounded man. Jessieshuddered as she read his face. . “There is no—no hope?” “I’m sorry to say it, but a lie would do no good now,” sadly mp iee Gook, for something in this woman stirred his heart acer y “You may bid him good-by; an hour hence may be too late.” The injured man stirred—slowly raising his head, supporting his weight upon one hand. | As be gazed wonderingly around, a brand broke in two and a bright. flame momentarily flashed up, clearly outlin- ing the party. Jinnie shrunk back in horror, In this man she fancied she beheld the murderer of her father. The long, matted hair and beard—the shaggy dress of skins, now torn and tattered by the wolf-jaws, - Steptoe 2 to the picture drawn by John ‘emple. s Segnie-tshene are we—what does this mean?” muttered the man, in a wondering tone, as the wo- man knelt beside him, . ” Thank God! you know me—you remember, Wil- am?’ ‘*Yes—why shouldn’t I? I remember all—how those devils in human shape tried to force you from me—how we fled— Ha! they have followed_us! They come to steal my wife—but they must fight!” cried William, his eyes glowing madly, as he sought e. The shadowy forms of the two diamond-seekers excited him thus, He seemed to fancy them enemies, The Californian seemed ‘strangely agitated. He shrunk back from the light, pale, tremb in every fiber. He mp like one haunted by the past— by some deep grief or fearful crime. ‘ The excitement hastened what must, at best, have come soon. The wounded man sunk back—one pal shiver, and his spirit fled. » ora moment Jessie bowed over his lifeless form, as if crushed to the ground. Yet his death could not have been such a dreadful blow, For years this man had been mad—a heavy weight upon her mind. He was better off now. Still, though she had learned to look forward to this event as the only mode of escape from a life that was loathsome, the woman could not forget that this man had been her husband. ** Jessie — Jessie Baughman!’’ muttered the tall Californian, as though the words were foreed from his lips by an inevitable power, ** Who calls me?’ and the woman started to her feet, glancing around with a wondering air, as though half-expecting to behold a vision from the other world. “James Cook. Jessie, my lost darling, have you indeed forgotten me, as they said you had?”’ and the next moment his strong arms ¢lasped her to his heaving breast. : ** Merciful Heaven!— alive?” gasped Jessie; but then she started back from the hot lips that rained kisses upon her. : ** No, James—I must not—cannot forget that my husband lies there,” and she pointed down at the orapas beside them. ith a strong effort, Cook controlled his feelings and then the clouds and misunderstandings that had shrouded the past were gradually swept away. It was a sad, long story of wrong and suffering, but which I will briefly condense. Leaving his betrothed, Jessie Baughman, Cook journeyed to California, hoping there to in the fortune that seemed denied him at home. t Frisco he met Fred Holland, and mutually pleased, they became partners. Their mining pros- ered. They were rapidly growing rich, and in his Soy at the thought of what = Ho awaited him, Cook made a’ confidant of Holland, telling him all, showing him Jessie’s picture. A month Jater, the pe ggings on the Feather river was tbe scene of a tragedy, Cook was found, one morning, ap- arently dead. Holland was molest; so also was he gold that belonged to them 1 ntly, Cook re- covered from his hurts, after a lingering struggle with death, but the would-be murderer escaped. Robbed even of his papers—even of bis Jessie’s min- iature, Cook once more fought with the stubborn earth, to win back the fortune he had lost, And finally he succeeded; but during all these weary months, he had heard nothing from home. Sick at heart, he finally set sail from Fr’isco, He reached home in safety; but what a blow awaited him, Jes- sie was married—to the man who had brought her tidings of Cook’s death, together with her let/ers and picture. For nearly a year she had resisted him, but then yielded, more for her father’s sake than her own, A month later, her father died, and she set sail for England. This was before Cook’s return. Vowing vengeance upon the traitor, he followed them; they passed in mid-ceean, Holland —or William Harvey as he now called himself—had become a convert to Mormonism. The scales soon fell from his eyes, and to save Jessie, whom he fair- ly idolized, they fled from the City of Sin. The anites followed—the fight was one of Horrible pri- vation and suffering, but the Avenging Angels were baffled, though the fugitives were captured b Apaches, and in the struggle, a blow upon the he deprived Harvey of reason. Their lives werespared, from some whim, and by her knowledge of medicine, Jessie, gained no little influence over the Apaches. Harvey's brain contained only, one idea; every white man seemed to him one of the Danites, and he sought to slay them. Under this idea he had killed John Temple. * Hush!” suddenly interposed Dane, ‘' Somebody then grasped is approaching. I hear footsteps!” Cook instantly extinguished the fire, his weapons, And the sound of footsteps came nearer, and nearer. ab nas CHAPTER X. A JOYOUS REUNION. ' THE men prepared their weapons and peered keen- ly upward. The position of the entrance could only be distinguished faintly from its being a trifle less opaque than the surrounding rocks. And sharp- eyed Mat felt confident that he could inake out sev- eral of the Apaches cautiously climbing into the hole. Quick as thought his rifle spoke, discharged al- most without an aupenare at aim, since, in the gloom below, the barrel itself could not be seen. And yet a shrill yell followed—a heavy body fell at the guide’s feet, only to be pounced upon by that worthy, whose long fingers closed around the In- ES, throat with a grasp that speedily stilled all quivering. Guworn and Bryan had fired immediately after Anderson did, but with no apparent effect other than to cover the retreat of the venturesome war- riors, who now left the entrance free, Mat cast the dead savage aside, and then satisfied himself as to what had wrung the scream from Mary’s lips. It was the body of an Apache—one of those slain by the Californian and Dane. A groping search scovered others, é and disfigured as though by fire, but nothing that gave a clew to the fate of his friends. These facts set Anderson busy thinking. Where were the two—Cook and Ed? Dead? so, why was the Apache standing guard over the cave en- trance? Could it be that they had esca by means of the passage leading back toward the cen- ter of the hill whose mouth he bad explored while Gop eg around? It might be po ly so, a
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‘“‘ What are they about to do?” at length muttered Harry, touching Double Fist. ‘*What is that noise? yf? “Sounds like pilin’ brush—an’ the hole up thar looks blacker. don’t it? Mebbe they’re goin’ to try smoke,” slowly replied Anderson; and only for the darkness there would have been seep an uneasy look upon his face, ** But cin they?” “When you was a shaver, didn’t you ever smoke out arabbit? They'll find this a easier job. Ef they rally meanit, we must try the long hole back thar. Mebbe it leads somewhar—any how, the eend 'lL-be Jonge er comin’,” Vhy not make a start at once?—think of Mary,” urged Sam. Don’t be foolish, boy. S'posin’ we'd do that, an’ then the imps ’d try ag’in to git in here, Whar’d we be then? No, ef tha hole leads cl’ar to t’other side o’ the hill, this fire ‘Il give us time enough to git thar, afore the rocks cool so’s them imps kin git down. See?’ returned Mat following nearly the same reasoning as had Cook before him. They had not long to wait for this question to be decided. The Apacheg lost no time in the manner described ina previous chapter. Profiting by their experiences then, they heaped the combustibles above the hole. Anderson only waited to be reasonably sure of their seat before setting forth, As if in desper- ation he discharged his rifle through the brush-heap, then turned and led the way into the tunnel, while shrill, exultant yells rung out from above. The A paches seemed confident of their pre 6 it is not my intention to dwell upon the hopes and fears of the little y as they groped their wa through the Tieenl darkness, nor to describe their increasing anxiety and sufferings asthe atmosphere became heavy with bitter, acrid smoke, I have al- ready attempted’ to deseribe: one such journey of horror—of living death; and that must suffice. They followed the exact course taken by Cook and Dane, though, of course, ignorant of that fact. Discovering the passage that turned to the left as he groped alon ¥P wall, Anderson was struck by the same thought—by the recollection of how the hill was shaped, Hey elieved that this was the nearest rey, to safety. f hey rete the spot that was so nearly fatal to the first two, crawling through the hole excavated by them, And then on, their throats parched, their eyes almost sightless. It was the sound of their footsteps that startled the Californian and his companions. And as he stood there with Ed Dane, before the crouchin woman, their aeeete ready for instant uae) Coo: started convulsive Faint and indistinct came the words: “*T can go no further—this is killing me!” a Help her what ye kin, boys,”’a deeper veice re- plied, “It feels like we was nigh the eend. The air’s fresher.” ‘*Heavens! can it—you heard, Ed?” gasped Cook, disbelieving his own ears, “*Tt's Mat—l’m sure,” eagerly muttered Dane. **T’°ll call him—”’ ‘**No—we must be sure. I'll givethe signal—he can not mistake that, while he might your voice,” and then a shrill, peculiar whistle rung out with startling distinctness. For a moment after the shrill echoes had died away, there was silence so intense that those waiting eould almost hear the throbbings of their hearts. Then, broken and irregular, as though in doubt came the answer, Cook could no longer doubt, anc a Cl nia joy broke from his lips. it you, Mat?’ he cried, springing forward a pace “Who be you?” came a doubting voice, “Why—don’t you know? Jim Cook—and Ed is her too.” A ou're shore? I thought you was rubbed out!” and the old guide seemed sorely puzzled. ‘Feel that—does it feel like the grip of a dead map, old fellow?” and laughing, Cook grasped Mat’s hand warmly, The reader must try and imagine the meeting be- tween the friends—more especially that between ‘Mary and Minnie Temple. Pen is powerless to de- scribe it, It was like the dead’ come to lifeagain, Mat had felt confident that Cook and Dane were killed by the aches. Minnie had told how she had left the Shae Neither expected to meet again in life. Yet the meeting was not entirely joyous. Though dreading it, Minnie now for the first learned that her father was indeed dead—that he had died in the vain endeaver to protect her. The sisters were seated ap part, mingling their tears, Jessie was near them, but istening to the comrades consulting together as to their wisest course, . _ ‘Now that weare all together—except ,poor dead ‘ Paul—there is nothing more to wait for,”’ observed Cook, thoughtfully. ‘‘And the ladies—we have them’ to think of, too.” “What kin we do? The Apash won’t be lon follerin’ in after us, ef on’y to cot our skulps. ty" like they'll track us by torchli Ef we left here, ‘ pa Mo soon smell us out, an’ ne gals is poor hands agin’ a red-skin, We iin make a better fight in i than out thar in the open.”’ “You forget—we have six mules. ped and I caught and tied them in the valley ahove. I’m sure they're there still.”’ “No,” interposed Jessie, ‘they are Hoa oer That same afternoon that I me et you, the es dis- covered them. They are®now at ee encamp- ment,”’ “Then we are indeed lost!” “Perhaps not—if you will trust in me. There are in the glow of*the fire. Old Double Fist. places here where you can baffle search for hours, and possibly escape oorely being found, 1 will go to the Indian village and fetch borses—I can manage it with little risk, since they all believe me a true — With them, you can bid deflance to the ACHES. . Kin you do this, r’ally?” ** Yes—I can.’ ‘/ The risk will be too great—it is not right that you should brave all the danger, while we, strong men, hide from it,” warmly cried Cook, , ‘Tt would be a risk for any of you—but not so for me, The Apaches look upon meas sacved—their Great Medicine,’’ smiled Jessie. ‘* But words are a dren of time; come, I will show you a hiding- ace “IT know them all,” added the Californian. ‘Ed and I explored every inch of this place. And we made a discovery, too,” * What kind?” **A gold-mine!”’ * Plenty good, in its way, but not o’ much use to us now,” muttered Double Fist, yet with a thrill of pleasure that was but natural, “Goatonce, then, Timeis precious. I will hasten to the village, and py or before daylight, you may expe ct me here with horses.”’ Show them, Ed. I will see this lady safe out- side,’’ quietly added Cook, Jessie. cast a quick glance in the direction of his voice. She read a deeper meaning in his tone than did the others. But she gave no word of dissent, as Cook gently took her hand, and groped his way to the cave entrance. Side by side they peered forth from the belt of shrubbery. Though the leaden clouds still rolled erie along, théy were more broken, and an gccasional star gleamed forth, Th»storm had swept past. No rain was to fall that night. The dead wolves could faintly be distinguished, lying upon the white shingle. But nothing could be seen or heard of living enemies, Suddenly Jessie turned and extended her band, saying in a low tone: “Time is passing—I must RO. Good-by--God knows whether it may not be forever! Tell me, then, before we part, that you—you forgive me—”’ “ Forgive you! There is nothing to forgive. You believed me dead—how could the think Otherwise? The smooth tongue that blinded me might easily deceive you. But we will not part just yet. going away = you,” 5 arene We wise not. You are needed more ere.” “* Jessie—do you think I wil] leave you now? No— no, I have lost fifteen years of life by black treachery—for that length of time you have been dead to me. Where you go,I go. “We will live or die together. ? “Come, then,” and they glided out from their covert. For an hour or more they hastened through the night with as great speed as they could put Forth, for time was indeed precious—how precious even they did not know. Then Jessie paused, with a little ery her arm ee to the * They were now standing upon the crest of a con- sider. able hill, and only for Phe night, would have had an extensive view of the surrounding country. As it was, an object, apparently miles away, had — Jessie’s aay the right twinkling of a eamp- “The Apaches!” muttered the Californian, mechanical aA *“No—they would not burn ® fire this late, in such an open and exposed spot. It isthe camp-fire of some one i norant of the danger he runs—of white amen doubtless.’ mo the friends they—the Temples— Iam he a! can it Be ° came separate rom? It must be—who else would be here?” and Cook reflected for a moment. “Tf I were only ce I would return to our friends. Could we once that party, we would be safe, for they outnum ss r the Apaches.’ “The tramp at night vould. kill the girls, Still, this is a chance that you ought not to neglect. You must foe and see who they are,’ ‘With you ?” ““No—two chances are better than one. I will keep on and secure the horses, Then if you fail, we will be no worse off than at first. Go now, and be sg legen rgee sake!” e words were spoken in a low, falterin voice, but the Californian héard them, Before or could speak, Jessie was springing away, and the next moment the shadows swallowed her up. And after a brief doubt, Cook turned and hastened away to- ward the distant camp-fire. The distance was greater than Cook had imagined, and the intricate course he was forced to pursue, made it still further, so that it was over av hour be- fore he reached the eae He knew now that it was the encampment of white men; from the can- vas covered wagons that stood near the fire, but only one human Agute met his gaze, That was a man seated close beside the fire, his head bowed forward, seemingly sound asleep, A rifle lay across his lap. Evidently he was the sentinel—and an in- experienced one; the most dangerous to approach, because so easily flustered. Knowing this, Cook sought shelter in a slight hol- é sentinel, t worth low, and then shouted to £ y sprung to his feet with a cry of alarm, but still stood sndihes Says ine phone thee eh & Benin white man like yourselves, I urea search of help,” clearly called! out the Call- | ei. cae Se oe “Come forward and tell your TEES GREET iy Ta OA ME ee uttered a stern voice. “All right. %If I mistake not, you've heard of John Temple—” wy here is he—what do you know of him?" éa- gerly “He's dead, but his two daughters are in danger from the Apaches, I came to you for help. ill ou go?” * We will—but look to yourself if this is a trick. You will not live long to boast over it,’’ cried the leader. ‘How wonld I know their name? The girls are called Mary and Minnie. They became separated from you, by their wagon’s breaking down, You left Colorado in quest of diamonds.” ‘Right! I know you now. Wewill go. Hurry, boys. ee owe. it to the girls, for our carelessness in losing them,” and eager for a brush with the In- dians, the party, in ten minutes more, were hasten- tng $0 the rescue, Ss may be imagined, James Cook headed an ea- ger band, and scant time was wasted along the trail, for the diamond-seekers had bitterly reproached themselves for having | ost sight of John Temple and his children in their mad race ‘for the fabulous wealth they imagined only awaited their stooping to pick it up. Thus it was almost a race to see who should be the first one to reach the rendezvous, They had a willing leader in the Californian, and Ss» perseveringly did he press on, that, just as the first grayish light of dawn painted the east, the foot of the shingle slope was reached. Here he paused for a moment. “It may be, boys, that we're in time—then again it’s barely possib e that we may find the Apaches there before us. Of course, then, we must fight, and if too late to save, avenge our friends. But in the dark, friends and foes are much the same; so, while some enter, Others must start a fire so that it can be carried inside.” “I kin hear shootin’—quick time, too!’ muttered one of the party, excitedly, **Come on, boys! Weniust take a hand in!” yelled Cook, darting up the slope, his blood on fire. No more thought was given toa .re Every man dashed hastily S after their leader, with woapons drawn, eager to participate in the bloody drama they felt assured was even then being enacted within the cave, for as they neared the entrance, the muffled reports came to their ears more distinctly hen the firing ceased, and Cook inv olniitatity paused. In that moment “he believed all was over. But then came a sullen, though faint, murmuring. He knew then that the str uggle was hand to hand. He did not need to urge his comrades on now. The same sound guided them, grow ine louder and more distinet as they neared the spot. Entering the hole, Cook glided forward with the ease of one thoroughly familiar with the ground, while the others hesitated, sham | huddling together in doubt. This was but natur Only a madman will rush blindly on through the dark, hot knowing what is before him, Cook momentarily paused to locate the place of combat. A moment sufficed for this, And in that moment he sissingumhen the wild battle-cry of Old Double Fist, mingled with the curses, shcuts and ells; the clash of steel—all the minutia of a deadly 1and-to-hand bey oi rendered but the more hor- rible from its taking place in the darkness—where not.even the flash of steel could be seen, when the blow might be felt, not guarded against. * Give it to ‘em, Mat, yelled Cook, as he peated forward, ‘“Here I am with help—clear th mints out, boys!” From behind him came the sturdy voices of the diamond-seekers, and a number of them guided y his voice, darted forward through the @ gloom. | pe Apaches also heard the shouts—and did not recognize Cook’s voice, they knew Rus waslost. Already discouraged and diy decimated, it needed but this to put them to With yells of dismay, they turne ond fled. Cook was struck and knocked down, being | mpled- over by the panic-stricken vith the en came & more serious collision with the ‘hited, who had fol- lowed Cook. Warned by the yells, the men were prepared for the shock, and struck out viciously. At thet mo- ment a report came from the large chamter, anda bright flame suddenly shot up, casting a food of light around, plainly revealing the struggling mass of humanity. The diamoud-seekers, by the aid of loose powder, had set fire to a heap of small brushwood, hastily collected. And now the wretched A aches were taken between two fires—for Mat and his comrades came rushing forward, their weapons dripping plage | their features distorted with deadly rage an latre The conflict—if such it might be called when ¢ os Apaches only sought to burst through thelr en lines, in order to flee—was brief. Several of the savages succeeded in gaining the outer air, and fled up thre valley, fear lending bans SO 4. their feet. 100) ‘* You wasn’t none too soon cried Mat, as he brushed the persnizauay from his brow. ‘They was ettin’ the better o' us in thar.” ow did it happen?” “Tt came about] in this wise. Phys an’ oe left the cave, Ed ok me ee aa athe Mean seigenn when about the fust thing we saw war & skin carryin’ a torch, while behind bim, rade ab. ders, came his cumrades. I sent Ed back to tell the boys to prepare for a scrimmage, an’ to put the gale out o’ harm’s way. He was not t gone long, an’ Soa dont bode O° acter, deter’ dike gil pte e ° rvey, ja ; sessed, ey war a good chance to make the score ~
Page 16
16 Old Double Fist. less, an’ drawin’ a couple 0’ — each, we emptied four barrels into the crowd, I war particular to draw a bead on the feller with the torch, an’ as he went down Mend war extinguished by his lifeless carcass. Cove by the darkness, an’ the yells of the livin’, an’ the groans of the dyin’ red-skins, we made our way back to whar we left our friends, whar we made up our minds to fight it out, an’ if needs be sell our lives dearly. We war bein’ hard- pressed, an’ could not stand up much longer, when you arrived, jist in the nick o” time.” ** Jessie—has she returned?’’ “Didn't she come ’th you?” “No. Boys, half a dozen of you, follow me. If those devils meet her, she is lost!” and half crazed with fear and apprehension, the Californian darted from the cave, followed by half the diamond-seekers. ““Whar’s Ed?” suddenly demanded Anderson, as he glanced round the party by the fire-light. earing the worst, Mat grasped a blazing fagot and hastened back to the niche, There he foun his you friend, dead—he had fallen at the last moment, in a grapple with a huge Apache. A knife was buried in the bosom of each; still clasped by the hands that had driven the blades home. This was the only serious catastrophe. Though more or less wounded, Mat, Harry, and Sam were but little tho worse for their desperate struggle, Mary and Minnie also were safe. The niche had shielded them from all harm, And an hour later, when Cook returned with Jessie, who had fully succeeded in the attempt to secure horses, only the death of poor Dane clouded their joy. the Srenite of the suéceeding days must, perforce, be passed over with few words, though I would fain linger longer with our friends, But time and space forbid; a brief resume must suffice. After due deliberation, the diamond-seekers—in- cluding our more particular friends—decided to make the cavern their head-quarters, though there was some eo that must be risked. It was possi- ble that the Apaches who had escaped the cave- struggle, yearning for vengeance, might lead a strong body of their brethren hither for that pur- pose. But the reward was deemed sufficient to off- set this danger. The pays hlen of gold was made known to all; and then,by the aid of torches, the niche was closely ex- amined. The walls fairly qlis‘ened with the prec'ous meal! The e, as far as dug, followed a vein of earth V aped, where the gold had gradually sifted to the bottom. Considering that nothing had as yet been discov- ered, to confirm the report of diamonds and ee cious stones, abounding in numberless quantities among the mountain ravines, it is little wonder that the adventurers unanimously voted to turn their energies wholly to gold-digging. And truly they were wise in so doing. Not only in the cave did they find the precious dust, but Jessie showed Cook another place, that she had discovered nearly a year previously. Here the gold was even more pleotiful—though in a smal- ler area—than within the cave. It was called “the cave,” because such was the name generally given it by the adventurers, but it was, in f & mammoth gold mine, nearly worked out, What bands—what race of poorer wrought this gigantic “‘ honey-comb,” probably will never be known, any more than with other mines, ruined cities, etc., which have been discovered in the far Southwest of late years. Doubtless the reader ts all that we can tell onie, Still, it is p.eas- them regarding M and ant to confirm their ideas. Gilmore was already in love—had been from that Fs when he fought so Resperntely in defense of fair-haired Minnie. Sam had conceived an idea that he could easily become very fond of black-eyed ell, the cousins were handsome, brave an1 in- telligent. The sisters were young and grateful. What more easy or natural than for them to fall in love? Nothing—and they did fall in love—each with their opposite in complexion. And when win- od fell, the sisters and cousins were united at nver. Of Jessie? After fifteen years of unbroken sor- row, the parted were united. The past was buried ~—for he who had so treacherously deceived them both, was dead and in the grave, Mat Anderson—the terrible Double Fist -though rich, is a contented overseer in the joint-stock ranch of the cousins, Gilmore & Bryan. The other ** diamond-seekers ’’ are scattered far and wide. Gilmore still declares his belief that jewels may be found in the “fields,” and instances his own for- tune, If not a ‘‘diamond,” he found a “ pearl above price,” in his Minnie. And Sam and James Cook fervently say amen ! THE BEADLE'S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. 120 Tue Branpep Hanp. By Frank Dumont .... 121 Crynamon Cute. By Edward L. Wheeler...... 122 Par. Harpy, THE Boss Boy. By Chas. Morris. 123 Kiowa CHARLEY. Pari C. Harbaugh ........ 1% Tippy, THe Texan. By George Gleason...... 125 Bonanza Brut, Miner. By E. L. Wheeler..... 126 Picayune Perr. By Charles Morris............ 127 Wop-Fire. By Frank Dumont......... ..... 128 Tus Youne Privateer. By Harry Cavendish. 129 Deapwoop Dick’s Dovsie. By E. L. Wheeler. 130 Derective Dick. By Charles Morris.. ...... 1381 THe GotpEN Hanp, By George W. Browne.. 132 Toe Huntep Hunter. By Edward §, Ellis... 133 Boss Bos. By Edward L. Wheeler ve 134 Sure-Suor SerH. By Oll Coomes............. 135 Caprain Paun. By C. D. Clark } 136 Nigut-Hawk Kir. By Jos. EB. Badger, Jr..... | 187 THe Hetpiess Hann. i seeesgan By Capt. ne Reid. 138 BuonpE Bru. By Edward L, Wheeler....... 139 Jupez Lyncu, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh 140 Buus Buazes. By Frank Dumont .. ........ 141 Sotm Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler ......... 142 Hanpsome Harry. By Charles Morris 143 Scar-Face Savut. By Oll Coomes. ........... 144 Darnry Lance, Toe Boy Sporr. By Badger. 145 Caprarn Ferret. By Edward L. Wheeler.... 150 Lancer AnD Lasso. Capt. F. Whittaker.... 151 Panruer Pavuyt, By Joseph E, Badger, Jr.... 152 Buack Bess. By Charles Morris 153 Eacie Kit, roe Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes. 154 Toe Sworp-Hounters. By Capt. F.Whittaker 155 Gotp Tricerr. By T. C. Harbaugh,... ... 156 Drapwoop Dick or Deapwoop. By Wheeler. 157 Mike Merry. By Charles Morris .. . er, 158 Fancy Frank or Cotorapo. By Buffalo Bill.. 168 Lirrite Texas. By OllCoomes...... .... 164 Danpy Rock’s Piepes. By Geo. W. Browne.. 165 Bruty BaGaaae, THE RAILROAD Boy. Morris.. 166 Hickory Harry. By Harry St. George....... 167 Asa Scorr. By Edward Willett .. __....... 168 Deapity Dasn. By Joseph E. aah Jr. 169 Tornavo Tom, BY T. C. Harbaugh. .. .. 170 A Trump Carp. By Charles Morris... 171 Esony Dan. By Frank Dumont... ........ 172 THunpEeRBOoLT Tom. By Harry St. George.... 173 Danny Rock’s Rrvau. By Geo. W. Browne., 174 Bos Rocxerr. By Charles Morris ....... ... 175 CAPTAIN ARIZONA. gs yd 8. Warne....... 176 Tae Boy Runaway. By Lieut. H. D, Perry.. 177 Nossy Nick or Nrevapa. By E. L. Wheeler.. 178 Oup Sonrrary, By Oll Coomes,. ..... .. 179 Bos Rockxert, THe Bank Runner. By Morris. 180 Tue Sea Trarter. Lieut. H. D. Perry, U.S. N. 181 WILD FRANK oF MontTANA, E. L: Wheeler, 182 Lirrte Hurricane. By Oll Coomes.......... 183 Tux Hippen Hanp, By Chas. Morris........ 184 Tue Boy Tramers, By Jos. BE. Badger, Jr... 18 Evin Eyz. By Frank Dumont 186 CooL Desmonp. B 187 Frep Hatyarp. Chas. Morris 188 Nep Tempter. By ” C. Harbaugh 189 Bos Rockert, THE CRACKSMAN. By C. Morris 190 Danny Darke. By Wm. R. Eyster.... . ... 191 BurraLo BILty. By Pant A. Tevor. De 192 Caprarn Kir. B eut, H.gD. Perry U.S.N. 193 Tar Lapy Roap-Agsnt. By Philip 8. Warne. 194 BurraLo Briu’s Ber. Capt. A. B, Taylor,U.S.A 195 Dgeapwoop Dick’s Dream. By E. L. Wheeler. 196 SHADOWED. By Charles Morris ee 4 Be ry 197 Lirriz Grrr, ‘By Col. Prentiss Ingraham... 198 ARKANSAW. By T. C. Harbaugh 199 FEATHERWEIGHT. By Ed 200 Tue Boy Bepourns. By Capt. F. Whittaker.. 201 Tue Buack Hits Jezesev. E, L, Wheeler.. 202 Prospect Perr, By Oll Coomes..... yale 203 Tux Boy Parps. Jos, E. Badger, Jr..... .... 204 Gotp Piume. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham ... 205 Deapwoop Dick’s Doom. By E. L. Wheeler. 206 DarK Pau, THE Tiaer Kina. By C. Morris. 207 Nayaso Nick. By T. C. Harbaugh . ........ 208 Tae Boy Hercutes. By Oll Coomes 209 Frrrz, THE Bounp-Boy Detective. Wheeler. 210 Faro Frank or Hian Pin By W. R. Eyster... ee y T.C, Harbaugh ...... 108 Dartne Davy. By Harry 8t. George..... .... 5c | 227 Dusky Darren, Trapper. By E. Emerson... 109 Deapwoop Dick as DErectTrvr. id 5e | 228 Lirrne Wiuorme. By Oll Coomes. ......-.-. 110 Tae BLack Step or THE Prarries. By Bowen 5c | 229 Crmison Kate. By Col. Prentiss In am... 111 Tue Sea-Devm. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.. 5c | 230 Tae YANKEE Rasau. C, D. Ola.’ sce. « 112 THe Map Hunter. n Saxe ......... 5c | 231 Prucxy Pam. By T. C. Harbaugh ........... 118 Jack Hovitx, By Edward L. Wheeler., ._. . 5c | 282 Gotp-Dust Dick. By E, L. Wheeler.. ...... 114 Tae Buack ScHooner. By Roger Starbuck... 5c | 233 Joz Buck or AnGeLs. By Albert W. Aiken.. 115 Tae Map Mrxer. By G. Waldo Browne...... 5c | 284 Benrro, THE Youna Horse-BREAKER. By 116 THe Hussar Caprarn. Col. P. aprabaet: Be BOOK Ns ce etl deed ante See ; 117 Grur-Epeep Dick. By Edward L. eeler,.. 5c | 2835 Saapow Sam, THE MessenGeR Boy. By 118 Wri Somers, THE Boy Detective. Morris.. 5c Charen Mortigk.-..0 0 oc ccc cacc. evtepeesen 119 Mustane Sam. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr..:...... Se , 236 Apotto Buu, By Edward L, Wheeler... SECTS TLS TE STS S SSS TTS S SELES SLES SELLE ES SISML SLSR SSeS Ae SITTTTSISSLSSSSTSS STS STSTS SF Col, Dele Sara .......... Be 5c 5c SETS et -¥-9 237 Lone Srar, THE CowBoy Caprarn. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. .... ...... 238 Tur Parson Derective. By Oll Coomes 239 Tae GoLp-sEEKER Guipr. By Mayne Reid. 240 Cyctone Kit. By Edward L. Wheeler.. ‘ 241 Brut Bravo anv His Bear Parps, By T. C. FPO. FOOT ia NT i 242 Tue Two ‘Bioops.’ By Charles Morris.* ... * Bruin’? Adams 248 Srerra Sam’s Secret. By E. L. Wheeler . 249 Mito Romer. By Captain Fred. Whittaker... 250 MipsuipmMAN Murinerr, By Col. P. Ingraham. 251 Ligut-novusr Lier. By J. F.C. Adams....... 252 Dick DasHaway. By Charles Morris 253 Srerra Sam’s Parp. By E. L. Wheeler...... 254 Taz Hatr Bioop. By Edward §. Ellis. ..... 255 Caprain Apoitio, By T. C. Harbaugh... .... 256 Youna Kenrvuck. By Captain Mark Wilton.. 257 Tue Lost Hunters. By J. F.C. Adams..... Srerra SAmM’s Seven. By E. L. Wheeler..... 250 Tae GotpEN Harpoon. By Roger Starbuck. 260 Dare-Devit Dan. By Oll Coomes.... ....... 261 Fereus Frarnaveur. By George L. Aiken.. 262 Tax Younc SievutTHs, By Charles Morris.... 263 Deapwoop Dicx’s Divipr. By FE. L, Wheeler. 264 Tue Fioatine Featuer. By Col. Ingraham. 265 Tue Tiazr Tamer. By Capt, F, Whittaker.. 266 Kinup’ar, THE Guipg. By Ensign Charles Dudley Warren, (of the Engineer's Corps.). .. 267 Tue Buckskin Derective. By Harbaugh.... 268 Deapwoop Dick's DEATH . By Ed- ward L.. Wheeler... 2.5 ...088. Si steg Ae 269 Tue Go.p Sure. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 270 Buizzarp Ben. By Captain Mark Wilton.... 271 THe Hues Hunter. By Edward §. Ellis.... 272 Minxskin Mrxe. By Ol] Coomes... .... ... 23 Jompo Joz. By Edward L, Wheeler... ..... 274 Jotry Jm. By Charles Morris 275 ARIZONA JACK. 276 Merwe Monte’s Crvise. Ingraham IVEY eWe A al 277 Denver Down, By Edward L, Wheeler... .. 278 Tur THrer TRAPPERS. By Maj. L. W. Carson. 279 O_p Wincu, THE Ririe Kine. By T. C. Har- Buckskin Sam . ........ By Col, Prentiss 287 Bruty Bive-Eyes. By Col. P. Ingraham..... 288 Tae Scape Kina. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 289 Jo.tLy Jtm’s Jos. By Charles Morris...... 290 Lirrie Foxrire. By Oll Coomes....... .. 201 Turk, True Ferret. By Edward L. Wheeler. 202 SancHo Pepro. By Major E. L. St, Vrain.,.. 293 Rep CLaw. By Captain Comstock 294 DynamiITE DAN. 5! T. C. Harbaugh.. ....... 295 FEARLESS PHIL. y Edward Willett......... 206 Denver Doti’s Drirr. By E. L. Wheeler... 297 Tar TARANTULA oF TAOs, Buckskin Sam. 208 Tae Waren-Hoonp. By Charles Morris,. ... 209 A’ No. 1, rae Dasnina Tort-Taxrr, By ‘EB. pi Ne pee Derxctirve, By T. C. Har- igh fi i ie. I Fes be eS ee Oe 808 "Liza Jane, THE Girt Mixer, By Wheeler. 304 Taz Deap Sxor Danpy. By Col. P. Ingraham. By Charles Morris. 805 DasHaway, or DAxkora. 306 Neck-Tre Nep, By Maj. H. B. Stoddard..... 307 Tue STRANGE PaRD. By Buckskin Sam.... . 308 Keno Kit. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham 309 Deapwoop Dick’s Bia Dear. By Wheeler.. $10 Tae BARRANCA WoLE. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 811 Tae Rovine Sport, By Edward Willett..... $12 Reptror Ruse. By Major EF. L. St. Vrain..... $13 CrmARRON Jack. By Frederick Dewey. .. .. 314 THe Mysterious MARAUDER. By Ingraham. 315 Nep, THE CaBrn Boy. By Jack Farragut.... 816 Op Eciipse. By T. C. Harbaugh... ........ 817 Peacock Perr. By Lieut. Alfred Thorne.... 818 Ker-wnoop, Ker-wHoo! By Buckskin Sam.. 319 THe Biack Riper. re Rt E. Badger, Jr... 820 Tue Sea Sorceress. By Jack gin Ae 821 Deapwoop Dick’s Dozen. By E. L, Wheeler. 822 Nemo, rae Detective. By Edward Willett... 823 ARKANSAW JAcK. By Harry Hazard. ....... 824 Rapa Reapy. By Charles Morris .......... 32 Ketiey, Hickey & Co By E L. Wheeler. ... 826 Brow BLAKE, THE Stayer. By T. C. Harbaugh, 827 Creepine Cat, THE Cappo. By Buckskin Sam. 828 Tue Sxy Detectives. By Major Mickey Free. 829 Rrep-Sxin Tom. By Ha Hazard.. mM 8380 LirrLe Quick-SHot. By Edward L. Wheeler. 831 _Biack Nicx. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. .... 882 Frio Frep. By Buckskin Sam. ; Fare 383 Bruxstone Bos, By Major E. L. St. Vrain.... 834 KanGaroo Kirt.. By E. L. Wheeler,........... 835 OL_p Dovus.E Fist. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.. 836 Bic Benson. By T. OC. Harbaugh... : 387 Ben Brrp. . J. Hamilton..... 338 A TovaH Boy. By Philip 8S. Warne..... A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, New York. SERERSS BEF TESSSES SE See TE SSS 5¢e 5e 5¢e 5c Bu Ses SESERSTTSISTT STS SSSRTEC TSS SESE SSE SS SSF FFFTITTTTTT