Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 337) (1884 01 08)
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ZY mL iN P= 9x LEE LEE (et! Ut! int | NY NY ; AN X \ WN “OS AY \ \ NNO WHA VOY AWS” Wy WAM yn WONT AMD MI UMN, NHN UN NNO J Jk AN {\' fa ‘ < ; SN AO r eas _AXS on Iie Vie Josue avs - NM ital |r wl f HS | Sd Pei. (haa ANS Rae $2.50 & year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyright, 1883, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, January 8, i8s4. Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS Price, be hoe iy AR a ok 5 Conte. No. 337, No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK, ——— - ns _ ee a “ ind etitinnntietalai ee ee aquest ————— BEN BIRD, THE CAVE KING; or, BIG PETE'S BIG SCOOP. SE col cahevy Nn AP cei: are Aeedienied sles eed Sct a AUTHOR OF ‘‘MAD TOM WESTERN,” “SINGLE HAND,” ETC., ETC., ETO, PEA MY LN! OMe Hy: Sw Ky ne Ve Oy ae HON WS: WY SON “GO IN,” COMMANDED BEN BIRD, ‘AND THINK THAT YOU ARE GOING INTO YOUR GRAVE IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY WITH MY DEMAND,” /*”
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Se ~ ’ of the wildest passes of the Rocky ' from rock to rock, grass was a: .. Ben Bird, THE CAVE KING; OR, BIG’ PETE’S BIG SCOOP. BY W. J. HAMILTON, ‘AUTHOR OF ‘MAD TOM WESTERN,” ‘ SINGLE HAND,” ETC., ETC. : CHAPTER I. THE WILD MAN OF THE HILLS, “Took out, you painter critter!” cried a rough voice, ‘ unlest you want to tumble down into the guich. By mighty snakes, ef you was to fall, thar wouldn’t be enough of you left to grease a cart, now mind you.” The speaker stood upon a rocky ledge, in one ountains, north of the Missouri. A grand scene, at which an artist would have been delighted. High above them, peak on peak, rose the snow-capped mountains, gleaming white against the sky. Well has a distinguished writer said, ‘‘ there is no such country on earth, I verily believe, as ours.” Truly, we are rich ia mountains, in grand waterfalls, in mighty’ rivers flowing through a thousand miles of grand and beautiful scenery, and in great lakes, which in their wide expanse may well claim tbe title of seas. But amid many wild scenes, not the Alps or any mountain range in Europe can compare with } the Rocky Mountains, upon whose peaks, bigh up amid the winter snow, Fremont sot the glitter- ing. flag of the Republic, wo men stood together upon the ledge, look- ing with admiration and wonder at the grand panorama spread out before them. At their very feet yawned a gulf, five hundred feet in depth, the sides covered with vines and stunted sbrubs springing out from every crevice in the rocks, and clinging to jutting points upon the faces of the cliffs, or twining about the roots of the shrubbery. Deep at the base, a narrow mountain stream ran swiftly on, bubbling over the huge stones in its channel, whirling ja eccen- tric circles, and dropping with a musical sound et, small and insignificant as this little stream was, it was the source of one of the mighty rivers of the West, taking in tributaries as it flowed onward, until, upon the mae prairie, it swept on a vast stream, to join. volume to the ‘‘ father of waters,” the mighty Mississippi, Before them lay the. | phe plain, dotted here and there with clumps of timber, and permeated by many silver streams, all bending toward the great stream to which they were tribu- tary. It was summer, and the short prairie- ently waving in the passing breeze, iving the looker-on the idea of a vast sea, rest- ae that unquiet flood, ‘Don’t be afraid of my falling, Pete,” replied the person addressed, ‘“‘I am too much ofa sailor te grow dizzy in looking from a hight.” “Then you've sailed the sea, hev you?” said the first speaker. “It’s a strange thing to me thet a man of sense should trust his life a thou- sand miles from land, and nuthin’ but a plank to keep out the water. Now, look yer; water is a good enuff thing to drink, ef so be ye kain’t git a-morsel of whisky to give it countenance, 60 to speak, but it ain’t my style to travel on, and that’s a fact.” M _ He was a large, sinewy, muscular, hard-fea- tured man, in the garb of a mountaintéer and trapper, a fringed bunting-shirt and leggins, moccasins and beaver cap comprising his dress. Of course he wore a belt, sustaining a heavy batehet, and in the breast-pocket of his hunt- pi Foes was a suspicious-looking protuberance, te ling of the bidden revolver, a terrible wea- pon in experienced hands, in a close combat, A rifle of the ‘‘Sharpe” patent rested in the hollow of his arm, his fingers closing protect- ingly across the lock, while a powder-flask and bullet-pouch conipleted his equipments. His companion was a younger person, also of muscular frame, whose bronzed face showed lainly, that although a gentleman in every ome of the word, he had wot spent his youtb in the enervating life of Was 1 t elf i and his eyes were sharp ‘was DO eminate, fir rt a manof fashion ina mm. wore nD ae heavy companion in every respect, but suspended by a green ‘cord throwa over the left shoulder and passed across to the right hip, be carried an hile his face was handsome, 2 : an d, with the exception of mustache, which set off bis sun-em-| Pete browned face well. He was asthediine lls i Ben Bird, the Cave King. artist’s portfolio, which he was now detaching from its support, with his eye still fixed upon the grand scene before him. . This second person was Ethelbert Grandison, artist, naturalist and traveler—a man who, un- der another name, bas earned a reputation which is world wide, and which has won for him the gold medal of the learned societies of London and Paris. He had been a traveler from boybood, and though but thirty years of age, had hunted the elephant in the midst of wild African scenery, the tiger in the jungiesof Asia, and the grizzly bear in his mountain home. Free of heart, ready of hand, bold in the hour of danger, and, withal, modest as a girl in relation to his exploits, be was a favorite with all, and was already beloved by the moun- tain-men and trappers with whom he had be- come acquainted. ‘What ar’ you a-goin’ to do now, you born devil?’ said the mountaineer, with a grin. ‘You don’t tell me you ar’ gwine to roost on this yer’ rok, and make a picter of it?’ ‘*That is a remarkable instance of penetration on your part, my big friend,” replied the artist, with a smile, **T s’pose you’d squat thar and make your picter ef a grizzly b’ar should happen along,” suggested Big Pete, in high dudgeon, ‘* You don’t bappen to know we ar’ ten miles. from camp, and it ain’t two hours from sunset?’ “it won’t take me twenty minutes to get the outlines 1 want, Pete. Come, be reasonable, as you can be. I came out here to sketch as well as hunt, and I must do it.” Big Pete, with a dissatisfied grunt, sat down upon a small bowlder, watching the rapid pen- cil of the artist as be transferred the outlines of the beautiful scene to his portfolio. It was dull work for the mountaineer, who had nature’s book before him; so he rose, after awhile, and strolled down a narrow path which led toward the bottom of the gulch, telling Grandison to whistle when he wanted him. The artist worked steadily, oblivious to every thing except the scenery before him, and had nearly finished the outlines of his sketch, when a startled cry from below called his attention, and, flinging down his book, be unslung his rifle and was changed instantly from the artist to the hunter, his eyes blazing with the hunter's fire. The sound of rushing feet was heard, and Big Pete ap- peared, dashing up the mountain-path at_a speed which terror only could inspire. His brown face had turned toa sickly white, and he io wildly bebind him, as if expecting pursuit, ** What is the matter, Pete? Speak quick!” by Don't stop to talk, but git; that’s the word, Satisfied that no common danger could have shaken the nerve of the bravest among the mountain-men, Big Pete Burns, who went into a figbt with Indian or grizz!y with a desperate courage which few men could equal, Ethelbert hastily slung his portfolio over bis sh oulder, and Tear his companion down the mountain- ath. . me ‘‘Thar he is, thar,” screamed Pete. .** But thank fortin he ain’t arter us!” ‘““Whoisit? Whatis it? I’m not going to run any further until J understand what I am running from,” cried Ethelbert, halting. “ Look thar!” replied the big guide. Following the extended finger of the moun- taineer with a os glance, the artist gazed down into the gulch, and there, springing from rock to rock in the foaming channel, he saw a strange figure, which from time to time gave a hideous laugh, which.sent a thrill through the strong nerves even of the young traveler—a gigantic figure covered from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot with shaggy hair, with long, powerful limbs and broad shoulders, holding in bis right hand a heavy club which none but a giant could wield—a being the proto- type of which the naturalist had never seen. It was larger than either of the men, and seemed nothing mortal, and the laugh was like the scream of the panther, ‘*What horrible thing is this?” cried Ethel- bert, turning to his companion, who was in mortal terror, ng. 8 he — he saw the creature plant the end of the club be carried upon a rock, swing him- self around a jutting cliff, and disappear. 4 ‘*Thar, he’s gone, I ain’t been skeered so sence my mother fust spanked me. I reckon we'd better ett to our hosses, and when we ar’ on the road [’l! tell you all I know of the critter hey call the ‘ Wild Man of the Hills,’” hey burried down the mountain together, but it was over an hour before they reached the foothills, among which their horses had been concealed. They found them as they had been left, tethered in a little sheluered glade, kept from straying by the long lariat fastened to a peg driven into the ground. . Mounting their horses, the two headed them toward the plain. ** Now, then, Pete,” said the artist, impatient- ly, ** tell me about this strange being.” _ ‘Its over two years sence he was fust seen in this yer region, and it’s bin a bad time fer us, you bet! The boys say, and I’m afeard it’s true, that he ain’t noways mortal, and I sort 0’ reckon it’s true. Any ow, it’s bad luck fera man, be be white, black or red, to meet the Wild Man in the hills,” ‘* How so?” ‘“*] kain’t say how, you understand, but ef a man meets him he’s sart’in to see a dead body afore the day is ne, and, mouw’t be, bis own body will lay dead in the tangled grass, with bis skull smashed like an egg-shell.” ‘“‘This is sheer superstition, Pete. I cannot believe it.” . “All right,” replied Pete, in a sulky tone. ‘‘Im a liar, then, that’s all—a durned outrage- ous liar. Ireckon you’d better choose yer words a little better, or I'll raise yer ba’r.” “J am not going to quarrel with you, Pete, and am far from doubting your word; but, do bee know this of your own knowledge or by earsay evidence?” ** Ain’t I seen it done? Didn’t I find Bob Frazee, from Middle Gap, with his head pound- ed ez soft ez a b’iled potater, the same day Tom Cristy seen the Wild Man? To be sure Bob Frazee was a most owdesbus vill’in, and ef we'd ’a’ caught bim he’d ’a’ bin strung up by the neck, but, that’s all the same. And didn’t I see the Wild Man onc’t afore, in Dead Man’s Gulch, and afore night we found a stranger dead in the Gulch killed the same way?” *“Umph! This is certainly remarkable, and only goes to prove that this strange creature takes delight in slaying men.” ‘Yes, and that ain’t all. Every one I ever see dead, or hern tell of, was a rascal of the wust kind. The critter seems to take pleasure in rubbin’ out the off-scourin’s of the mount’ins; it’s a queer thing.” : At this moment; as they were riding at a brisk trot by the mouth of the canyon, the horse which Ethelbert rode, a spirited animal, sbied with such violence that the young artist,altbou h a consummate horseman, very nearly lost bis saddle, and kept it only by a powerful effort. By this time, Big Pete had recovered from tbe scare which the appearance of the Wild Man had given bim, and, though his own trained mustang was plunging violently, he turned bis head toward the canyon, drawing bis revolver as he’ did so. Mastering hie horse, the young artist ‘followed, and found the horse of the trapper with his fore-legs rigid as iron bars, half-sitting upon his bhaunches, and resolutely refusing to advance, although his flanks were gored y the long Mexican spurs worn by the old guide. Pete now leaped out of the saddle and ran forward, when he suddenly recailed with a low cry of horror. Grandison tied bis lariat to 2 point of rock and joined him, and saw what it was which bad so alarmed the eped the b ks, just_ beyond the point pon the bare rocks, just_beyon e point, lay the body of a man of the mountains, dressed in buckskin, with a black belt about bis waist in which hung a heavy kuife and pistols. A rifle, bent and blood-stained, was still clinched in his right hand, and upon the rocks around were marks of bloody feet, and tufts of long, coarse hair. The man’s face was not disfigured, but was distorted by passion, and he had evi- dently died filled with mingled rage and fear, His death had been caused by repeated blows from some beavy instrument, for his black hair was stained with blood, which also dyed the rocks, * ‘“* © Greaser,” said Pete, giving the name by which the Mexicans are known among moun- tain-men. ‘What did I tell you, boss? Now say I’m aliar! Now tell me that it don’t mean anything to meet the Wild Man in the hills, will you!” “ft is plain that this terrible creature has slain the man,” replied the artist, ‘‘and if I am any judge of faces, this dead man must rank with those yates yen know to have been slain, He was not a good man, at best.”
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Ben Bird, the Cave King. 3 * Goodman? Phew; gitout!/ How you talk! Who ever hern tell of a good or true Greaser, say?” % I have, many a one, But let that pass, The question is, shall we leave this man here, or cover his body from the buzzards or the wolves?” ‘*T ain’t goin’ to waste my time plantin’ a Greaser. Jest see how his rifle is bent. But what chaince hez a man with that black devil?” “You ay} do as you like, Peter Burns, but as for me, I am not going to leave a fellow- creature to rot above ground.” ** Feller creetur’! ou don’t think a Greaser is a human, do you? Pshaw; git out; ’tain’t right! Let him stay whar he is, and sp’ile ez quick ez he likes.” ‘*T shall do nothing of the kind, sir, and if you have any regard for me you will aid me in giving him burial. How shall we dig a grave for him?” ‘*T don’t see no uso of it, but ef you ar’ sot on it, ll show ye how to do it without the trouble of diggin’ a hole; though I don’t take kindly to it, and nytber would you ef you'd ’a’ stood what I hey. from them Greasers.” By the side of the stream were many crevices of various siz>s and depths, and in one of these, out of the reach of buzzards or Laat Bnptens they laid the dead man down to rest. er the body they piled a heap of stones picked up from the floor of the canyon, and then left bim to bis long sleep, beside the dancing water. The two men, with sober faces, dashed across the river and rode hard over the prairie, through the short grass, never slacking rein until they saw in the gathering gloom before them—for dark- ness was coming on-a camp-fire gleaming brightly. **Now, cuss all obstinit fools,” muttered the big guide. ‘* What call had they to build a fire like that? Dll bet you two and a half cents that’s the work of that darned chap you brought out with you.” r ‘Whoever it is, he is much to blame, knowing the danger he brings upon us all.” ‘Who comes thar?” cried a voice from a clump of bushes. Bpeak, onless you want to git rubbed out right smart.” ‘*Grandison and Big Pete,” replied Burns, “ All right, Pete,” replied the same voice, ** Come along quick, fer 1 want you.” CHAPTER II. THE CAMP BY THE RIVER, THE camp in which the fire blazed was situated upon the bank of the stream, and,. although tbe trees upon the opposite bank shielded it from the view of persons upon that side of the current, it was plainly visible from that part of the prairie from which Ethelbert and the guide approached. Two or three men in the garb of bunters and trappers were Joung- ing upon the grass, smoking Pipes cut from the root of the sweet-brier, and a fourth person was crouching over the blaze, puffing industri- ously at a large meerschaum, This man was a strange figure to find upon the Western plains, and was evidently regarded with littlo favor Ms the company. @ was dressed in an Englis shooting-costumea, a short ‘‘cut-away” coat and pants, and wore a marvelously small cap perch- ed upon the summit of his cranium. The faco was the type of those we see in the boxes at the er almost inclined to imbecility, adorned by blonde side-whiskers and drooping mustacho, and wearing a sleepy, care-for-nothing expres- sion, or, whet is more politely expressed, ‘‘ well- bred languor.” ‘* Aw, Bertie, old fellah, glad you’ve come in! if Lain’t, demme! Where have you kept your- self all day?” ‘“‘Confound it, man, what do you mean by building such a fire as that in an Indian coun- try?” replied Ethelbert. \ ** Hiab? You don’t suppose I’m going to catch cold on account of a few coppah-colahed Indians, do you! I didn’t think that of you, Bertie Grandison,” e “You'll git yer ha’r raised, you will!” growled Pete Burns, as he kicked the blazing brands into the river. ‘Durn me fur a red-skin ef you don’t desarve it, too. Why, blame my cats, seaey) what did you let him make such a blaze ur ‘‘He would do it, Pete,” grumbled the man whe bad met them, a burly, thick-set fellow in a greasy hunting-shirt and leggins. ‘I told the blamed idiot to quit, but jest so soon as my back Se eee on more w : : 8 a) that wood down, er Til but you right in the jaw, you bet high on it,” said Neddy, with a grin. ‘*Why, yah low dem’d scoundrel, what do yah mean?” said the exquisite, rising. “I'd have you understand that {am a man of edu- cation; I speak five languages, sah.” “You don’t!” said Bote Burns. “Then I'd hev you understand that out byar on. the prary we only speak one language, and durned little of that.” ‘“You talk mighty big, stranger, you do!” said the man called Neddy, ‘‘and I'd give you to know that wpe 4 Forrester is a tough colt to hit, he is, and would think no more of giving you a back-banded sweep that’d wipe you oO the face of the immortal world than he would of pickin’ the marrer-bone of a buffler.” ‘*Silence all,” cried Ethelbert, sternly. ‘‘ You men, be more respectful to my friend, Mr, Featherby, and I will answer for it that he will not trouble you, As for you, Oscar Featherby, if you cannot conform to the rules of the prai- rie, upon keeping which our safety depends, the quicker you get back to one of the forts the bet- ter for all concerned.” “You talk as if I didn’t know anything, Bertie,” replied Featherby, in an angry tone. ‘“* ve paraded some of our fellabs in London at twelve paces for saying less than that.” ‘* Nonsense. You don’t want to fight any more than 1 do, Mr. Featherby, and ought to know better than to build a fire in an open prairie, It’s the bunting season, and many savages are on the plains, and it is impossible to say wbat may happen.” ‘The Injins won’t trouble uyhyar jest now,” said Pete. ‘‘’Tain’t them I’m afraid of so much as Ben Bird.” ‘* Ben Bird?” “‘ Ay, Ben Bird, You don’t happen to know the durned critter as well as Ido. Whatef I tell you that in yonder mountains sum/’ers thar’s a band o’ men who kin more than eka the Blackfeet in deviltry —men alongside of whom Red Wing, the Sioux, is a born angel, and the Pawnees saints—who cuts a throat fur the pleasure of seein’ the blood run, and hangs & man up atween heaven and airth fur the vultures to pick at, and then sets down and laughs.” ‘* Look heah, you chap,” said Featherby, ‘* Don’t talk that way; it’s foolish, you know." ‘*No, IL don’t know Never mind, if nyther. Ben Bird ketches you he'll let you know whether it’s so or not! But, build yer and bring ’em down on us.” Featherby’s courage, like that of Bob Acres, began to “* ooze out at his palms.” It’s ridiculous for aman like me to come into this heathen country; ob, dem = it! don’t want to build a fiah if you don’t think it best. Say, Bertie, let’s go back. We've seen enough of this dem’d country, you know,” ‘* You said one durned true thing, stranger,” “Tt is rediculous, durned rediculous, fur a man like you to come out byar, That Ben Bird would eat you.up a’ a hig but I don’t think he’d relish the meal, ‘**Hold up,” said Pete, suddenly, striking bis hand upon his knee. ‘Ben Bird’ ain't fur off, and I’ve seen one of his men to-day.” ‘Whar?’ demanded Ned, uneasily. ““ He won't trouble, anybow,” said Pete, and drawing closer to his companion, he related the story of the mooting with the Wild Man, and afterward the finding the dead body of the Mexican in the . “The Greaser wore a black belt with a steel buckle, and hyar it is,” said Pete, holding up the belt which he had taken from the body of theslain man. Now, look at this sign on the buckle—a bird flying upward, That's the sign of Ben Bird, King of the Mountains.” ‘* And who is Ben Bird?” demanded Ethelbert, taking the belt, ‘tHe’s a heathen Philistine, a red-handed mur- derer, that hez ha’nted the hills fur three year and more—a born thief, that steals by line and level, as the sayin’ is. Hosses, traps, peltries, guns; everything’s fish that comes to bis net.” ‘Did any of you ever see him?” All answered in the negative. i ‘‘ Then you do not know what he is like?” ‘“‘ Nary time.” ! hae he meddle with peaceful parties like ‘“‘ Meddle with em? Rather; you bet! He don’t keer to kill pee le off unlest they bappen to see bis face, and’ do, they git rubbed out. I wasina party that he robbed one't, when we e, build yer fire, was trapping forty miles north of this, on the North ’ thee iets five of us. er, and ‘he cum down on us with twepty men, every . pm and shooters, ’ceptin’ one old gun that he eft with us so that we mou’t git somethin’ to eat, When they went away one of ’em turned back and told me to charge it to Ben Bird, King of the Mountains, and come to Dead Man’s Gulch any time and he'd pay me. I sort 0’ reckon I didn’t come, and 1] ain’t got my pay, But, if that Bird ever comes in reach of my rifle, he'll suffer. He done me another injury onc’t, and I ain’t forgot it,” ‘* What was that?’ “TI don’t keer to talk of it. I’m a rough bor- derman, and fur me to talk of Jove, and that sort, to you, would make you laugh, perhaps, It was about a woman, and | reckon the’r® at the bottom of half the quarrels, a}j the world over.” : “TI believe you are right in that, Pete, But come; let us see to the safety of our camp, and then get something to eat, Who is on guard, to-night?” ‘*T am,” said one of the hunters, knocking the ashes from his pipe. ‘ Unlest that long chap» means to take bis turn.” The ‘long chap” referred to was the fascinat- ing ea tne hs looked daggers et the ~ rough-spoken derman, “These men don’t seem to have any ideah of the fitness of things, Bertie,’ he said. ‘‘ The ideah, that I, the Honorable Oscar Flint Feath- erby, should stand guard like a common sojer} Atwocious!” ; “Don’t trouble yourself, Featherby,” replied Grandison. ‘‘No one is going to trust the safety of the camp to your watchful care, you may depend, so say no more about it,, Watkins, you must keep a sharp eye out, for if this bloody Bird is near it is not safe to sleep a mo- ment, Who relieves you on guard?” **Sartou, the Frenchman,” “Very ee You had better take your sta- tion; and let me again caution you to be watch- ful, and give the alarm if any danger comes near. Do not fire unless it is absolutely neces- sary, for the report of a rifle might guide our enemies upon us,” : Watkins rose, took up his rifle and looked closely at the lock, and walked out of the ca to the edge of the little grove, where the guar was stationed. Featherby now began to opena large valise which lay upon the ground beside him, from which he took a number of toilet ar- was aslip from an honorable A a family, the adventures whic tions to his family, and complied with his urgent request. His pompous manner and at- fected ways was not the thing for the border, and the party of scouts and guides selected by Ethelbert despised him as much as they respected the former, from am open quarrel with him for the sake of their employer, who had won their hearts by manly and gallant conduct upon many occa. . sions, They bad now been cut six weeks hunting and: exploring, and Ethelbert’s portfolio was full o magnificent sketches of mountain scenery, and. he had sent to the fort a number of specimens of rare plants, animals and geological wonders, Featherby jooked askance at him as he tock the ribs of venison in his fingers, and ate with a keen appetite, and evidently thougbt that there waa a marked difference between Ethelbert Grandi. son in London and the same person on the rairie. Having cleansed his teeth, be took out rom the valise something which brought a roar of laughter from the guides, and even Etlelbert could not refrain from a smile. It was a nightcap! Think of that, bunters of the West! A man, in the center of the great American plains, taking measures against cold. by putting ona pointed night-cap of red silk! +o they began to laugh he turned angrily upon. t em, i ‘*What are yah lavfing at, men?” = ‘““A night-cap, by m ‘Y? roared Nedd Forrester, That beats nothing all to’ pieces. He orter bey a piller, by gracious! I'd to. know what in thunder he come out here for, without any of the conveniences of life?? * durned one d, and had us.afore we could |. ‘‘ Let him alone, Neddy,” interposed thé art-.. say 'b00/* Ho stole everything, hoses, traps, | ist, retraining his own laughter, with an and only refrained © ee
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“If he likes to wear a night-cap, let When the night was half came. yer into camp with silent tread, and aroused the Frenchman, Sartou, who rose quiet- ly, took his rifle and disappeared, while Wat- kins took his blanket and lay down with the rest. one, Watkins wild cry, nothing was heard except the wailin of the night wind 4 CHAPTER III. STRICKEN DOWN. ‘*Sarntou!” cried Grandison, bending forward in the direction of the place where the man stood on guard. No voice replied, and parting ‘the bushes, the young man darted to the place where he had etood, and saw a dark object lying at the foot of a tree, To rush forward, followed by the bordermen, was his first thought, and they saw it was Sartou, the Frenchman, dead, So recent was the blow which had taken his life that his limbs were yet quivering in agony, and as they bent to lift him, the last spark of life fled. They lifted the body silently and carried it into the camp, upon which a great hush had fallen since they had stood so suddenly in the presence of death. They laid him gently down. We bave said but little of Sartou, for he was a taciturn, retiring man, of a dark and moody nature, who had taken no part in the conversa- tion about the camp-fire that night. Grandison had found him at Leavenworth, after he had engaged the other men, and bad taken him be- cause he claimed to have a perfect knowledge of . asection not so well known to the other guides. And since he had come out, they bad not learned to. him any better, for he bad kept himself apart from all the rest, and had a sly, suspicious look at times upon his dark face. ow en slain was nota yr dren for he had received a terrible blow from some heavy weapon ‘which bad fractured his skull. His hands were Soest clinched, and in one of them he held sometbing at which the artist looked with a ery of surprise, ‘hat was it? A powerful rocket, such as is used in signaling onland! | A doubt arose in the mind of the young trav- eler, and he called Pete Burns to look at the article, ° **Immortal snakes! what's that fur, boss?” “That is what I do not understand. Sartou evidently bad tbis in his hand, for what purpose Iam at a loss to judge, when he was stricken down so suddenly. It would seem that he meant to signal some one with this rocket,” ‘* It’s durned queer hé should keep it hid from us,” said Pete, in a musing tone. ‘‘ I don’t know nothin’ about the man, but this looks mighty skeery. Wal, let’s dig a hole fur him.” “See what be has in bis kets before we bury him, If there is re ey ng of value, it had better be returned to his friends,” * Nobody knowed -him at the fort,” said ‘Pater, as be began to turn the pockets inside out. There was little in them of value, but ba ing to. touch his side, he felt there a hard substance; and opening his hunting-shirt, found that the bard substance was underneath the ~ Jen shirt worn next the skin. * Taar’s a pocket here,” muttered the guide, unbuttoning the shirt. He thrust his hand in, touching the naked skin of the yet warm body, and drew out two more rockets of the same make as the error pe 7 of sheep-skin evidently well filled, and a crum- pled paper. He laid of Sarton, and, ti had found, a pocket-book | safety in three before the artist, | Ben Bird, the Cave King. who opened the paper and read by the light of a match of wax these words: “When they sleep, and you are on the watch, send up a blue rocket. If they are suspicious, send up a red. If other company joins them, the yellow. B.” ‘‘This begins to look ominous,” said the artist, taking up the pocket-book. In it be found bills and gold to the amount of over eight hundred dollars. . Here was proof positive. Sartou had pleaded for a position with them on the ground that his money had been won from him unfairly in a ame of cards and that he was entirely destitute. t was plain that this was false, and that he had attached himself to the party for some other purpose, probably not a good one. Who was ‘*B,” and why had the signal rockets been given to the dead man? ‘‘Weare hemmed in by mysteries,” said the young artist. ‘‘ Here is a man who professed to be poor, carrying upon his person a large sum in notes and current bills, and keepiu hidden both this fact and the one that he ha these signal rockets concealed. He is silent and non-committal, has but little sympathy with us, and died with this signal in hishand. The question is whom did he design to call, and was he a good or bad man?” ““A durned outrageous bad ’un, sir,” said the man called Neddy. ‘ Look hyar.” Below the bunting-shirt of the dead man he had found a black t, closely encircling the ned and upon the silver buckle was engraved the bird flying upward, the sign of Ben Bird, King ot the Mountains! “That’s it!” muttered Pete, ‘‘ They ar’ round about us as thick as fleas. That bloody rip Ben Bird hez got his eye on this party and means to rob us.” ‘Where do you think he is?” ‘*Somewhar on the river, waitin’ fur the sig- nal. He sot this Frenchman on us, I'll bet my life. Of course tbat ‘B’ stands for ‘ Bird,’ What d’ye think of that?’ “Tt looks reasonable, certainly. That being the case, the quicker we get out of this the bet- ter for us, for I don’t propose to remain here and become the prey of that buzzard Bird or any other mountain robber. If they can hide, 80 can we, and doubtless there are many places in these mountains which even they know noth- ing of. Is it notso?” ‘IT reckon.” “Then let us first bury this dead scoundrel not so much for him, but that his friend an leader may not know that be is slain.” ‘*That’s good talk, boss. Yaas, les’s plant the durned skunk,” With this feeling remark, the guide, assisted by Neddy and Watkins, proceeded: to dig a hole in the soft earth of the prairie, and wrappin the body in a blanket, they covered it wit loose earth and built a fire above it to hide the signs, knowing that they were watched by an enemy who knew —_ where to look for them. During this exciting scene no one bad even thought of Featherby, and when they turned to look for him, he was nowhere to be seen! “That blamed fool hev absquatulated,” said Pete. “I hope to gracious that the Wild Man has gobbled him up,” “He wur hyar, five minutes ago,” replied Neddy Forrester, ‘ Hi, you ; Featherbed /” “: ee ! cried Grandison. ‘‘ Where are ou ‘* Featberbed, you ; hi!” growled Pete. _But Featherby, alias Featherbed, made no sign. ‘‘He’s made his lucky, I guess,” said Pete. ‘““Whar in thunder could he hev gone? Gita chunk and light it. Wal, I ain’t got no special good-will fur the critter, and I do think thet be orter hev his head broke, but I don’t want to see him snatched by a red. Hyar, you! Feath- erbed; bi!” But, Featherby was mute, even if he heard their voices. atkins took a blazing brand from the fire and walked along by the bank of the river, followed by the rest. They reached a easy | poe filled with dark stagnant water and mud almost liquid, when there was a cry of surprise and delight from Pete, as he saw the peaked night-cap of Featherby protruding from the soil, bis eyes looking dubiously at them from a mask of filth and green slime, which hung from his ambrosial whiskers, traversed his cheeks and even festooned in not very fra- grant clusters upon his — ears. © ex- quisite heard the Me ban which attended the death nking that the whole tribe of the Blackfeet was upon him, he instantly sought t, sangre the Mee ws race from he sprung. In blind baste he had tumbled headlong into this slimy pool, and —$$$$$—$— while struggling to obtain a footing, he got his feet upon a projecting root, and there remained, up to his neck in mud and water. Aristocratic though he was, he preferred tbe shelter of this mane pool to the doubtful safety of dry and. ‘*Ha!” roared Pete. ‘‘ No catchee, no habee!” “Oh, good Mistah Indian, help me. Don’t scalp me; I’m helpless!” roared the cockney. “‘ Featherbed,” said Pete, ‘I’ve half a mind to drown’d you.” “Oh, itis you, eh? Didn’t know I was mak- ing believe, did yah?’ said Featherby, “ Nyther did you, Featherbed,” replied Pete. ‘*Oh, say: don’t try to come them games over us natives, cause ef you do Til raise yer ha’r right off yer head; yas, I will.” ‘* Help me out,” said Featherby. ‘Help yerself; you’re welcome! I’ve got a prejidice ag’in’ helpin’ them that won’t help themselves.” A rope was thrown to the unfortunate dandy, and he was dragged by main force from his un- pleasant position, amid the delighted chuckles of thetrappers, Your Western man isa strange creature, hke no other upon the face of the earth. Living in an atmosphere of danger and deatb, these things become second nature to him, and nothing can keep him from joking or enjoying a joke, even in the face of death. He knows that peril hangs over him conetienels 5 though these men bad just buried a comrade, they yet enjoyed the situation of poor Feather- by immensely. ‘‘ Had a night-eap, he did,” said Neddy. * Now he’s got a night-gown. Featherbed, neon aes of oneal sonee 5 ie aking, they tugged at the rope, an e sotienee Ventoeches was dragged further out of the water. He rose, with the water dripping from every point of his body, and eel-grass an slimy leaves hanging about him, and a coat of mud from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot. ‘‘ Now ain’t this wediculdus, Grandison,” said he. ‘‘ Who evah heard of such a, dweadful contwetemps?” “Never heard it called that afore, Feather- bed,” said Pete. ‘“ How daah you call me Featherbed, sah?” “ Ain’t that yer name, stranger?” ‘¢ Featherby; b-y; by.” ; “ All right, Featherby-b-y-by. I think Fea- therbed is more soothin’, don’t you? ’Tenny- rate, you’d like to git into one, How did you git in that mash?” (marsh.) “I fell in, sah,” replied Featherby, wrath- es “‘T thought you could see that.” ‘Wal, I sorter begin to realize it, Featherby- b-y-by,” said Pete, grinning. ‘But I should judge thet a man that’s go pesky keerful of his rien 9 close orter chose a cleaner place, though I don’t reckon you had much time to pick.” ‘You see, Grandison,” said Featherby, turn- ing bis back upon the guide, ‘*T heard the In- diaps when they made the attack, and I thought I’d go round behind, avd attack ’em in the reah, while you took ’em im front; see the point?” ‘“Yes,” said Grandison, dryly. ‘‘I see it, Only, unfortunately for your theory, we were not attacked by Indians,’ “ He , ‘‘We were not assailed at all. Sartou is killed, but, upon searching his body, we find that he joined us only to betray us, and who- ever killed him did a good deed as he was on the point of sending up a rocket to bring the enemy upon us. But come; we have no time to waste, as we must change our camp immediately.” ** Change our camp? hy?” ““We are in danger from the robber band of Ben Bird, and he knows where we are.” “‘Good gwacious! You don’t mean that, do yah? I don’t like the ideah,” *T don’t enphere you do, but we did not in- tend to consult hb on the subject. Are your rifle and pistols loaded, Featherby?” demanded Ethelbert. ia Yes,” “Then mount and keep silent. Pete, take the lead and be careful.” __ And forming in Indian file, they turned to- ward the hills, CHAPTER IV. THE MYSTERIOUS BAND. THE moon mee ety down, and except for the intimate knowledge of the prairie which the guide , they would have been as sorely tried to find their way as mariners ma lime itless sea, without a com to guide them on their way. Even the cockney felt the necessi of caution, and refrained from the use of \
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-' Ben Bird, the Cave King. 5 tongue. Talkative as the trappers can be at the camp-fire when there is no need of caution, they can be as silent as the Indian on the war- path when occasion requires, and they showed this quality now. Even the horses seemed to share the sense of danger showed by their mas- ters, and trod on with cautious steps. Suddenly Pete, who still led the party, halted his horse with a rapid hand, and rode back to the side of Grandison, whispering to them all as he passed to change their course, and follow him, Feath- by would have spoken, but Pete clasped his band upon his mouth with a menacing gesture, and he remained silent, After riding a hun- dred yards or so, tbe guide paused upon the ‘verge of alow clump of prairie timber, and dis- mounted, signing to them to follow the exam- ‘ple. “ Aw, now, you know—” Featherby began to ‘drawl out, when he was stopped by the phenom- enon of a glittering knife, within an inch of his breast. The knife was in the hands of Pete Burns. ‘ Silence, fur your life!” he whispered. Featherby was open to moral suasion, couched in such pressing terms.. He gasped and obeyed, and scarcely was the knife lowered when a troop of horsemen passed them at a rapid trot, going toward their old camp, They flitted by, like silent ghosts, and although it was hard to count them in that gloo xrandison could judge by their front and flank that they num- ered at least eighty men, well mounted. Featherby began to understand the danger now, and supposing this party to be the Indians he so dreaded, he literally gasped for breath in his deadly fear. But the rest of the party stood as ‘immovable as statuary, while the troup passed within twenty yards of them with jingling rowels and martirgales. As the sourd of the hoofs died away in the distance, Pete sprung in- to the saddle. ‘Keep together now, and ride as if you rode for hfe. Don’t stop to think of any thing but how to put as much distance as you kin between ‘the inimy and us.” “Who are they, Pete?” said Ethelbert, as he amnounted, ‘Ben Bird and bis gang, I reckon. Least- ways they ride like them. Stick in your spurs and away.” Away! The prairie spun by them in their headlong course over the grass, and Featherby, fearful of being left behind, rode as he never ode before, his knees tucked up nearly to his chin, and bis teeth almost rattling in their sock- ets, But, knowing that the others would make no pause for bim, be never staid his headlong <ourse, and actually kept neck and neck with Ethelbert, ‘Bravo, old boy,” cried Grandison, ‘‘ You are doing nobly.” ‘I don't take any pleasure in it you know,” grumbled the Eng ishman. ‘* Ca-ca-ca-cAu’t syou hold on a little?” “Couldn’t think of it,” replied Grandison. “*We must keep up this pace for an bour at least.” ‘‘Aw; good gwacious! I can’t stand it so long.” “Ob, Tee, Tom can. It is better to suffer a little by hard riding than to be caught by Bird and his ruffian crew and left weaponless on the prairie, breaking up all my plans.” “B-b-b-but how, i-if we b-b-break all our necks?” ‘** Never mind asmall thing like that. Hurrab! It’s a wild life they lead on the prairie, and I love it,” Featherby lacked the enthusiasm of his com- panion, and could not see any pleasure in such a life, full as it was of varied perils. But he nerved himself to leew with the rest until even Pete Burns was satisfied with the distance be had put between them and the ghostly band which had passed them on the heath. _ **They hev waited in vain fur the signal of Sartou and ar’ goin’ down tosee about it,” said Pete. “They'll wait long afore he gives a sig- nal, I reckon.” ‘* We are under obligations to the mysterious hand which laid bim low,” replied Ethelbert. ** Without that we might have been surprised while sleeping.” “T hev heard the ery of the Wild Man onc’t afore, and I know it now,” said Pete. ‘ He, and ee killed Sartou.” as “Pm talkin’. I ain't quite sartain in m ind whether or not the Wild Man ain’t friend- y to them that ar’ nonest. ’Tennyrate, Ill never pull trigger on bim ef I kin help it!” “There is no danger from these ruffians to- pight, Pete. They canno: follow us until morn- ing. Let us take it easy, and we shall soon be among the foothills.” The path led them through the passes of the foothills, as the approaches to mountain ranges in the great West are called, over a broken and precipitous ascent, and over flinty rocks and shales upon which their borses’ feet left no marks. But the guide did not intend to trust altogether to this, and halting in a sheltered pass, he cut a blanket into small squares and tied them over the hoofs of the horses in such a way that ae left no track upon the cccasion&él spots of earth over which they passed. Now they descendedijinto sheltered canyons, then went up a gentle slope or climbed a lofty hight, until they were far above the level of the plain upon a mountain plateau. From this they began to go downward, Pope a narrow and danger- ous pass, until the sound of running water ap- prised them of the fact that they were ap- prvaching some stream. Directly after their feet pressed soft green grass, and the guide, Mer a sigh of relief, began to pull off his sad- e ‘* Strip your hosses, boys, and turn ’em out to rass. ere we stop, and thar ain’t a safer place in the Rockies.’ They stripped off the blankets and laid down to rest, and, certain that they were safe, slept until seyeker When daylight came, they found themselves in a valley containing perhaps five acres of bottom-land, through which flowed a clear, bright stream, another tributary of the great rivor they had left. Around them rose tho eternal mountains, spire on spire, as they had beon built up by the band of that wonder- worker, Nature. Pete Burns was the first on his feet, and producing from his pouch a hook and line, he sought bait in the rich soil beside the stream, and began to fish from a shelving bank, where the water was nearly twenty feet deep. Before the rest of the party were awake he had laid out upon the ground a dozen beauti- 1 trout, which would have made an Eastern sherman frantic with joy. Not one of the lot weighed less than a pound, and there was one “king ” fish which would bave turned the scale at five! As he pulled out the last fish he was joined by Grandison. ‘*What glorious sport you are having, Pete. Confound you, man, why didn’t you call me?” ““T didn’t think you would keer about it, boss,"* replied Pete. ‘‘Ain’t they beauties, though? I reckon nobody ain’t goin’ to starve in this guich. Here, Neddy; come and help me clean these fellows, while Wat builds up a fire. Be keerful of the smoke, Wat; don’t use wet wood.” In half an hour the party were discussing the merits of the mountaih-trout with keen appe- tites, and when they bad “cleared the table” by the summary process of throwing away their plates, which were nothing more nor Jess than pieces of bark, they were are business. ‘What's the next thing, ?? demanded ete. “You told me something about a beautiful waterfall somewhere in the mountains,” said Ethelbert. ‘I would like to see that and make a sketch,” You won't ters. will you? “Not if I can help it.” “ But Ben Bird may light on us.” “T don’t fear him in the least,” replied the artist. ‘‘ He shall not drive me back from the work I have undertaken.” “Yer a man arter my own heart,” said Pete. “The rest of you chaps had better stay here and keep dark, unless Featherbed wants to come.” Featherby answered by a baleful glare as he turned to Grandison: “‘T don’t feel very well to-day, Bertie. M bones ache, and I’m sore all over, and I thin I'll stay in camp.” ** Just as you like,” replied Ethelbert, “ re pive up that durned pencil pic- did not care to be hampered with bim. we to take our horses, Pete?’ “No; we go it on Shank’s hosses to-day. Hosses | wouldn’t be much use whar we ar’ ine. They took their arms and started up the pass by which they had entered the valley, and after going balf a mile, struck off into one of the nu- merous side-paths by which the canon was in- tersected at various points. Suddenly the guide dropped to the earth and listened. Ethelbert followed his example, and they could hear the tread of borses’ hoofs coming swiftly up the main pass to the right, though not the one by which they had entered the valley. Creeping to the edge of the cliff, screened oy the over- hanging bushes, the two men looked down, and saw a company of over fifty men, admirably mounted, and armed to the teeth with rifles, revolvers, knives and hatchets, rts in single file up the pass. Each man had a black visor covering his face to the mouth, and all wore black belts, upon which was worked the 7 of the King of the Mountains, Ben Bird. They looked like a hardy race, bold and strong, and managed their horses with consummate ease and grace. Neither of the watchers could doubt that they saw before them the noted robber- band of the redoubtable Ben Bird, the terror of the mountains, the man of many crimes and yet who had a reputation for chivalrous daring and for the craft of the arch-fiend himself, No man could say that he bad ever seen the face of the mountain chief, although many bad been robbed by him. His cunning bad made it a rule for his men to go always masked when upon duty, and for this reason they could mingle with the men they wished to rob, and betray them to their enemies. ‘ The two men who rode in front were power- ful fellows, and the one on the left hand was certainly an Indian, although be wore the mask like the rest, They passed on, leaving the two men gezing at the narrow opening through which they had gone in silent wonder. ‘* By gracious!” said Pete, ‘‘It would be doin’ the world a sarvice ef we could wipe out that devil’s band, wouldn’t it?” “Yes, but how is it to be done? In these mountain passes, knowing every defile and forest road, they would be a match for a squad~ ron of United States dragoons,” “You don’t think I'd try to fight them devils in the’r own mount’ins with United States dra~ goons, do yer? Not secha fool as that, I reck- on! Did you notice that strange chap on this side? That’s a red-skin, and I know bim.” ‘* Who is he?” ‘Red Raven, the Pawnee. I've seen him many a time at the forts, and he’s a born devil in a fight, but not a bad chap arter all when you come to know bim. He'll steal horses— any Injun will—but he’ll give a man ashow for his life ef he can. I wonder what he is doing with Ben Bird?’ ‘*Probably they are allies,” said the artist. ‘* Ha! what is that?” A rapid step was beard, and as they gaged, the singular being they had seen upon the mountains the day before came down the at a rapid pace, following upon the trail of the — robber band. He flew by so quickly that they bad barely time to take note of his presence when he was gone. As before, he was arm with a heavy club, which he used in helping himself over the pass, making rapid progress. Pete Burns raised his rifle, but something fh the te being restrained him, and he held his and. *T kain’t do it, Grandison. It seems. like shootin’ at a friend to pull trigger at the Wild Man. He ain’t done us any bin t go and while that lasts let him tte oor, Goins , on and I'll take ag’in.” un Taking a short cut which he well knew across the mountains, the guide burried away, closely followed by bis companion, whose dark eyes began to flash, as bis companions had seen them when in the jungles of Asia he met the het tiger thirsting for his blood. They went at a sort of trot which took them rapidly over the ra ceil and soop struck the pass again. As be- ore, they concealed themselves, and soon beard the coming hoofs of the borsemen, ‘As the band passed this time they noticed rome one they bad not seen before—a half-breed girl of rare beauty, who had joined them in the an ay She was riding a fiery mustang of the fiercest breed, and controlled bim with a waster hand. Grandison felt bis companion start and clutch his arm, and so savage was the grip that it was with difficulty that the young man shook off the bold, Ethelbert saw that fixed upon the Indian girl ina savage way in which love and doubt were strangely d iL. ye whar we kin see them le and he knew that the wrong which Ben — ird had done the guide, was centered in this gir Her skin was ra’ her dark, but her features were faultless in their contour, and ber figure grace- ful and well-developed. Her long hair, uncon- fined, swept down to the saddle hebind her, and had a wave and luster in it never to be seen in an Indian of pure blood, ey passed on, but the strange look did not die out of the guide’s face. He raised him- self to shake bis clinched band after the retrea ing band, the look of fearful hate making his face terrible. : 4 “She lives, arter all, Ben Bird, and I live, too, and never will Pete Burrs rest until you ar’ under the sod! T'll track you down, is eyes were ~
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6 Ben Bird, the Cave King. ee eeeeeeeeee—eEoeeeoooooooooooooooooooooooaoaoaoaoaoEoooooooooqQQQQQQ=aqouQqooooaoaoauauaeeeeeeeeS ae by the etarnal mount’ins round ut. ‘Who is this Indian girl, Pete?” said Grand- ison, who was intensely interested, ‘‘ Why bas this so moved you?” “Her name among the whites is Ida Garret- son, and she is of the blood of the Delawares, Her father was a Missouri man that made his home among the Injins. I loved her dearly, and I’d give my life tor her now, but, Ben Bird stole her,” “T don’t understand you.” ‘OTwas two year ago, and she liked me mighty well. Ef she told the truth, she cared a deal for me, rough and ready hunter though Iam. The Injins went out on a great bunt and she went with them, and while we were out, Ben Bird came down on a party of our men and robbed ’em. I was off on another part of the pra’ry with the chief, and when the men one in they came alone. Ben Bird had stolen a. “Did she leave any message?” ‘*How could she? They said the leader of the robbers took her on the saddle in front of him, and threatened the men with death if they dared say a word, ‘Tell the Delaware chief that I have use for this girl and he shall never gee her face again, This fs from Ben Bird, the King of the Mountains.’ ” ‘She did not seem to be under and restraint with them,” . ‘‘Who kin tell the reason? She’s 'mong rough men that wouldn’t hesitate to kill her, and— What's that?” ‘ “Tbe Wild Man again,” whispered the ar- tist. ‘‘ Ob, if be would but stop while I made a sketch of him it would be the making of ME? oid “You don’t tell me you would stop to draw a picter of him now?” ‘‘ Would I not? It is my chief wish, and I would do soything to “ae it. Ha! he is hiding behind the roc hat does that mean?” The strangé creature was crouching bebind a huge bowlder, with one knee resting on. the earth, and thejbuge club he carried clasped in hairy right hand, resting upon the ground, He seemed to listen in an eager, excited manner, and his movements all were like fthose of a hu- man being. . , » “What isthe critter waitin’ fur?” said Pete, raising himself to look. Hearing no answer from his Ny Se be turned to him, and saw him, witb his sketch- book on his knee, rapidly transferring the strange creature to the paper, working as if his life depended upon hisspeed. Ethelbert Grand- ison was a true artist, and his heart wasin the work. The guide, witha gesture of disappro- bation, again turned toward the Wild Man, who still listened. Even as they gazed, Pete heard, far down the glen, the sound of a horse’s feet coming at full gallop, and waited. Five _ minutes aftera mustang appeared at the eu- trance of the canyon, bearing upon his back one of the followers of Ben Bird. As he came in view the couchant figure rose and launched it- self upon the horseman with the club raised in air, The robber drew bridle with a cry of fear and tried to draw a pistol; but, before he could succeed, the blow fell and be lay dead in the marrow pass, whil his riderless horse went careering up the glen in the direction pursued by the band of Ben Bird. The. long, claw-like hand was extended, and tore the mask from the face of the dead man, for no human beiug could have withstood the force of that blow, and for a moment into the still face. Then, uttering a hoarse cry, the creature dashed down the crape mask, and bounded up the rocky side of the pass with an agility and speed which was wonderful, leaping over chasms which _ seemed of terrible dep‘h, until his giant form _ stood out in bold relief against the sky, upon the very summit of the bluff. The next moment, with a wild ery which echoed with horrible distinctness through the glen, be was gone. Pete drew a long breath, and looked steadfastly down upon the face of . the dead man, three hundred feet below. / “ Seems to me I know that man, too,” he said. .y You hold on until I go down and make sure Ethelbert nodded assent, and again turned to his drawing, which he had left to witness the . fearful death of the mountain robber, Pete _ went cautiously down the rugged side of the ers tae hanging by rocky points and roots “until he reached the bottom. He bent for a ' moment over the dead form, and then pro- . weeded to search his pockets, Just as Grand _ finisbed his drawing, his head appeared as he climbed over the verge of the bluff and stood by ‘bis side. ‘Did you know him, Pete?” “You bet! A bloody villain he was, too, and he had more than one murder on his soul, The last time I see’d bim was in Leavenworth. He killed a harmless sort of Dutchman that lived thar, and cut away from thar toward the fort. I put after him with twenty men, and we caugbt him at Leavenworth, and gave him up to the United States people. What do you think they did? Why, they jest let the infernal skunk go on bail; or pig bed some pew tangled institution they call a Habbis Korpus, I dun- no what in Satan that means, but it cl’ared him. We wa’nt gwine to stand that, so we took him ag’in, and started back. to the Injin nation. When we got thar he was tried, and we agreed to hang him in the mornin’, but he broke out that nigt t and escaped. Sence that time I’ve heard of him, and never no good,” ‘¢ What was his name?” “ Bilkey ; Jim Bilkey.” “Ha! It is the name of a man who, with some confederates, robbed the house of a man near Kansas City, killed his wife after subject- ing her to the most horrible indignities, left the man for dead upon the floor, and escaped. There was something, singu'ar about the whole transaction, for the daughter of this man, a beautiful girl, as I heard, has never been heard of since, The man’s name was Arthur Bird- “Tt mou’t be this Bilkey; he was a dirty scoundrel enuff for anything. I’ve cleaned out his pockets, and he had about five hundred dollars in ’em. The way things look now we are goin’ to strike it rich in this kentry. That makes thirteen hundred we've raised in two Ss. *T don’t think we had better stay bere longer, Pete. Some one of this wild band may come back to look for their comrade.” “They'll fiod the mark of the Wild Man on him ef they do,” said Pete, with a laugh. ‘‘ What d'ye. think we’d better do? I’m fur trackin’ these wild beasts down, fur I’m bound to know ef Ida stays willin’ among ’em, that’s all, Now, you like adventur’s, don’t ye? Then jine me in this, and ef we take the gal from these p’izen vill’ins, and she ain’t bein’ thar willin’, then you've made a friend that won’t forgit ye.” ’ Grandison looked at the scout, and saw that his face was working with ill-suppressed emo- tion, and he began to understand that the rough borderman had a beart capable even of the divine emotion of love, ‘‘There’s my hand, Peter Burns,” he said, striking it into the hard palm of the other. “ll stand by you, even to the end.” “That's hearty,” said Pete. ‘I won’t forgit it, neether; and now come on,” He led the way at his usual rapid pace, as before, taking a course across the mountain to again cut off the band of the infamous Bird. As before, they were successful, and now a strange chase gan. While the wild caval- cade rode along the pass, the two men clung to the mountain side, following like sleuth-hounds on the scent, At last they came to a place where an inaccessible bluff barred the way and forced them to make a circuit of a quarter of a mile, before they could again reach the ravine, Just before they reached the verge they heard the voices of their enemies, and then a heavy crash was heard. A moment after they were looking down into the canyon, but it was de- serted, Of all the robber band, not one was in sight, and the ravine was in full view for over a mile, and they could not have passed on, Had the earth opened and swallowed them up. We shall see, CHAPTER V. THE RED RAVEN. THe two men stood gazing at each other in wonder and dismay, for they could not under- stand this strange phenomenon. Where had the robber band are so suddenly, leaving no trace? They could see the pass upon the other side, and there was no break in its rugged sur- face to indicate a side path. Wherever they had gone, they had vanished as completely as if an earthquake had swallowed them, horse and man, ‘This won’t do,” said Pete Burns. “I’m go- in’ down to see about this thing, Jam. Ar’ you goin’ with me or vot?’ “ead on,” replied the artist, firmly, ‘and we will learn the meaning of this strange affair.” . an They made their way into the canyon, hold- ing their weapons Rely Reaching the bottom, they found the pass beaten by old and new tracks of horges, but nothing to indicate where the horsemen bad gone. The beat of hoofs announced new-comers, and they hastily sought hiding places, just as two horsemen appeared, who bore upon a horse be- tween them the dead body of the man slain by the ‘‘ Wild Man.” They passed ata slow trot, and were out of sight. The next moment they heard a harsh voice cry: 7 “Who asks entrance bere?” A voice replied; ‘One who has sworn by rope, knife and bullet. When he is untrue, let De knife, or bullet do their appvinted work.” here was a jarring, aka tery eat a sort of crash, and the voice ceased. The two men lay concealed for scme time, and then the scout crept cautiously forth, As before, the canyon was empty, and the ragged rocks round them mocked their useless search. “'Thar’s only one ae said Pete, ‘‘and that is to lay in hiding until we Varn the secret of this place. Iam going to do it.” ‘‘ And I am with you, old boy,” replied Ethel- bert, as they again sought a hiding-place among the rocks. Neddy Forrester and the rest remained quiet- ly in camp all that day and _ waited for the re- turn of their two friends. Until nightcame on they thought nothing of their leader's continued absence, but when evening brought neither Pete nor the artist, Neddy and Watkins began to exchange «xpressive glances. Featherby, on the contrary, who was suffering frcm his hard ride of the day before, did not seem to care much whether they returned or not. “Pm goin’ on a scout in the morning,” an- nounced Neddy. ‘‘ That is, ef they don’t come back afore.” ; ‘“* And I’m goin’ with you ,” declared Watkins, * "You may bet on that.” ‘* Pus, see hcab, you chaps, what are you go- ing, to do with me?” Featherby demanded, ‘IL don’t reckon to do any thing with you, Featherbed,” replied Neddy. ‘‘ Only as I’m go- in’ on a sc. ut, I won’t bev no such truck hangin’ on to me.” “What do yah mean by tbat, yah gweasy huntah? Do yab mean to insult me?” “Dunno nothin’ ’bout that, Featberbed, but: my best friend, a man that’s stood by me through thick and thin, a true hunter, a brave scout, and a good fighter, ain’t goin’ to be left in danger because Featherbed don’t like it.” ‘See heab, if you call me that name ag’in Y’'ll forget my rauk and call you out.” “Out whar?” “To fight.” “Me fight you ! erie insignificant ho o’-my-thumb, whar would ye be ef I was to bit ye? Ef I shook my fist at you Tain’t sartin but you'd fall down jest with the wind of it.” > ‘Don’t let us quarrel,” said Featherby, who saw that Watkins was glowering at bim angrily, and did not «xpect any help from that quarter, ‘“‘T don’t want you to leave me beah all alone.” q o Why, you Lorn idiot, nobody kin get at you ar, fo I ain’t so sure of that. Suppose a baah was to come,” “What's a ‘baah’? A sheep, d’ye mean?” said Neddy, misunderstanding him willfully. « Ain’t no sheep hyar, ’cept it’s a bighorn.” ‘7T don’t mean a sheep,” replied Featherby, indignantly. ‘*T mean a baah, a bach, agwizzly baah, Ob, Old Epb, you mean. Wal, ef he comes, and you kain’t git to a tree, I reckon you'll git chawed up, sart’in sure, But, don’t let a little thing like that trouble b Soe Like ¢z not you won't see 6 grizzly, and ef the wolves come, you jest pick up a chunk of fire and chase ’em.” The look of horror with which the exquisite gazed at the trapper upon this good advice, would have made John Leech’s fortune, and Neddy broke into aroar of laughter, in which he was joined by his companion. Though they laughed, they were ill at ease, and did not sleep well that night. As soon as the light began to lint the east, Neddy was on his feet, and woke atkins, intending to steal away witbout awaking the cockney, but the terror of that worthy had been too great to suffer him to sleep much, and he was on his feet as soon as they. iat me go with yah, Mistab Forrester, now do, I don’t like to stay beah,” “ Somebody must stay aud see arter the hosses, you useless critter. Now sbet up, do. I ain’t goin’ to hev ye with me.” ; + But I will go, do yah heah? I'll go in spite of yab. “You will, eh? Now you git back, git way i
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_+¢€ back, I notice ye. You offer to come arter me and I'll mash ye right in yer boots,” Featherby saw that be was destined to be left alone and became nearly frantic. Tl tell you w’at you kin do, you poor sper- reted critter,” said Neddy. ‘ You wait byar one day and one night, and ef we don’t come back, mount a hoss and put out to the fort. You stick to the river, and you kain’t fail to reach it,” “1 can’t find my way out of the mountains,” bawled Featherby. ‘‘Ob, deab, ob, deah! What would my pawents say if they saw me ow? : ss Likely they’d say you was a durned fool, and they’d be mighty right. Now ain’t you a sweet infant to go a-bawlin’ that way, like an overgrown baby? Git out! I kain’t b’ar to look at ou. Ef we don’t come back, you take Pete urns’s mustang and he’ll take ye out of the mountains all right.” “Yd ratber go with yah,” sniveled the un- fortunate adventurer. “Shouldn’t wonder, but it kain’t be did. Come on, Wat.” The two men at once tookacourse for the place to which the guide and his companion had started the day before. We have already de- scribed the road, and they passed over it rapid- Wy, looking for signs of their companions, Snud- enly their path was impeded, for an Indian in full war-iress, with knife and hatchet in his belt, and rifle in band, bounded into the path before them. Each man instinctively threw for- ward bis rifle, but hesitated to fire, for the echoes might bring new enemies upon them. “ White men,” said the warrior, ‘‘I am the Red Raven of the Pawnees, a chief among the tribe, and I speak the words of wisdom. Turn back while there is time, for danger lies in the path before you.” ‘Red Raven!” “You have heard me speak,” replied the war- rior, proudly, ‘Is not my name known upon the prairie , They looked at him closely, for he was a man known and feared for his prowess—a man yet young, but with a strength of limb and cem- a figure rarely to be seen among the Indians. is face, brown, but comely, had an open, win- ning expression, although it was known that in the battle he could be the fiercest among many savage foes. Wherever the battle-cry of the Pawnee was heard, Red Raven was foremost of all. Upon his head was a sortof tiara of eagle- lumes, fastened at the brow by a fillet of soft uckskin. He wore the buckskin leggins and hunting-shirt of his tribe, and bis moccasins were gayly adorned with glittering beads, About his waist was a belt curiously made, and. evidently the result of Indian skill, bearing the emblems of his nation, once the leading tribe of the West, “Why should we go back?” said Neddy, who had begun to recover the customary sang froid of the trapper. ‘The hills ar’ free to all, and fur my part I don’t keer to turn back. We seek arter our friends who were lost yester- ay. ‘Seek for them no more, for you shall never look upon their faces again, You say well they are lost, and they are lost forever.” “You don’t mean to say that you hev killed them?” said Neddy, his brown cheek changing a little, “Ef you hev— ‘“‘ Let the White Buffalo keep his temper. It is not best to be hot to one who would your friend. Those who are lost were not slain by the hand of Red Raven, and he would have set them free, but their enemies are many.” “ Whar ar’ they?” “ Ask no questions, for I cannot answer,” “You've got to,” said Neddy, “or you don’t get out of this alive.” “See,” said Red Riven. ‘ You may kill me, ° tor ba are two and [am alone, but the sound of the short gun will bring upon you more ene- mies than you think, Shoot: I am ready,” Neddy hesitated, for be realized the truth of the saying of the Indian. If Ben Bird and his infamous companions were indeed near them, the discharge of a pistol would bring enemies upon them from all sides. Yet satisfied that in some way his friends were in danger, he could not think of allowing the Indian to escape. But the savage was cool and self-possesse?, looking with an amused smile at the troubled face of the guide. P “Tell me where my friends are,” said the is) “that I may gitto help them.” “No; [have said you cannot know. Three men have been slain, and their friends clamor a the blood of the man who has killed em, ee Eee ee ee a a aS aa = Ben Bird, the Cave King. ‘*] know who you mean, and can give you the name of one. His name was Sartou,” ‘* You speak true. He was killed by the men you call your friends.” ‘‘He was not. He was killed by the Wild Man of the Mountains.” ‘* Do you speak true?” “Yes, All these men were killed by the Wild Man, though I will say that Sartou only got what he deserved, for be joined us to be- tray us.” ‘* Sartou had a bad heart, and had done much evil. I am sorry for your friends, for one of them once saved the life of Red Raven from a bear.” ** Pete Burns?” ‘“Yes. Tbe Pawnees call him the Prairie Traveler, But he has a good beart, and the Red Raven is sad to know that he is in trouble. Will you swear to me by tbe Great Spirit to whom even Indians bow, that he had no hand in the death of those who wore the belt of the Eagle?’ ‘Yes. They died by the hand of the critter we call the Wild Man.” “Tt is well. Go back then, White Buffalo, and trust to the Red Raven. He will see that no harm comes near the Prairie Traveler or the young white man,” ‘‘ Won’t you tell me whar they be, Raven? I can't rest easy while I know that the ar’ in danger, fur they’ve both bin good friends to me,” ‘* Ask no more, but go as you are sent. When the Raven speaks let the white man listen to his voice, for his are only the words of truth, and he joves to do right. Though terrible in battle, he knows how to deal justly.” Forrester still hesitated. ‘‘ Delay not,” cried the Red Raven, touchin a horn which bung at bis girdle, ‘or I soun upon the bugle and the Brothers of the Eagle will come down upon you like a great river, to slay and spere not.” “Would Red Raven leave a friend in danger?” demanded Forrester, * No, unless another friend swore to him that they should be safe. Where will you seek for them if you goon? They are, bidden where the foot of man never rested, except the Brothers of the Eagle. Let Red Raven do the work for which he is sent.” “ ['m agreed,” said Forrester, rather sullenly, ‘* Let it be as you say.’ “ Stay. ou have spoken of the Wild nn oF the Hills, Have you looked upon his ace “No; but Pete Burns and Grandison have seen him, and they knew his voice when Sartou was killed,” ‘‘Then you have not seen his face?” “ No. ” “The Wild Man of the Hills, whom the Paw- nees call the Black Spirit, hates the Brothers of ne age, and most of all the chief of the agie,’ Ben Bird.” “Ha! who dares speak the name of the chief? Beware, for tte rocks and trees have ears and will carry your words to the chief, and he will awake in his wrath and destroy you. Listen.” Even as they stood they beard the sound of low music, coming up from the very earth be- neath their feet. A weird, muffled, unearthly sound, which rung through the air about them, stealing on their senses like the notes of a solemn march, Forrester was imbued with the superstition so common among the simple men with whom bis life had been passed, and he felt a sensation akin to fear, ‘‘ What is that?” he gasped. ‘Let's leave this byar place, Wat; it's no good to be byar as I kin see.” ‘Farewell; and remember what I bave said,” cried the Raven. They turned back over the road they had just traversed, leaving the chief, with folded arms, leaning against a rock, CHAPTER VI. THE MYSTERIOUS CAPTIVE. We left Ethelbert and the guide lying con- cealed benea‘h the cliff, waiting for some clew by which they might gain the secret of the hiding-place of the mountain robbers. An hour ssed on, and from time to time they heard ow murmurs, as of voices deep down in the bowels of the earth beneath their feet, but nothing was seen which could guide them, and they began to despair, when they heard the same sound which had followed the challenge and answer of the men who carried the dead body of the man last slain. by the Wild Man, r Then a portion of the rocky wall before them swung outward like a door upon its hinges, and @ mounted man rode out and was gone down the pass at a breakneck pace. He was closely masked, like the rest of the brothers of the band of Ben Bird, and there was poawey, about him to distinguish him from the rest, Iwo or three persons on fcot followed him out, all closely masked, and lounged about in the can- on in a careless manner, evidently, however, Gooping guard over another person who had come out with them, a woman, covered from head to foot with a long, thick vail. _ ; “Walk about as much as you like, miss,” said one of the men. ‘ You said you wanted to feel the sun,” ‘“‘Tam indeed tired of my dark prison,” re- men sweet voice, ‘‘ Why, oh why am i kept ere “Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies,” said the man. ‘‘ You must not try to make anything out of me, for it can’t be did, No one but Ben Bird knows why you are here, and so what’s the use of talking?” ‘“‘T have done you no barm,” replied the mys- terious Cn Saha in a plaintive voice, ‘and lam but a weak woman, and you strong men, t me escape, and if it is ever in my power to re- pay you, I will do so,” “ Bosh. We are not quite such fools as to get in the way of Ben Bird, You don’t know the man or you wouldn’t ask it of me,” “IT know that he is a desperate villain, a hardened wretch who would commit any crime no matter how hideous,” “You don’t, seem to appreciate the King of the Mountains,” said the man, with a Jaugh, sitting down upon a rock and laying his gun across his knee, looking at her through his dark mask, ‘A good many women have had a dif- ferent opinion.” “1 will grant that he has the face of an angel, but he has the heart of a fiend. There; 1 have no more to say, for you are birds of the same feather, and crime is a pastime to ycu, Encugh bas been said between us,” “T reckon that’s so,” said the man, angrily, “if you can’t choose your words better, Let me tell you that Captain Ben will tame your pride before ke has done with you, strong as you think yourself.” ; ‘ ‘‘No! 1 may die in this hideous prison from starvation; I may kill myself to escape dis- bonor, but never will I yield to his infam ns demands. To the winds I throw this conceal- ment. She ig 96 the black vail with both hands and tore it from her face, and Ethelbert with the utmost difficulty iy ape a cry of aston- ishment at the beautiful face it revealed. It was that of a woman in the flush of her youth and | beauty, with a form which might have been a sculptor’s model of beauty, Her hair was of that rich golden brown which seemed to bave caught the rays of the sun and entangled them in its meshes, Her complexion was pure and delicate, and her bands and feet were marvel- ously small, The eyes were “ heaven’s own azure,” but though doubtless in repose they were tender and loving in their expression, they now blazed with anger and strong scorn against — her captors, “You've done it now,” cried the man, sprin ing to his feet. ‘‘ Fool, it was for your own sabe. that Captain Ben kept your face vailed from the eyes of the men, and I’ll not answer for your safety if they see myo Ethelbert touched his companion’s arm and looked ihto his eyes. Each read in those glanc- ing orbs the same determination, to rescue this beautiful girl or die, Grandison had ; through ihe salons of the old world, thronged with the beauties of the land, but fair this gir] in ber helplessness, made a strong appeal to his compassion. chew rose by a simultaneous move- ment, and the guide balanced his batchet a mo- ment in bis right hand and sent it whizzing through the air at the head of the nearest of the two men, sunk deep into the forebead of the outlaw, who fell without a cry, while bis companion stared stupidly about him, taken completely by sur- prise at the sudden death of bis friend, when the two men darted out at bim together, with weapons ready. Releasing his grasp on the arm of the gn, he raised his fingers to bis lips and emitted a wal clear whistle, and drawing his knife, stood up to the shock, He was a wiry, athletic fellow, and for a moment stood up well against them, peeying Fee thrusts skillfully, and trying to keep them at bay until aid could come to him, as be evidently expected. But they saw bis plan apd pressed bim all the harder, twice it turned in its course, and @
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! f H \ & “ Away with you, Pete,” cried the young traveler, ‘‘ Take the lady with you, and escape if you can, and leave me to take care of this fellow.’ * [kain’t leave you.” ‘‘Lorder you to go,” replied Ethelbert, par- rying a vicious thrust and lunging in return with such good effect that the arm of the ’ puffian dropped nerveless to bis side. Pete grasped the hand of the girl, who had remained stupefied up to this moment, and they started at a rapid pace along the canyon path closely followed by Ethelbert, who had knocke down his opponent with his fist. Hardly had they goue ten feet when they heard the click of the opening stone door, and there passed out a motley group of masked men, with weapons in their hands. The man who bad been knocked down pointed down the glen, for he could not speak, and the men started in pursuit. Incum- bered by the lady, the two gallant men who had rescued her could do little except tura upon their assailants in the narrow pass and fight for their lives, telling her to continue ber flight. But she would not leave them, and they fought in vain against overwhelming masses of their enemies. Borne down by numbers, their weapons were torn from their bands and they were bound hand and foot and dragged back to the secret portal. “ Here they are,” cried a terrible voice. ‘ And now they shall earn the fate of meddlers with that which does not concern them. Does any one here know them?” i “IT do,” said a voice, evidently disguised, ‘Who are they, then?” ‘* Sartou’s party.” ‘‘Ha! Lam glad we have them in our power, for they shall pay dearly for the death of Sartou.” “Shall we blindfold them, captain?” “ Yes, although the precaution is needless, as in any case their doom is sealed.” They wrapped handkerchiefs tightly about the eyes of the two men, and then lifting them in their arms, carried them through the dark portal, which opened to receive them, and closed behind with a-hollow sound. The cap- tain had taken the hand of the girl for whose sake they were in bonds, and was looking at her savagely. ‘* So you tried to escape, madam?” “Certainly; is there anything so enticing in the shelter you five me that I should care to re- main with you i ‘¢] will take means to provide against another such attempt. Mad girl, did you see the looks which these dark men of mine cast on your ever your other names may be; lL ' brave men, who so nobly attempted m ’ way to turn and what to do, beautiful face? You have done a foolish, mad thing in removing your vail.” They were traversing a dark path under the earth, lit only by torches in the hands of the masked band. he was with Indian-figbting. He kept bis rifle constantly in bis hands and was @ walking arse- nal, but a terribly frightened one, although he tried to convince himself that he would do fear- ful execution upon any enemy who might chance to appear. After an hour had passed, and no enemy was in sight, he began to get over his fright some- what, and concluded to try his hand at trout- fishing. The line which Burns bad used lay up- on the bank, and baiting the hook he threw it into the water, and was soon struggling with an enormous trout, who could not resist the tempting bait. Featherby succeeded in land- ing bim, and was baiting his hook for another cast when a low, grunting sound caused him to turn, and there, ts his horror and surprise, he saw an enormous grizzly bear sitting upon his haunches, his head turned knowingly to one ~ ’ Y ad
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4 ¢ + *@ side, regarding him with a cunning eye. Feathorby started up, cold shivers chasing each othor down ‘is back and into his boots, and lool:x! clospaivingly about him for a place of safoty, Byes. was evidently in no hurry, for he miointafaed his position upon his haunches, his cunning eyes looking terror into the soul of the unfortunate Featherby, who devoutly wished that he had remained beneath the shel- ter of the paternal roof, which he bud so fool- ishly left. e had heard that none but a crack shot dare trust himself to kill a grizzly at the first fire, and his hand trembled so much that he could not have been certain in shooting at the side of a barn at twenty paces, ‘““A baah!” he murmured, fearfully. ‘A gwizzly baah! Oh, deah me, I’m gone! I’m suah to be the first one he’ll eat, I wish I was in London; catch me hunting again, if evah I can get out of this.” Bruin sat looking at his victim in evident curiosity, probably thinking bim the most ridiculous biped it had ever been his fortune to see. Featherby glanced over bis shoulder, and saw, just bebind him, a small tree firmly rooted into the soil. If he could only get to that tree he might escape, and bhatt | down the trout, which up to this time he had held helplessly in his hand, be whirled and started for the tree as fast as he could put foot to the ground, Ephraim at once dropped upon all-fours and started in pursuit, but, as he passed the trout, it flapped violently, and drew his attention. Ephraim was_fond of fish, and it was seldom that he could gratify his taste. He pansed a moment and turned the trout over with his paw, looked once more after the flying enemy, and then, no doubt thinking that he could easily overtake him after a slight repast, he lifted the erasing fish in his paws, and began to devourit. That fish was Feather- by’s salvation, for it enabled him to climb tha tree and perch himself in an uncomfortable position across a branch. He- was unfortunate in having left his rifle behind him, and the only weapons he had were the pistols and knife, weapons not likely to aid a man like him in a struggle with a grizzly. The situation was annoying as well as danger- -ous. As soon as the bear had finished the fish he began to look about for the Briton, and at last espied him upon his uneasy perch, looking ~woe-begone indeed. Probably a worse-fright- ened cockney did not breathe upon the earth than Oscar Flint Featherby. ‘““Why the dooce don’t the bloody baah go away?’ muttered Featherby. ‘‘This comes of following men out into the woods, just to be able to out-talk our fellahs. By gwacious, this is howid; I don’t know what I shall do, Can that baah climb, I wondah?” Luckily for him, the grizzly bear has too un- ~wieldy a body to climb a tree, and the unfor- tunate, perched upon the limb, was safe for the resent, But the bear, after roving about the ‘for some time, standing on his hind fest and making awkward passes at the dangling feet of Featherby, which be could almost touch—and tearing off the bark of the tree with bis teeth to ‘such an extent that Featherby almost feared he would lose his frail support, lay down beneath tthe tree to wait. Something to this effect was passing through ‘the brain of the cunning brute: “‘ I can’t get at you where you are, and you won't come doyn now. You'll have to come some time, and Pll wait for you dcwn here.” If the brute could have spoken, that is about what he would bave said to Featherby, and that individual under- stood it quite as well as if he had spoken. “Now ain’t this a purty fix fur me? Oh, dem- mit, demmit! Why did I evah come into this forsaken country to find my sepulcher in the jaws of a baah? It’s awful, it’s dreadful, and I don’t know what I shall do.” Bruin winked at him as he lay upon the earth with bis head resting upon bis paws, He was master of the situation, that was evident, and meant to improve upon his knowledge, and the amateur sportsman was emphatically ‘ treed,” At last, wearied almost to desperation, Fea- therby drew one of bis pistols and took aim through the leaves at the head of the bear and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck just above the eye, and psncing from the bone, inflicted a severe wound, though not at all dangerous. It was enough, however, to drive the huge beast nearly frantic, and he raged about the tree, showed his white teeth, and growled in a man- ner which struck terror to the soul of Feather- by. Suddenly the bear seized the tree in his fore paws and shook it so violently that it was with the utmost difficulty the sportsman main- his position upon the limb, and, clasping \ Ben Bird, the Cave King. the trunk with both arms, he gave vent to wild cries of terror which rung through the glen waking the echoes in the old mountains aroun him. All at once there came the sharp, clear report of a rifle, and Featherby saw the head of the bear sink slowly to one side; his limbs relaxed their hold, and he sunk to the earth, the clotted blood dropping slowly from a wound in bis head, At the same moment the grasp of Feather- by gave way and he dropped to the earth, fainting. Luckily for him he fell upon the meat of the bear, which broke the foree of the fall, and he lay there senseless. A hasty step was heard, anda man came running toward him with a rifle smoking in his grasp, evidently just discharged, The man was about thirty years of age, of a tall and graceful figure, with a face and head of marvelous beauty, if we may speak of beauty in aman. His hair was dark, thick, and glossy, and bis skin, although rather dark was smooth as a woman's, He wore bis full beard, and was a spl ndid specimen of manly rfection, or would have been perfect but for is eves, in which a latent fierceness seemed to linger. He looked first at the bear and satisfied himself that he was dead, and then turned over the senseless form of Featherby. ‘“* Painted, as {live. Now what business has such carrion as that upon the preitret It isa typical face, however, but I have seen men with faces like that fizht like devils when in ac- tion, and scent themselves as if going to a ball. Bab; itisall thesame. Rouse up here; be a man, if it is in you.” “Oh, I’m dead, I’m dead!” moaned Feather- by. ‘‘ The baab, the baah!” ‘** Fool! coward!” cried the man, will you? The ‘ baah’ is dead.” Featherby rose slowly, casting a dubious glance at the buge body of his late antagonist, and evidently afraid of him, even though dead, The stranger looked disgusted, but said noth- ing for some moments, while his eyes roved quickly about the sheltered valley, taking in the horses grazing on the plain, the marks of feet upon the sod, and other evidences to =ey that Featherby was not alone in this place. ‘Where are your friends, sir?” he said, in a quiet tone, : ‘* Aw; I don’t know,” replied Featherby. “You don’t know? That is strange!” “But I don’t know, weally. They left me heab, though I didn’t want to be left alone. I told 'Neddy Forrester that if he went away, like enough a baah would come after me, and you see the baah did come,” “Tt looks sometLing like it,” said the other, with a light laugh. ‘Stranger things than that happen in the mountains, May I ask the favor of your name?” ‘““My name? I am the Honorable Oscar Flint Featberby, of Picadilly, London, and Featherby aw ‘*Get up, Lodge, Shropshire.” **A cockney! I knew it at a glance, for I have studied faces too much to deceived, Do you know, that, like you, I have walked the London streets and frequented the theaters, the opera, and been in society? I even could name a pany where I have met your father; a sharp old file he is, too.” “You ab right, sah. Upon my word you ah a very knowing fellah; the governor ¢s sharp, too dooced sharp for me,” **So I should judge. You would hardly think, to look at_me in my hunter’s dress, that I have led the ‘Lancers’ with a countess, Yet so it “Tt does seem wather stwange,” said Feather- by, glancing at his hunting-frock. *‘ But, ob, demmit; I’ve seen too many of our fellabs down on their luck to wonder at it much, But Lon- don is the place after all; I don’t like it out heah,” ‘*Ts it possible?” ‘““Yaas. It’s all fun to wead about hunting baahs and lions, and tigahs, but when you come to being chased by a cweacka as big as a house, it ain’t so funny.” ‘‘Have you found that out, my worthy friend? Never mind, you will bave a good story to tell when you go back to Shropshire—if the Indians don’t catch you going over the berys and perbaps they won’t—and you will e the wonder of the family. By the way, how long pas this man you called Forrester been gone “He went early in the morning, and he took Watkins with him and left me all alone, and now see what has happened. You don’t think there is another baah anywhere near, do you!” ..,, 1 am sure I can’t say. Very likely there is, 9 ‘*Then don’t you go away, Mistah— You didn’t give me your aame,” “To be sure. Now I come to think it over, I did not.” Featherby waited, expecting to be enlighten- ed, but the stranger took a bunch of cigarettes from his pocket, lighted one, and passed the paper to Featherby. *“You smoke, don’t you?’ be said, and Fea- therby took one, looking hard at his deliv- erer, ‘*Perhaps you would rather not tell me your name?” he said, at last. ‘*T had much rather not,” replied the man, coolly, lying back on the soft grass, and smok- ing in luxurious ease, “It don't do to be too handy with your name on theprairie, or in the mountains,” ‘* Aw, yaas; but I gave you mine.” “Then I’J] give youone. Call me Milton, and see how that suits, Ill answer to it, and that will do just as well I suppose.” “Oh, If don’t care, if you will only stay with me until Forrester comes back,” said Featherby. ‘‘ You see Il never did like to be alone, and [I like your style, if I don’t, dem- me “Thenk you for that; you are disposed to be complimentary ; but do you know that there are a great many people who frequent these mount- sins who do not share your opinion? It only shows bad taste on their part, but it is a scan dalous fact, notwithstanding.” ‘ ‘*T don’t think they have very good taste,” said Featherby. ‘‘ Anybody can see that you are a gentleman. Now there’s Bertie Grandi- son, He’s traveled over nearly every part of the earth where a man has put his foot, and some places where nobody ever lived, and yet he snubs me every chance he gets, H let me light a flah when I want to, and do you know that those wascally guides called me Fea- therbed, and he only lawfed. Now I ask yah if that is fwendly?” “Not at all. He certainly ought to be asbamed of bimself for snubbing an ‘ Honorable,’ and especially one from Skropshire. Were you ever at college?” “Oh, yaas; but I didn’t like it, for it is such a dooced boah to have to do as a lot of | rs and dons want yeu, and not have a word to say. I only staid one yak. and do you know, they plucked me!” and Featherby glared astonish- ment, ‘*Tmpossible.” ‘*Yaas, because I didn’t know a lot of stuff about a demmed old histowy. So I cut the con- cern and came home,” The stranger took outa cigarette, lighted it at the stump of the first, and contint smok- ing. Any one less thick-beaded than our friend Featherby—and, fortunately for the buman race, such blockheads are few—would have seen tbat he was pumping the cockney, But Feather- by smoked on in blissful unconsciousness, The man talked well, in a smooth, even tone, now and then glancing up the mountain-side in the direction in which he bad come, Suddenly there came a patter of boofs, and three men rode by at a breakneck pace, and di red in the mountain gorge. So quickly was it done that it was with difficulty Featherby could realize that they bad stolen all the horses with the exception of that of Ethelbert, which was. grazing quite near the men lying on the grass. ** By Jove, they are off!” cried the stranger, “Why don’t you chase them, or do you mean to lose your propcrty so tamely?” — “1 can’t do anything with four men,” replied Featherby, coolly, ‘“*Ycu can chase them if you like.’ “T have no horse,” “Take that one; he don’t belong to me, but | you will bring him back?” “Of ccurse,” replied the stranger, who was tusy Luckling the saddle-girth, ‘Give me A pistols, and J’ll get your borscs back, or e Featberby handed over the pistols, and the stranger thundered down the s at a mad gallop, in pursuit of the horse-thieves, while— Featherby kept bis place quietly, smoking the remains of the cigarette. ‘“*T don’t s’pose he can catch them, and if he don’t how mad Forrester will be. They took my horse, too; but one man caun’t fight a dozen, 1 think.” ‘* Hullo!” cried a hoarse voice. “Get up thar, will you?” i Featherby started up quickly, and found bim- self confronted by two men closely masked, who _ ] at once seized upon him, “*Come, shell out, you,” said the first speaker, «Be durned quick about it, too, [ ask ye.” @ won't
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yi — but here’s my idee, Pas a In less than five minutes every penny upon the person of the unfortunate Featherby was transferred to the capacious pockets of the robber, ‘* Now, I’m goin’ away,” he said, “and I'll leave you the rifle. Don’t you dar’ to say a word, or I’ll come back and swaller you alive.” The two men darted away up the mountain, leaving the hopeless Featherby completely stranded, utterly a beggar. Scarcely had the rocks hid them’ from view when Forrester and Watkins appeared, toiling down the mountain slope, What would they say? CHAPTER VIII. IDA GARRETSON. Nigut or day was the same in the black dun- geon in which Ethelbert and Pete Burns lay confined. Tiey could hear shouts of savage laughter from their captors, who, grouped about the fires, had produced a number of black bottles which circulated freely. Even now, in the darkness of this place, they bad not taken off their masks, for it was a rule with this band to suspect danger in any and every places and always remain upon their guard, The master noe by which they were guided had laid his plans too well, and risked too much, to suffer any breach of his rules, and the men knew it well. “ Boys,” said the leader, advancing, ‘in these ears we have been together, and you have ac- owledged me as your leader, have I been faithful or not?” “ Waithtul, faithful,” cried the men, “That is well, Iam glad you speak well of me, for I covet your good opinion, When we made our rules and subscribed to them by an oath, did you understand that we must keep them to the letter?’ “Yes, yes; hurreh for the captain!” cried the wild ban clinking their bottles together. “One of our laws is this: If by any chance an outsider becomes acquainted with the secret of our retreat, he has two chances, Hither to join the band and subscribe to its laws and penalties, or else die by such means as we may choose. It is a good law, and a just one, for | only by secrecy can we hope to gain our ends, As matters look new, another year will enable us to leave this wild life, and choose a life for ourselves. Our faces are unknown, and we can ‘live among the very men we have robbed in peace and quiet, if we like, or, if that does not suit us, we shall have money enough to choose a home where we please, But how if our secret is discovered, and we become marked men? Dare t tee. risk such a thing as that, or shall our laws enforced!” _ “The law, the law! We have sworn an oath pa 3c kéep it,” shouted the men, rising to eet, ‘Bring cut the prisoners,” said Ben Bird, “and let them know their fate,” two men were dragged from their prison and brought into the full glare of the lamps. About them clustered ut least two-score of dark eek, and weapons gleamed in the lamplight. be captain stood almost alone in the center of ie room, “Your names, gentlemen?’ he said. _ “You know my name well enuff,” said Pete, “and I reckon you ain’t got any thing to do wise { “ My name is Ethelbert Grandison,” said the Be darlene r occupation?” : “ An artist and author, traveling through the mountains to collect specimens and make . Ihave reason to believe that my life _ skete is to be taken here, and I am thus full in order to exact a promise. Will you, after I am dead, send word to my father that I am dead? You need not tell bim how.” “That shall be attended to in good time. _. But now let me offer you the one chance you have to save your lives. Join us, subscribe to our rules and take our oaths, and you shall be saved,” ‘Join you in robbery and murder! Do you dare to make such a pro tion as that to me?” “Do you refuse? that is the question,” “*I do, most decidedly.” “ And you, Pete Burns?” “Tm tied, and kaiu’t answer as I'd like to, I've bin a free trapper this twenty year, ever sence I was high enough to hold a rifie level, and [ never stole a pelt, nor ate . pasts ewe aon was h: nest, in my life, and I ain’t goin’ to begin now. They ave answered,” said Ben Bird, stern- ly. “Return them to their prison and let them remain there until they are called. Set your affairs in order, gentlemen, and if you have any the noise was hushed, as the men drop Ben Bird, the Cave King. — letters to write to your friends, [ will furnish the material with which to do so, You will need a torch, and that your guard will furnish you, and I may say that I am sincerely sorry that you will not join us.” They were led back to their dungeon, and a torch thrust into a erevice in the wall gave them light. The two men sat down upon the stone floor and silently clasped hands, Strong men they were, and yet their situation was of the sort to try the stoutest soul, “Pete,” said Evhelbert, Dm afraid your scouting and my traveling are at an end for- ever.” ‘Seems so,” assented Pete. ‘‘ But, Lord love you, what does it matter how a man goes un- der? I calculate we know how to die game, anyhow. I tell you what it is, Ethelbert, sence I’ve seen little Ida, and know she _ ain’t forgot me, I sort o’ seem stronger then I was, more ready to die like a man, if I must. You'd feel better ef you had some such thought in your heart.” ‘“‘T have, Pete; I have. This beautiful girl we tried to rescue is ever near me, and I see her glorious face, and feel, after that, I have not lived in vain. { would give much to have a chance to see her, to know that she Rpyceciates our effort, and will grieve for us, dead.” **Sartin she will,” doclared Big Pete, prompt- ly. ‘‘ She kain’t belp it, you know. wonder how they mean to make an end of us, whether by knife, cord, or bullet? I bope it’s the last, for I’ve lived where bullets fly, and I'd like to end with one of ’em at last.” ‘‘ Hist!” whispered a low voice. ‘‘ Take care, on Peter!” urns heard the voice, but he was too well trained to suffer it to startle him. After a mo- ment he saw that there was an opening in the wall in one corner, and at this a white band was waving. The opening was about five feet from the floor, and the hunter peeped into it, and saw just opposite the beautiful face of Ida, the half-breed girl, The two clasped hands through the narrow opening, and tears started into her eyes as she felt his fervent grasp. ‘‘Tda, gal,” hesaid in a hurried whisper, ‘ I’m glad ye come to me. I’m a rough, hard man. The broad forest hez bin my_ habitation, the prairie my home by night and day, I’ve lived hard and worked hard, but I wouldn’t ’a’ bin the man Iam only [I thought I’d lost ye fur good, Now I'm ready, and I kin die if need be, bal I shall die with your face before me, dear al, ‘* Hush! 13 are not going to die, if I can save you. I am in as great danger as you, and if I cannot save you, I will at least die with you. Men shall see that Ida, the dvughter of the Delaware, is not to be bought and sold.” “How did you get there?” Silence!” replied the girl. ‘Some one is coming to your door.” To his surprise, he found the opening through which Ida had been looking closed in bis face, and be was staring at a bare, brown wall, Evi dently the girl had made good use of her « ppor- tunities while in this place, and_ technically speaking “ knew the ropes,” At this moment the door opened, anda man came in carrying a small writing-desk, which he set upon the floor and withdrew. A moment after he came in with a smoking supper, which be set upon the table and again went out without speaking a word, locking the door after him. ‘They do not propose to starve us,” said Ethelbert, with a ghastly humor, which sur- prised himself. ‘‘ Let us make the most of our privileges.” They were scarcely seated at the table, when the face of Ida again appeared at the opening. Pete sprung up and burried to her. “ Keep quiet for an hour or two,” she said, “and let them think you're sleeping. At the end of that time I will come again.” ‘ They ate with a good appetite, for somethin in the manner of the girl gave them hope o escape. When they had finished their meal the man came in and carried out the dishes, leaving two more torches sane bted upon the table. “T reckon you will want to keep awake a good part of the night, strangers, seeing that it’s probably your last I on airth, and so I’ve brought you plenty of lights, Good-night, boys; you won’t see any of us before morning.’ e went out, leaving them together. _ ‘Thank ye fur tellin’ us that,” said Pete. “Oh yes, juss sv, Wal, mebhe when you come back i the morning we won’t be round.” For some time they could hear the outlaws carousing in the outer cave; but, little by a a 0 sleep. Seon utter silence reigned in the place, <a ‘ ad and Pete began to look for the coming of Ida, She did not disappoint them, for the opening again appeared in the wall, and in it the brown but comely face of Ida, “All is ready,” se said. ‘‘And now we must work out a hole large enough for you to pass through, Do you think you can do it?” Pete made no reply, but began to pick at the sides of the opening througk which Ida was looking. The wall appeared to be a mere shell, and shook and crumbled under his hands, Never were men more mistaken than when they regarded this room as a stronghold, Ida helped them from the other side, and soon @& large, irregular pi ce of the rock gave way, and an opening was left large enough for them to pass through, Pete was through the opening in an instant, and had the half-breed girl in his arms, kissing her lips with ardor. ‘ve passed through a dark sea, leetle ’un,” he said, ‘‘ and l’ve landed on dry Jand at last. I don’t keer what comes to me now, and I’I} hold you ag’in’ Ben Bird or any of his murder- ous crew.” “There, there, Peter! Let me go, and get to work, There is much to do before you can escape. First of all, let us fit this stone in ite place again.” Pete and Grandison lifted the stone they had pueee out, and placed it in oe Paee position. t fitted to a nicety, and while Jda kept it in its place they piled the loose rocks which lay about in such positions that it would take consider- able force to move it from the other side, Then Ida picked up the stone which exactly fitted the hole in the wall through which sbe had looked, fixed it in its place, and the work was cone! She now produced a small Jamp which was set in a crevice, turned on the light and showed them where they were. It was a narrow passage carved by the hand of nature in the massive rocks, barely wide enough for two men to pass abreast, As tBey proceeded, the passage wicened, and at length they came out into a rcom nearly as large as the one in which the outlaws were sieeping, where Ida set down the nes “Here you are safe for the present,” sho said. ‘‘There is not one in all this infamous band who is aware of the existence of this ; room, I discovered it by accident myself and have kept the secret, hoping to make it o use in the escape which I have been planning. I sbould have gone long ago, but for the sake of one who is dear to me, and whom I will never desert.” ‘“Whom do you mean?” said Ethelbert. “The prisoner of Ben Bird, who calls herself Aline,” “Who and what is ste?’ demanded the young artist. ‘‘Her beaatiful face haunts me ever since I have seen it, and I cannot divest myself of the idea that she is no ordinary woman,” ~ “She ig not; and when I say that, I say all that is in my power to say. Even to me, to whom she has been a kind friend, she will tell no more than this, and yet I feel that by birth and education she is something far above poor Ida, the half-breed Delaware girl,” ‘T must see her, must speak to her, for I can- not consent to escape and leave her in the power of these roffians. ‘““'Yes, she niust be saved, or it is not in my wer to goaway. I have Sra sacredly to true to her, and I will, You alone can help us, and I will be the one to tell you when the time comes. Until I call you, stay where you are. When I can get away long enough | will brirg you food and drink.” ‘Hold on a bit, Ida,” suid Pete. “ Don’t mind the painter chep, for he knows bow I love you, Lut tell me, do you dread any danger trom that thief of the world they call Albert Law- ib Ef ye do, I won’t rest until he’s got bis ruel, ‘Don’t fear for me, Peter. He knows that I am armed and that I would kill him as I would a snake if he insulted me, I’ve another friend, too, whom he fears, and who will protect me from him,” ‘+ A friend among these black-hearted thieves,” said Pete. ‘* Who is he?” “The Red Reven, chief of the Pawnees,”_ replied Ida. ‘He is a good man and brave warrior, and would 4ave nothing to do with the Brothers of the Eagle but for an almost insane love he bears to the chief, Ben Bird.” “ And he’s yer friend? Wal, Red Raven ain't a bad feller, and I done him a good turn ouc’t, and an Injin never forgits good orevil. I reckon you'd better go, little gal, though it goes hard te part from you so soon.” - i
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“Tt is only for a little while, Peter,” she said. “T will come back to you when I can, and while Iam gone, believe that 1 am true.” They kissed again and parted, and Ethelbert looked after her with a sigh. There was some- thing in the tender love of these long-separated lovers that went to his heart. Rude and un- educated as the man was, and simple-bearted as was this girl, their love had the ring of the true metal, and he felt it. ‘* Heart of oak, she is,” said Pete, sitting upon arock. ‘I mou’t’a’ known she’d be true, the dear little gal!” ‘“You are fortunate in your choice, Pete, and I am not the one to envy you, and yet, if I could be as sure of my choice as you are in yours, I should be the happiest man on earth.” “Psho, now! how you talk! Ain’t you gota han’sum face and figure, plenty of money and brains to back ’em, and am’t you a match for any gal on the face of the airth? Git out; Pshaw! I ain’t quite a fool, 1 ain’t, You keep a stiff ng lip, and you bet you'll git along well enuff.” ‘ How long shall we hae to stay here, I won- der?” said the young traveler, changing the subject. ‘“‘I am eager to be out of this, for [ am afraid that Featherby will get into some trouble while we are gone.” ‘*He is sart’in to do it; sart’in as the world,” sail Pete. ‘‘What of that? He's born to trouble, he is, as the sparks ar’ that fly up’ard. The dooced fool ain’t no business out byar, and I’m glad I told him so, Hush! Is that the gal coming back?” They drew apart into sheltered nooks and waited. The patter of coming ieet was heard far off in the dim arches of the cavern. Nearer and nearer the steps came, and it seemed as though the feet of the new-comer were bare. It could not be Ida. Who was it? The footsteps ceased, as if the person were imma and then commenced again, and drew near. They held their breath io surprise, for, even in the obscurity of the cavern, they recog- nized the towering form of the Wild Man of the Hills! Why was he there? CHAPTER IX. THE EMPTY CAGE, Neppy Forrrster and Watkins stopped in dismay as they saw that the horses were gone, and Fvatherby stood like Niobe, the picture of woe, He was afraid of the guides, afraid that the robbers would come back; and certainly, the face Forrester put on as he approached was not at all prepossessing, and Featherby began to retreat. ‘“*Hyar, you p’izen coward, hold on thar,” roared N eddy. ‘' Now, then; whar’s them hosses?” “They are gone, they are gone,” cried Featherby. ‘I couldn’t help it, you know,” “Don’t know nothing ’bout it,” replied Neddy still advaneing. ‘' You jest tell me to one’t what’s ’come on them.” “They took them away,” moaned the Hon- orable Oscar. ‘‘ They would take them, al- though I threatened to destroy them.” “Who ar’ they. Speak out quick unlest you want a black pill right through yer mizzable karkiss.” “ The robbers, the robbers!” cried Featherby, dancing about in fear. ‘Don’t point that weapon this way, pwease! I ain’t afwaid of it, but it mig go off, yah know,” “"T will go off, sart’in, ef you don'ttell what’s irra instanter,” replied Neddy, *}] tell yab, I tell yah. You see the baah came, just as I said he would, and fwightened me up a tree. Then I twied to shoot him, and killed him.” “ What did yer shoot him with, Featherbed?” demanded Neddy, turning over the head of the bear with his foot. “ With a pistol.” ; “Now, don’t lie to me, Featherbed, if you vally yer mizzable existence. That hole never was made by anything but a rifle-ball, an’ yer a consarned idiot to try that game on me. Now, you start fresh, and the minnit you begin to lie, ll kuow it, and down goes yer shanty. Now look out.” _ Thus encouraged, Featherby “started fresh” and told a tolerably straight story. Neddy’s eyes began to sparkle as he mentioned the cool vsitor, and he listened with breathless interest to the ring & . ‘Thar; I guess you can set up for a born fool now, an’ take the prize, You've not alone ot robbed, but you’ve bin an’ furnished the robber with a hoss to go off on, I’m think- Ben Bird, the Cave King. 11 in’, ’Tennyrate, you needn’t look fur him to eome back. He ain’t no sech fool, I reckon.” ‘Ob, he’ll come baack if the webbers don’t catch him,” said Featherby. ‘‘He has got my pistols and Bertie’s horse, and he must come baack to bring them, you know.” ‘Oh, you innercent critter. Ef it wa’n’t a shame to strike a fool, l’d like to give you one fur luck. It’s enuff to make a man strike his mother. Ef that chap comes back l’ll eat my moccasins without any salt.” ‘“*Have—have you found anything of the othas?” faltered Featherby. ‘*Yes, 1 have, and they’re nabbed by Ben Bird. ‘Twas the’r own fault, fur they’d no right to go prowlin’ round in the mount’ins whev they know’d Ben was arter ’em. But they would have it, and now see what they’ve ot. ‘*T told them they had bettah stay heah, you know,” said Featherby. It was the bad fortune of this man to injure my cause by upholding it, and Forrester at once passed over to the opposite side. ‘* And do you s’pose they was.a-goin’ ter lis- ten to sech ravin’ foolishness as yours, critter? They’d know better, an’ so they did ez they liked. Now see yere; thar’s an Injin comin’ hyar sometime to-day, and don’t you meddle with him, fur he wouldn’t think no more of raisin’ yer ha’r than I would of takin’ a beaver- elt.” “Tl take care not to trouble him, you know, and I’m wight sorry for Bertie, too, e always used me well, But, what do yah want to bwing an Indian heah for?” “T° don’t want any back talk from you, Featherbed. And, as fur the Red Raven, it won’t be healtby fur you to say any thin’ in his hearin’ that you’d be sorry fur arter.” “You ain’t goin’ away, are you?” said Featherby. ‘‘I won’t say heah alone any moah, whether you like it or not.” “You don’t say! Whar would you be ef my angry passions rose ag’in’ ye; as they ar’ every- ways likely to do the way you goon? [ll goef I like, an’ you'll stay hyar, I reckon,” ‘No I won’t stay heah. IfI must be killed, Tl be killed in a fight with a man, not clawed to pce by a baah, you know, It ain’t any use to ook mad; I’ve made up my mind what to do.” “Durn my buttons ef the critter ain’t de- sarvin’ of praise fur one’t. I like that, I do, by racious, You'll fight with Neddy Forrester, he Big Buffalo of the Rockies, The rip-snortin’, tearin’, aggravatin’ torment; the wild half and- half of the boundless prabaries, Oh, yes!” The way in which this was spoken is simply indescribable, “*T won’t stay heah,’ repeated the exquisite, sullenly. “ No, I won’t; you can’t drive me back while l’ve got life.” He was evidently desperate, or he would not have dared to defy Neddy Forrester, the des- id pe Indian fighter and guide. Watkins, who ad been looking on in silence, began to laugh. “You've got the critter’s dander up, Neddy, I swear; I didn’t think you could do it, nobow, Don’t let's waste time on him, ef thar’s ary chaince to git our bosses.” P “Thar ain’t the ghost of a chaince, unlest Red Raven will help us and the only way fur us is to set down and wait.” / Red Raven, after his meeting with the two guides, hurried down the mountain, and gave the usual signal at the rocky door and was ad- mitted, He found the whole family of outlaws in confusion, gathering with cries of surprise and fear about the dead form of one of their number, who had been slain while sleeping. The marks of iron fingers were upon his throat, which satisfied them that he had been strangled, and in the dust which had collected upon the floor they found the yb of a large, naked foot. They had seen that track before and knew it for that of the dreaded Wild Man, their con- stant terror, They had lost men by his hand in the passes and on the prairie, but now he had found bis way to their secret haunt. The vil- lains stood aghast with horror, for they shared the mysterious fear of all who had beard of this dreadful being. There had been no pursuit, for not one man among them dared lead in chase of the dreaded Wild Man. “Ha!” said the chief. ‘‘ Are the Brothers of the Engle cowards, that they see the blood of a pecan? and do nothing to help him or avenge im ‘What can we do, Red Raven?” replied one of the men, in a ‘ullen tone. “ Pursue the Wild Man, as with the wings of the eagle. Hunt him down among the rocks and drink his blood,” , ! \ from the bigh walls. ‘‘That’s easy said,” answered the man. “‘ But, who will lead?” “T will; I, the Red Raven of the Pawnees! I, the friend of Ben Bird, King of the Mountains, “We'll follow you,” cried the band, “ You may depend on us,” “Torches, then,” said Red Raven, “Let a great warrior show you which way to turn your steps.” A score of torches were prepares and takin one in his left hand and holding a bared hatche in the other, the search began. They showed him the place where the slain man had been lying, and the buge track in the dust upon the floor, and the Indian at once started off ata hasty step, followed by the band, Ben Bird was not present, or he would not have suffered the Indian to go faster or more for- ward than he in wed desperate enterprise. The tracks were thickly scattered over the dusty floor, and it was evident that the Wild Man had retreated in great haste. No one knew how long it had been since their comrade had been slain, for he had wandered away into the dim pas- sages, where no doubt he had met the dreadfud antagonist by accident, and was stricken down by his powerful arm. The tracks led them into passages never be- fore explored, by subterranean weterfalls, un- der festoons of stalactite, hanging like drapery But the trail suddenly ceased—so suddenly that the Indian was at ies and paused with a look of rage upon his ace, ‘‘The Bad Spirit of the Hills is in the crea- ture,” he said. “‘ Where is the trails” | Where indeed! The rocks abcut them mocked the inquiry. Whether the Wild Man had runk into the earth, or bad the power of flight. through the air, the trail was completely Jost. Red Raven was not a man to give up easily, and he ran up and down the long galleries in a vain attempt to recover the trai), while the white men looked at one another in silent in- quiry, not unmixed with dread, They began to: fear that the being they pursued was nothing earthly. Red Raven had a portion of the super- stition of his race, but was not so deceived as most of bis people, He was satisfied that there must be some solution to this mystery, if he could only strike the clew, ‘* Where are ycur prieonetst: he said, _ “ Per- haps they had something to do with this.” *No—no, they are safe,” replied one of the men, ‘‘Have you seen them since the sun rose?” de- manded the chief ‘No: but the door is locked, and they can't get out,” “Tet us return,” said the Raven, bricfly, “and then we shall see.” They burried back to the main cavern, and one of the band who bad the key flung open the door of the prison and entered, followed y sev~ eral others, the Red Re ven among the rest. To their utter surprise the rcom was empty, al- — though to all aj pearance in the same situation in which they had left it. “By the imps of Satan!” roared Albert Law- son, ‘ Ren Bird will have the life of somebody for this. Where is the key to the room where the women stay?” “T don’t see bow they could help these men to escape. Ida might have dene it, but I have not seen her cut of the room to-night. Have A of you?” ms 6 was answered by a decided negative from all the band, and they were by stupidly about, trying to find some clew to this strange escape, when Ben Bird came upon them. His eyes were blezing fiercely through the visor of his mask, and his hands, white and smootb as those of a wcman, opened and shut themselves convulsively as he came on, “ What “Recreant to your oaths, have you sufle:ed them to escape?” i ‘* We ain’t to blame,” replied one of the men, “The door ain’t been opened since you went away, and I calculate we didn’t expect them to go through a solid wall.” ‘‘ Who was the guard?” * Ricbards, No. 3.” “‘Ah, Richards, No. 8, step forward. You were placed here on guard last night, and or- dered to see that no one passed out or in you do so?” ‘ “Yes, captain,” replied the man, slowly, ‘Are you certain that no one passed you? — Be very careful of your answer, for if we prove that you hed any knowledge of this esc: pe, a were better in your grave than in my ands, “Captain, Iam ready for the test, I never this I hear?” he cried, savagely. . Did
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12 Ben Bird, the Cave King. <losed my eyes through my watch. I carried in some food to the prisoners, and when they had finished I went in an took away the dishes. When I came out, the gentleman was writing at the desk, and Pete was lying on the straw muttering to himself. After that I locked the door, and took the key to the lieutenant.” “Where was Ida?” ‘In her room; she ain’t been out to-night.” “You tell your story well, sir. But that [ have ood reason to believe that you all wish for the eath of these spies, I should be inclined to be- lieve they had help from the outside. Surely they have not been able to pass the guard at the door, for they have not the word,” ~“T don’t think they could get out. I believe must be hidden somewhere in the cave,” said Lawson. “That is it. There are doubtless many pas- ‘sages of which we know nothing, and in some of these they lie concealed. Search everywhere then, and if you cannot find them, set a guard at all the entrances and let them starve, as they deserve to do. Hunger and thirst will drive them out at last, and they must fall into our hands,” “We have searched everywhere,” said Red _ Raven, ‘‘and they cannot be found. The Wild Man bas been here, and Shelton is dead.” “Ha!” screamed Ben Bird, wildly. “Say you so? How has that accursed creature en- tered this cave? By heaven, he has either slain our prisoners or set them free! Away, Albert, and do as you are bid.” The guards were set, and the entrance to the eave was sealed against the escaped prisoners. CHAPTER X,, THE HAWK AND DOVE, ‘Havine taken this precaution, the only one he ‘could take under the circumstances, the cap- ‘tain turned back and rapped at the door of the room in which his mysterious prisoner was con- fined. She was seated at a table reading by the light of alamp. The room was furnished neat- wae almost luxuriously, and an evident de- sire to make her as comfortable as possible ap- ‘peared in everythin entrance with a loo ‘upon her fair face. ‘Why do you come here?” she said. ‘‘I have ‘bowed to my fate; I remain your prisoner, but I will do no more.’ ‘*T would not bave it so, Aline,” he said, in a soft, melodious voice. ‘So far from any de- around. She rose at his of scornful impatience ‘sire to make your residence irksome to you, I |. dove you tenderly, you know that I love you.’ “ True love never hi.rms its object. You have ‘wronged me in every way, torn me from my hhome, by violence, in the dead of night, trans- ported me over rivers and plains to this desolate lace, and now hold me against my will, If my father lives, my father, who loved me s0 well, how he must grieve for me.” “ You shall return to him,” he cried, eagerly. **Once my wife, I will take you wherever you echoose to go, and [ will strive by mute observ- ance, b anticipating your every wish, to teach you to ove me.” “You can never do that,” she said, ‘I can Ba think of you with borror, for1 think of - that midnight assault, the flames of my father’s dwelling, and the fierce band who surrounded ome. Iremember that my fatber fell dead or ‘wounded by your band, and until I know that he lives, I shall not cease to hate you.” ‘Ben nat set his teeth so bard that their grat- ing could be distinctly heard. He had schooled himself to be calm, had determined to endeavor “to win her by kind words, but she was so haugh- ‘ty, and looked at him with such fierce scorn, that - bis wild temper was severely tried. “You do not know in what danger you are,” ‘he cried, ‘‘a danger beyond any thing you can ‘conceive, when you speak to moin that man- ner. I have heard yTiaperivg among the men, since they saw your face, an vig are angry Pena: I should claim you. Perhaps it may bap- nm that I shall be forced to give you up to them, and if I do, God pity you.” “Listen to me, Captain Bird,” she said, in a karsh, strained voice, which sounded strangely - unlike her previous mellow tone, “Iam of a race to whom honor is more than a mere name, and if you drive me to it, I can find a way to die, and I will do it, sooner than permit any ix- famous designs to. eke “T do not seek to drive you to this, as you know, and I would be the first to shoot down ‘any man who dared insult you, by thougbt, word or deed. But it will be a struggle, and sper I vball go down in it, as I will, sooner <than give you uptotkem.” ~~ “You have some attributes which are noble, Captain Bird, and with other women perhaps they might be successful. Do not fear for me, for I shall find a means to save myself from dishonor. Let me entreat you to think of all this as a wicked dream; take me back tom home, and then in other lands repent the evil you have done.” “That is the point where I have not the power to yield, have worked with this ob- ject in view for years, and now you ask me to throw all aside, and begin anew my life. If 1 loved you less, 1 might listen to you, but as it is, I cannot.” ‘There is no need of further talk between us, then. My purpose is as unchanging and immovable as these great mountains under which Iam a prisoner, I would like to ask you one question, about those unfortunate but gal- lant men who tried to save me—are they dead?” ‘“‘ Not yet, but they will be soon.” ‘* Why not set them free?” ** Because, I know that you have been taken by the face of that young artist hunter, a curse upon him! But, be certain of this, you have looked your last upon him.” 7 “What right have you to speak to me in that manner? I never saw his face before, doubtless I never shall again, but I should at least be glad to thank him for his gallant at- tempt.” ‘Consider it done. I will carry your thanks to him in a way he will not like. As for you, bend you shall, or break.” : : At the door he met Ida, who looked at him with a keen, questioning glance, and he seized her by the arm, ‘Hark you, girl, what had you to do with ‘the’ escape of these men?” ‘* 7. sir?” she cried, in well-acted surprise. “ You! What had you to-do with it, forI Seong you were interested in it, in some man- ner *‘ Really, captain, you do me too much hon- or,” she said. ‘‘I would have gladly set them free if I could, but will you kindly explain how I could do it?” Ida saw that be did not know what share she had in the escape, but merely suspected it, and took upon herself an air of injured innocence which was very amusing. Bird was nonplused, and, although he still suspected her, he bad no real ground for his doubt, ‘‘T warn you, my lady. Do not let me catch you at treachery, for if I do you shall suffer. Where were you going?” ‘*‘T wish to speak to the lady and see to her room.” ‘*T doubt whether any good can come of your being together, but goin, goin; and beware of me!” - “ Yes, captain,” said Ida, demurely, ‘‘I will do so,” ‘There is nothing to be made out of that provoking little devil,” he muttered, “but I suspect her, and she shall not go unwatched, We shall see. Ida rapped at the door, and the lady, who was permitted to have a key, opened the door and admitted her. - *T am glad to see you, Ida,” she said; ‘‘ we are partners in misfortune, and should sustain each other. Do you know anytbing of the brave men who tried to set me free?” ‘* Yes; be careful not to speak too loud. They are in a place of safety, although they cannot escape from the cave. I found a way to help them out of their cell last night, and now I am studying how to get food for them,” “My dear girl, you have lifted a load from my mind, here are they?’ ‘In another section of the cave, which runs parallel to this, I found it out by accident in one of my rambles under the earth and made use of it to savethem. But, how shall we get them out of the cave?’ ‘*T don’t know, Ida. hogpes up here as I am, I can study out no plan. They must escape.” ‘Peter says he will not go witbout me, us I mean, and Mr. Grandison says the same. If they escape, so must we,” “Do not deceive me, Ida,” cried Aline, eager- . ‘*Is there any hope of escape?” “T think so. If they can get away, so can we, if you can make an excuse to get to my room,” . “Yes, yes. Anything to escape from this horrible den,” ~ f ‘*If you could pretend to be a little less hard on the captain, perhaps he would give you greater freedom.” “Oh, I could not do that” “ Anything to escape, Miss Aline. All is fair in love and war.” “T will try,” said Aline smiling, ‘‘ but I fear that I shall be but a poor hand at such decep- tion, for I hate this Captain Bird as I hate a serpent. He has wronged me in a way which merits no sympathy from me, and I fear I can not counterfeit regard for bim.” ‘No matter for that; do your best, and I have no fear but you will succeed. At least we can only fail, I think I had better leave you, after I bave set the room to rights, and then, as soon as you can, send for Captain Bird and try your power.” Ida moved quickly about, set the room in order, and, with a look of meaning in her face, moved out of the room and closed the door. Albert, the man who claimed her as his own, mt her outside, but she refused to speak with him, and he fell back with a muttered oath. “You see that, boys,” he said, ‘‘ Captain Bird bas lost all power here, beaten by a silly girl. It is time we made a change.” This was addressed in a low tone to several of the men, but not so low that Ida did not hear it or note the manner in which the men received it, although she made no sign to indicate that she paid any attention; but her mind was busy, nevertheless, ‘“Aha, Monsieur Albert!” she thought. ‘So you are studying treechery, are you? Patience, and see if some good does not come out of this.” She entered her room and closed the door, locking it carefully. From a rude cupboard in one corner, she took out a platter containing a large piece of cold roast venison, and from an- other compartment a bottle containimg wine. A calico screen was stretched in front of her bed, and taking these articles, she disappeared behind it, and remained there. This strange proceeding required explanation certainly, for she did not reappear, until half an hour hed passed; then she emerged from behind the cur- tain, carrying the empty platter. If she had devoured the meat herself, she was possessed of gastronomic powers beyond any thing yet heard of, but it was gone, and she knew where. She sat down panting sligbtly, but with a merry look upon her face, listening intently. There came a soft rap at the door, and she opened it toadmit Aline, and locked it behind her, and they sat down on the bed, side by side, and joined hands girl fashion. ‘‘ Well?” said Aline, in a questioning tone. **T have seen them,” replied I ‘* Are they in good spirits?” “As good as could be expected. We must act to-night,” “Tam eager to go. What would Ben Bird do, if be found us out? I fear to think of it, Do you know what he intends to do to-day?” ‘The scouts report a large armed body of mountain-men encamped on the prairie, about four miles to the south, He will send Albert to find out what they aim at, and goes bimself upon another expedition. I am going now to éet the Red Raven, for I hope to kave bis aid D escaping.” ‘‘ The Red Raven! You forget that he ha ae Pe a idolatrous affection for Captain rd. ‘*No doubt yu are right. He does love ap" tain Bird, and will fight for him to the death, but he will aid me all the same if be can do it without betraving himself to Bird. In the mean time, perhaps you had better go back to your room and wait until after snpper and then come to me.” They left the room together, but parted at the door, and Ida approached R.d Raven, who was seated upon a rcck quite alone, mending the bandle of bis batcbet. His fine face lighte up at her approach, and he saluted her with a courtly grace which would have done credit to one of the knights of old. ‘The Flower of the Delawares is welcome,” he said, Jf there is any thing Red Raven can do for ber, let her speak; his ears are open,” ‘‘T pine for the bills and stresms where the Delawares dwell,” she said, “I am sick of this dark place and would return to my people.” “The heart of the Red Raven bas been sad sometimes when he bas beteld the grief of the Delaware maiden,” replied the chief. ‘‘ But, he isa friend of Captain Bird, and lcves bim be- cause his arm is strong, and his heart brave. How can I be a traitor to him, and take away the prize he bas won?” “Captain Bird does rot care for me,” she replied. ‘‘He brought me here that I might be the servant of bis prisoner and do her einige, She is very beautiful, and I love ber and would save ber if I could.” “Tt is true,” replied Red Raven, ‘‘and the leaves of the Lily wither in ber dark prison. Red Raven would do much to set her free, but how can he be a traitor to Crptain Bird?’ = . b
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— Ben Bird, the Cave King. 13 , “TI only ask that the chief shall close his eyes and not watch what is done to-night.” see of meaning came into the eyes of the chief, “Tc is well,” he said. ‘‘The Red Raven is very blind. Listen; where are the prisoners of Captain Bird? Have they sunk into the earth? ‘You know where they are hidden?” sen: ‘* And will you tell me?” “Tf you wish to know. But, is it not better that you should not?” she replied. ‘¢Tda has the head of a wise man. It is not good that I should know, and I will say no more, but if, when I come back from the scout, I do not find you here, the beart of Red Raven will be sad to lose you, but he will be glad that you have gone back to the homes of your people.” Hos turned to bis work, and his hand did not tremble as he labored, nor bis eye grow moist. Although he was socalm outwardly, there was a a eg raging within, for the proud chief loved Ida devotedly, and would have periled his life to save hers. He had loved her since she was first brought to the cave, and it was for her sake, quite as much as for the sake of Cap- tain Bird, that he had so long clung to the for- tunes of the wild band. But, although he was ready to join them in warlike exploits, he was not of their kind. A sort of savage chivalry made his character glorious, and the mountain- men were full of tales of his generous deeds, and brave actions. He fought for the natural love of peril, and not forany gain which might accrue to him from their captures, only taking the spoils won by his own band, Ida knew that Red Raven loved her, and she had enough Indian blood in her veins not to look upon his love as an insult, and to feel for him in his sorrow, and admire the fortitude with which he kept it a secret, He still sat on the rock, working at his weapon, and covertly watching Ida as she passed on, until he saw her meet Albert Lawson. ‘‘Look you, my girl,” said the outlaw. ‘I am going out upon duty now, and I can’t attend to the work I had in view. But, let me tell you that when I return there must be an end of all this.” ‘‘Move out of my way,” replied Ida. ‘‘ Ido not wish to talk with you.” “Do you dare speak to me in that manner?” he hissed. ‘‘I’ll make you repent it before three days have passed over your head, You can find plenty of time to speak with yonder greasy savage, but you have none to speak with a gentleman,” e attempted to pass him, but he put out his arm and seized her roughly—so roughly, in- deed, as to draw from her a cry of pain. Scarcely had he done so when there came the rush of a heavy body,a sounding blow, and something dropped upon the stone floor of the cavern quite heavily. When he recovered suf- ficiently to understand, Master Albert realized that he was lying upon bis back with a bloody ate, and over bim stood the tall form of Red ven, shaking his gleaming hatchet before his eyes. CHAPTER XI. IN VAIN! MEANTIME Captain Bird had left the cave, in company with the greater portion of the band, although the men did not accompany him out of the passes. Near the place where the young artist bad found the body of the first man slain by the Wild Man, they halted, and Albert stri ed off his mask and stood before them, a dirk feed. heav ly-bearded man with a sinister eye and sensual lips. He did not remain with the party, but throwing off every thing which could imply a connection with the Brothers of the Eagle, he rode away at a brisk pace down the prairie and was soon lost to their view, The captain remained for a few moments in close conversation with his second lieutenant, and then the band dismounted in the debouchure of the canyon, which, at this point, was fift or sixty feet wide, and fastened their horses by means of their lariats, while the men lounged about in groups, and chatted with one another, although they kept their weapons near them, Two hours passed away, and suddenly the heard coming hoofs and up dashed Albert, his horse in a foam. ‘All right, oi he said, ‘They area party of seven who have been to a cache they made last winter and are bringing in peltries. . It will be a good haul.” ‘*Mount!” cried the leader, turning to the men. Theoutlaws were instantly in the saddle. “Fall in; close up; trot!” and they were off \ with a precision and training which did credit to the military skill of Carrere Bird. Away they went across the br plain at a rapid trot, and after a ride of balf an hour they came across the last roll of the prairie and entered a sort of peninsula formed by a bend in the river, and found the party of whom they were in search--a band of free trappers, who had been drinking too freely to keep good watch, Up they sprung, rifles in hand, at the sight of that ill-omened company with their somber masks, but, before they had time to use a weapon, Cap- tain Bird raised bis hand and shouted: ** Down with oe arms! Dare to lift a hand and your lives shall pay the forfeit of your fool- ishness.” They hesitated and were lost, for the torrent poured in upon them and bore them down be- fore it. In ten minutes the fruits of a toil- some winter’s work, in storm and snow, were torn away from them, and they were left with only their weapons and their lives, Go out aqain next wivter. boys, and work for Captain Bird,” said the leader eeringly. ““You bave done well this time. here is Bolton?” ‘* Here, captain,” said one of the men. ‘*You will remove your mask and ride down to the place where these men are camped and en- deavor to find out what their object is. cmegyhoos | done so, shake them off as soon as you can, an return tous. Go.” The Brothers of the Eagle had been trained to perfect obedience, No sooner was the com- mand spoken when Bolton tore off his mask, and, thrusting it into his bosom, turned his horse’s head to the east, The rest of the band kept on their course up the canyon and entered at the secret portal, which closed behind them. The horses were stabled in a large vaulted room which bad been fitted up for that purpose, and the band made their way to the main cav- ern, ‘Send Fletcher to me,” said Bird. The person sent for came at once—a wiry, compactly-built man, with a keen and craft eye, which flashed through the visor of his mask, like stars. “« Where are ey, Fletcher?” ‘**They are both in Ida’s room at present,” re- lied Fletcher. ‘At least, they went there at ve o'clock, and neither of them have showed themselves since.” “Very good. You will come with me and see if we can not ferret out the plans of that sharp girl. Bird rapped at the door of Ida’s room, but no answer was returned. He rattled the door, but only the echoes answered him. The outlaw kept keys of all the doors, and, selécting the right one from the bunch, he fitted it to the luck and entered. The room was empty and he ut- tered a wild cry of rage. “*Captain!” cried Fletcher, appalled by bis superior’s savage glance. ‘As I respect my oath I have never taken my eyes from that door since your prisoner entered, and I know she has not come out.” **T believe you, Fletcher,” said the captain, sternly. ‘‘If did not, I would shoot you down in your tracks. Enough of this; there is some other avenue of escape from this room, of which we know nothing. Order in the men, and we will find it,” The men came pouring in at the command, and the small room was crowded with masked faces. ‘Take hold here and move this bed,” cried aye Bird, tearing down the curtain, ‘Doubtless it conceals the mode of escape.” Four men lifted the light bed aside and show-_ ed the ragged wall of the cavern. ‘Bring abar here,” said Bird, with his eye upon the wall. ‘‘L begin to suspect some- ees A bar of iron was passed over to him, and, clearing a space for work, he struck it against the stone. It gave back a hollow sound, but stood firm, ‘‘There is a passage behind this wall,” he said, ‘‘and these girls have found it, That in- fernal half-breed has done this.” He struck again and again upon the wall, un- til the bar touched a spot which trembled under the blow. He struck again; a loose stone fell out, and the men set to work with their bare hands, picking out the stones, until a passage was cleared, showing an open space beyond. *T thought so,” said Bird. ‘That cunning girl has deceived us all, Albert, and when we find her, I will suffer no man to stand between you and her.” ‘* Not even Red Raven?” demanded the lieu- tenant, eagerly. ‘‘Say that, and I am with you heart and soul,” ‘Not even Red Raven. What right has he to interfere in my plans? Go to my room, Fletch- er, and bring my lantern, the one with the slide. We must explore this place.” The lantern was soon brought, lighted, andi turning on a dim light, Captain Ben led the way, closely followed by a dozen of the more resolute men of the party. They found in the dust of centuries the tracks of small feet, and knew that the girls had preceded them some time before. But, how far bad they gone, and was there another outlet to the cave? The tracks grew plainer as they proceeded in utter silence, until they saw, far off, the light of & torch shining through the gloom, ‘‘ Douse the glim, captain,” whispered A'bert,. ‘and let us steal upon them unawares, There they are, curse them.” ‘Yes, and ‘those rascally prisoners of ours: with them. They will soon be in our power, and when they are—” He left the sentence unfinished, but there was a meaning in his tone which was fearful. be a crept on over the scattered rocks, feeling the way toward their victims with great caution, eager as bloodhounds with the quarry in sight. It was indeed the two de and the men Ida had rescued, waiting a favorable opportunity for escape. They had explored the passages for some distance, but they seemed interminable, and they were seated upon the rocks, conversing. eagerly as to the chances of escape. ** Now see hyar,” said Pete, ‘That strange critter we call the Wild Man got in somewhar, — and whar he got in, we kin git out, My idea is, to bunt for bis sign, and then foller it, no mat- ter whar it leads us, and in my opinion it will take us cl’ar out of this.” “ Your ree is a good one, Pete,” said aoe | or. bert, ‘and will succeed if any plan will. myself I do not care, but these ladies are in our charge and we must save them.” “Seize them!” cried the voice of Ben Bird. “Take those men alive if you can, dead if yow must. Down with them!” They were again in the power of their morta} enemy, CHAPTER XII. AT THE DEATH POOL, THe two men fought desperately, but having no Verpons, they were overpowered a of their assailants had fallen under their heavy blows. Ida faced Albert with a drawn cae er and wounded him twice, although not severely, before - was disarmed and held captive in flerce clasp. ; “ Coward, lost to shame and manhood, unhan me! Do you see this, Captain Bird? qour men to insult a woman by holding her with heir felon hands?” ‘You have brought it on yourself, my lady,"’ said the captain. ‘I told you to beware of me if I r two or three — Do you suffer _ caught you tripping, and I have promised my lieu- - PI y tenant not to interfere between him and you. “Beware of the Red Raven! He is your friend © now, but he will be your enemy if you dare to insult: me.” my Paci * Be quiet, you cat,” hissed Albert, ‘tor Ishall tie your hands.” ' ‘Better give it up, Ida,” said Pete sadly. “It’s my luck, I s’pose, and I can’t fight ag’in’ it. But ef that black bosom he’ll fight it out with me, no matter with what weapons, here and now,” “Red Raven dare not interfere between me and ~ ws evil hez got the heart of a man in his: — “Thank you, Pete. I should be a fool to fight you, when I have the game in my own hands.”’ “Then ye ar’ what the gal called and no mountain-man. Say what ye will, it’s a dog's. death you'll meet at last. You orter to be kicked to. e, a coward, © death by a buffler-calf. Idid think you chaps hed — some little pluck, but T give it up.” “Here, Captain Bird,” shrieked Albert, “Give L palin, man,to kill as I like. I demand it as a R No; I have other plans for him,” said Bird. his tongue wags too much, cut it out; but he must wait my time to die.” LD haf : “Must! That is a hard word to use toa moun- — tain-man,”’ said Pete. ‘ You low-lived skunks, a man kin only die one’t. and I'll die with my teeth set, see ef I don’t. Enuff said; take us whar you Captain Bird had not suffered another man to touch his captive, and stood, during this dialogue, with her hand tightly clasped in his, looking at her even while he spoke to theothers. Now, drooping like a flower cut down, she would have fallen to the earth, but the captain passed his arm about her, and held her up. * Back to the cavern home,” he said, ‘Death of 5 oe men, don’t =. see she is fainting?” ey hurried beck, the captain carrying the in- ing, half. eT eet not a weight on his hands, Fletcher going before with he be The aenos were thrust into their old quarte: but so eavily ironed that they could neither move")
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ae nor foot, and left to pass the weary hours of the night. f Bring water here!"’ cried Bird. ‘If she is dead, if I have killed her, then all this tissue of crime has ' ‘been in vain. you, why don’t you burry?— water, water.” He sat down upon the hard stone floor and laid the golden head in his lap, while one of the men brought water, with which he laved her forehead and hands. ‘The touch of the pure element revived her, and she came back to consciousness with a gasping sigh. “Where am I? What has happened? Ah, I know now. Haveyou killed him, Captain Bird? If Soe iy may your wickedness find you out at ast!’ “Whom do you mean?” “You know; the young artist, Grandison,”’ “*No, Aline; he is not dead yet—and it remains with you to say whether he shall live or die,” “‘ With me?” *Yes. If you will yield now, I promise not on] | tosavehis life, but to set him free, together wit Pete Burns and I 'a.”’ ** What shall I do—what shall I do? Do not put their | destiny upon me, for it is more than I can r. ‘Listen, girl,” said Bird, hoarsety, lifting her to her feet, ‘'This is the last chance I shall give you, Embrace it, while you have the spoon for it will not come to you again... Come this way.’ He led her to the room set apart for her, and there released her. * You love this man?” he said, in the same hoarse 8 quickly!” **T have no right to love him,” replied Aline bold- ly, “‘and yet he isa man worthy of love. He is a hero, a man of honor and a pure heart, which you cannot claim,” **You love him! You have spoken his doom with beg own li If et had said you did not care for | might yet ‘have saved him; but now—now : his fate is sealed.” i Can you shed innocent blood? Man, of what are Ape framed? This young man has never told me hat he loves me—doubtless loves another, and it is probable that I shall never see his face again.” “You may be right,” he said. ‘I will see him and hear from his own lips whether he has been able to withstand that too lovely face. If he has not, ‘ woe to him and to you!” ’ He strode out of the apartment, and the gs rl fell face downward on the couch, struggling with her heart. If her love bad been a plant of quick wth, it was not the less warp, & and true, She oved Ethelbert already with all the devotion of a - peetionste nature, He had appeared to her first in he heroic endeavor to rescue her, a woman whose had not seen, simply because her friendless face he Le Wary sition gave her a claim upon his sympathy. fa my and had ed lsoum, Biss | ad suffered imprisonment and abuse for sake, and now he must face «cat, if he ret the on she felt for him. She peared that he asighs have asa safeguard, cnother ace treasured in his heart, to guard him from this : evil, Yet his eyes had told her a story which at an- * other time it would have been joy to read, and she feared that he loved her, and would not deny it to The captain strode quickly through the dark pas- until he en the room of the prisoners. rose to a sitting posture, his irons rattling as he did so, and faced the intruder. ! ‘Why do you come here?” he said. “I am trying to make my peace with , since I am to die so n. heat have come toask you a single question," replied 2 le “Your question, then.” * Do you love my prisoner, the girl for whose sake ou are made captive? Pause before you answer, r much depends upon it.” * ‘“T shall not hesitate long to answer that ques- (| ie ie thatt parish for the toes beautiful women or the mos uw woman ‘that I ever aan Are you answered?” - “Yes; you have sealed yourdeath-warrant. And wean say it is easy to die for a worthy object, I : will you one thing more. She loves you, and is ws in agony for your sake. Her agony shall ater, or she shall see your death, and then she is mine 4 orever, -night.”’ 2 came—the last morning they could pore _ to see op earth, and these brave men were led forth . to die, dark portal opened, and the savage | band rode out with their prisoners in the center. Aline was riding by the side of Ben Bird, and Ida by Albert. They had the lives of their lovers, and had nerved themselves to witness their death. “This is f " whispered Aline, “Let me go back. Captain Bird; I cannot see them die.” “Do you yield" demanded Bird. Se avenge myself.”’ oe They rode out of the pass and turned toward the river. At this point an eddy had worn out a deep dark pool, the m of which could not be seen. The banks were screened by overhanging bushes of a pistes of alder. Bird dismounted, and men, and they seized and bound prisoners hand ani : SCNow 2s Bird. ‘Are you ready to die?” « Yea, sald. Kthelbert "if you are por Will you let me speak a few words to vet give oA ten givehim room. Pete Sakis ema eens _gallop.. His quick eye saw Bhat 4 given over useless entreaties for gave a signal to his. you are cruel enough | nutes, Fall. back, men, and | Rockies, and permission to | destruction of called together Ben Bird, the Cave King. The girls touched their horses, and rode close to the two doomed adventurers. “Lady,” said Ethelbert, “I have come to the end of the road. It has been a hard, adventurous life, and I have faced dangers, but until I saw your face I never knew what it was tolove. It might be pre- sumption in me at any other time to tell you this, but now, in the face of death, 1 may say it. Lam pieae to love you, proud to die for fy If I could ave lived, and have met you in other scenes than these, I would have done anything to win your af- feetions and possess your heart. Even now, it would give me a better heart to meet death, if [ knew that you loved me.” “‘ Hush, hush,” she whispered, softly, ‘‘ You know that love you.” The face of the young artist seemed suddenly to become glorified, and he raised his bound hands to heaven. “You have given all I dared to hope for, Aline. In yonder land beyond the distant blue, I shall see and claim you for my own, Will you kiss me?—it is as though you kissed the dead.”’ She bent in the saddle, and he pressed his lips to hers fervently. “Death and destruction!” cried the captain. * Separate them, and let us end all this.” *“Good-by, my darling,” cried Ethelbert, as they dragged him away. ‘‘ Remember me tender- ly, and all shall be well with us in the next world.” da was clinging to the neck of her Jover, and Al- bert dragged them asunder with a bitter oath. They bound the two back to back, and fastened a huge stone in a blanket to sink them, and Aline under- stood the death they had before them. “No, no, no; vot that death. Oh, Captain Bird, if there is in parte heart any thing of the tenderness you have claimed for me, do not drown them,” ‘*Away! Heshall die with your kiss warm upon his lips and you shall know what a thing it is to in- sult Ben Bird, King of the Mountains. I have chosen this death, and they shall meet it.” “Waste no time in idle prayers, Aline,’ said ithelbert. .** We are ready.” “Will pe not beg for your life?” “ Not a **Nor you, Pete Burns?” “I've got other business, and ef a man kin come back to haant another, I'll haant you. Do yer worst, I'm ready.” ‘* Mount,”’ said Ben Bird, All the men except four leaped into the saddle. These men stooped, and, by a mighty effort, lifted the bound men and hurled them into the deep pool. A wild scream broke from the lips of the two girls as the clustering locks and eoal-black hair of the victims floated for a moment on the water, and then the dark flood closed over them. **It is done,” cried Ben Bird, ‘ Fall in; file right; march!” The horrible crime was accomplished, CHAPTER XIII. THE AVENGING FATE. CapTar Brrp, glanced age at the face of his companion as he rode back. It seemed suddenly turned to stone. Aline made no answer to his words, “Why don’t you i page he hissed. * Do you think I have lost my'soul for this, mad girly Away with indecision on my part from this hour! To-day we break up the camp here and seek a new home, You must go with me as my wife.” At this moment Red Raven join d them at a mad roved over the band, and he the deed had been done, and the sag kh pea were no more upon earth, whom he had ‘ollowed, in the vain hope to save. “ What news?” cried the captain. “ Danger,” Le a Red Raven. “A dark cloud hangs over the Brothers of the Eagle.” at mean yout” ** Look out upon the plain and you will see.” The captain loeked and saw a large body of men between him and the pass, coming down at a rapid trot, nig Ses only mountaineers and prairie-men can ride. He was in the toils and must fight! ** Brace bowel my men,’’ he shouted. ‘This is the band of aeeppers I told you of. It is victory or death with us, for these men will neither give nor ask quarter. Cut through them and gain the cave, and there we can defy them.” ** What shall be done with the women?” ** Five of you take them, and when we are in the thick of it, make a circuit and get to the pass. Are you ready, men? Then charge!” The new-comers greeted them with fierce cries and spurred their horses, eager to meet the shock. The outlaws were not less ready, and the two com- anies clashed together with savage earnestness. tols cracked, knives cut through flesh and ar the groans of dying men, the death-rattle, and the cries of wounded horses, sounded out upon the calm air. It was a scene of blood and death to which these pleasant places are but_too familiar. Here, two strong men grappling each other by the wrist struck repeated blows with knife and hatchet, until one or the other dropped dead. Neddy Forrester was there, dealing blows like a madman. Watkins was in the-midst of the fray fighting like a demon. The trappers.who had been rob the day before were taking revenge for their loss. Indeed, in that company of over one hundred men, there was not & man who had not a" so ne time suffered wrong at the hands of the Brothers of the Eagle, and they had come from the north of, the Saskatchewan, from Red River, the Or slopes of the n; from the even from Santa Fe, to aid in How they 8, e the comman enemy, we shall know. | The Brothers of the le were outnumbered, two to one, and although they fought with all the energy of despair they dropped one by one under the deadly weapons of their adversaries. Ben Bird saw that all was lost. He was ree with the Red Raven on his right hand, and Albert on the left, performing prodigies of valor, but hismen now were tew, and these were rapidly Ciminishing under the weapons of the avengers. Looking out upon the plain, he saw that those he had commissioned to take charge cf Aline and Ida bad managed to make the required circuit, end were rearly a mile in the the rear, seated upon their horses awaiting the issue of the fight. “Break through, boys!’’ cried Ben Bird. ‘‘It must be done.” They made a last Cesperate rush and succeeded in their effort, Soya Ich acsailants right and lef and were away over the plain, gaining two bundre yards before the others started in pursuit. Of all the band that went cut that morning to the murder of Grandison and Burns, enty two were on their feet, and those were the two leaders. Red Raven, who had taken no part in that crime, had also es- caped, All were admirably mounted, and it was soon evident that they were likely to efcape. But goading their horses with knife-point and spur, their enemies kept up the purruit, As they came near the women, Bird made signals to the men to hurry forward, and they obeyed, forcing the unwill- ing girls along with them. They entered the pass with the white men and the Indian thundering in the rear, distant about three hundred yaids, and the ursuers not far behind them, when there started up nthe narrowest part of the yass three mapa fig- ures, at the sight of which the five men who guarded Ida and Aline left their horses, and scrambled up the rocky sides of the pass in desperate haste. Who were they? Ethelbert Grandison and Peter Burns, with the water dripping from their heir and clothing, and the strange being known es the Wild Man of the Hills! The place where they stood was barely ten feet wide, and each ore held his place firmly, ek | the two girls, who urged their horses and passed them, just as Ben Bird and Albert made their appearance in the pass, They saw the forms of the men they had murdered, and knew. that. Peter Burns had gt premise to haunt them if he had the power. eold cbill crept through the bones of these wicked men, and, forgetting al] else, they two sought to escape by the same course taken by the puards of Aline. But they had hesitated too long, and half a dozen rifles cracked. Albert Grapes dead upon the ledze wl ich he bad reached, but Bird, clute vainly at te aA space, rolled down to the bottom of the glen znd lay gasping, as the trappers came up. ~ Hare, Aline, here,” cried the voice of Ethelbert Grandison. ‘You are saved, and God grant us mapy,many happy cays.” “. yb eho TW Ay shouted Big Pete. In an instant each held the woman he loved best in bis arms, while many a rough borderman turned away his bead to hide the suspicious moisture in his eyes. Neddy Forrester came up to shake the hand of Grandison and greet bis old friend, and Watkins came with him, and there was asceno of mutual congratulation, During all this time the Wild Map had made no effort to escape, but sat in a murin attitude upon a great stone, with his hands claspe upon the great club he always carried. “This isa time for explanation, Ethelbert,” said Aline, withdrawing herself aorta pa from her lover’s arms, ‘ There, sir, be careful what you do, How were you sayed? Who saved you?” “This strange being,” replied the artist, points ‘to the Wild Man. “He was concealed in the re on the river-bank, and the moment the band turned he plunged inand relieved us from our dangerous predicament and led us here, happily in time to meet you.” “Twill now tell you how! came to be a prisoner among these men,” spoke AJine. ‘Over two years ago I lived in Kausas, with my father and mother, father was an Englishman, Birdsall by name, who had Lrought a large fortune to his western home to — muild upa great State. The house was attacked at night by ruffians, and I was carried away, a8 Lafterward found, by Captain Bird. What his motive was in wishing to make me his wife, I do not know, but he swore to me that I sho marry him, or never leave the mountain cave. He has kept me a close prisoner ever since.” : BY Wild Man inclined his ear and seemed to en, “And what became of your father?” “T have never been certain whether he died that night or esea’ ed,” ‘He died,” shrieked the wounded man lying at their feet. “I killed him—I, Ben Birdsall, his nephew!”’ o “Tt is false,” cried adeep voice. “ You killed him not!” All turned in nrise. and saw that the Wild Man a Raising his hand to his head he hand. ‘Let the who is . . “No soft words for me,’’ replied Ca) “7 strove for a great stake and failed. Arthur ‘Birdsall, your brother’s great estate waits for you in
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— — England, and I would have married to obtain it. But when I saw her, I have periled my soul for love. Dig my grave where Llie, and if you place a stone above it, | curse you with my dying breath.” And With these bitter words upon his lips, he died. They did not wait long in the pass, but the whole band hurried on to the cave, which was opened to them at the password of which the escaped prisoners had obtained the clew upon the day when they were captured. The few robbers left in the cave were quickly overpowered and made prisoners, and the treasures heaped up during years of rapine and murder were the “pel of the victors. That night, when a fire was lighted in the great central cave, the reunited lovers sat and listened to the story of Mr. Birdsall. ‘ “Upon that bloody night when you were made a prisoner and your mother fell a victim to the rage of these savage men, led by Benjamin Birdsall, I was left for dead, struck down by his murderous hand. I lived, and registered an oath in heaven to_track him down and mete out vengeance to him. I have traversed this a, a through and through during the last year, vainly seeking for some clew, and it was only six months ago that 1 became certain of the identity of Ben Bird. You must understand that his band sprung up on the confines of Kansas, and that upon the body of a man killed by me in self-defense enough was found to make me certain that his was the band that robbed me of all I loved. He left Kansas after this outrage, and sought these passes. Here he has lived since, preying like a vul- ture on his kind and keeping my child prisoner, I your daughter foved her, and - might have killed him long ago if [had been cer- <~ . joined that of the Birdsall family. : teries before. Mr. tain whether Akne was alive or dead, but until I was certain, I was forced to spare him. For the murder of my dear wife I have taken signal vengeance, for not one who wore his accursed livery have I ever spared. My wife is am ly revenged now, “YT took upon myself the strange garb I wore, which I made from the skin of a grizzly bear, partly as a disguise and partly to protect myself from the inclemency of the seasons in the mountains. TI have worn it until my name bas become a terror to these evil men, and in that disguise have I watched and waited, until I satisfied myself that Aline yet lived. This was not the work of a day, but.of weary weary months, Only a short time ago I discove a secret passage from the central valley, which is not known to these men, by which I penetrated their haunt, and killed a man in their very midst. “These crimes had aroused the anger of hunters and trappers, and last winter they agreed to organize for the destruction of the band. I went to them in my the secluded glen which I have made my home during all this time, and told them enough to guide them here, and they agreed to be on the spot to-day, The cam promptly, and the result you know. wor is done, my ok pee is accomp! . Lhave walked paroaga a deep sea of blood and trouble, but I have ept my oath. * Last night I lay in wait and heard the two lead- ing men of this vile band tell to each other the fate they had in store for the prisoners. They sat where T sit now, and I was—here.”’ He rose, and detaching a loose stone from the wall of the cavern, showed a narrow a, _ wide gnocen for a man to craw! through on his hands and nees, “There are many leading from the main cave, so that a man may well despair who becomes entangled in the labyrinth. I found the clew nf patient search, and made small peepholes throug which to observe them. I have often seen daughter, but your desire to keep yourse from these villains has often baffled me. Had hee rambled through the as this sweet gis] has often done, I should have saved you long ago.” 4 Have you seen me then?" asked Ida. Quite often, and have sometimes thought to seize you, but I feared that your cries of alarm might bring the robbers out upon me before I could reveal myself. To-morrow we will explore the cave, and I will show our friends all its secrets. Ah! who ay boy eng S ny" w auve! Suably this r. Birdsall?’ said a familiar voice. otvegten a You are a Featherby, or Iam much mistaken.” Yaas, yaas,” replied the Honorable Oscar, Who had joined himself to the band of trappers, kept judiciously out of the fight, and came up when al danger was over. ‘Do yah know that the lawyahs looked for you all ovah Europe and Amewica? Your brothah is dead and no one can claim the estate ex- cept yourself.” * That explains it. This Captain Bird was the son ofa younger brother of mine, a wild, graceless boy, a dissolute young man and a villain at heart. How long has the estate been begging for an owner?” Foah years,” answered Featherby, whose father was @ leading man in Shropshire, and whose estate own garb, for I have a suit concealed in ou, my apart “ T left England five years ago, and no one except my younger brother knew where I was. He return- ed to England four years ago and died there soon af ter, doubtless telling no one excent his son where to findme. The unfortunate man hunted me down to kill me and obtain the estate, and, to make as- surance doubly sure, he would have married Aline. The measure of his guilt is full. May God forgive his wickedness on earth, and take him to his rest + things were now explained which were mys- ot Birdsall had shOwn himself to Watkins and Forrester in the central valley where they were waiting for Red Raven, and Featherby at once taken flight. Birdsall told them who he was, and where the band of trappers were gathered, 7 ; 1 en Bird, the Cave King. and sent them to hasten their steps. On the way down they had found the six trappers who had been robbed the day before, who readily joined them for revenge, and fought bravely, One section of tif cave was a perfect store-house of peltries, the fruit of the last year’s robbery. which had never been removed These were divided among the trappers equitably. Mr. Birdsall and Ethelbert readily contributing their share as.a wed- ding present to Ida and Big Pete Burns. Much money and bills were also found, and were divided in the same way. It was a profitable day’s work te the mountain-men. The party remained for two days in that region, which Birdsall knew so well, and he showed them the scenes of his many exploits, and the cave where he had lived. Although he was now clothed in the garments of civilization, he re- tained the disguise which he had worn so long and packed it for transportation across the plains, when they were ready to set out, Red Raven had disappeared after the burial of his friend, but when the party filed out of the pass on their return they found him standi on the plain awaiting them. The face of the chief was very sad, and all felt for him in his sorrow. “White men,” he said, as the long procession halted, ‘the heart of the chief is sad, Ben Bird, who is dead, was a friend to Red Raven. He struck the warriors of the white men, and he died asa warrior should die at last. What hand is there among you kind enough to slay Red Raven upon the grave of his friend?" ss Speak to him, Ida,” murmured Big Pete. ‘I can’t.’ ** Chief,” said Ida, advancing a little, “there are none so wicked here as to wish your death. You have never struck the innocent, and have defended the weak, You have taken no part in these wicked spoils and have been very, very kind to me.” “Tt is well,’ responded the chief. ‘The Flower of the Delawares will go into the lodge of big Pete, who will be kind to her. And sometimes, when the fires burn and the night is dark, let her speak to her ae of Red Raven, who loved their mother so we Rad Before she could speak he was in his saddle; and was away like the wind, and the main actors of this story never saw him more. He died ina great bat- tle with the Burnt-wood Tetors, and when the strife was over and his men victorious, they found him lying dead, surrounded by four braves who had fal- len by his arm. halted long enough at the first settlement to see Big Pete Burns and Ida married, and then kept on to Kansas. Here Pete was able with the money he had gained to buy and stock a large farm in the vicinity of Atkinson. Watkins and Forrester did the same, and the three friends settled down to a quiet life, as compared with the one they had before led. The parting of Ida and Aline was a sad one; and when it was over they separated, and Mr. Bird- sall and his daughter, with Ethelbert and Featherby in company, went to New York, and from thence to England by the same steamer, where Mr, Birdsall claimed his brother's estate, and the title deeds were given up to him at once. A week after there was a grand wedding, and the oe loved each other so strangely were united or life. Three years passed, during which Kansas had grown and prospered. Border ruffians had been ut down by the strong hand. Peter Burns who thrived during these years, was sitting in the evening sun before his door, with his wife beside him and Forrester and Watkins smoking their pi while lying on the grass, Pete played with -his pretty boy now nearly two years old, when a car- riage drove rapidly up containing four persons—a gentleman of commanding presence, whose hair was wing gray, @ younger man, with a genial, sun- urned handsome face, and a beautiful woman, hold- ing in her arms a child about the age of the one on Pete’s knee, Pete looked at them, rubbed his eyes, looked again, and then gave utterance to a yell founded upon a Blackfoot pair rs * Yah, hep—hi! Look at that, Ida! It’s Grandison and his wife, and the Wild Man! Hurrah!"' * Yes, Pete,” replied Grandison, as they — hands. “ Here we are, all of us, come back to - sas to live and die.” ‘You kiss him, Ida. Do it quick, darn it, do! Hurrah! Yip—hi! I could jump out of my skin for fey: Here’s Wat, too, and Neddy. Oh, Lord, if poor eatherbed was only bere woul//n’t it be jolly.” The joy of these faithful creatures was een and if Ethelbert had not kissed Ida upon the s be would have been less than human, and he did it with all his heart. Ida released herself blushing, and threw herself into Aline’s arms—Aline, more beautiful in her young motherhood, than when Ida served her so faithfully in the cavern under the hills, The beautiful girl whom Aline so idolized bore the name of Ida, and Peter's boy was called Ethelbert. * And you've come back to live in Kansas?” said Big Pete, when they were all seated. ‘' By mortal snakes, we'll all go out to the Rockies and visit the cave, and hunt over the old places. But we won't take Featherbed; whar's he?’ **In London, where he was the raze for a long time, and he has written a book detailing his des- rate encounters with Indians, robbers and w asts. We might have e him, but suc notoriety is cheap, and we let it pass. Besides,, there is really no harm in Featherby.” wr ° _* Blow hm,” growled Watkins, “He was a nat’ral idiot, he was!" 4 . “ Par | 15 “Do you ever think of your two years’ captivity now, Ida?” said Aline. “Often; we talk about it by the winter fire.” “Tt is like afevered dream to me, and I wake in terror at night, thinking I hear again the stern voice of Ben Birdsall, dooming our husbands to death. Oh, dear father, what do we not owe toyou!”* ‘*T have forgiven Ben Birdsall,’’ said the old man, ** He is in his grave. But, have you ever heard of that noble Indian, Red Raven?” “He is dead,” answered Ida, and in the gathering twilight she told the story as she had heard it of the | noble death of the chief, and how they found upon | his breast, clotted with his life-blood, a piece of rib- ! bon and a small golden trinket which she had worn. Ida’s voice sunk low as she told it, and a silence fell upon the group. ‘hey live in Kansas yet, holding up {the arms of that strong young State, and striving to make her future more glorious than her pat. Featherby is in the House of Commons, and is regarded as a mighty hunter by his associates, THE Beaded Weekly, END. The Best Weekly of Popular, Entertain- ing and Useful Literature Pubs lished in America! Its Unrivaled Corps of Contributors, almost all of whom write erclusively for its publishers embraces tha following authors ot world wide repute— Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, Albert W. Aiken, Capt. Fred, Whittaker, Capt. Mayne Reid, Joseph E. Badger, Jr., Edward L. Wheeler, Charles Morris, Oll Coomes, ©. Dunning Clark, Buffalo Bill, White Beaver, Buckskin Sam, Major Dangerfield Burr, T. C. Harbaugh, Philip 8. Warne, Williain R, Kyster, Anthony P. Morris, Launce Poyntz. 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City Life, Character, Courts and Ways—— Detective and ‘Shadow’ Revelations— Stories of the Great Deep, etc., etc. So that each and every number is overflowing with reading of the most interesting and exciting nature; while in its Special Departments, covering all the needs, and adding to the general interest and usefulness of the popular journal, Brapie’s WEEKLY is the paper of ali others for your weekly reading and entertainment, We che Beadle’s Weekly is Published at the Following Rates: For Four Months... .....ccseessscsscsvcevens ss Ql00 Flor One Yearss: sss) .cwoes sve due ede QOD Two Copies for One Year. ......00.seeee0e wee ee 5,00 eee teee Binge Comes: 5.0 once svete s Supplied by all Newsdealers, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pun.isHErs, 98 William street, New York, 7 Sunnyside Library. 1 Latta Rooxu, By Thomas Moore.... ........ 106 2 Dox Juan By Lord Byron.........s.0eseeeere MO 8 Panavise Lost. By John Milton..... sien se fe, 200 4 Tue Lavy or roe Lake. 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niianeer,, y OM Coomes. Mines ward L. Wheeler, # ale ria By Captain J, F. c Adains, uA o¢k, the Man from Texas. By G. Waldo Brown. aa SNe By Captaiu Mayne Reid. hil, the Boy Sleuth. By E, L. Wheeler. ns Tae Jim. the — of “ Jack Harkaway.”’ 90" pe rend a . Fy Sor eorge Waldo Browne. 91 e pe Contain ofthe Club. By Pracebridge Hemyng. +H gage Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief. By E, L. Wheeler. dinte! incre. iy Edvard Sli, C. Harbaugt 4 Md ek, the gent. By larbaugh, is Wivel overs, By Lieut. eS ‘Hazeltine. - (128 The Young Privateer. 188 Boas Bob, the King of the Bootblacks. By E.L. Wheeler. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. By E.L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 8 Kansas King, By Buffalo Bi Hon. W. F. Cody 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters y Captain Mayne Reld and Captain Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew. By Ol] Coomes. Double pmaber, 10 cente. 16 Ben wagon Trapper. By Edward 8. Ellis. : The Flying Yankee, By Colonel Prentiss ry raham. Sheth Jones ; or, The Captives of the Frontier. By E. 8. Ellis, 9 Ady rtures of Baron Munchausen. 20 at S oes or, The Fate of the Sioux C. arn By E. S. Ellis. etectives. By Albert W. Aiken, ie Mis ors Travels. A Voyage to Liliput, aud a Voyage to Brobdingnag. By Dean Swift. 18 The Dumb 4 By Oll Coomes, 7 Aladdin ; or, The W auiterfol Lamp. 5 The Sea-Cat. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. (21 Llustrations) By Defoe. 17 Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccaneer, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 18 Sindbad the Sailor. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers. By Edward L. Wheeler. 21 are Frontier Angel. By Edward 8. Ellis. 22 The Sea -erpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By J, Lewis. 28 Nick o’ the Ni mrs or, The Boy Spy of 76, By.T.C, Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk. y Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, Hr} The mer Cap aptain, By Roger Starbuck. 6 Cloven € the Buffalo Demon. By Edward L. Wheeler, rtd patclove Abe, the Boy Guide. By Olli Coomes. a3 Buffalo Ben, t the of the Pistol, By E. L, Wheeler. 9 The Dumb Pa “io By Captain Frederick Whittaker. Bo 1 Keen Rales Roekwood, By Harry St. George. -Knife, Prince of the Pra’ ries. By OH Coomes. oolf, the Border Ruffian, By rlward L. Wheeler, Ocenn Bloodhound, By 8. W. Pierce. nm Sol, By Captain J. F Adams, Ivan the Boy Claude Duval, By E. L, Wheeler, 6 Clown, By Frank S. Finn. Bt The he Mi den Lodge. By T. C, Harbaugh. B83 +] Fide, the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 89 Death-Face by Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler, 4 Lan en. y John J. Marshall. asso Jack, ine vung xo er. *. O!l Coomes. A2 The Phantom Miner. dward L, Wheeler. 48 Dick Darling, the Pony Berens Rider. By Capt. Whittaker. 4a Fattiin Rube. By Harry St. George. the Great Annihilator, By E, L. Wheeler. tent Eye the Great Shot of the West. By J. F. C. Adama, pie {Ts tingale Ni Naty; or, The Forest Captains, By aig Ny B ra nm, the Road-Agent, By Joseph E. Badger, Jr, 49 $ arnt O11, the Masked Terror. By Edward L. Wheeler. say i. 3. the Tra per. By C, E. Lasalle. or, The Underground Camp. By A.C, Iron, rate I Bai ale. By C. E. Lasalle. Mey te the Boy Phenix. By E,L. Wheeler, Boy Trapper, By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. e, th ¢ Unknown Scont, By Buffalo Bill. cals ye By Captain J. F, C, Adains, ny k’s Engl ae. By Edward L. Wheeler. he Border Ki 89 are See Old A se anche, Be or, The Secret Foe, By Oll Coomes. a ss, andy Ellis’s Scalp, By Hany St. George. ndian, By Captain J. F.C. A or ik ect nt ; ore The Red Rifle Team. By “ = Wheeler, p. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. he Red Brotherhood. By W. J, Hamilton. Bund Jack. By T.C. ona cane Bill, By Joseph E. 65 ger, Jr. oe 8 single Mand; or, A Life C3 4 lite By W. J. Hamilton. nt-Lenther eg Philip S. Warne. The order Robin H Host. By Buffalo Bill, 69 Gold ifle the Gharpebgoise. By Edward L, Wheeler. z gia p's Cabin, ee JO-F.C, Adams. 5 Telawere Grony the oung Reager Spy. By Oll Coomes, Tom Wes er shes exan Ranger. By W.J. Hamilton. ib nach Die k. By Edward L, Wheeler. £5 The Hos Duelicd, By Colonel Prestse Tnscuh * onel Prentiss In am. 76 Abe Ont, Che Crow-Killer. By Albert W. Aiken. 77 Oorduro rile, the Boy By E. L, Wheeler. 7S BL . meal One Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Bo sre eh the Giant Trapper. By Albert W. Aiken. ee fioneb nee By Edward L. Wheeler. 0, By Captain J. F.C. Adams. a the Wood- Hawk. By T. C. Harbaugh, rayo, i 96 patch. Ye, the S$ By Edward L, Wheeler. Outlay Brothers, By Jobn J. Marshall. ao Hood, the Outlawed Earl. By Prof, Gildersleeve. ne Tiger of Taos. By George Waldo Browne. Deadwood ick in Leadville, By E. L. Wheeler, ‘away in New. York, ‘Bracobridge Hemyng. e. By Colone! Prentiss Ingraham. e Sea. By Colonel Delle Sara, adow. Mick's Device. By Edward L, Wheeler. ies the Hunter. By Captain H, Holmes. roaty, the Guide, By T. C, Harbaugh. of ee -Eyed Sim, By James L. Bowen. eine mvy, the oung Bear-Killer. By H. St. George. 199 D bk ax Detective. By E. L. Wheeler. 110 Hy ¢ Black Steed of the Prairies. By J. L, Bowen. 0 Seas fl. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, v Bi r. By Burton Saxe. 118 Lenk edd the Young Speculator, By E. L. Wheeler. Schooner. By Roger Starbuek. {ner. By George Waldo Browne, tain. By Col. Prentiss Tigraham. we By Edward L. Wheeler. iis Mustang Samy; or,fhe King of the Plains. By J, t Badger. 120 The Branded Hand. “By Frank Dumont, 121 Cinnamon Chip, the Girl Sport. By E. L. Wheeler. 122 Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. By Charles Morris. i 128 Kiowa Charley, the White Mustanger. By T.C. Harbaugh. 124 Tippy, the Texan. - By George Gleason. 125 Bonanza Bill, Miner, By Edward L, Wheeler, 126 Pieayune Pete. By Charles Morris, 127 Wild-Fire, the Boss of the Road. By Frank Dumont. By H. Cavendish. 129 Deadwood Dick’s Double. By Edward L. Wheeler. 180 Detective Dick, By Charles Morris. 181 The Golden Hand. By George Waldo Browne. 182 The Hunted Hunter. By Edward S. Ellis. 184 Sure Shot Seth. By O!] Coomes. 185 Captain Paul. By C. Dunning Clark. 186 Night-Hawk Kit. By Joseph £. Badger, Jr. 187 The Helpless Hand, By Captain Mayne Reid, 188 Blonde Bill. By Edward L. Wheeler, 189 Judge Lynch, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh, 140 Blue Blazes, By Frank Dumont, 141 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent. By%d. L. Wheeler. 142 Handsome Harry. By Charles Morris, 148 Sear-Face Saul. By Ol! Coomes. 144 Dainty Lance, the Boy Sport. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 145 Captain Ferret, the New York Detective. By Wheeler. 146 Silver Star, the Boy Knight. By 0!1 Coomes, 147 Will Wildfire, tho Thoroughbred, By Charles Morris, 148 Sharp Sam. By J. Alexander Patten. 149 A Game of Gold. By Edward L. Wheeler. 150 Lance and Lasso. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 151 Panther Paul, the Prairie Pirate. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 152 Black Beas, Wi!l Wildfire’s Racer. By Charles Morris, 158 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. By Ol] Coomes. 154 The Sword Hunters, By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 155 Gold Trigger, the Sport. By T. C, Harbaugh. 156 Deadwood Dick o Deadwood, By E. L. Wheeler. 157 Mike Merry, the Harbor Police Boy. By Charles Morris. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado. By Buffalo Bill. 159 The Lost Captain, By Captain Frederick Whittaker, 160 The Black Giant. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 161 New York Nell. By Edward L. Whecler, 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods, By Charles Morris. 168 Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. By Ol] Coomes, 164 Dandy Rock's Pledge. By George Waldo Browne. 165 Billy Baggage, the Railroad Boy. By Charlies Morris, 166 Hickory Marry. By Harry St. George. 167 Asa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. By Edward Willett, 168 Deadly Dash. By Joswph E. Badger, Jr, 169 Tornado Tom. By T. ©, Harbaugh, 170 A Trump Card. By Charles Morris. 171 Ebony Dan, By Frank Dinmont, 172 Thunderbolt Tom. By Harry St. George. 178 Dandy Rock’s Rival. By George Waldo Browne. 174 Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. By Charles Morris, 175 Captain Arizona. By Philip 5S. Warne, 176 The Boy Runaway. By Lieutenant H. D. Perry, U.S.N, 177 Nobby Nickof Nevada. By Edward L. Wheeler. 178 Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper. By O11 Coomes. 179 Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, By Charles Morris, 180 The Sea Traller. By Lieutenant H. D. Perry, U.S.N, 181 Wild Frank of Montana, By Edward L, Wheoler, 182 Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. By Oll Coomes, 188 The Hidden Mand, By Charles Morris. 184 The Boy Trallers. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 185 Evil Eye, King of the Cattle Thieves. By Frank Dumont, 186 Cool Desmond, By Colonel Delle Sara. 187 Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Boy. By Charles Morris. 188 Ned Temple, the Border Boy.. By T, C. Harbaugh. 189 Bob Rockett, the Cracksman, By Charles Morris, 190 Dandy Darke. By William R. Eyster. 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker, By Capt. A. B. Fay ur. 192 Captain Kit, the Wi.l-o’-the-Wisp. By Lieut. Perry. 198 The Lady Road-Agent. By Philip 8, Warne. 194 Buffalo Bill’s Bet. By Captain Taylor. 195 Deadwood Dick's Dream. By Edward L. Wheeler, 196 Shadowed, By Charles Morris. 197 Little Grit, the Wild Rider. By Cel. Prentiss Ingraham. 198 Arkansaw, th» Man with the Knife. By T. C. Harbaugh, 199 Featherweight. By Edward Willott. 200 The Boy Bedoutns. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker, 201 The Black Hills Jezebel. By Edward L. Wheeler. 202 Prospect Pete, of tne Boy Brigade. By O1) Coomes, 208 The Boy Pards. By Joseph FE. Badger, Jr. 204 Gold Plume, the Boy Bandit. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham, 205 Deadwood Dick's Doom, By Edward L. Wheeler. 206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King. By Charles Morris. 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. By T. C. Harbaugh, 208 The Boy Hercules. By Ol! Coomes. 209 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 210 Faro Frank of High Pine. By William R. Eyster. 211 Crooked Cale. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 212 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective. By Charles Morris, 218 Fritz to the Front. By Edward L. Wheeler. 214 Wolfgang, the Robber of the Rhine. By Capt. Whittaker. 215 Captain Bullet, the Raider King. By T, C. Harbaugh. 216 Bison Bill, the Prince of the Reins. By Col. P. Ingraham, 217 Captain Crack-Shot. By Edward L, Wheeler. 218 Tiger Tom, the Texan Terror. By Oll Coomes. 219 Despard, the Duelist, By Philip S. Warne. 220 Tom Tanner, Scalawag and Seapegrace. By Chas. Morris, 221 Sugar-Coated Sam, By Edward L. Wheeler, 222 Grit, the Bravo Sport. By Col Prentiss Ingraham. 228 Ozark Alf, King of the Mountain. By Edward Willett. 224 Dashing Dick. By Ol] Coomes. 225 Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. By Charles Morris. 226 Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 227 Dusky Darrell, Trapper. By E, Emerson. 228 Little Wildfire. By O!! Coomes, 229 Crimson Kate. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 280 The Yankee Rajah. By C. Dunning Clark. 231 Plucky Phil, of the Mountain Trail. By T. C. Harbaugh. 282 Gold-Dust Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler. 288 Joe Buck of Angela. By Albert W. Aiken. 284 Old Rocky’s “ Boyees.” By Buckskin Sam. 235 Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy. By Charles Morris, 286 Apollo Bill. By Edward L. Wheeler. 287 Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain. By Col. Ingrabam. 288 The Parson Detective. By 01] Coomes. 289 The Gold-seecker Guide, By Captain Mayne Reid. 240 Cyclone Kit. By Edward L. Wheeler, 241 Bill Bravo and His Bear Pards. By T. C. Harbaugh4 242 The Two “ Bloods.” By Charles Morris. 284 The Sea Marauder. 285 Denver Doll's Decoy. 291 Turk, the Ferret. By Edward L, Wheeler. 292 Sancho Pedro. By Major E. L. St. Vrain. 248 The Disguised Guide, By 01) Coomes. 244 Sierra Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler. 245 Merle, the Middy. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 246 Giant George. By Buckskin Sam, 247 Old Grizzly and His Pets. By Capt.“ Bruin” Adams, 248 Sierra Sam's Seeret. By Edward L. Wheeler. 249 Milo Romer, the Animal King. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker,. 250 The Midshipman Mutineer, By Col. P. Ingraham. 251 Light-house Lige. By Captain J. F, C. Adams. 252 Dick Dashaway. By Charles Morris. 258 Sierra Sam’s Pard. By Edward L. Wheeler. 254 The Half-Blood, By Edward S, Ellis. : 255 Captain Apollo. By T. C. Harbangh. , 256 Young Kentuck, By Captain Mark Wilton, 257 The Lost Hunters, By Capt. J. F.C, Adams, 25S Sierra Sam’s Seven. By Edward L. Wheeler. 259 The Golden Harpoon. By Roger Starbuck. 260 Dare-Devil Dan. By Ol! Coomes, 261 Fergus Fearnaught. By George L. Aiken. 262 The Young Sleuths. By Charles Morris, 268 Deadwood Dick's Divide. By Edward L. Wheeler, 264 The Floating Feather. By Col. P. Ingsabam, 265 The Tiger.Tamer. By Captain Fred, Whittaker. 266 Killb’ar, the Guide. By Ensign Warren. 267 The Buckskin Detective, By T. C. Harbaugh, 268 Deadwood Dick’s Death Trail, By E. L. Wheeler. 269 The Gold Ship. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 270 Blizzard Ben. By Captain Mark Wilton, 271 The Huge Hunter. By Edward S. Ellis, 272 Minkskin Mike. By Ol! Coomes. 278 Jumbo Joe. By Edward L. Wheeler, 274 Jelly Jim. By Charles Morris. 275 Arizona Jack. By Buckskin Sam. 276 Merle Monte’s Cruise. By Colone! Prentiss Ingraham. 277 Denver Doll. By Edward L. Wheeler, 278 The Three Trappers. By Major Lewis W. Carson. 279 Old Winch, the Rifle King. By T. C. Harbaugh. 280 Merle Monte’s Fate. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 281 Denver Doll's Victory. By Edward L. Wheeler. 282 The Typo Detective. By Edward Willett, 288 Indian Joe. By Major Lewis W. Carson. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, By Edward L. Wheeler. 286 Josh, the Boy Tenderfoot. By Capt. Mark Wilton, 287 Hilly Blue-Eyes. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 288 The Scalp King. By Captein J, F.C. Adams, 289 Jolly Jim’s Job, By Charles Morris, 290 Little Foxfire, By Ol) Coomes. yi 298 Red Claw, the One-Eyed Trapper, By Captain Comstock, 294 Dynamite Dan, By T. C. Harbaugh, 295 Fearless Phil. By Edward Willett. _296 Denver Doll's Drift. By Edward L. Wheeler, 297 The Tarantula of Taos. By Buckskin Sam, 298 The Water-Hound, By Charles Morris, 299 A No. 1, the Dashing Toll-Taker. By Edward L, Wheoler, 800 The Sky Demon; By 011 Coomes. 801 Leadville Nick, By Major E, L. St. Vrain. 802 The Mountain Detective, By T. 0, Harbangh, 808 ’Liza Jane, the Girl Miner, By E, L, Wheeler, 804 The Dead Shot Dandy. By Colone! Prentiss Ingraham 805 Dashaway, of Dakota. By Charles Morris, 806 Neck-Tie Ned. By Major H. B. Stoddard. 807 The Strange Pard. By Buckskin Sam. 808 Keno Kit, the Boy Bugler’s Pard. By Col. P. Ingraham, 809 Deadwood Dick's Big Deal. By E. L, Wheeler, 810 The Barranca Wolf. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr, 811 The Roving Sport. By Edward Willett. 812 Redtop Rube, tlie Vigilante Prinee. By Maj. E. L, St. Vraine 818 Cimarron Jack. By Frederick Dewey. 814 The Mysterious Marauder, By Col. P. Ingraham, 815 Ned, the Cabin Boy. By Jack Farragut. 816 Old Eclipse, Trump Card of Arizona, By T. C, Harbaugh. 817 Peacock Pete. By Lieutenant Alfred Thorne. 818 Ker-whoop, Ker-whoo! 819 The Black Rider. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr, 820 The Sea Sorceress, By Jack Farragut, 821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen. By Edward L. Wheeler. 822 Nemo, the Detective. By Edward Willett. 828 Arkansaw Jack. By Harry Hazard. 824 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective. By Gna Morris, 825 Relle Hick By Ed yt ken &. Company, the Sleuths of Philadelphia. 826 The Ten Pards; or, The Terror of Take-Notice. By T.Q ar aug 827 Creeping Cat, the Caddo. By Buckskin Sam. 828 The Sky Detectives. By Major Mickey Free. 829 Red-Skin Tom. By Harry Hazard, 880 Little Quick-Shot. By Edward L. Wheeler. 881 Black Nick, the Demon Rider. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker, 882 Frie Fred. By Buckskin Sam. 888 Brimstone Bob, and Hi hint teltes By Major. be St vate eine Horse 884 Kangaroo Kit; or, The Mysterious Miner, By E. L, Wheeler, 885 Old Double Fist. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 886 Big Benson. By T. C. Harbaugh. 887 Ben Bird, the Wild Man. By W.1, Hamilton, 888 A Tough Boy. By Philip 8. Warne. By Buckskin Sam. Quare A New Isaue Every Weck. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mai? on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMB, Publishers, 98 William Street, New Yorks