Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 342) (1884 02 12)
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= ae 1) : y - R : Ny . } : N eens » TERA S rr NA SS Ww, Ny ’ * 3 AN W ANS BO & As ~w TRA RRR WHORE KY “ oi Pn eT aes aa inst i a!!! a a at VSS a i AS Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mat! Rates. Copyright, 1884, by Phapre AND ADAMS, Ne) h- —. Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS; Price, Number, No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. VIL: oo BY HARRY HAMYSARD, AUTHOR OF * ARKANSAW JACK,” ETO,, ETC. es ao PM ay we, A APs : Ze 4 pom GID eo LEE. ae ere = Ieee EE 2 eo ail i & ENOUGH TO HAVE BEEN TAKEN FOR SOMETHING SUPERNATURAL,
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The Mountain Devil; Yellow Jack, the Outlaw Captain. BY HARRY HAZARD, AUTHOR. OF ‘* ARKANSAW JACK,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER If. A BLOW IN THE DARK. ‘* Wet, Burr, any change to-day?” “Yes—a great one.” ‘For better or worse?” “The road will be open for us to morrow. She’s dying.” “Dying? is it possible? And the poor crea- ture seemed so much better thismorning.” ‘¢ Listen—there!” A quavering, pitiful wail came fo their ears, roceeding from.a small white tent, balf-hidden pasa the low-hanging bougbs of the grove. That ery told the two men, plainer than spoken words, the sad truth. It told of a household broken and dismembered ; of a bereaved husband and daughter, of a dearly-beloved wife and mother who had journeyed thus far from the home of ber childhood, only to find a lone grave upon the prairie, or beside the rock+bound rivulet that wound its noisy way adown the valley. The two young men stood in silence, gazing to- ward the tent of mouraing. They did not speak, though not alittle agitated. And yet one of the two caught himself secretly exu!ting- in the thought that now the greatest difficulty was removed from the path he had laid out to fol- low. The little valley was studded here and there with diminutive tents, while the white-tilted wagons stood grouped togetber in an oblon circle, These alone would have proclaim the truth; a company of emigrants tenanted the valley. . Such sights were far from beiug untommon in that year—1850. rear before the Cali- fornian “ gold-fever ” broke out, The first rush was made by men—young and old. But then the fever spread. It infected all—the result was but natural. Family followedfamily, Al- most from ocean to ¢#2an an unbroken train of emigrants toiled) Wéarily on—on toWkrd the glittering phantom that but too often vanisbed in thin air when seemingly just within their grasp, leaving naught behind but wrecked hopes and ruined fortunes. One link of the mighty buman ehain lies be- fore our eyes, For nearly a week this valley has sheltered them. While others pressed on in the road for the yellow delusion, this party bad been lying motionless, longing for, yet dreading the summons to resume their pilgrimage, A few hasty words will explain. This party of emigrants, numbering nearly one hundred souls, was under the command of Caleb Mitchell, . He started from Eastern Ohio, in company with several of his neighbors, head- ing for the Land of Gold, taking with him his wife and daughter. Littl» b pany grew to more respectable proportions, as stragglers joined it on the way, nntil now, as they ente: the foothills, they felt little fear of the red-s ed Ishmaelites of whom they had heard so many frigbtful tales, Nearly a week before our story opens, a sad accident occurred. A _ rifle, suspended by leather strings in Mitchell’s wagon, by some means got discharged, its contents lodging in Mrs. Mitchell’s breast. Since then ‘she had been hovering between life and death. To continue their journey would be her certain death, and the kind- hearted emigrants would not abandon their leader in his distress, though each day of delay increased their danger of being overtaken by winter in the mountains. Thus for nearly a week they waited and watched, Slowly Mrs. Mitchell sunk, and now, on this day, ber spirit took its departure. The daughter, Lottie, was the first to notice the presence of death, and it was her heartbroken wail that saluted the ears of the two young men, Burr Wythe and Paley Duplin. : * It is all over!” muttered Duplin, drawing a long breath. irl—'twill just about kill her; she worsbi her mother,” added Burr, bis blue eyes winking rapidly. “Tt is sad—but then since it must be so, it’s well that all is over. A long road lies before us little the com- |, gol The Mountain Devil. ‘* Mitchell knows that. He will not delay us any longer than is Sbenlueey necessary. But come—there is work to do. We can help them,” “ Wait, Burr. I must see you to-night, alone. Ihave something of great importance to tell you. Meantime, look at. this—but, remember, don’t breathe a word of your suspicions. ‘Keep it bid—at least until I say you may speak.” The young man, Duplin, seemed strongly ex- cited for one of bis usual phlegm. As be spoke, he thrust a small article into Wythe’s hand, and renewing his caution, glided hastily away. Wonderingly Burr bent over the stone—for such it seemed. But then a wild glow filled his eyes, lighting up his entire countenance, while his muscular form quivered like one under the influence of an ague-shock, ‘* Is it—can it be gold?” he gasped huskily. He too was a victim of the “yellow fever.” It had lured him from his far-away home amid the northern pines of Maine. It bad proved stronger than the pleadings of bis aged father and mother, stronger than the love of his sister and younger brother. He had left them all to chase up this glittering phantom; and now, for the first time, his eyes rested upon the substance of his dreams by day and by night, Little wonder, then, that his beart beat fast and bard, that his brain throbbed hotly and his eyes gleamed with a wild light—with the long- smoldering fires of greed that might waken avarice. The little pebbte Jay in his palm, looking inno- cent enough, Its dull surface was scratched and cut here and there, as if by a knife-point. If gold, the nugget must be very pure. “ Hellow, old boy, what ye thinkin’ so soberly bout, eh?” suddenly uttered a not disagreeable voice, as a heavy hand was placed upon Burr’s shoulder, and a heavily-bearded face met his startled gaze. Wythe started, and the nugget fell from his senate Hastily he snatched it up and thrust it into his pocket, but not before the keen black eyes of the new-comer had fallen upon it. In his agitation Burr did not notice the quick, nog cious flash that lighted upthe man’s face, else he might have used more caution. ** What is itto you, Nate Upshur?” and Wythe shook the hand from his shoulder, with a ges- ture of dislike. ‘‘ My thoughts are my own, and none the more agreeable for you thrusting your- self in upon them.” “You speak sharp words, youngster, but best weigh them better. You’re not in the States, now, where a man’s afeard to take up a cross word for fear 0’ the courts. Take a fool’s ad- vice, an’ give a civil answer toa civil question, or you may chaince to run foul o’ a snag, one o’ these long-come-shortlys.” “And I hold myself ready to accommodate you, whenever, you feel inclined to try it on, Nate Upshur, [ hope that is plain enough for our comprehension,” contemptuously added Need turning away. Upsbur bit bis lip fiercely, and fingered the brass-bound butt of the revolver at his waist, but made no attempt to draw it. “Por jittle ’'d—but never mind, now. But I would like to know whar he got that—if it was a; As the broad red disk of the full moon rose above the eastern swell that night, it shone down upon a peculiarly weird and impressive scene in the little timber-grove beside the creek. lt was a burial in the wilderness, Beneath a wide-spreading cottonwood tree the grave had beendug. And now, gathered round the spot with bowed and uncovered heads, stood or knelt every member of the wagon-train, lis- tening to the broken, sobbing words of the be- reaved husband, Mr. Mitchell. His daugbter, Lottie, was beside him, pale and care-worn, bearing up against the blow with a fictitious strength that threatened to give way at any mo- ment, There was scarcely a dry eye among all these, as the strong man broke down, and bowing bis head, mingled his tears with those of bis dasgh; ter. It was a moment of bheart-crushing agony. oitie who was completely exhausted, swoon- vas borne to the nearest tent by sym- pathizing friends. Mr. Mitchell, nerving bim- self to the task, completed the service, then stood by in silence, while the dead was being hidden forever from mortal view, Then, in a low but steady voice, he spoke: ; “1 thank you, friends, for your kindness, I will not soon forget it. But now go and try to sleep. We can afford to lose no more time. To-morrow day-dawn must see us once more and the mountains must be crossed before the | upon the road, Go—leave me alone here for a snow falls. The lives of all depend upon it.” minute.” ‘‘Come with me, Wythe, and you, too, Tyr rel,” muttered Paley Duplin, ‘There’s some. thing I'd like to talk over with you to-night.” ‘* Ts it about that piece—” “‘ Yes—but hist!” and Duplin glanced appre- hensively around him, ‘ We three are enough. Idon’t care for more in the secret—much less that man,” and he nodded to where Nate Upshur stood leaning aguinst a tree-trunk close at band. **Come, then; the knoll out yonder is the best place. No one could get within ear-shot of us, even should they try, without being seen.” ‘What's up, boys?” muttered Jack Tyrrel, a young rattle-brained Obioan. ‘* Wait—you'll know soon enough.” Gaining the knoll spoken of, the three friends croucbed down amid the tall, rank grass and lighted their pipes. Duplin was the first to break the silence, “You looked at what I showed you, Burr?” “¥es; it’s gold. Where did you get it, Paley?” ‘*Gold—let’s see,” eagerly interrupted Tyrrel. ‘Wait—the moon does not shine clear enough to show itnow. Now, then, 1 want you to pa particular attention to what I say.. Weigh it well in your minds, for on this night the whole course of our future lives may depend. That is, on how you decide. You understand?” ‘* Yes—that is, I would if I did, but I don’t,” muttered Jack, lugubriously. ‘‘ Well, go on, any how.” es You know what'we are going to California after? “Sure! After gold, the shining dust— the great blazing nuggets, big as a water-bucket. Those are what we're after of course.” ‘**'You’d know it when you found one, I sup- pose, Jack?” and Duplin smiled siightly. * Bah! any fool knows gold,” ‘Well, Ido... But, as I was about: to say, I don't think there is any need of cur going clear to California for what we can get closer. ‘““What—Duplin, what do you méan?” de- manded Wythe, gazing keenly into his com- rade’s face. . ‘No, Burr; I’m an honest.man, if not a good one. You need not fear anything of that sort. But Vl tell you all now, on one condition. Promise me faithfully that neither one of you will ever breathe a word of my secret until after one year has I mean, provided you refuse to a 1, for if you do accept it, I know youll keep silent, How is it— do you agree?” ; ““T reckon we can, Burr.” ‘Yes; though I have not known you long, Duplin, I believe you are an honest man, I promise you, on my honor as a man, that I well never, by word, sign, or hint, reveal what ou confide to me as a secret.” ‘“‘ And I say the same; will swear to itpif you prefer,” added Tyrrel, * No, I can trust you without that. Well, then, listen— Hist! 1 thonght I heard a footstep,’ muttered Duplin, warningly. “] guess it comes from the camp,” suggested Burr, rising erect and gazing keenly around. ‘‘] can see nothing nearer than there.” “It may be; ‘a sup I am nervous, I wouldn’t like for any one to Overbear what I’m about to say, for though enough for us three, it would go but ‘a little way divided among the train.” af it ?” fl “By that I mean what I bave found—what I stumbled on this afternoon as I was coming back to camp. ys—l’ve found a placer!” ‘“‘Eh—what?” stammered the two young men completely amazed, though their thoughts bad already reve to some such revelation. “Ts true—l’ve found a gold placer—a pocket —a regular bed of gold!” panted Dupliv, bis eyes fetrly blazing. Wythe gazed yee A into Duplin’s face, as though trying to decide whether or no he bad Zone crezy- Jack Tyrrel divided bis Siang between them, the while dolefully §¢T@tehin his curly pate. ee “Yes, think of that! A regular bed Of goiq full of nuggets that are so pure you can i a them witb @ Pin-point, almost,” 1 could Hage filled my pocket A ee our.” if now : on; thunder and lightning come ?” mauttered )” and Duplin calmed bis exultey “Do YOU Want aii whole trait A niogly than that, ve Planned , Histon, aod Pil tell you what we must do, “ Wait, Paley,” ben , 9 a nal ) bt _%
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damp. —— - = ~ > a “ Begin at the beginning and tell it all. First, how came you 0 find this pocket?" ‘You kpow I went out bunting early this morning, Well, I had no luck, and it was past noon before I got a shot, Then I dropped a * bighorn,’ after an hour’s work sneaking over the rocks. It fell down a precipice, and pretty soon I found a pass by which I couid follow after, It was hard work, though, and I no sooner reached the valley, or basin, rather, than I began hunting for water, ‘* Half a mile distant I saw what looked like the bed of a creek, and set off toward it. Such it roved, in fact, though the water.was missing. at off up its bed, hoping to find a water-hole or something of the kind. Nearly a mile fur- ther up the bed began to spread and grow more shallow. Then I knew that if I found water, it must be by digging for it. ‘* | did dig, in a dozen places, but all was dry, At one spot I kept digging until. 1 made a hole nearly shoulder deep, as the sand felt cool and My knife struck on what seemed to bea pebble, and I pulled it out with one hand and flung it aside. As I did so, the sunlight glit- tered from its side, where my knife had struck, [ looked—it, was the aoe you haye, Wythe— and saw that it was gold /” and pausing, Duplin burriedly brushed the sweat from his brow, thougb the night air was cool and bracing. ‘Great Lord! go on—hburry up!” mu‘tered Tyrrel, excitedly. “One glance told me what it was. Ii was what I had journeyed over fifteen hundred miles in search of, and thereitlay, iu my hand. [ tell you, boys, it nearly ki/led me—and I haven't got over ityet. I half believe now that I am asleep and only dreaming all this; I. do, honestly, } “TI did then, too. I sat there for a full hour, almost afraid to move, looking first at the hole, then at the nugget. I told myself over and over again that 1 was a fool—that this was only a stray lump that had been dropped here by some Indians years ago. And yet, even as I said so, the top sand seemed to melt away, showing to me gros masses of gold, pure and yellow, look- ing like petrifi Actually, for atime I believe I was mad—gold crazy.” azy. : ‘* Took here, Paley Duplin,” muttered Jack Tyrrel, suspiciously, as. the goung man paused in his s bh, ‘ Better mind what you're about. If this is.a joke—if you are making this all up just fo have a laugh at us, Pll lick you clean out ©’ your boots! If Jdon’t, then it’s no matter!” ‘It’s no joke, Jack, my dear fellow, but sober earnest. Sometimes, though, I feel tempt- ed to wish it was a joke,” ** Duplin!” ‘‘ A fact. _Idon't know why, but there seems to be a cloud over me—I feel as though some eatcalamity was impending. Boys, you may augh af me, but while I was thus stupefied I saw my mother’s spirit before me, beckoning me to leave the spot. She—it was crying, I thought, as though 1 was in peril. I saw it as plain as 1 see you now. I flung down the nugget and fled. Not far, though. Then I Ft ta © bright yellow devils seemed to beckon me back. took a step forward, and she vanished. Then I went back to the hole,” and as be spoke Duplin trembled violently. ** And you found it then—the hole, I mean? It hadn’t vanished?” whispered Jack, breath- as ; “* No,” smiling faintly. ‘It was still there. { dug then, like a madman, I tore up the rround for a dozen feet around. —my fingers are worn. to the quick. I found more nuggets—I found a dozen more, all larger than that,lying close bg I don’t know how large the ket ma , but I saw enough to feel sure that there is a great fortune there for each one of us; enough, ab any rate, to make us in- dependent through life.” ‘You thought of us, then, as sharers in the pocket with you?” queried Burr Wythe, ‘*No, not then, I only thought of myself, and of how I could secure the treasure without being suspected and robbed—for I believe that, in my madness then, I would have denied my own father a nugget from all that store. It was horrible—that sensation. I cau realize now what a miser feels. God protect me from an. other such attack!” shuddered Duplin. ‘* But your Se mr bigees do you intend doing?” “Tve weighed the matter well, and this is what I’ve decided upon, We three are enough. I selected you two, Dheddee I knew that I could depend upon you. Our first move will be to desert the ee tet apt . t “Yes, What is there to hinder us? Nothin , We are passengers, and our fare is already paid. as well as we. ** How can we get. our tools without exciting suspicion, though?’ ‘*We don’t need them, One pickax will be enough. We can shape wooden shovels witb our knives. This, our blankets and weapons are all we need. Remember that what wining we do, will only be in the soft sand. The gold is in nuggets, not dust or scales, so there will be little or no washing to be done. As for food, a day’s hunt will furnish enough to last us a week, with care in curing it. You see I’ve neg- lected nothing, True, we may encounter dan- gers and suffer privations, but no more here than there where we first started for. “Two, or perhaps three weeks’ work, then we can start for home. Two months, at the fur- thest—then we will be made men for life. Now you know all. What is your decision?” “You say we must desert?’ mused Wythe, thoughtfully. ‘t Yes. What excuse could we give? We must slip off to-night, without a word to anybody, I know. what you are thinking of, Wythe. Nay, don’t flush up so. Tis nothing to be asbamed of. She’s a noble, true-bearted girl, and one that would be a rich prize for any man. I might have loved her myself, only that I had atalisman, In Ohio there is ove waiting for me, who, please God, will one day be my wife,” and Duplin, as he spoke, reverently uncovered his head. ‘You are right, friend, and I’m not offended. But—I would like to speak a word to her before we RO, just to keep her from thinking hard of us.” **"You could not, Burr, without giving a broad clew to our purpose. She would not be able to see you. to. nigbt, anyhow, after her poor mo- ther’s death, You must have patience, Think how short the time will be, if you do not fling this chance from you, before you can go to her with a free heart and full hand.” “* He talks good sense, Burr. Some other time will do to say good-by in.” ‘‘ Well, maybe it is for the best. I’d only make a fool of myself. Then, here’s my hand. I’m with you, Duplin, for better or worse.” “im number three!” chimed in Tyrrel. “Good! Now there only remains to collect our things. Dll see to the pick. I left mine out, to-day, after that. See to your arms and ammunition, and get a store of coffee, It’s paid for, remember, Fill your pockets with cold grub, for they may make a search for us, though I hardly think it. Time’s too precious for that. Go, now, and keep close guard over your tongues. ’T'would take but a trifle to direct suspicion when we are found gone, and then good-by to our fortune,” ‘* Trust us—we’ll be wise as the dove, and so forth,” muttered Tyrrell. _ The. three plotters glided away and soon re- joined the camp. Scarcely bad they disappeared from view, when a dark figure cautiously raised itself above the level of the prairie-grass, where it had been concealed in a hollow, and peered curiously after them,a low, disagree- hy cbuckle breaking from the black-bearded ps. ‘ ‘Ho! ho! ho! Nate Upshur, you're in luck, my boy! Fust you see the nugget Wytbe drops, then <= bear Duplin whisper to him an’ Tyrrell, and now, best of all, you hear the whole story! Thar’s luck in odd numbers—and yet I’m goin’ tohave a finger in the pie, too.” Then he, too, proceeded stealthily toward the camp, by a circuitous route, entering unob- served, That night, the sick-camp was the scene of strange acts. And among them was one of ter- ror—of cold-blooded, merciless crime, As tbe bright moon sailed from behind a dense cloud,a dark figure silently crept. into the shadow cast by a small white tent. From within, as the shadow paused, came the sound of calm, steady breathing. Then tie door-fla was raised—the black shadow cautiously lided into the tent, like a venomous serpent in human ae The flap falls behind the serpent, and all is still. Then—a horrible sound breaks the stillness of the night—a faint, gasping, half-stifled groan of death-agony. Tben the shadow reappears, bearing in one hand a blood-stained knife, in the other a small parcel that chinks metallic- like as it fallsfrom its hand. Then all is still, CHAPTER IL. THE TELLTALE PIPE. _ Lona before the first beams of breaking day illumined the eastern horizon, the shrill voice of the little, wrinkled, halt-apish-looking guide, Paul Chicot, roused the sleeping camp, bidding 3 ee ————————————— ——————————— ~~ all prepare for a long, hard day’s travel. Eagerly the emigrants flew around, for once more the golden phantom seemed beckoning them on. And yet, despite their anxiety, that day was to carry them no nearer the goldenland. A blow fell that for the moment drove away all such thoughts, ‘‘Whar’s Dutchy?” suddenly queried Paul Chicot, running his beadlike eyes rapidly around the little group. Ascustomary, the emigrants were regularly divided into ‘‘messes.” One of these messes was formed by the guide, Chicot, Nate Upsbur, an Irishman called Tim Dooley, and ‘* Dutehy,” as the fourth member was familiarly known, The last rsonage was an enigma to the creer Fe of the emigrants. At times he appeared the polished scholar, then again one of the most ignorant men imagineble. He had joined the train at St. Charles, preferring the overland route on account of his poor health, hoping thus to recuperate., He seemed possessed of plenty of money, paying his fare in gold, without a demur at the price., ‘‘T don’t know—I hain’t seen him since last night,” replied Upsbur, wiping his lips, after a long draught of coffee. ‘Go byste bim out, Tim. He takesso durned long to fix up his h’ar an’ teeth afore eatin’ thet he won’t be ready fer the road none too soon. Tell ‘im we're all ready fer startin’,” muttered Chicot. Dooley rose and glided toward a small tent a little to one side, and pushing, back the hanging door flap, entered. we next. moment he reappeared, staggering back with starting eyeballs and hair standing on end, a wild cry bursting from his pallid lips. The sbrill cry startled the entire camp, and all eyes were turned toward the trembling man. Paul Chicot was the first to speak, in an angry ne: ‘* What the devil’s the matter wi’ ve, now, I’d like toax? See’d another snake, eh?” he asked, sarcastically, a: ** Tt’s murther, that’s What it is! He’s kilt— kilt intirely !” gasped Dooley, bis eyes still glar- ing toward the quiet tent, as if encban by of ee object lying so still and ghostly witbin. ‘* Who's kilt—not Duteby?”’ quietly demanded Upshur, stepping forward. Chicot, giving over »]lidea of getting epy- thing satisfactory outy.. the stupefied Irish- man, sprung forward and ‘flung aside the strip of canvas that protected the entrance. One ge told him the truth. Tim was right. urder had been done! Lying upon a couple of blankets, was all that remained of their quaint, pleasant comrade, Carl Hefler, or ‘‘Dutchy,” the sobriquet sug- gested by his broken, stammering apes, The lovg, slim figure lay at full length, as though peacefully slumbering, but the arms were flung wide, the long..bony fingers were clutched as though in agony. n agonized ex- pression had frozen Ns a the thin, pallid face. On the white shirt-bosom was a great stain— a stain of that peculiar, unmistakable color that seldom requires a second glance to, designate. Directly above the heart the stain was blackest. There the blow bad been dealt. Chicot, old and thoroughly versed in that art peculiar to his craft and the detectives—of re- . marking og py AE ree that no feeble, fal- tering hand had dealt this blow. Either the and of an unusually bold and cool-headed man, or else that of one to whom such deeds had been familiar. He knew that the murderer had crept fairly into the tent, and glided close to the victim, as he lay buried in unconscious slumber, and that he must have even felt out the region of the heart, since all within had been dark, else the blow could never have been delivered with such deadly precision. ‘What is. all this, Ghicot?’ hurriedly de- manded the leader, Mitchell, as he reached the guide’s side. “Its murder—thet’s what it is,” coolly re- turned Chicot. ‘ But who could—” ‘‘ Thet’s jest. what I’m goin’ to find out, ’f you give me time, Keep back—don’t none o’ you step inside here ontil I say ye may. Mebbe thar’s some sign left.” ‘“‘Wouldn’t it be a good plan to call the roll and see if all are present?’ suddenly suggested Upshur, his eyes gleaming furtively. “?Twon’t do noharm, You mought as well, cap’n,” muttered Chicot, ‘*This’]] keep us back hafe the day, anyhow, ef not more.” Mitchell promptly sounded his whistle—and
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> ct an cen Sod MOD Aman 4 — i i ht — A ft CF ot eh me — et es inted strong) Soudaeer. aa “E = eH taught its meaning, the members of the wagon- | train followed his lead back to the open ground. | Upshur ran his eyes hastily over the group. Then the evil glow deepened, and bis lip curled witb triumph. Chicot, free from the annoying crowd, pro- ceeded with his investigations, with all the re- lish of a true-born detective. Yet there seemed little show of his making any discovery, siace the floor of the little tent was beaten hard and dry by the murdered man’s own feet, during the stay at the sick-camp. Of course no trail had been left, nor did he seek for one. His eyes had already fallen upon the little leatber sachel, lying beside the dead man’s head, where it had been dragged frum beneath the blankets. Its lock was unbroken, but one side had been slit through with a knife—the same weapon that had dealt the death-blow, for the leather was stained here and there with blood. ‘“‘He stuck ‘im fer the money,” muttered Paul, as he dropped the valise. Suddenly he stooped and lifted the right arm of the dead man. A tiny point of something yellow had caught his keen eys, Chicot uttered a low grunt, and started back. The clew was before bim; and yet be scarce believed his eyes. Could it be?— Exposed to view lay a small, ¢uriously- carved meerschaum pipe, with stem of bright, clear amber. This it was that had caught bis eye. Chicot turned and left tbo tent, slowly glid- ing out toward where Mitchell was calling over the list. The guide’s brows contracted as he listened, “* John i” “Not here,” slowly replied a voice, after a brief, painful silence, “Burr Wythe.” ‘‘T reckon he’s gone, too, cap’n,” quietly ut- tered Chicot. ‘‘Tbar ain’t much use o’ your goin’ any furder. I think I’ve found the right eend o’ the trail,” “What do you mean, Paul?” cried Mitchell, in surprise, ‘Surely you don’t suspect—” "I don’t go by ’spicions, myself, but 1 know a trail when I strike it. me an’ look fer ourself—one at a time, though. See what ve ound, then say who it b’longs to.” One by one the party filed into the tent and lanced at the tell-tale pipe. All ized it, There was not another in any wise resembling it in the ge em ‘* Whose pipe is it, boys?” demanded Chicot. “ Burr Wythe’s!” came the reply, the voice of Nate Upshur above all others. ‘But he may not bave dropped it there,” suggested Mitchell; “‘might not Hefler have borrowed it?” ‘*No,” declared Upshur, stepping forward. ** Hefler went to bed just after dark, and I saw ‘W ythe smoking that pipe as late as two o'clock, and he was talking with Jack Tyrrel and Paley Duplin, at the time.” “It’s so—I see’d ’em, too,” reluctantly added. Chicot, “‘T admit that it has an awkward look, but after all, though those three are absent, they may return soon and clear matters up. If he, or they, are guilty, I will not be one of those who would seek to screen them from pase weet but for all that, they shal] not be conc emned without a chance to clear themselves. First we must find them,” said’the wagon-master. “Bar it is nearly sunrise; we were to take up the march to-day,” ventured one, “' Justice first; we must not let this brutal murder go unavenged. One day, more or less, can ake bat littla difference to us, in the end. If Wythe did kill bim, be must pay the penalty.” ‘But what object could he have in doing it? They were good friends, so far as I know.” ‘Look here,” uttered Chicot, lifting the cut gachel. “This is what the Dutchman kept bis money in. He was a simple-hearted feller, like, an’ didn’t seem to think but that all was as honest as he was bisself, fer he showed us bis money only two nights ago. We laughed at him, I ‘member, fer kerryin’ gold to Californey, but he wasn’t goin’ to dig. He went overland fer his health, and then he was goin’ to ship fer Chinese land, or some sech place, I b'lieve. ‘““Who was with you when he showed the money?’ ‘‘ He was—Burr Wythe—an’ a lot more,” re- luctantly added Chicot. Mitchell looked sobered, He had formed a high opinion of the young man, but he could no longer blind himself to the fact that suspicion toward young Wythe as the he saw, too, that this belief The Mountain Devil. was gradually gaining ground among the emi- grants, and deep whispers ran round, while eyes flashed and brows grew black. The spirit of Lynch-law was rapidly arising, and woe be unto the victim that should first feel its power! ‘* Rasy, men,” he shouted, waving his hand. ‘Keep silent for a moment and listen to me, There must be no mad action here. We must proceed carefully and justly. First, you must elect a leader, whose word shall be law; then we must hunt up the missing men and hear their defense. at one murder has been com- mitted is no reason that anotber should follow. I cast my vote for a fair trial.” ‘*So we all do, 1 reckon,” chimed in Paul Chioot. ‘‘And I don’t know any better man for Judge Lynch than you be, What say, boys?” ‘G ood!” came an almost unanimous shout; but Nathan Upshur was silent. ‘Very well; 1 will act as euch, since you de- mand it. And I am glad, for one thing. Af- ter what I have already spoken, it shows that you aim at strict and impartial justice. But now to work. If they have really abandoned the train—as of course they have, if they did kill Hefler—they must bave taken f and other articles that would be missed. And a close search may give ustheclew. You know the messes they belonged to; go and search closely. Chicot, come with me. I wish a word with you.” Once fairly set to work, there was little time lost. In ten minutes the report was given, A small supply of provisions had been taken and one pick-ax was missing; but that all believed to have been mislaid somewhere. No one—save Upshur—dreamed that the deserters baal Chie h iti au icot gave his su tion or conjec- ture concerning the conred ince likely role followed by the deserters, He believed they would take to the neighboring mountains, there to lie hidden until all search was given over. They would not be likely to take the back-traii, as they were afoot, and the country in that direction was mostly open and level. ‘*T believe you're right, Chicot,” remarked Mitchell, thoughtfully, “and we will act on that supposition first, We'd best form three or four jes and each choose a se te trail, for this day is all we can spare wi t absolute danger to the whole train.” Little time was lost, now that the pt before them was fairly decided upon, and all entered upon it with growing eagerness. There is something strangely exciting in a man-hunt. Set a warm friend upon the track of another and, when once fairly aroused, that friend will be as inveterate and deadly in pursuit as though a lifelong enemy. This trait was exemplified now, Before an hour more passed by, even those who had first declared their belief in the young man’s innocence, were the foremost in searching for his trail, eager to bring him to justice, Nathan Upshur kept close to Paul Chicot the guide, eying him furtively, seemingly ill at ease. It was plainly evident that he felt no t desire for Burr Wythe’s capture’ In- eed, tried to mislead Paul, and finally succeeded in doing so. . Upsbur had stealthily followed the three deserters for a considerable distance, on the night before, when they started for the “golden bed,” as Duplin had called it, the better to satisfy his mind as to the location of the places. And now for reasons of his own, he craftily led Chicot far astray from the right course, though none of the trail-hunters sus- pected his purpose. Satisfied with this, Upshur contentedly followed the guide’s Jead, fecliag assured there was little or no danger of striking the desert- ers’ trail, on that day at least. But at a cry from Chicot, his heart leaped wildly, and the flush left his face pale and ghastly. “Hold! Stand back, you fellers,” cried Chicot, lifting a hand in warning, as his com- panions rushed forward, eeger to learn the cause of his sudden exclamation, ““What is it, Chicot?” gasped Upshur. ** A trail, but not the one we’re looking fer,” was the slow reply, as Paul closely scrutinized ig) ohn f relief iced pshur gave a gasp of relief, unnot those near. ie then pressed forward. Fansing beside Chicot, he bent his gaze down ng the narrow strip of moist sand, upon which was imprinted the strange trail. ere, plainly outlined, was the impress of a jarge human foot, naked and bare. That it was not made by an Indian was plain, for though many white men in-toe, a red-man, un- =m TS SSS less an habitual drunkard, never toes out, as this trail plainty did. Then, again, an Indian's foot, from never having n tightly com- pressed in boots or shoes, is very flat and broad; this trail was made by a man with a higb- instep and arching sole, “ How do you w it isn’t one of them!” asked Upshur. ‘Easily enough, Look back along the trail. You see, it crosses that stretch o’ splintered rocks? Now, look at these tracks. The foot ain’t cut none. That shows that it’s made by a feller that’s used to goin’ bar’foot: fer a long time. Ef you was to cross that, you’d cat, an’ gouge your hoofs so this ere ’d be a trail o’ blood. ef” ‘But who can it be then?” “Don’t know. It’s fresh—ain’t bin made over a hour, at furderest. Whoever it is, must be in the bills yender. J move we foller on’ an” find im, Mebbe he kin tell- us somethin’ ’bout the boys,” suggested Chicot, moving forward, without waiting to learn the es of bis followers. In fact, Chicot was only too glad of a good excuse to delay the search of Burr Wythe. Though fi‘mly believing him guilty of the mur- der, yet be did not wish to be the instrument of ipeciess In bis quiet, unobtrusive way he oved Burr almost as he would have loved a son, The trail led in a direct line toward the hills, here rising abrupt and rocky, broken and rug- ed. Though at times losing all trace, Chicot ‘ound little difficulty in recovering the trail as often. An abrupt exclamation from Nathan Upsbur startled him, and all eyes turned upon him, His face wore an expression of wonder, a8 he pointed with outstretched band toward the rocks above the party. ‘Look there! Is it man or devil?” Glancing in the direction indicated, the trail- bunters beheld the object of his wonder. And they, too, stood as it bewildered. And little wonder. A truly strange object was before their eyes, Standing erect upon a large bowlder, balf- way up the bill, was a human form, though strange and wild-lecking enough to have been taken for something supernatural. One long arm was extended, pointing toward them, the rags that only VeteeA clothed the member fluttering in the breeze. The stranger seemed far above the usual hight of men, and of great age, if the long, flowing hair and beard of snowy whiteness be taken as evidence, This the wind tossed wildly around his face in a fleecy cloud, Rude, uncouth garments partially covered his y and lJimbs, patched here and there with pieces of skin and fur. In one hand he bore a heavy bow, tightly strung. At his shoulder could be seen the feathered tips of # number of arrows. “It's the Mountain Devil!” muttered Chicot, in a low, busbed tone, as he shrunk back, his bronzed cheek paling, bis eyes dilating with « look of fear. ‘*Man or devil, I do not fear bim!” said Up- shur, as his rifle clicked sharply as the hammer was lifced. “Don't shoot! Make him mad an’ be’ll clean out the whole crowd!” warningly cried Paul, his eyes still riveted upon the strange form. “He's a devil—you can’t burt him.” } “Tl try it anybow,” and the man’s rifle spoke sharp and clear. The wild man started and seemed td stapKer, as though the bullet had found its mark. Then, with a shrill cry, be turned and leaped from the bowlder, the next moment disappearing far up the hillside. ‘ There’s your devil, Paul,” chuckled Upshur, as he dropped his rifle and_ began reloading it. ‘“ And I bad only a leaden bullet in, too.” “You laugh now—but the time ’!] come when you won’t. Believe it or not, Nate Upshur, you've signed your death papers, A man never shot at the Mountain Devil but he died for it. You will, too. Mebbe not to-day— mebbe not for a year, but the time ll come, T tell you—the time ‘ll come at last, Mark my words.” + ‘Bab! you've listened too much to Indian nds, Chicot. That is no devil, but a man, like you or I, turned hermit like. To prove it, I'm ‘going to follow after. Come on, Let’s go and see what Paul’s devil is made of, anyhow,” recklessly said Upshur, who was ne coward, whatever else he might be. Pale and disturbed, Chicot followed the boaster, and close behind came the other emi- nts, curious to see the denouement, At the wider Upshur paused, with a harsh laugh.
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ee “See!” and he pointed to the rocks before him. ‘‘ Your devil bleeds, Paul, like an ordi- nary man. I thought I touched the rascal.” fave and thers drops of blood sprinkled the rocky surface, and Chicot, though still skepti- eal, brightened up. After all, this wild man was not proof against mortal weapons. poses 3 2 ear Upshur led the way along the bloody trail, up the billsice, until it crossed the ridge, keeping a good look-out to guard against pn phen for none knew better than he what awkward weapons flint-headed arrows are, at close quarters, when guided by a strong and experiexced hand. And after his wound, the wild man would not be likely to stand on ceremony, should he be overtaken. But overtaken he was not, at least on that occasion. The hillside seemed to be unoccu- pied, save by the trail-nunters, but Upshur sud- denly paused, when balf-way down the hill, shrinking back with a cry of horror. Passing through the dense bushes, he bad found himself upon the very verge of a steep recipice, Staggering back, he clutched the ushes, unmanned, ** Look yonder!” cried Chicot, pointing down- ward, “Now what do you say—is he a devil, or not? Swiftly racing along the nafrow valley far below, was the form of the wild man, To reach this, he must have descended the preci- pice, and that seemed beyond mortal skill to accomplish, Wonderingly the emigrants watched him un- til he disappeared upon the further hill, then they slowly retraced their steps toward camp. The sun was far down in the west, and they bad found no trace of the deserters. CHAPTER ITI, THE GOLDEN BED. Tes three adventurers, Duplin, Wythe, and Tyrrel, little imagined that at least one pair of keen eyes observed very closely their move- mente on that memorable night, as they noise- lessly went about their preparations for their desertion. Jack.and Paley were filled with golden ons of the enormous wealth that ve awaited their coming to gather it up in hand- fuls, while Burr thought far more of pretty Lottie Mitchell, and how she would receive the tidings of the strange desertion, for it could be eallet-by no other name. “Never mind—if the deposit is as rich as Paley declares, we can finish before winter, and then—” Wythe smiled faintly asa far-away look came into his handsome eyes, Even to himself be does not finish the thought, for, though he loved Lottie Mitchell with all his young heart, he had scarce spoken a score of times with her, during the journey. Still watched by Nate Upshur, the three ad- venturers silently left the camp and set forth apon their mission, all, evep. the rattle-brained Jack Tyrrel, feeling serious, for, truly, it was no commonplace step they were taking and one that might weil result disastrously. Turning, they cast a last look at the silent camp of the wagon-train that for so man been their only bome, and then, led by Duplin, they disappeared beyond the ridge, still fol- lowed by Nate Upshur, who exhibited the skill and address of a veritable savage. After a rapid tramp of several miles, Duplin paused and said: “Now, boys, for a little headwork. First, sball we go on at once to the pocket?” ‘ How far is it?” *« Not ten miles, as the crow flies.” ** We can reach it before day, then?” *“Yes-—if we wish. Bat, frankly, I don’t think we had better go there, at least not be- fore to-morrow night.” “Why so!” * Well, there is a risk. To be sure they may pot think it worth while to make any search for us when our disappearance is found out, yet . still they may, especially as the most dangerous portion of the trail is near*at band. You see three rifles such as ours would count in case of an attack.” “Tf I thought there was the slightost danger of that, I would return at once,” suddenly cried Wythe, thinking of Lottie Mitchell. “I don’t think there is, You remember the treaty we heard of at the fort? The Indians are all peaceable now. But, as I was saying, they may try to follow our trail, and if we lay it straight to the pocket, ten to one that Paul Chioot picks it out with those keen eyes of his. Then? Instead of a fortune, we’d have only a few ounces apiece, and perbaps baye to fight for ee ee EE ee NS The Mountain Devil. e that. You know the material many of the emi- rants are composed of. Brave men enough, ut rather peculiar in their ideas of honesty, It It would be ‘divide or fight!’ and as I found the pocket, I consider our claim is the best,” ‘You are right there, Paley. But you decide. Whatever you think best, we will agree to. You agree, Tyrrel?” ** Yes; Duplin is captain,” “Very well, then. We will strike over there teward those hills, and hide there until certain that all fear of pursuit is over. Then tothe pocket and clean it out, after which—bo! for bome!”’ With long, swift strides, Duplin, greatly ex- cited, no doubt, by the picture his last words had conjured up before his mind’s eye, led the way toward the: hill alluded to, that rose abruptly high into the air, rocky, broken and wild-looking. After him trudged Burr and Jack, little dreaming of the strange adventure that was to meet them there, in the heart of that wild, des- olate spot. Duplio, who by his superior age and experi- ence, naturally assumed the position of leader during the adventure, soon selected a spot where the trio could very comfortably remain concealed during the ensuing day, should their fear of a pursuit prove correct, and at the same time one not entirely devoid of comfort. Entering a narrow, level valley, on one side of which uprose an almost perpendicular cliff, its face scarred and jagged, studded here and there with stunted evergreen sbrubs or parasitic plants, they soon found a secure, covert upon the opposite side, where the hill was less abrupt and more easy of ascent. From bere they had a fair view of the cliff, as well as the open Pht beyond the mouth of the valley, in the irection from whence they bad come. *T move that you two lie down for a nap while I stand guard,” quoth Duplin, as the trio sunk back upon the soft, mossy earth behind the vine-clad rock, _. **T want a smoke first,” said Tyrrel, produc- ing his pipe. ‘And so do I, but.can’t find my pipe,” mut- tered Wythe, vexedly. ‘1 must have lost it on the way.” * Never mind; that is easily replaced—I mean so far as comfort is concerned. A bit of bark— a joint of the ‘ carpenter’s weed,’ and you have it.’ The three comrades conversed in low, eager tones, of the fortune that lay waiting their coming, and m ificent were the air-castles they each reared, when they should return home, rich men. But one delicious one Burr Wythe hugged to his own heart. Only one ear must hear that dream—the ear of sweet Lottie Mitchell. Hist!” muttered Duplin, after an hour or more had crept by. The two young men caught the same sound, with him, and needed not the caution to cease their conversation. From close above them, on the hillside, there rattled down several pebbies, evidently dislodged by buman aid, for directly afterward the trio eculd bear a footstep, light, days bad | yet deliberate, evidently descending the slope. Instinctively each man grasped bis weapon, for the same thought occurred to each. If this footfall betokened the presence of Indians, as seemed but too probable, there was danger threatening, Right well they knew that no true woodman could pass by, in'such close prox- imity, without detecting the scent of tobacco- smoke, and that, once scented, be would not rest until the matter was thoroughly investi- gated. And, though the Indians were nomin- ally at peace, they well knew that if a superior foree was at hand, that fact would be but a feeble restraint. At best they must expect to be plundered, and as that meant either starva- tion or a return to the wagon-train, the three men prepared silently for a struggle, The sound of footsteps ceased, and for several minutes all was silent. Motionless as death, tightly grasping their weapons, the gold-hunters awaited the result in stern suspense. But their preparations, in this case. were needless, for the footstep again met their ears. and then, through the surrounding screen of bushes, they observed a tall figure glide past their covert, descending the bill. Even in that brief glimpse, they saw enough to deeply excite their curiosity. Peering through the bushes they saw that the stranger had again paused: this time standing upou a bowlder, in the full glare of the bright moonlight. bein the Mountain Devil by Paul Chicot. 2 ee ee ; 5 They could distinguish his features; pale, hag- gard, and wearing a peculiarly mournful ex- pression, that still did not conceal the vacant stare that proclaimed a shattered mind, This thovght occurred to each of the three men, They were watching a madman, They noted his ragged dress, rudely patched with skins and bits of various furs. They saw that he was armed with a bow and arrows, and that a long-bladed knife was dangling at his side, This much they noted before he stepped from the rock and resumed his course toward the valley. Arising, the gold-hunters closely ob- served his movements, until bidden in the shade cast by the towering precipice beyond. ‘*Wonder what—or who the fellow is, any- bow?” muttered Tyrrel, reflectively. ‘‘I don’t know, unless— You've beard Paul Chicot speak of a wild man they sometimes call the ‘ Mountain Devil,’ baven’t you?” “Who hasn't, I wonder?’ with a shrug. *‘ I've heard of nothing else since we've been camped bere.” **T believe this is the bein ‘You don’t—thuncer! was lying!” ‘‘Hark!” muttered Burr, touching his com- rades, From out the gloom, in the direction in which the smange being had disappeared, there came a clear. shrill whistle, long-drawn and quaver- ing. Eagerly the gold-bunters watched and listened. ‘* Look tLere—see that light!” uttered Duplin, after a brief silence, *‘ Whatcan it mean—vp there, too?” A small but brilliant point of light bad sud- denly appeared, as though hanging nearly mid- way up the cliff, not steady and fixed, but slightly wavering, or moving slowly from side to side, Evidently, it was suspended there by some human agency; but who? ‘Ig there nota human form close beside the light? It seems so to me,” whitpered Wythe. “Wait. The light is in answer to that whis- tle. Perbaps Paul's Devil has bis home u there, and that is one of ils imps,” balf-laugh« Duplin, Still closely watching, the three friends a few moments later saw a tall form uprise beside the light, that, the next instant, vanished from sight. But not before another discovery was made. A buman being had. teen holding the light, and as the wild man tcok it, the upper portion of the second person had been.distinctly, though momentarily revealed, Duplin was the first to speak, after the disappearance, ‘* Did you see that, boys?” ““T saw sometbing—a shadow, or—” ‘“‘T saw the form of a u«man!” Burr, in a peculiar tone of voice. ‘So I thought, but was 1ot sure. I don’t know what to think of it. There’s some deep mystery here,” added Paley, reflectively. ‘‘] move we expose it, then,” impulsively cried Jack. ‘‘ Who knows—maybe ’tis a prin- cess in disguise—or else carried cff and kept in seclusion by some evil genie! An adventure— let’s.got” ‘* Easy, rattlepate,” laughed Duplin. ‘‘ You forget what frightful tales Paul told of this creature, aud. whether they have any founda- tion in truth or not, if we attempt to solve this effair, we must use caution, If nothing more, be isa madman, end were be to discover our approach, he might do us mischief. One man there—for they must bave a cave, or somrthing of the sort—one man there could keep a tbou- sand at bay who tried to reach bim by scaling the cliff.” ‘Is it worth the risk?’ thoughifully uttered Wythe, ‘‘She answered bis signal so promptly, there can be little doubt but she is there by her own free will. Then what right have we to mo- Jest them?” “The right of unsatisfied curiosity — and whether you go or not, I'll not rest until I’ve had a good peep at the angel—for such sbe must be if he’s a devil,” cried Tyrrel, springing through the bushes as be spoke. ‘* Wait, Jack—you'll ruin all by your haste, We'll go—but you must not lead the way. You’!] be sure to alarm them.” “ Very well—all I want is to get a good look at them. Lead the way, if you’d rather.” Duplin knew the futility of reasoning with Jack, else be would not have been drawn into the foolhardy adventure so easily. He knew there was danger, Tyrrel did not. But alone, he means, then.” always thought he declared They were gazing upon the same | Jack would be sure to precipitate this, and be who, a few hours later, was pronounced | ing to avoid distovery by due caution, Duplin led the way towerd the cliff, baying deter- JNA
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eo i ee —— = oe eAA BY “2 —* wee — am 6 mined the exact position where the light_had been shown. 5 Evidently the cliff-lodgers bad disappeared at the same time the light did, else they must have discovered the three dark figures as they glided across the open, level valley, plainly outlined by the moon’s rays. Reaching the foot of the cliff, they began searching for the path by which the wild-man must have ascended, but for several minutes without success. Then, however, a low whistle from Burr Wythe called Duplin and Tyrrel to his side. Even in that gloom they could see that the path bore evident traces of havin been frequently used, either by bipeds or quad- rupeds. R I think this is follv, boys,” muttered Duplin. ‘Folly or not—up I go,” determinedly added Jack “Then I claim the right to lead the way,” and so speaking, Paley Duplin cautiously began the difficult ascent, having first carefully deposited his rifle at the base of the hill; an example that was promptly imitated by his companions. The trail was comparatively easy of ascent, but the gold-hunters made slow progress, as Duplin carefully examined each foot of the way, lest be should be misled by the numerous other clefts and seeming paths that thickly crossed the trace. Thus he neared the point from whence he felt sure the light had been shown, and as yet nosigns bad been given by those above that their approach had been observed. uddenly Duplin paused, and, turning his head, upheld his finger in warning. Then stoop- ing, he whispered to Wythe, who stood just be- low him: “Careful, now! I just caught a glimpse of the light, We're close to the spot. Caution, Tyrrel. One rash move now may be fatal!” Though rash and hasty, Tyrrel was by no means a fool, and Te surprised both were and Duplin by his prudence. nacsemnanyg’ b silently as so many shadow bhantoms, the may reg yonry crept on, until, their eads above the level of a broad ledge, they gazed in upon a peculiarly strange sesue, Pairly bolding their breath, their eyes eage. .y drank in every detail. ‘ F B-fore them was a small, low-roofed cavern, dim'y lighted up by a rude wooden lamp that sat upon a projecting spur of rock. There were two occupants—a man and a wo- man. These first enchained the eyes of the gold-bhunters. The first was the man they had observed be- side their covert on the opposite hill. The wo- man was truly a surprise when viewed in this strange, wild spot. That she was young—not more than twenty years of age, if so much—was plain. That she was poss of a more than ordinary beauty, needed but a second glance to tell. She was small, of a graceful fizure that even the rude dress she wore could not entirely dis- guise. In complexion she was a perfect blonde, with a profusion of softly-curling yellow hair, that, unconfined, fell around her person almost like a mantle. Her garb, like that worn by the old man, was rougi and uncouth, telling of a long absence from civilization. Her feet were incased in ' moccesins, while bis feet were bare. This strange couple were seated near each other, the woman at the wild-man’s feet, feed- ing him as she wouid bave done an overgrown baby, mouthful after mouthful. Neither spoke, and then, with a gesture, the man signified he had sufficient, when the maiden arose and glided away, disappearing from view of the watchers around a projecting spur of rock. The oid man arose, stretched his limbs and yawned heavily, then sunk down upon a small pallet of skins, leaving the light still burning. One hand clutched the strung bow, and the quiver of arrows lay close at hand. Paley Duplin turned his bead and motioned to his companions. Jack Tyrrel at first seemed inclined to demur, but then, as though by sec- ond thoughts, be noiselessly began the perilous descent, followed by bis comrades. This was not accomplished without consider- able difficulty and, indeed, absolute danger. owiug to the deceptive gloom, but fortunately the trio succeeded in gaining the valley in safe- ty. Securing their rifles they crossed this, and once more gained their covert, tired out and sore, yet feeling rewarded by the strange dis- covery they bad made. Tyrrel alone had little to say, That night’s events seemed to have made deep im- ression upon his mind, and while bis comrades iscussed the subject, hé remained deep buried in thought. Reaching the base, be darted sw The Mountain Devil. Upon one thing he was determined, though he said nothing to his friends about it at the time. He must see this strange beauty again, if only to ask her if this sort of life was her own choice. Further than this he did not go, even in bis own secret thoughts, It was now nearly daylight, and the comrades agreed to remain where they were concealed during that day, lest the emigrants should in- stitute a search for them. As all felt the need of repose, the oF was divided into three watches, of which Wythe took the first, Tyrrel the second, and Duplin the last. As may well be believed, by far the greater portion of the time, theit gaze rested upon the face of the cliff, marveling at the secrets its bosom contained. But little rewarded this scrutiny. True, during Burr Wythe’s watch, the her- mit, wild-man, or whatever else he might be called, descended the cliff, and then set cff down the valley. The young woman had ac- companied him to the ledge that served as en- trance to the cavern, and kneeling there watched his pro until the hbill-point concealed him from view. Then, with along, lingering glance around, sho turned and entered the bill-home. Wythe questioned whether or no to make known this circumstance to his comrades, but a fear of Jack Tyrrel’s impulsiveness restrained him. That the young man bad been deeply in- terested in the affair, he could not doubt, and were.he to know that the strange maiden were alone, he might feel tempted to visit her. By this the reader is not to infer that he doubted Tyrrel’s bonor—far from it, But Wythe feared lest bis impulsive nature should get them into trouble with the madman, and thus interfere with the gold-hunting. Thus the day pene away, and it was not un- til the middle of Duplin’s watch, tbat any thing of moment occurred. Then he quietly awoke the two men, bidding them be cautious, Peering through the bushes, they could dis- tinguish a small ~— of men, slowly moving at ee mouth of the vallegs poseene’y trailing. . e 6 thought occurred to each 0 the three men. Why this long and persistent search? Why delay the wagon-train an en- tire day to search for three deserters, whose passage-money had been paid in advance? This surprised them, even though they had guarded against the chance. These precautions, bow- ever, had been taken wholly upom account o the gold-pocket, not from fear of being forced to return, since they were free agents, and in no wise bound to the train. “Hal look yonder!” muttered Wythe. ‘ The wild man!” This strange being could now be seen stand- ing upon a buge bowlder, not far from the edge of the precipice, evidently confronting the party of eunigeeeies who had now passed from view beyond the hill-point. Curiously the three men watched his motions. They heard the report of Nathan Upsbur's rifle, saw the wild man stagger and almost fall, then leap to the und and dash up the bill. Their next view of him was as he swung light- ly across the almost perpendicular face of the poets. banging by the frail vines and sbrub- ery, or dropping from ledge to ledge, agile and sure-footed as the pewaherneee itself. ftly across the valley, passing close by the gold hunters’ covert, uttering a low, growling sound that seemed more like the anger of a wild beast than the voice of a buman being. “Did you notice?’ muttered Duplin. ‘‘ The blood was dripping from his breast. Those men yonder sbot him, ‘* It spatters the rocks out bere. If they fol- low bis trail, they must discover us,” added Wythe frowning. vigor, ct) “What difference? We're half wh and free-boro. They have no control over our ac- tions,” retorted Tyrrel. “True; yet this pick-ax coupled with our de- sertion, would rouse their suspicions, or rather direct them into the right channel, and I fear we would soon have more partners than would be pleasant or profitable, | don’t want to meet them, if I can help it,” added Duplin. But their fears proved causeless, for the pur- suit of the wild-man’s trail had carried Chicot’s party to one side of that left by the deserters, and that they were so clo‘e at hand was un- known to the emigrants. And after a short time the gold-hunters saw their late comrades turn and retrace their steps. evidently return- ing to the wagon-train, without thought of following the wounded man further after the startling exhibition he had given them of his prowess, > 2 EEE a oS Se Se Se. Oe. Se See rr Just before sunset they saw the wild-man return apparently but little injured, and their doubts thus solved, soon after the trio took up their march toward the golden valley, where fortune awaited them, Neither noted the extreme care which Jack Tyrrel observed in fixing their route upon his mind. Each rock, hill or valley was closely and thoroughly noted, so that he felt assured that he could find his way back, if need be, in the darkest night. And find his way back he had resolved he would, sooner or later. i ‘‘There!” at length muttered Duplin, pausing upon a bigh ridge and stretching one hand toward the valley below him. “ Yonder, boys. lies our fortune!’ The others did not speak. They stood eager:y gazing downward in the direction indicated, their eyes glowing, their faces flushed hotly, their frames quivering in every fiber. The gold- fever was upon them. And, asif infected by their excitement, Duplin lost. his composure. With one accord they rushed headlong down the steep hillside and out upon the level ground. Then Duplin abruptly paused, “Comrades,” and the words seemed to issue with difficulty, ‘you are standing over a bed of gold !” CHAPTER IV. MABEL GUILFORD. ' RETURNING to camp, Chicot’s party found that the other bands bad already returned without having discovered anything. That night the body of the murdered man was buried, after an earnest discussion as to whether another day should be devoted to a search for the supposed criminals, Now that the first fer- vor had cooled down, the vote was almost unan- imous to continue their journey, all fearing lest they should be caught by the winter storms in the mountains. So with the dawn of another day the wagon- train once more took up its due progress, tolling wearily along over the dreary trail, only cheer- ed by the thought that» each step taken was so much nearer to the fabulous heaps of pure gold that only awaited the gathering. or such were the wild visions that haunted even the epidemic—the gold-fever, For two days they toiled on, without any event of moment to break the killing monotony. But then came a second blow, even more erusb- ing than the one recorded in the preceding ges, because it left the wagon-train without a ead—in much the same situation as a vessel would be on losing the only man capable of steering it aright, In a word, Paul Chicot suddenly disappeared. without leaving any trace behind him, At dark be bad taken bis position among the sentinels, At daybreak the ‘train was discov- ered to be totally unguarded! Not only bad Chicot vanished during the night, but with him had gone two otbers, This was just three ane after the discovery of the first deser- on, A few words will explain the circumstances leading to this defection. Nathan Upsbur was at the bottom of it all, Since his eavesdrep- ping, when he learned of the golden pocket discovered by Paley Duplin, he bad been busy shaping a way by which he could gain a share if not the whole, of the treasure. And so well bad be done his work that no one suspected bis purpose until the blow was dealt. He knew that he must have companions in the venture, as none of the deserters would wil- livgly admit him to share in their profits. In fine, they despised, if not hated him, as he well new, Paul Chicot was the man he first selected as a comrade, knowing him to be brave and not over scrupulous, as well as thoroughly ac- quainted with the country for hundred of miles around. And, too, he knew that be was avari- cious hey« nd the common, The subject wes first broached on the night preceding their desertion, Upshur, visited the point where Chicot was standing guard, and to- gether they smoked their pipes, idly conversing. Then Nate suddenly said: “Why do you follow this life, Paul?” ‘1 won't, no longer’n I git to the mines. Then I'll go back to St. Joe, on the Blacksnake Hills, with gold enough to keep the old woman an’ gals in fine style, No more trampin’ fer me then—not much. “But if you had an o rich before you went to refuse it?” Chicot keenly eyed Upshur, as though seeking rtunity of getting alifornia, would you most sensible, during that never-to-be-forgotten |
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to read his secret meaning, for the man’s voice had lowered toa confidential tone, and a pecu- liar expression rested upon his face, “That depends—not in sech a way as made whoever it was rub out poor Dutchy,” slowly returned Chicot, ‘Bah! why bring up such things? Of course, Idon’t mean anything of the sort. But now, for instance, supposing another train would } come along and offer you more—ten times as much as you get for guiding this train—would you accept it?” ‘Be I a fool? Of course I would, onless this ne - ae oe pile. I work for money, . an’ the biggest pile takes my eye,” quietl odded Paure P y ei y | ‘‘ Well, then, supposing I could take you to a gold-mine, within a day’s tramp from bere, would you desert the trainf I say only suppos- ing I could do this.” “That's all bosh. ‘round here?” Chicot, | . “But would you?” “ Yas—in a burry, too.” “Swear it on this,” and Upsbur adroitly twitched a small metal crucifix from Cbicot's bosom, where it hung by astring. ‘Swear to keep all secret that I tell you now, and never to betray it until L give you free permission.” Chicot, deeply impressed by Upshur’s ear- nesto obeyed, though still skeptical. And then, after first carefully assuring himself that there were no eavesdroppers near, Upshur un- folded his secret, telling all, How he had first struck scent of the secret, of his eavesdropping, of how he followed the deserters until he had a fair idea of their destination; of all save hi: connection with the dastardly blow in the dark, and the attempt to fix the crime upon Burr Wythe, for reasons that may hereafter appear. “Now you know all,” be added, “and it is for you to decide whether we are to slave on like dogs, while those three, not a whit better than we, are making themselves rich for life. What do you say!” “‘They’d never ’gree to share th us,” mut- tered ae wy yet with his eyes glow- ing and his breath quickening. “They must, if we say so. Don’t I know thar’s none x contemptuously snorted $9 —— ae —_@ ——_» i 4 I, for one, am willing to fight for it, Just think—Duplin said he found nuggets as large as bis fist! And hun- _dreds of them, too! Just think, man—why, ; ers Biv gg whet hap us the ri‘ he t men in e Uni eS ey must. sbare—or els ; we'll take the whole |” ‘ re gil “That'll be the best. way,” Chicot, now fully yielding to the power of the yellow fiend, “There won’t be enough for all —fer we must take another. They’re stron men, and will fight fer ther—fer our gold. is ours—it must be ours!” = Good! but the other—who shall we select?” Tim Dooley—I know him well, For gold he would pe: bis soul to the deyil—and then blarney him out of bis pay afterward.” And so it was settled. Ou the succeeding night the three men, who were standing guard, deserted and took up the back trail, forgetful of the dangers that threatened the wagon-train in being left without a competent guide, Up- sbur cbuckled with devilish glee as he hoped the ; worst would befal! them. He had proposed to Lottie Mitchell, and sbe had rejected him. Her father also had forbid- den him ever again addressing his child, under poss ofa thrashing, For this reason, seeing bat all hope of success in that direction was gone, he hoped ot the entire train might be attacked and royed by the Indians or ; mountain outlaws, that infested the Overland Route, almost from end to end. Caleb Mitchell was at bis wits’ end when the truly alarming tidings was generally made known on.the morning following Chicot’s dis- appearance. And not without good causs for apprehension, for the train was now fairly in among the mountains, where a deviation from the right trail—at times wholly undiscernible— dy might well result in total destruction. wagon-master, head of the train, only sec- ond to the regular guide, he was naturally the one to whom all now looked, when in truth he was nc¢ more capable than any other member, except from his great coolness and superior judgment. All were equally ignorant of the be since this was the first venture across the ns. _ Mitchell's first move was to send in pursuit of the deserters, with orders to bring them in at all hazards, it found. That last clause was well put in, for Paul Chicot bad an easy task ip that wild, broken region, in blinding his trail, so that pursuit was useless, And, with so many long hoarsely added t eg a The Mountain Devil. hours the start, it was like sending a horse to run down the locomotive. Long after dark, the different bands straggled in, weary and dejected. Not even a foot-trace had been found to indicate the direction in which the deserters had gone; and now, that faint hope gone, the greater portion of the emi- grants gave way to despair. In vain Mitchell strove to cheer them up. He said that it was only a matter of time and pa- tience; that before long some other train must come along which they could join, But the answer came, quick and crusbing, because it was the one that was chilling bis own heart, It was late in the season. ‘Their train, drawn wholly by oxen, had been long upon the road, andthe halt at the ‘sick-camp ” bad still fur- ther delayed them, They might be the last train on the road—very probably were, since the mountains of California could not be crossed after winter set in, A train might not come along until the spring—and that would be too ate. How many of the party could live through a winter in the mountains? Tl:e looked for train would only find their bones. Harassed by such arguments and fears as these, Caleb Mitchell resolved upon a_ bold course, and yet apparently the only one that was left them. He would make the attempt to guide the train through the mountains himself, at least until they could gain a spot more favor- able for a winter's residence than bere, if worst came to worst. Fearing to lose more precious time, long be- fore daybreak the next day, the wegon-train was slowly following the lead of Caleb Mitchell, who rode in advance, his ,heart troubled with fears and doubts, for behind him was the sole remaining tie that made life dear to him, and its fate in a great measure depended upon his skill and prudence. Several hours later, as he saw the crest of a rocky hill, over which the trail led, he abruptly reined.in his horse and gezed keenly across the valley before him. He had distinguished the slowly-moving form of buman beings, evidently afoot, and the hope that these were the returning deserters set his heart afire. But all soon this delusion was dispelled, for be now could distinguish the flowing dra- pery ofa woman. Anxiously enough he awaited their approach, but as they paused on discover- ing his figure outlined against the clear sky, he impatiently rode forward. He could now see that there were only two, and the formation of the trail forbid the supposition of an ambush being possible there. As he approached them the man stood before the woman, with drawn and Jeveled pistol, a look of stern despair imprinted upon his worn but handsome features. His voice rung with the desperation of a hunted fugitive turned at bay, as he spoke: ‘Keep your distance—we will not be taken alive.” “What do you mean? Who's trying to take you alive—or dead either, for that matter?’ ej:culated Mitchell, surprised at the man’s tone and action. “Then you don’t—you’re not one of those from whom we escaped? You baven’t been chasing.us?’ doubtfully added the stranger. “* Scarcely—else I would not be coming from this direction,” laughed Mitchell, ‘‘ You have nothing to fear from me, if it is as I surmise. I claim to be a gentleman, though in rather rough guise just now—but_that matters little. Yonder comes my train. You are welcome to all it affords, sir, As for the lady, my daugh- ter will be pleased to supply her wants as far as she can.” ** Thank God!” murmured the woman, spring- ing forward, and, seizing Mitchell’s bardened hand, she moistened it with tears. ‘‘ You will protect us from that—from those dreadful men?’ “With my life, lady,” warmly returned the wagon-master, deeply affected, yet feeling not a little curiosity regarding the strangers, won- dering to what he was pledging himself, and who *‘ those dreadful men” could be, “You are very kind, sir, but my heart is too full of gratitude to thank you now as you de- serve. hen yoo hear our sad story, you will not wonder that we are weary and worn out and need rest. Bear up, daughter—we are safe with good friends, at last!” “But, father—these men—they must have 1 aa gi us?” answered the woman, trem- ing y. ‘“‘ Perhaps not, but—” _ “If there is any danger, sir, tell me what it is, so that [ can put my friends upon their guard, We all know how to handle a rifle, and 7 ‘ it must be a strong force to trouble us while on guard,” proudly interrupted Mitchell, vere ‘““There may be danger, but I hardly think it willcome near. We were pursued by a party of mountain outlaws, at least until a short time since. But they don’t number over a dozen, at most. They would never dare attack here, un- less joined by their comrades at the Retreat.” ‘* We will be on the lookout for them. but you must need refreshments, Such as we can afford is at your command, After that, I should like to hear your story. Naturally, this strange meeting has greatly excited my curiosity.” ‘‘T do not need much—only a drink of water, or something stronger, if.it is handy, . As for my daughter Mabel, here, she is entirely worn out! If you will be so kind—you spoke of a daughter?” “T will introduce them. Though Lottie. is far from well—her poor mother’s death bas nearly killed the. child—she will gladly do all that is in her power to comfort yourdaughter.” “IT too have lost my mother,” softly mur- mured Mabel, ber large eyes filling with tears, as she glanced up into the stalwart emigrant’s face, “ Poor child!” muttered Mitchell, yielding to a sudden and uncontrollable impulse, and bend- ing low in his saddle, he imprinted a fatherly kiss upon the smooth white forehead of the maiden. Mabel’s face fiushed, but she did not appear to take offense at the abrupt action, though she cast a swift glance toward, ber father. Then, with an effort, Mitchell recovered himself, and soon explained the fects of the strange meeting to the wondering emigrants, the train having caught up during the delay. Mabel was kindly greeted by Lottie, and then the white-tilted wagons hid them from view. _ The father was farnished with the beverage he desired, and then, seemingly forgetful of fatigue and weariness in his anxiety for the welfare of the wagon-train, he rode along ahead of the train on Mitchell’s, horse, while the latter ». walked. ‘You say you have no regular guide!” “He deserted us night before last,” moodily replied Mitchell, his brow lowering, **Can it be that he is in league with these devils?’ mused the other, half to himself. ‘It looks black—very black!” Mitchell. glanced impatiently at his. com- pavion. These vague hints were alarming, when coupled with the sfill unexplained ap- pearance of the couple in that wild and ap- parently unsettled region, ‘‘Mr, Mitchell,’ abruptly uttered the stran- ger, ‘‘I am about to tell you a very strange story, and you would do well to listen to it very closely, as, if I mistake not, it concerns you und yours deeply. First, my name is Guilford; I am a retired officer of the regular army, and Mabe] is my ouly child. Why we left a com- fortable home in the East to journey overland to California, does not matter just now—snflice } jj that we did, , “The wagon-train which we joined passed over this spot full two weeks age... Thus fa*, «.1 had worked smootbly and agreeably, The company was a strong one, formed of intelli- ent aud agreeable people. The guide was thoroughly capable, and gave perfect satisfac- tion. And yet—I and my child alone remain to tell the fate of all that company!” Mitchell could not repress a ¢ ‘Wait, You must have bea of horror, of the devils in human chee that haunt portions of the over- Jand trail? Though they do not often attack full trains, they do much of the mischief tbat is wrongly attributed to the Indians, disguising themselves as such, the better to carry out their nefarious schemes. Well, we fell into the hands a company of these demons, ‘*Our guide betrayed us. As I now know, he belonged to the band of outlaws, and only joined our train to betray it into the clutches of his comrades, All that he done, I learned afterward. Noone suspected his fidelity until all was lost. ‘* He led us from the right trail. None thongbt of doubting him, and we walked blindly into the trap. I was mostly in payiel nay ie Mabel, who was just recovering from a fit of illness, else I might have detected the change, for I had once before passed over the route, “Well, just before dusk the end came, The foremost wagon was suddenly checked by a rocky barricade, that completely filled the nar- row passage. The pore bad vanished. Then came the shock, as the teamsters and passengers flocked ahead to see what was wrong. “From the hillside above us came a deadly
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storm of rifle and pistol-bullets, On every side was death. Nota foeman was to be seen, and yet the withering storm swept man after man to death. And not alonethemen. Women and childrep, even the toddling babes, were shot down. None were spared, In ten minutes all was over. ‘Taken so by surprise, what could we do? Nothing. Scarcely one had a weapon at band. Such as h:d, were too astounded to think of using them And even had this been different, what could they have done when not a foeman was Visible? The rocks above seemed to be rain- ing down death upon us, Not a form could be seen; not a voice mingled with the din of fire- arms, save from the dying as they fell in heaps. My God! it was terrible!” and Guilford covered bis eyes and groaned aloud as one in mental agony. ‘‘Pardon my emotion, Mr. Mitchell, Though an old soldier, never before hud [ witnessed such a frightful sight. My heart bleeds again at the mere thought.” And Guilford shuddered again, “But you—bow did you escape unburt?” curi ously asked Mitchell. “T can explain that now, though at the time T believed it a proof of Providence, But that was part of the plan. I spoke of our guide, That man was none other than the chief of the outlaws. He had joined us and acted as guide, the better to entrap ts. He was a handsome, dashing fellow, and it seems now that he tcok a mene fancy to my daughter—curse the vil- in! , “J was with Mabel in the wagon, and he knew this. He pointed it out to his men, and cautioned them against injuring its inmates, With the first shot [ started to give my aid to our friends, but Mabel, balf-crazed, seized me, and I dared not leaveher. It would have killed her, in her weak state. “When the guide came to the wagon and or- dered us to dismount, I realized the truth, and fired at him. But in my baste, the ‘bullet that strould have bored bis treacherous brain missed its mark, killing a mar standing just beyond him, I was seized and bound, though I strug- gled deeperneey: Only for tbe guide—Yellow Jack—I would have been killed on the spot. But he bad a pu e in saving me, for that time. Through her love for me, he hoped to bend my daughter to his will. ‘¢We—Mabel and I—were carried away irito the mountains, and so were spared _the horrible seene that must have followed. Yellow Jack told me of it afterward. The wounded were pat out of their misery, and then tossed down a deep ravine hard by where the wolves and vultures would soon ide them from mortal sight. Tbe voaee were burned, after being plundered, and the ashes scatteged to the winds. All traces of the borrible massacre were ob- literated, leaving the trap ready for other vic- ms. “ Well, ’tis.an unpleasant subject to dwell ttpon, and I basten on as fast as possible, yet telling all that is necessary for you to under- stand the matter. e—Mabel and I—were taken to the hill retreat of this Yellow Jock, and were, for a time af least, treated reasona- bly well. Then, however, as’ Mabel gave no signs of softening her manner toward him, he began to show his devilish nature by torturing her with fears for me. Finally, he gave her two days to decide; either to become his bride or see me murdered before her very eyes. ‘But we bad a friend that he little suspected, in bis wife—a beautiful woman who appesred to fairly worship the monster. The fear that Mabei would entirely supplant ber in Yellow Jack’s love, gave her the coursge to foil his rpose by a daring stroke. In the middle of he night she set us both free and led us beyond the line of guards, then giving us the clew to finding the trail, she bade us begone—to suffer death rather than recapture, for after this her hands would be tied. She gave nie these aha and a small package of food. Then she ef6 us, ‘“We journeyed by night, and lay hid among the rocks by day, well knowing that we would be pursued, and that the entire country would be sconred. To-day, for the first tims, we ven- tured forth during daylight. You know the rest—bow we found you, and how pfs A woe were welcomed by all,” concluded Gailford evidently deeply affected. pee “Then, if this band is so near, this train is in danger!” uttered Mitchell, in a ‘roubled tone. “No, I think not. The band is not strong baer to openly attack such a train, and they would scarcely dare to form ana ambush along the regular trail. We only suffered through our traitorous guide, You are safe so long as The Mountain Devil. you keep the main trail and see that your sentinels do not neglect their duty. True, you may chance to lose some stock, and care must be taker that stragglers do not wander far from the train, else the outlaws might wreak their spite upon them.” * But our guide is gone—has deserted. How do we know whether we keep the right trail or not? Indeed, we may be straggling from it this very moment.” ‘You are right so far. The only danger of a gay Phe be during the next two or three days. After that the route is plain and broad. But do you mean tosay that you are d// new bands—that there are none here who have ever passed over the trail before?” “That is the fact.” ** Well, we must do the best we can, Though I have made one trip before this, 1 paid com- paratively little attention tothe trace, and don’t supposes my judgment is much, if any, better than yours, “Stil, between us, I think we can manage to pick out the right course.” Meantime the two maidens, Lottie Mitchell and Mabel Guilford, had already become fast friends, and picturing great enjoyment in each other’s Company during the remainder of the journey. CHAPTER V. WHERE WAS JACK TYRREL? Over a bed of gold. The three gold-seekers were indeed in the valley of treasure. A few hours of earnest work in the * pocket” revealed riches beyond account, and so infatuated did all become with the results of their labor that scarcely could the one detailed to the daily service of hunting for food take the time necessary tc procure ig en supplies. . othing had occurred to disturb their intense labors, although more than once the bunter for the day had come across strange tracks in the vicinity of their golden bed, and the soul-sicken- ing dread that assailed Robinson Crusoe, on bis | desert isle, now found a resting-place in their hearts. » They fancied this was the track of some malicious minded enemy who. was watching them with the intention of robbing the golden store that had grown daily more and more dear to them A sad change bad come over the trio, Their friends and loved ones would scarcely have recognized them, even after these few daysot success. ad t toiled on almost unceasingly, scarce speaking a word through the livelong day, even seeming suspicions of each other, sleeping fitfully, often awaking with a start as if from some haunting dream to glare at the spot where their treasure was hoarded away. A sad, sad change, and one that was daily growing more and more ego ; j f ay by day, hour by bour, the insidious gold- fever was gaining in power over them, crushing out all generous thoughts, tightening its grasp upon their beart-strings, until scarce one trace of their former selves was left, r Nearly at the valley of gold, It was night, and though the past day had been one of almost toil, the three adventurers sat awake and sleepless, smoking their pipes in silenée beneath the rude, frail shelter of vine-clad brush, All withont was dark and dismal. The air was charged with electricity, and the comrades found it impossible to sleep, All nature seemed feverish and ill at ease. * The moon was obscured; dense sulphurous masses of clouds swirled athwart the borizon in wild confusion, Low, sullen mutterings filled the air. A tempest was brewing. Silently smoking, the gold-bunters watched the play of the clouds, They seemed to care little for the result, What mattered it though they did get wet? The rain could not injure their golden treasure, and what else had they to care for? Nothing. HM Paley Duplin sprung half erect ontstretching one hand as the pipe dropped unheeded at his feet. His voice sounded strangely excited, trembling violently. “ My God! look yonder—tbat light!” Far up the bed of the one-time water-course, a light seemed slowly moving toand fro. This, of itself, in that lone and desolate f, was enough to excite wonder. But it was the shape the light gradually assumed as it drew nearer that caused Duplin agitation. Speechless the three men glared at the vision as it slowly drew nearer to where they sat, Neither spoke. Thoy scemed petrified with horror. And well might this be the case, The past Pale, haggard, and hollow-eyed they | Dupli a week had elapsed ‘since their arrival | reathless | a ES week bad sadly weakened their nerves, This horrible reserve that had come over them since delving amidst the masses of gold, had ren- dered them doubly susceptible to superstitious . influence, They could no longer ‘doubt. The sbape, | glowivg with a ghastly light, was now vividly | outlined. Before them, at only a few rods’ distance, stood a skeleton of fire! A-skeleton, perfect in the most minute cetail. It seemed of gigantic size, as though the relic of some long since extinct race of giants, The brainless skull, the eyeless sockets, the wide, ghastly-grinning meuth and blazing teeth, the body, the arms and legs, all were glowing with a eh weird luster, not unlike that produced by the use of phosphorus. One flesbless arm was slowly lifted until the dangling finger pointed directly at the t where crouched the gold-hunters, awe-stricken ger And still the flaming skeleton advanced, more and more, the arm warningly out- stretched, the skull wearing that horribly mocking grin. Suddenly a low, taunting laugh echced upon the still oppressive air—a laugh that seemed to issue fiom the flesbless lips. Duplin shuddered, and bowing his head, covered his face as if to shut out the sickening object. Wythe and Tyrrel remained motion- less, their eyes riveted upon the skeleton. A voice uttering wcrds followed the laugh. Deep yet low, something strangely impressive when coming from that ghastly spectacle, as it appeared. ‘*Blind fcols! ye are trespassing here on ound. Dep»rt while yet there is time. ear—even the spirits of the air warn you. Obey their voice—flee—fiee from the wrath to come! Take heed. ’Tis the last warning. Depart—or the morrow’s sun shall shine down on your lifeless remains.” A laugh slowly followed this speech, comin from the rude but of bushes. It was from Jac Tyrrel, sounding strained, yet scornful. ‘This munmmery has gone far enough,” he said, ina tone that told of rising anger. “ It’s my turn pow. Whoever you are, you take warning. In t one minute, unless ycu drop that mask, Pil try if you are bullet-proof. Mark my words, now!” **Don’t, Jack—for God’s sake don’t” gasped n. “Tis nothing earthly—it’s a warning holy You from the other world ‘Bah! I’ve seen a skeleton doctored with phosphorus before now.” ‘Lift your arm against the dead, and it will drop withered to your side,” solemnly added the voice. ‘*It will, eh? Here’s to try it, Man or devil —here’s greeting to you!” recklessly cried Tyr- rel, as he raised and sighted bis revolver, Again came the laugh, bollow and uoeartbly. The fleshless face seemed to grin more horribly then before. -Once—twice the pistol spoke spitefully, the flash momentarily lighting up the little brush ianty, then leaving it in still deeper darkness om force of contrast, And yet the skeleton there, motionless, save that the arm ap ared to move derisively. : The laugh egain echoed forth, as the rever- berating reports died away. Duplin sunk upon bis fece. greening in terror, ythe knelt aa though peuntied. Tyrrel turned a shade paler. * Silly fool! you provoke your fate. When the sun rises you will be dead—dead,” The glowing figure swiftly moved forward, and seened wbout to attack the gold-bunters, Jack bastily lifted bis pistol end fired, then sprung ‘o bis feet as though in readiness for the struggie. When the smoke-cloud lifted, be rubbed his eyes in amex: ment, All was black before him. Nothing was to be seen. The apparition had vanished as though swallowed up by the earth. Only for a moment did he hesitate. Then, still, elutching bis pistol, he darted from the shanty and glanced around him. All was va- eancy. He leaped upon the sand-bank, and swept his éyes around. Tbe result was the same. No light—nothing save a far-distant flash of lurid lightning. A disinterested spectator would bave laughed outright, eould he have seen Tyrrel’s face at that moment, so full of blank amazement was it. And yet there was nothing in it of super- stitious fear. Only for the first few moments had Jack ga to the feeling, and then simply because 1is comrades bad dove so, This quickly van EEE
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—— —= —_——— ished awd anger took its place, He was startled at the new effect of bis shots, bee¢anse bo bad great confidence in his own skill, Then, too, be marveled greatly at the abrupt disappearance, but that he wisely attributed to clever skill. Thougbtft lly scratching his curly pate, Jack retra his steps and entered the shanty. In silence he lighted his pipe at the still smolder- ing embers, and then puff.d awa’? vigorously, covertly eying his comrados the while, “Well, boys,” he at length uttered between putts, *‘ what do you think of it, anyhow!” “Tt is gone, then?’ muttered Duplin, in a husky voice. “Yes—cleverly, too. A smart chap, who- ever it may be,” quoth Tyrrel, ‘You are wrong—it was nothing mortal. It wasa warning,” gloomily added Duplin. ‘‘Now don’t ba a fool, Paley,” impatiently. ‘*The days are passed. for such melodramatic visions as that. We will liv, to see a great many to-morrows. It is nothing buf a very stale trick got up to frighten us from our work, Somebody has got wind of our discovery, and takes this plan to drive usaway, But I, for ene, don’t scare worth a cent! And as first move—bdefore it rains—I'm going to see what sort of a track that ghost lefs behind him. The sand out yonder is soft, and will retain a foot- print. Come—y6u’'ll admit that a spirit—even though it assumes tho guise of a living skeleton —cannot leave a natural footprint’ Very well. If I do not find the tracks of a man out yonder, Tl agree. to believe in your view, and at once make my will, provided you promisé the same. If the treckis thera you'll give up those superstitious ideas?” ‘** Yes,” was the reply given by both Duplin and Wythe. Jack said no more, but set abont arranging a torch in order to settle the question once for all. Meantime Wythe had directed Duplin’s atten- tion to something not far from the shanty, ap- parently lying upon the ground, This was a small point of flame, flickering vividly, now larger, now smaller. It was near where the skeleton had stood, Tyrrei soon emerged, holding the torch be- him, “hewadvanced, the point of flame grew dim, and then vanished entirely- Bending low down, be began closely scanning the ground, while Duplin and Wythe intently watched his motions, *“You're cornered now, boys,” he said aloud, with a laugh, rising erect. ‘“‘Come out here and own up that you’ve been silly focls, Here are the tracks as and clear as mud,” Beginning to feel ashamed of the exhibition, the two soon joined rrel, and kaceling, slowly scanned the ground, As Jack had said, the sand wes soft, and easily retained the im- print of a human toot. And such an imprint lay before them, plain and unmistakable, Even Duplin could no longer doubt that.all this had been the work of 1B PRPS hand, though by no means. 4 spirit. ‘‘ And see,” Jaughed Jack, “here’s a memento of our ghostly visitor. “A finger-joint that one of my bullets has broken,” “That was what we saw lying here, Hold it in the dark, Jack—yes, that is it,” muttered Wythe, as the bone again showed the flickering lig! t, : ‘And there comes the rain—but first, ?’m oing to have the meusure of this foot. I think owe the rascal that made it a sound thrash- ing, and if we ever y a) ing, not Jack Ty haces, bell get it, or my As the storm | the gold-hunters regained their shelter, and Composed themselves as com- fortably as circumstances wculd admit, Know- ing that they were in for a drenching, they e y seeeet to keep their weapons and ammuni- tion dry, It was impossible to sleep while the storm raged with such violence, and Jack continued his good work by lecturing his comrades, He showed them the point toward which they were drifting, and that ruin must follow unless they xellied against the speli that seemed falling up- on them, “Why, in less than a month—if this sort » thing Keeps on—we’ll be ready to cut each othcr'’s throats. Itishorrible/ Wd rather turn my back on the gold altogether and live poor all my life than to pass another week as this one been, “T agree with you, Jack,” warmly replied on. “There is gold enough for us all, Lets clasp hands and forget the hard work, meron let’s be men—not savage dogs,” men!” : Through that livelong night the three, com. ———<<<—$ $$ ee CO ——-nW---——————————— ee ee eee The Mountain Devil. rades once more, conversed earnestly. And when day came, they were ready for work, It was plain now that their secret was no longer their secret—that they had been wat/hed by some one who knew of their rich discovery. And it was likely that this watcher also knew of their ‘‘ bank ”—tbe spot where their treasure was stowed away. Before daylight they removed the gold to an- other spot, the driving rain obliterating all traces as soon as made, This done they looked to their weapons. The spy, whoever he might be, must be found, though a week was spent ih searching for him. Only for the beating rain, this would have been a comparatively easy matter, since the ground, clear to the bills, was very favor- able for trailing. : Day broke clear and beautiful, and Duplin experienced a pequliar thrill of joyous thank- fulness as he beheld the brilliant sun ro!l above the eastern swells, The sight gave bim renewed life, and ube last lingering trace of superstition vanished. ' For hours the three friends sought in vain for some trace of their nocturnal visitor, but it was not until they crossed the first ridge that such rewarded their search. Then, deeply im- printed in the moist sandy loam, they came upon a double trail, though both sets of tracks were evidently made by the same person, prob- ably in going and coming, as they trod different ways, Pits our man,” cried Jack, as be arose from comparing his tally with the tracker. “We must rum him to ground, now. He can’t be far—these tracks are fresh.” “ But which are the latest?” “That puzzies me. I’m not much on the frail- bunt, Chicot could tell, no doubt, but I can’t. We must follow both. You and Wythe take that direction, and I'll look to this,” “But there may be danger to you going alone. We don’t know who or what this fellow is, Best keep together.” ** And so lose the game, like as vot? No. I think [ can hold my own, since there’s only one man, Goon—and if you find the game, build a dre of grass that sil Send up-a black smoke. Pll do the same. Look ont for it.” It was rank folly attempting to reason with Tyrrel, and his comrades well knew that. So parting—none of the trio dreamed of the time tbat would elapse before their meeting!|—they each bent to their work. The trail rin lengthwise along the valley, only divided from that where lay the golden bed by a high ridge. Duplin and Wythe were heading south-east; the trail followed by Tyrrel was in an opposite direction, “T think | can tell just bow this will end,” muttered Burr, after progressing a mile or more. “I think we will find the stopping-place on yonder point, where we can look down upon our camp. If so, we must hasten back, and ‘join Jack, The bot beaded fellow may get into trouble,” A few minutes more proved their surmise to be correct. The trail doubled at tbe bill, and then ran back for a ways, side by side, The friends had no difficulty in retracing their steps, and advanced at a half run, The damp earth had retained ot tracks, In ten minutes they bal regained the point where Tyrrel had left them, and still hastened after him. Then they paused, simultaneously uttering a low cry. * Too late!” gasped Duplin. Faint and indis'iuct came to their ears, borne by the favoring breeze, two quickly succeeding pistol-shots, closely followed by a cry, as of pain or mortal terror. These sounds came from up the valley. Clutehing their weapons, the friends bounded , their faces pale, theif forward af top spee teeth tightly clinched. They feared the worst. *“My God! look there!’ gasped Wythe, ex- tending one trembling hand. Before them, close to where the rocks that thickly covered the hillside begen, the ground was torn and trampled, as though the scene of a desperate struggle for life. And upon one side of a whitely bleached bowlder was a large crimson stain. A stain thatcould only be produced by blood ! Sick and faint the comrades stood there, wild- ly glancing around, listening anxiously for some sound to guide them, But it came not, All was stilled save their deep, husky breath- ing. “Come,” cried Duplin. with an effort rovsing himself, “ this is folly. Wemuat work. Dead or alive, we must find Jack, and either rescue or avenge him.” | yonder. 9 —— — Dreading lest at every step they should come upon the dead and mangled body of their friend hidden among the rocks, the gold-hunters ad- vanced, Here and there a blood-splash guided their eyes. | by drop it led them vp the billside. This alone guided them, The flinty ground retained no trace of footsteps, A gore-stained rock attracted them. Rushing furward, Duplin uttered a lowcry. Then he sunk upon his knees and bent forward. Burr Wythe iurned sick at beart, and stag- gering, would have fallen but for the friendly support of a jagged bowlder. A cry broke rom his lips as he started back and removed png It bad entered a tiny pool of fresh ! CHAPTER VI. LOST IN THE LABYRINTH. Wir a convulsive shudder, Purr Wytbe wiped the clotted blood from his hand. Duplin, startle’ by the cry of bis comrade, quickly turned his head“ “ What is it, Wythe?” ** Nothing—I rested my band in that blood But what is this—a cave” “It must be—and see! There are blood- stains on the inside edges of the rock. Whoever, one or many, have gone in there, taking poor Jack with them, either dead or alive,” muttered Paley, as he drew beck and carefully looked to his weapons. “Then out of it they must ccme,” determin. cdly returned Burr, bis eyes glitterin ° “But how? Ifin there, they have fhe advan- tayre of us in every respect.” ‘There isonly one way. We must enter and do the best. we can.” ' ‘* It looks like suicide, after what we see here; but if you dare risk it, | will not feil you. We cannot desert the Jad. He wouldrisk as much for either of us.” *“* Hore—let me pass in first. I can get some idea of what is before us, and if they mean mis- chief, jag By wait to make sure of us boi Do you keep tack from the entrance, but ready to assist me if I cal.” Pale Sut resolute, Wythe crawled into the hole, and then glarced quickly around him. as though in bores of pene able to penetrate the dense gloom. That his Scart beat quicker than ccmmon, is no disparagement to bis courage, for there is notbing so ty;ing as facing an un- known danger in the dark. Feeling around, he found several pebbles ard flurg them violently from bim, From their faint echoes, he learned what he desired. “It’s a large cave, Paley,” he uttered, as be emerged into the oped air. * “We trust not enter without materiel for torches, We right ape ee arm’s-length of poor Jock, and rot snow it. y Thoroughly determined to find their missin comrede, and if possiblo those who had irack this blow, the two mori scarcely gave a theugbt now to the darger they might ‘bs incurring, Dor bow completely they would be ati the mercy of any bidden enemy, \hile they wore beering lighted torches. So, while Wythe guarded the cave entrance, Dr lin hastily collccted material for torches, A few minutes sufficed for this, and then both men entered tlhe hole. Thus shiekicd from the wind, they soon suceceded in: ki a torch, and then, while one beld is jloft, the other kept just without the circle of livht, with cocked a d ready revolver, ‘ny this manner, one at lerst weuld be running less risk. . ‘uplin, as being the best shot, held the latter position, The two friends uriously glanced around them. But little was to bo seen, save the jag- ged rcof of rock, as the torch emitted but a feeble light. Still, a few moments stowed thim that the cbamber in which they stood was untenanted saye by themselves. It was of considerable size, irregularin cutline, rough and jegged, with a low roof or ceiling, ‘Look! bere is a sort of tunnel,” muttered Wythe, waving the light befcre him. “ Ard— ves! bere goes the blood-drops. Poor Jack! if it’s his blood, be must be dead. ‘Maybe vot. A little makes a big show on rcek, But let’s basten—I’m_eeger for the end. Anything, even the knowledge of his death, is better than this suspense.” : ‘If he ts dead, somebody must pay for it gritted Wythe, vindictively. The tunnel was low and narrow, and the ex- plorers had to stoop their heads to avoid the rocky roof. More than once Wythe fancied he could distinguit+h the trace of tools wielded by buman hands upon the soft rock, but other thoughts occupied their minds, though at an-
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——— eet et ee oe 10 oo —..- other time this fact would have excited the | deepest curiosity. The tannel was winding,now sheering abruptly to the right, then again to the left, and several times Wythe paused in doubt, as two passages met his gaze, Buta close and cautious scrutiny would show a drop of blood upon the floor of one or the other, and thus guided, the advyen- turers pressed on, further into the labyrinth, without a thought of their own peril—thinking only of their lost comrade. From first to last of that day they exhibited a strange lack of prudence. Their progress, owing to these causes, was slow—far more so than, in their impatience to learn the fate of Jack Tyrrel, they believed— and the winding passage frequently caused them to almost retrace their footsteps. Suddenly Wythe came to the end of the tun- nel, and stepped into what seemed a spacious chamber, though he could only judge from the difference in the atmosphere. The torch was of little service, save within a radius of several yards, A few minutes’ scouting proved this also to be unoccupied by those they sought. At irreg- ular intervals around the sides were several tunnels similar to that from which the men had recently emerged. Exchanging glances, the friends saw that each bad begun to jespair. After this long and really arduous search they seemed no nearer the = than at first. “Come,” whispered Duplin, rousing himself, “ this is — wasting time, when we should be at work. Cheer up—we must find bim soon, act oe will—I feel it!” aa ts) head, ‘But I fear the worst,’ ‘Give me the light for awhile, and you take | can kindle another, my place. We must search each tunnel until we find the right one.” I | ly. | turbers of their last repose. Fiery jets of flame seemed to dart forth from the eyeless sockets, from the grinning jaws, from every bone that belped form the skeletons, and all with that peculiar effect produced by the plentiful use of phosphorus, As if turned to stone the two friends stood at the turning, glaring wildly upon the weird tableau. Then there echoed forth a startling sound, that seemed to proceed aa es glowing jaws of the blazing skeletons. laugh, shrill and unearthly, that echoed thrillingly through the long, narrow passage. ““My God! they move—they come!” yelled Duplin, as, he dropped the torch and dashed madly back the way he had come, by some rare chance escaping a shattered skull from collision with the numerous jagged points of rock. With that borrible laugh still ringing in their ears, Wythe followed after, half-dead with ter- ror. throbbings of bis heart, Duplin gained the cham- ber, and then suuk down weak and trembling. Though life depended upon. the. exertion, he could go no further, “‘ Burr—where are you!” be gasped, agitated- ‘‘ Here—thank God we are together!” came you are a-true prophet,” sighed | the low reply, as Wythe crept to his side, “ But Wythe, brushing the cold damp from his tore- | the light—wherevis it?” “T dropped it—I was so astonished. But we I have matches and you I had have wood,” *72—no, I must have lost it as I ran. ‘*T fear that will be difficult, I’ve not noticed | two sticks when we entered, but they are gone any blood-drops for some time. What if we should be wrong? What will become of poor Jack? And—how are we to find our way buck again ?” Duplin started. For the first time he realized the full peril of their situation, Were they not even then lost? Lost in the labyrintb—in, the bowels of the earth! And nothing to sustain life—no food, no water! The thought was soul- sickeniug! “We must not think of that now. We've enough to trouble our minds without that. It may allturn outright. But mark the passage -we came througb. With that to start from, we can find our way back by the blood stains, Drop my hat there—or a bit of rag, anything will do,” . Wythe advanced a step, then paused and glanced around him. His face shone ghastl pale in the feeble light of the tiny torch. It seemed that of a dead, rather than a living man, “T—I think this is the one,” he faltered, pointing to a passage. “M ! don’t you know ? Then we are ind lost!” groaned Duplin, the cold sweat drippiog Ge is brow. ‘“We bave walked in every direction—I am bewildered. We can do nothing only trust in Providence,” “‘ And so we will! I don’t believe we are to rish in this manner, Cheer up—'twill all ro out for the best,” cried Duplin, rallying his courage. “I’m willing enough to hope for the best, but these events follow close after that man’s warning of last night. There aay have been moré in it than we cared to admit. ‘‘Come—no more o’ that, Wythe. unnerve us both, Mark this funnel. first explore the one next upon its xige member that. In time we wust strike the one. Entering the low-arched passage, Duplin led the way, holding tbe torch so low that it fell full upon the floor, Leaving all other matters to Wythe, he closely and thoroughly scrutinized the passage in search of the blood-drops that had already guided their course so far. “Ym afraid we’re wrong, Burr,” muttered Paley, after several minutes, ‘‘I can find no traces.” He bad just rounded an acute corner in the tee e, and thus cast Wythe in the gloom. gj iy forward, Burr yf oy paused. “My God! look yonder!” be ga:ped rather You onl We will t—re- right than spoke, one band extended over Duplin’s sboulder. The latter raised his eyes and then started back. Truly a horrible sight was before them. sss now,” slowly returned Wythe, Both remained silent, Each realized the full force of this new calamity. Without a light how could they ever hope.to find their way out of this labyrinth? With a light, the tusk would be hard enough—without one, it became simply impossible, “ We must regain them, even though we have — Gasping,, nearly suffocated by the wild | / And yet, strange as it may seem, these words ; gave Burr W | | | ! | aside, an I do, and we will have the clew in our hands. For poor Jack’s sake, courage.” “T will—touch me when you are ready,” came the Jow, cautious response, “ Now ! ’ As he shouted aloud this word Wythe fired, and almost simultaneously Duplin’s pistol spoke. And the effect exceeded their most sanguine ex- pectations. High above the twin reports, there rose a human voice in a wild yell of pain, then came a rattling crash—then the sound of heavy, re- pres footsteps. Instantly, on firing, Duplin and Wythe sprung recocked their pistols. But there was no need of a second shot, The victory was theirs. The glowing skeleton lay upon the ground, shattered to pieces, The skull, like a great ball of fire, was slowly rolling toward Wythe, who eyed it with a shudder of Tathibe, But ail else was motionless and still. The fleeing footsteps that had momentarily cavght their ear, was now gone, “Our spirit was Jack’s trickster, after all,” at length uttered Wythe. “We were fools, Burr,” laughed Duplin, bis natural courage returning, “Ts a lesson that will never be forgotten by us; and it was one that Ineeded, too, I’m becoming a slave to my superstitions, But did you notice which way he went?” “No, §Still, with lights, we can find ont, i guess. That cry was one of pain. He mast baye been wounded.” ‘*He was; perhaps mortally, though I hope Boh for that might lose us our hopes of finding ack But, come; we must find our torches, to face that borrible sight once more,” muttered | There is no time to lose unless we wish to make Duplin, with a resolution that was simply sublime, when his superstitious nature is remem- bered. “Tid you hear it, too?” , “The laugbter—ves, It wasnodelusion. Pray God that I may never hear it again!” ‘ Hark!” A low, indistinct sound. met their ears, It seemed to proceed from the passage they had just left, Its precise nature they could not de- ne, but—perbaps the thought was excited by what had just occurred —they fancied it was the faint echo of that horrible peal of laughter. “Tt’s coming nearer—Wwhat shall we dof” gasped Duplin, tremblingly. ‘“Remember what Jack showed us, There is some trickery here, I feel sure. If we flee blind- » Ragan 5 these passages, we are indeed Jost. e must meet what is pec nem If really super- natural, we cannot run away from it. If human, we can solve the mystery with a pistol-bullet,’ hurriedly muttered Burr, as his revolver clicked sbarply. His resolution seemed to restore Duplin, and then in silence they awaited the result, though in painful suspense, for neither was free from a sickening dread. Few men are equally brave in the dark and light. The suspense was not of long duration... An- other shrill, unearthly peal of laughter rung through the rocky cbamber, and then, as if by magic, a glowing skeleton, with every bone Jainly outlined, stood before the two, gold- bunters. Duplin hastily cocked his revolver. It seemed that the sharp metallic «lick was not woheard, for another laugh, low and Sarid came from where the ghastly object stood. Then a voice—the same that hud addressed them at their camp the preceding night—uttered the words: ‘Poor silly fools! Do ye think to alarm the dead by such actions? hat care { for mortal weapons? You but precipitate your fate by such rashness, You scorned my first warning—and now you see the results. One of your number is dead—you two are doomed! Doomed to wan- der on through the bowels of the earth unceas- ingly, until death takes pity upon your suffer. ee ee ee Sopa that rascal’s prediction, and die in here of thirst and starvation. This is the passage—just behind these bones,” Carefully feeling along the passage, they soon succeeded in finding the dried fagots, dropped when a 4 took a hasty flight. One—tbe torch —was still smoldering, and required but little coaxing before it again blazed up, By its light, the two friends exchanged ances They were both thinking of the same thir ‘ “Yes, we will examine them,” exclaimed Duplin, resolutely advancing. ‘‘ Who knéws— we may find some trace of him there.” With far different sensations than those felt when first the weird sight burst upon their vision, the gold-hunters now examined the row of skeletons. They lay side by side, upon a sloping ledge, which, in the first affrigiit, gave them the appearance of raising to their feet. _ The friends saw that at least two of the skele. tons bad been removed from the ghastly row, ‘““They have been placed here w care,” muttered Wythe. “‘See—here are fragments of what was once cloth, The bones look as though covered with skin—as though the flesh had gradually dried away, and the sinews still hold together. That accounts for the prrfect skeletons we saw arranged by that ra:ca}|— whoever he is.” ’ “This dry, rare air may account for that. But we must not forget the duty we owe poor Jack, He is not here.” Pt AY eae “Come, then. We can follow our mummer, if I mistake not, 1 think he'll leave a plain trail behind him, if there’s any virtue in half- ounce bullets.” In a few moments the adventurers were once more in the chamber, and examining the ground round about where the skeleton had fallen. True to their hopes, they tound several drops \ blood that told plainly their enemy was but more likely it continues in the | wounded, \ rt “This is the passage,” uttered Duplin. ‘But it seems to lead back the same way we came.” ‘We are all turned round. It pay, of course, irection we fir st started in. It is our only chance, at any rate. | For half an hour more they crept on, slowly ings and touches your hearts with his finger of | and carefully, knowing that fo go astray might J
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‘The hole then shone clear and distinct. that direct- cd them aright. But then a circumstance occurred that threat- ened them with disaster, The second torch had burned nearly down to Wythe’s fingers, and he paused to light another. Unfortunately he dropped the splinter, and falling, it became ex- tinguished. Blow as he might, the sparks re- fused to blaze up. “Impatiently be asked Duplin for a match. To his horror, Paley answered that he had nose, Whether he had lost them during the flight or not, it was certain that they were then in the labyrinth, without means to kindle a light. Search as they might, not a match was found. As the significant truth burst upon them in its full foree, they seemed like madmen. They raved and cursed until out of breath. Then reason returned. They were only wasting precious strength that might.yet be meeded to save them from a horrible death. “Come, Duplin,” hoarsely muttered Wythe; ‘we must be men. We need our senses now, if ever, e must find some way out of this. Come; creep forward with me. Try to keep this passage. Perhaps we may succeed—it is our only hope.” ‘ “ A slim one,” and Duplin smothered back a eurse. ‘I begin to believe that that prediction will come true—that this hole is our grave!” “Don’t give way to such thoughts. Hope while we may. @ worst, if it must come, will come soon enough,” fe, For an hour—a long, weary hotr, full of agonizing fears and doubts—the comrades crept slowly on, upon their hands and knees, not knowing whether they were nearing or distanc- ing satehy ut then Burr Wythe, who was in advance, gave way to a gasping cry—a cry of joyful thanksgiving. “Thank God! we are saved! This is the first chamber—I c..n tell it.” “‘But—” hesitated Duplin, “then we should - anne light. Where is the hole we crept in a —o — 4 All before them was dark and black. They could see nothing. And now We remembered that as *' -v first entered the tunnel, he had pages Ua. t Was gone now! _With a ery of apprehe e arose” a d sprung forward. oy amet te ‘aiacovered e tru This was indeed the outer chamber. felt where the entrance had been. It was now tlocked up!. he were buried alive ! Both sunk to the ground, spairing. heart-sick and de- CHAPTER VIL : NATE UPSHUR'S WORK. On the night of the storm, Nathan Upshur sat apart from bis two comrades, nolablessly smoking his pipe. That he was not in the best of humor was plainly evident. It was only several bourssince they had come on the whereabouts of Wythe and his compan- ions, after an arduous search of several davs’ duration. But yet, short as was the time, Up- shur had proposed a bloody plan to Chicot and Dooley—nothing less than murdering the gold- hunters, and then taking their treasure. z His il!-humor now was caused by their flat re- fusal to enter into eae dyes i the sort. They had counted the cost, and were willing to ev- force their rights toa portion of the placer, if need be, by an appeal to arms, but it must be in open fight, not midnight assassination. But Upsbur objected to this. It savored too much of personal danger, end that he did not greatly fancy. So he sat brooding over the matter, sour and sullen. ““Tt’s jest this,” quoth Chicot, settlin ashes in his pipe. “They must let usin on shar’s. T'!l tell ‘em that I knew of it fust—last year— an’ that I on’y j’ined the train so’s to the place. They cain’t deny it—or, ef they do, they cain’t prove that I lie. Then ef they cut up rusty, let ’em. We kin make ’em sick 0° the job, I reckon. But I won’t hev no onderband ares rubbin’ out in the dark—mind that, ate Upshur.” ey we encam] upon the hillside in "a ig Male in orks that overhung’ their the ! tion. | after the golden. hoard And he) | with. git to | | report of fire-arms broke upon the air, coming, | | as all knew, from the gold-hunters’ camp. | Peering over the rocks, they saw a strange, | luminous light moving above the valley, but / before they could guess its meaning, the light | suddenly vanished. While still gazing down, they | heard a rapid footfall just above them, and then a strangely-shaped, dark figure bourded past them, up the rocks. It seemed the form of aman, bearing an unwieldy bundle upon his shoulder, dark, and dimly outlined. Little slumber visited their eyes that night, and his curiosity excited, Chicot plunged through the storm on a reconnoitering expedi- He soon returned, saying that the three gold-bunters were still in their shanty. Then who or what was the dark figure? Were there still other parties in the valley! Others that lay beneath the sands? : Awaiting other developments, Chicot and his | companions, early in the morning, saw the three friends start forth as if with some definite purpose in view. They hastily passed over the rocky ridge, unconscious of the eyes that so closely watched them, ‘* Now’s our time,” eagerly muttered Upsbur. “We can go and dig up their gold and be off before they get back.” “Not yet,” firmly replied Chicot, who seemed to sess a little more conscience than bis com- rades, ‘“ We don’t know how soon they ma be back, and I don’t want to be caught stealin’, jest yet. Le’s watch and see what they're about, fust.” f Grumblingly ping submitted, and the trio crept up to the ridge, and peered over it, ef ing well screened. From there they saw the others discover the double trail and closely ex- ' amine it. Then separating, Duplin and Wythe ) took one course, Jack Tyrrel the other. ' ““They’re trailin’ the critter we see’d, most ' tikely,” muttered Chicot, ‘* Le’s watch until they git out o’ sight, then rl go fer the gold.” | Impatiently they watched the tardy progress ot the ,-for..now. that a chance | Seemed open for them to effect their object, they were one and all eager to handle the gold. From their position the valley below them was visible for nearly a mile in either direction, bare and treeless, desolate and dreary-looking. ‘*My eyes hain’t as good as they war once, but, onless ’m mi Y mistook, they’s trouble ‘waitin’ fer Jack, yon. I'm ‘most sure I sighted a human on them rocks. But it’s gone, now, This ’s gittin’ interestin’—seems like we're goin’ to hev two separate gangs to deal With curiosity fully aroused, the trio watched Tyrrel’s progress, and as he passed round the sein of rocks indicated by Chicot, the watchers irly held their breath with suspence. Then came the sounds that had so deeply alarmed Duplin and Wythe—two quickly-suc- ceeding Sr aceger top then a ery for help. ““T told ye so,” muttered Chicot, excitedly. “Tyrrel’s in trouble ‘th somethin’! Down— quick! See, thar comes t’other fellers. Ef they sight us, it’s fight, then, shore, They'd think we was at the bottom o’ the deviltry. Hunker down, I say!” ““Now’s our chance to get hold o’ the gold,” ae Nate Upshur, eagerly. ‘‘ We'll have ime, : “No—Pm goin” to see this a’fa’r out fust. It’s best that we know jest what an’ who we've *, an’ we'll never hev a better chaince to find out, Come—keep along bebind the ridge. We kin git opposite the on where Jack was, afore tothers. Keerful— don’t show your head *bove the ridge.” Though having the lohgest and by far the roughest road, Chicot and bis companions ained the desired point ahead of Duplin and Vythe, owing to the latter having to follow Tyrrel's trail. But though they closely scruti- nized the opposite ridge, nothing in human form was to be seen. “The boy’s gone, an” so’s whoever he run aginst. Mebbe he’s rubbed out, an’ the fellers is layin’ fer t/others,” “We'll soon see, for there comes Duplin and Wythe,” added Upsbar. n silence the trio watched and waited, Every movement of the two comrades was noted. What they were the reader already knows, For a time the watchers were puzzled, but then as the two men began gathering dried sticks from under the sheltered rocks, the truth gradually became plain. Paul Chicot gave vent to a long, low whistle. “They've. holed the game!” “hd 2 “ Surely the fools ain’t going to venture in?” “ft is foolish, but they show —— 0’ grit. You see now what you wanted to buck ag’inst.”” “Tf they goin there the game’s in our hands!” exultantly muttered Upshur, his eyes glowing wickedly, ** What d’y’ mean by that?” “Can't we block them in? Then they'll have a good chance to fight it out with those they are bunting, while we can take our time about the gold. in that way weget rid of them er killing them, and just as effectually “T don’t see much diff. rence, if ye Pave them there to starve,” slowly commented Tim Dooley,. for the first time for hours giving his opinion, in this respect being very different from the popular ides. of an Irishman. “‘Tf you’re: so cursed tender-hearted, why don’t you go and offer to help them ? Had I known what a milksop you were, I'd never have lifted a finger to belp you to-a fortune.” *““Nor would ye, only ye wanted help. But best kape a bridle on your cone, m7 frind, I y don’t take black words from any >’ quietly added Dooley. “Dry up—quit yer quarreliv’. Whar’s the use? It don’t do no goud, an’ only makes bad blood. We’re workin’ in harness now, an’ each must keep up his eend. Fust work—then pleas- ure, Fight then as much as ye please. But | think that’s a good idea o’ yourn, Upshur. We kin bloek ’em in, s’posin’ they give us a chaince, an’ then, when we're ready to travel, we kin set em free. But mind ye, this we've got todo. | won't take a step in the matter onless this is all onderstood.” ““Nayther will I.” Just as you like about that,” impatientiy added Upshur. ‘‘But we're losing valuable time. Tbat may be but a small den, and we be too late. Then if they see us, it must come to blows.” “Ef they begin, why we'll give ’em the best we've got, in course. Come then, le’s travel.” Descending the ridge, the three men ran hast- ily across the level valley, and soon gained the second bill. As the reader knows, this danger was not s' ected by either Duplin or Wythe. “You and Tim see if you can roll over that big rock above there,” muttered Upshur, kneel- ing down beside a bowlder. “TV llagree that they shall not disturb your work, if they bear you too soon. I can keep them back, I guess,” At that moment, as be covered the entrance to the cave with a revolver in either band, cocked and ready, Nathan Upsbur ardently hoped that the two men he hafed with such ven- omous animosity would ha oi A good shot, he felt that the path before bim would soon be cleared, and the stain of the midnight murder fairly fixed upon the innocent Burr Wythe. Exerting their ose Me to the utmost, the two men at length succeeded in toppling over the bowlder, that must have wei bed many tone. Had it pot been so nicely poised, their «fforts would bave been in vain. As the huge mass settled fairly over the hole, Nate Upshur laughed aloud in diabolical glee. He knew that mortal hands could not remove the rock, without the aid of seers tools. Inthe excitement of the moment, neither Cbicot nor Dooley had thought of this, and they now felt a pang of regret. It seemed as though they had en committing a cowardly murder. “That’s one job done—and well done, too, I ea]l it,” and Upshur chuckled. ‘ Now for the other. We alone are the owners of this famous golden bed that Duplin raved about. Gome—I am in haste to know the extent of our fortune. Don’t look so grum—you should laugh instead, man. ‘* J feel like a dog that’s caught sheep-killin’, or aig-suckin’,’” muttered Chicot. “‘ We've mebbe rubbed out two settlers as is a durned us trouble. et clutches on their pile, and I think we can hold it.” With hasty steps, the three men recrossed the. little valley, and from the other ridge, carefully reconnoitered the deserted camp: No one ap- peared to be near it, and their hearts thrilled wildly as they realized that they were now sole eS
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12 masters of the golden secret. HKven Chicot for- got his scruples, in the dream of fabulous wealth that filled bis mind, ‘“‘ Tt’s ours—all ours, now!” muttered Upsbur, as he darted down the rough hillside at reckless speed, slowly followed by his comrades, In a few minutes more they stood within the rude brush shanty. Kagerly they gazed around, as though expecting to discover great heaps of the precious metal, Then Upshur laughed— harshly and discordantly. i what fools! Of course they’ve hid it, But what one hides, another can find, They've ebanged the gold to another place—for there’s where it bas been.” All could see as much, but the gold was not #here, Still, it must be hidden near at hand. CHAPTER VIII. THE WILD MAN AGAIN, MEANWEH where was Jack Tyrrel? We left him at the moment whev he turned round the point of rock, following on the strange tra A few rods beyond this, and he suddenly paused as a peculiar cry met bis ear, Hastily glanciog up, a strange sight met his gaze, A h of recognition lit up his face, He had seen that form once before. It was, indeed, none other than the ecrapent of the hill-cave, whom he bad beheld fed like a hild by the beautiful maiden; the one whom he had, a few bours later, seen shot at by Nate Upshur. The being called by Paul Chicot, the ** Mountain Devil.” He stood at the base of a large bowlder, one band outstretched, clutching bis long bow al- ready spoken of. His attitude, bis face, his eyes, all told that be was angered. “ Back! rash fool!” be uttered in a deep, stern tone. “I warned you once—this is sacred nd. Back, I say, or you die!” “Don’t be so headstrong, old man,” coolly re- turned Jack, seating bimself upon a _bowlder. “You have nothing to fear from us, When we finish our work, we intend leaving—and allow me to add that you nor any one else can make ‘us stir one step before we get ready,” The wild-man—or madmap, whichever he was, and both titles well suited him—uttered another hoarse, inarticulate cry, and, with. rom rl quickness, fitted an arrow to the string. Jack sprung to bis feet, but was too late to avoid the shaft. It struck him fairly, pinioning bis right arm to his side, the flinty head plunging deep into the muscles of bis side and back, Stung with in, and scarcely realizing the extent of his injuries, Jack drew a revolver with his left hand, and fired twice in succession, at the same time uttering a balf-unconscious cry for help. Then the madman was upon him, With a jant’s strength he dashed the young man kward to the ground, and wresting the pistol from his grasp, be dealt Tyrrel a stun- ree blow upon the head with its brass-bound utt. With a low moan, Jack lost all consciousness. The events of the next few hours were a blank to him. Probably urged on by some strange whim, the madman flung the senseless body across bis shoulder and then darted back to the cave entrance, through which he pause, As though gifted with cat-like eyes, he ran swiftly on through the winding passage, never once seemingly at fault, the re trace left being the drops of blood that fell from Tyrrel’s wounds. When, at length, Tyrrel regained bis senses, be first became conscious of a cone hand softly bathing his feverish and painfully-throbbing temples. With an effort he opened his eyes and gazed wildly around him, bewildered, confused. z : But then, as a pale, sweet face bent over him, anxiety written in every feature, a wondering broke from his lips... He recognized that face—it had more than once come up before him since that first night passed in the mountains after the desertion. The same glance recalled the place he was in; the hole in the wall where he had first looked upon the face of the madman. But how came he here? Could it be that the madman had relented, bringing bim bere to be nursed back to life and health by his own daughter? These thoughts racked bis mind, and must have left their imprint upon bis face, for the woman—or girl, rather, for she was not more, in years, at least-—gently pressed back his bead, uttering in a low, soft voice: ) “You must not trouble your brain now, sir. eee eke 2a Ses a eS Se Es eS ee a ee ae | ee Q The Mountain Devil. All will be explained in good time, Until then, rest easy. You are safe here, while | am near,” “But where am I?—and you—” *Tjisten. You are still in danger, unless. you are prudent, Drink this, and then go to sleep. When you waken, I will tell you all that I know of this affair, and she uttered a weary sigh, as she spoke, ‘*T will mind—you look like an angel,” mut- tered Jack, his heavy lids drooping as he sunk back after quaffing the drink. ‘‘ I’ve thought so ever since—that night. And I—I love—you!” Tbe last word being scarcely distinguishable, as he dropped asleep. The maiden looked astonished, as well she might, since, until a few hours before, she had never once suspected the existence of such a personage as Jack Tyrrel. It was hours before Jack awoke, but then he felt much better, though still very weak and faint from much loss of blood. His brain, though light, did not throb, his flesh was cool and moist. He was not long in reminding his fair nurse of her peer and in a few clear sentences she told him all she knew concerning the matter, Her father—the madman, for such indeed he was—had returned from one of his frequent excursions, bearing the senseless body upon his shoulder, both covered with blood, She could gatber nothing from his incoherent ravings, save that he intended offering up his victim as a sacrifices to some imaginary deity. Great as was ber influence over bim, even in his wildest moods, it was with absolute danger to herself that she rescued Jack from his hands, Then, however, he soon calmed down, and watched her dress Tyrrel’s wounds with vacant curiosity. This done, she discovered that her father al? was wounded; a deep burt, evidently from a bullet, passing entirely the left shoul- der. Scarcely waiting for this to be dressed, he left the cave, muttering wild threats against some person or persons. That was in the early part. of the night; it was now broad day, and she was very uneasy concerning bim. Such, in substance, was ber explanation. In return, Jack briefly sketched the events of the past few days. ** And now, lady—” “ Lucy is my name,” sbe simply added. “Thank you—and mine is Jack Tyrre). But I was wondering—naturally, too, as you must admit—how it happens that you are here, living in such a place.” ‘1 will tell you; it will help pass away the time, and anything is better than silence, Such terrible fears come over me at times, that I often wonder if I am not going mad—but I must not think of that, Do you know, sir, that until now, for over a year, I bave not looked upon a human face, excepting father’s?” Jack squeezed her hand sympathetically. Lucy shruok back as if alarmed, but. then, blushing deeply, she hastily added: ‘(Well, I will tell you my story. It is a strange one, and often | half-wooder if Lam not dreaming—if all the black, horrible past is not a dream, from which I shall awake some bright ay. “As I said, my name is Luey—Lucy Brad- ford, and the man who.brought you bere is my father. He was not always thus—his madness dates back to a year or more ago. ‘¢* Mather was ever peculiar, aud after mother’s death—which occurred when I was quite a child—he became still more so, and I can now understand the covert hints and strange bits of talk that used to puzzle me, passing between the neighbors. They believed he was gradually losing his mind, ‘It was a queer but very pleesant life that I led, as I began to understand things that I saw around me, Father was an actpr—as I believed then, the prince of actors—but the plain, al- most miserable style in which we were forced to exist, should have showed me better. It was one constant, unceasing struggle for bread, and yet we were very happy. ‘Father loved his art, and was only fully happy when ‘treading the boards,’ And he was sure of an appreciative house, behind the scenes, for I would applaud until my r hands were nearly blistered. I balf-fear that it was this that made father love me so dearly. ‘* I attended each rehearsal with him, and was never absent from my post in the flies when he was on the stage. This became such a matter of course that no attention was paid me by the other actors, “Well, times changed. Father became so ‘queer '—that is what the stage-manager called J it—that he could not be depended upon. More than once I remember his marrirg the effect of a play by forgetting himself, and delivering the ‘mad speech’ of King Lear, He was dis- charged, and could not get another situation. ‘One ay $ I remember, he came home great- ly excited, hastily packed up all bis stage effects and then left the house without answering my questions. He returned with money, having sold all, Then he told me of the dagzling plan that he bad in view. He was going to Cali- fornia, to pick up a. fortune from the countless heaps of golden treasure that lay there. © ** Well, I could not desert him. That was in 49—over a year ago. Father had money enough to pay for our passage out, and leav- ing St. Louis, we turned our faces toward the Land of Gold. Alas! not one of all that train —men, women, children—not one of them all ever reached the land of their hopes. ** I do not know whether the story of cur dis- aster ever reached civilization or not. If so, it must have been by accident, for we—father and I—alone, of all that company, are now alive! ‘*One wild, stormy night the blow fell. The day past had been one of unusually severe toil, and most probably the guards set to watch over the safety of their friehds and kindred, com- pletely exhausted, yielded to slumber, For the cunning, treacherous enemy crept, unbeard and unsuspected, into the very heart of our camp. And then—” Sbuddering, Lucy paused, bowing ber head upon her hands. The scene recalled by her story overpowered her, * Don’t say any more, Lucy, if it is so hard,” whispered Jack, bishand gently touching the bowed bead. “Perhaps I am foolishly sensitive,” Luc added, with a wan smile, as she raised her bead. “But at times that horrible scene comes before my eyes until it seems that my brain must burst. one who can understand, “‘T can remember but little of that horrible night. The Indians attacked us—Blackfeet, as I afterward learned. They conquered almost without a blow being struck by the white men, so complete was the surprise, And then—it was a merciless massacre. “T remember pondering how long it would be before my time would come, had been awakened, but was still inour own tent. Father lay at my feet, as I believed, still sleeping, h IT wondered greatly that the horrible din did not waken him, senseless, stricken down by a brutal blow from the band of the one who guarded me. “This. man was the one who had acted as our guide, a middle-aged, rough, bunter-like person. He had jcined the train with the sole purpose of luring it to destruction, How well he succeed- ed, you now know, “It was a long time before I fairly regained my senses. For nearly a month I had been like a maniac,-and the Indians had protected me from the malice of the renegade. This super- stition alone saved my father. We were re garded as sacred beings. : “ But an when my reason returned, I waz again subject to the persecution of the renegade —Creeping Snake, as the Indians called him, | appealed to the chief, who could both speak and understand English, though but imperfectly, for premme against the wretch. I believe that e pitied me, but be dared not interfere. By the laws of the tribe, I belonged wholly to the renegade, : **The end came sooner than I e ted. Ons day the renegade came to the lodge that bad been given my father and I, and one glance at his flushed face and bloodshoot eyes told me my peril. He was intoxicated, and his worst pa3- sions were fully aroused, ‘*T shrunk behind father in fear and trem- bling. The renegade advanced, with a horrible curse, and struck father, ordering him to stand aside. You bave seen him—you know how very strong he is; and then he was insane. ‘It was all over ip & breath, almost, A brief, horrible struggle—then the renegade lay upon the lodge floor, quivering, dead! The blood was streaming from his mouth and nostrils, His neck was broken, ‘* The chief had witnessed it all, but had not time to interfere before all wasover. He seemed frightfully angered, and had I not clung to bis knees, pleading piteouslty, I believe be would have killed father, As i was, he bad time to reflect that a madman was not accountable for his acts, “ A council was held, and fatber tried for the deed. But the fact of his madness saved him. And yet he seemed to reatiza that he was in It isa relief to speak of it, though, to « I know now that he was”
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danger, thoughehe hid his feelings from all save m e. “That night—a dark and stormy one—we left the village, passing through it undiscovered. By daylignt we were far away, lost amid the wild mountains, The beating rain had obliter- ated our tracks, and if the Indians sought for us, it was without success, “For days we lay hid during the day, trivel- ing at night, trying to find some way to civil- ization, but in vain. We nearly starved to death. But by chance—or, rather, providence —fatber killed a wounded antelope that we found in a deep valley. On this we lived for several days. “ Father seemed to have forgotten his desire to reach his fellow-men, and appeared contented with this wild life, We were living in a little den or cave in the rocks; not, this one—but an- other, miles away. _ “One night we were awakened by a mutter- ing at the cave-entrance,.. Outlined against the clear sky, we could distinguish the plumed crest of asavage. Probably he bad observed us be- fore night, and now had come to kill us, *T was petrified with fear, but not so father. I did not know he was awake until I heard him move suddenly. Then camea dull, heavy thud. and the Indian’s head disappeared, while a shrill yell of what seemed mortal agony followed, ‘I soon Jearned the truth. Father, with un- erring aim, had flung a heavy, jagged rock at the intruder. As I saw when day came. the blow had shattered his skull to atoms. That was 6 long, dreary night of terror, but the sav- age must bave been alone, for no further dis- turbance occurred. ‘In this manner father became armed as you have seen him, with bow and arrows, a knife and tomabawk. By long practice be has be- come very skillful with the bow, and we never want for food. As for clothing, as yousee, their skins furnish that. Though rude, they are very comfortable. ‘‘ With that one exception, we have never been molested by the savages. During one of his wild rambles, father found.this cave, and ever since we have lived here.” ame “A strange story, Lucy, and a sad One,” commented Jack, feelingly. ‘But do you never long to return to civilization?’ “Often—very often. But what can I dof Even though the road was open to me—and I am lost here as completely as though out of ths ~worid—lL coukl not desert father, You have seen him—do you think I would ever return to lifet He is mad—incurably so, I fear,” gloomi- ly responded the maiden, “ But if I can induce him to go with us, will you object? You will like my friends, Duplin anid Burr, Think of what your fate would be were—in case anything should happen to your father.” ‘*T would die—perhaps starve to death. I not to think of that. only know that I can hever desert Aim, I am all that he seems to care for on earth, now. While he lives, my place is with him.” “But if he agrees to go with usf” ‘“‘ Where he goes, I will go, But don’t think too much of that, I fear be will refuse.” ‘Hist! is that mot the sound of some one climbing up the rocksf” hastily muttered Tyrrel, not a little excited, half-boping that bis eo ame his retreat. “Iw see. Perhaps ‘tis father return- ing,” and Caer hastened to I the entrance, na moment she returned, pale and agitated. Tyrrel felt a strange fluttering at his beart, for he was unarmed, If an enemy, they were in- deed lost! =e CHAPTER rx. THE i mag HOME. Bor what of the train wending its weary among the hills, trying, under the dance of bind Jor Guilford, to follow the age a ly Ah, it is a query pregnant With sad even tears and sighs—with acts that make Scans hokine seem like demon-nature, For here, in the outlaws’ lair, away am hills —in his secret grotto—we find—whoy” ong the Why, Lottie Mitchell! ‘ And consoling her in her_terrible Grief is Mabel the professed daughter of Major Guilford. but now the acknowledged wife and & of Yellow Jack! And outside we hear the voice of Ma and learn from his conversation, first, t he is Yellow Jack's first-lieutenant; and particulars of the Ww following his gui tae in tt ruthlessly’ slags e, and every soul rs od , wana, tie trains. The diabolical glee which the affair exe; in the outlaw nia g the of the rr fians with whom Guilford i. But he had other matters also to discuss witp, S€co; ter of that entire sane ce, Was led into an am. 2 ’ : ———— i nse . The Mountain Devil. and brought her safely into the outlaw cam see Yellow Jack take her under his immed tection. Was he to be deprived of his %foperty? Was not Lottie his own by the laws of ti> band?t And if so, by what right did the captain tak. ser un- der his protection? This the ‘* Major" demanded in a@ mauris that showed how bitterly he felt over the event, and his openly announced purpose to have his prize yet, gave little promise of peace or safety to the now distressed and heart-broken captive, whose hours passed in weeping over the awful tradgedy which ber eyes had witnessed, and whose fears for her own fu- ture were even more harrowing than her grief. For a time Lottie Mitchell was treated ‘more asa uest than a prisoner by Yellow Jack and his houge- 10old. Even Mabel,though herself scarcely so beauti- ful, strove to cheer up the sorrowing girl, even while a dull pain knocked at her own heart as she woe nized the gradually changing expression with whi the outlaw chief began to regard the fair captive. None knew betterthan she that. Yellow Jack was evel) more to be dreaded than Charles Guilford— trat Lottie, in fleeing from the hawk, had sought 1 vtection of the eagle. With heart crushed and bowed down, Lottie would sit through the long hours in mute despair. She knew now that she was alone upon earth—that not one drop of blood akin to her flowed in human veins. Ber loving father had been the and now he was no more. He was dead—murdered! And she—oh! why had she been spared? To live on and suffer— to endure worse than death—a shameful captivity in the hands of demons who had love for naught other than sin and crime. And yet, though knowing all this, Lottie believed that she was safe from harm while Yellow Jack ex- tended his protection. She knew that Mabel was his wife—that a Rarcg, pectionale love seemed to exist between them. en—what had she to fear - him? us She reasoned, but the mask was soon to fall from bis face—the scales from her eyes. The though slow in coming, would lose none of its force on that account. A brief “ scene” had followed the unceremonious despoiling of Guilford. His fiery, untamed nature was not one to submit without a word; besides, he was backed up by the laws of the league, that dis- tinetly said a man possessed the sole power of life or br over any captive he might chance to take un- a x Guilford waited until the entire band had returned. he called only to them around him in the little are unoccupied ground near the center of the village. undaunted bravery and boldness had made ular among the outlaws? 2 very In hot, angry words he told them how he had been treated and how the laws of the league had been trampled upon without cause or provocation. He demanded their vote—whether the captive rightly to bim, or to Yellow Jack. The outlaws seemed about to ly—-to give the words utterance that would please the orator—when a clear, metallic voice silenced them. The outlaws, bold and desperate men though they were, seemed awed and shrunk silently back, parting before the approach of that one slender, frail looking man, who so negligently puffed ata tiny cigarette. “Pardon, gent * he uttered, the words ping with cat-like softness from his red lips, that cu in a smile at once sweet and cruel “ Hear- ing My name mentioned, [ come to plead my own case. Guilford, what is your grievance?” That you took by force from me a captive. the laws of the at you had no right to do this, She is mine alone—I demand her return.” The words were spoken boldly and without hesita- tion. Yet the manner in which the flushed face turned white, told that Guilford by no means under- rated bis danger. It was like playing with a half tamed tiger. At first its talons might be sheathed— but who could say how long this would last? © you consider yourself an abused man, do you?” slowly drawled Yellow Jack. I deem my rights as a member of the band, abridged. By the laws laid down by yourself, you are wronging me in taking away my property.’ And if I return her—this property of yours—you will overlook my mistake?" “ Gladly !”’ cried Guilford. too excited by the pleas- ing thought thus presented to read aright the sneer- ing tone and the yellowish glitter of the black eyes. “You are very . But I fear both my wife and your property would object. Besides, I've taken a notion to her myself. And captain before lieuten- ant. you know.’ “Then you refuse to—” } “ Bah! why so much to do about a trifle? you grow tiresome, Guilford. We will have to select another officer from the ranks.” At this sentence—the last—Yellow Jack gave an evidence of his marvelous quickness. A sudden glitter of steel—a flash—a.report, and then a death- n. Fr Charies Guilford lay upon his face the blood s!ow- ly oozing from a tiny, discolored hole in the center of his forehead. A low cry rose round the group. A simultaneous movement—and full two-score hands fell upon as many weapons. The tall, lithe form drew more erect, with head flung back and eyes that seemed like glowing coals, Sen / went the notch-like springs of his tols. P'The sullen roar of two-score voices ceased. The wea wean ge still clutched, were not drawn. And the foremost wiy shrunk back. Fear was written upon their faces, some of the men. He had rescued Lovie Mitchell 13 but that man was Yellow Jack. : : “Gentlemen,” began the outlaw chieftain, and his voice was as even and gentle as when first he spoke, “T have a few words of explanation to give you why I shot that carrion. It was because he was a traitor at heart—to me, if not to yo. I saved him from the hangman's rope, and brought him here. He served admirably as @ man; but raising him to be an officer spoiled him. You elected him; Lcould not refuse, though I knew that this day must come in time. Well, he’s dead. There is no use in premacing proof of his treachery, unless. some of you demand it. Then will comply, of course, Is any one dissatisfied? If 80, let him advance and give in his plea.” Noone advanced. Perhaps they deemed it scarce- ly prudent to do.so, with that y still lying before them. Yellow Jack smiled. He had conquered now, even as he had scores of times before, by sheer audacity, And now Lottie Mitchell was his; no one could dis- pute his choice, unless— He scowled as he thought of Mabel, his wife. “Good! I am glad to see you so sensible. Of course, we must have another election, To-morrow willdo. Talk the matter over between yourselves. The choice lies with you.” And then Yellow Jack walked away, without so much as a glance at his victim. Meantime, Lottie Mitchell had been aroused from ler torpidity—as it might almost be called. And this by one of whom we have had ony a fleeting Geeyne~-ee being called by Yellow * Crazy oe +] He had glided into the little cell-like apartment adjoining ‘ the grotto,” where Lottie was sitting in apathetic despair, pone eoenet up at his entrance, but poeogniens. him, again drooped her eyes. “ Lady,” whispered Crazy Joe, after a keen glance around the chamber, “cheer up. You have a friend near who will do his best to free you. Be cautious— do not cry out. If they suspect who and whatI really am, both you and Lare lost,” he added hastily, as Lottie gave vent to an exclamation of surprise. This was the first time she bad heard him Otter an int le sentence. To her, as to others, he had been the harmless idiot. For what had he been play- ing such a partY—for now there was no trace of, idiocy, only the sharp, acute decision of a bold and eterm man. “T don’t wonder at your surprise,” he ad with a kindly smile, as he drew nearer. “I have played my part well, and, indeed, I had_ need to, since my life depended upon its success. Butnever mind that now. I fear a before I canexplain. Lis- ten, now. Iam telling you the truth, and placing my life in your hands. Fed overeat ky idiot. That is my mask, put on the better to enable me to gain my purpose, In- stead, lama spy—a spy of the Government. My — now is to learn all the secrets of the place, so that when sive.time comes for another ack, they can’ battie us as they did the last time, *Tassumed this disguise and wandered for. days among these hills before I was picked up, almost starving, too. I was brought here and closely Cul tioned, 1 was only an idiot—so I made them bebeve. Only an iron will carried me through, for they tried me in every manner, even mye me from a sound sleep with a quick question. But I had studied my closely, and foiled them. ‘* Now it is time for act second. I have learned all I care to know, and must disappear. They will think nothing of that, for I am an idiot,” and he laughed silently, but gleefully.“ They wandered away, or been killed by beasts. And then—well. they’ll see me again, and with me wih be a host of ‘ boys in blue.’ ““Why do I tell you this? Because you are in great peril—not of death, but even worse than that —and will need all the co’ pe peenle ge wag I would take you with me, bu t woukd ruin all. Pursuit would be made—for you—and I killed. Then would your last oe die, “You must wait ently, and, if possible, gain time. I will be back in two weeks, at furthest. If you can evade the peril until then, we will save you. f not—then we will remember you while dealing our blows. Do you understand met” “Partly. But what is this great peril—he is dead, and Mabel is my friend. Surely, she will not Jet them murder me!” And Lottie paused in genuine surprise. ot will tell you, then, though *tis a delicate sub- ro But this is no time for false delicacy. Then— allude to Yellow Jack—to his passion for you,” hurriedly addéd the man. * But he—Mabel is his wife!” “True—or passes for such. But that matters little to him. Why dki he kill Guilford—his best and bravest man? Because that man claimed you —whom he wanted for himself. Now do you under- stand me?” “T_—think J do,” faltered Lottie, turning -» astly pale, “Then—tisten, The trial will come—s -cer or later. It may come to-day—or it may nov come until we return. For your sake I hope not. But you must be prepared for it. You must play a part. ou must hide your real feelings, and dissemble. Though keen as steel, you can blind him in his pas- sion with your mother wit. Affect to think of the matter, Tell him you are too heaft-sick—that all around is so new and strange that you must have time to reconcile yourself to the change. Tell him anything—only gain time. Gain two weeks, and I ledge my word—my life, that you shall be saved. { give you the word of a man who never lied unless to an enemy, such as those with whom J am now dealing. Only two weeks, at the most, I may re-
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al _—— as ot a4 turn before, but if I am not here then, you can know that I am’dead.”’ ‘You frighten me, but—” “Hist! there is some one coming! Be cautious— hide your feelings, or all is lost!” whispered the man, again becoming “Crazy Joe,” as he crouched down upon the floor and began tracing meaningless figures in the dry sand with his fingers, crooning a iow, monotonous strain as unmeaning as his blank and expressionless features. Yellow Jack entered. He gave a start as the dark figure seated upon the floor caught his eyes, but then, with recognition, came reassurance. — little whether the i not. **Come, dear lady, this will never do,” the outlaw chief uttered in a soft, musical tone, as he sunk upon the little pallet beside which Lottie sat. ‘* You are fading your beauty and dimming your eyes by this unceasing grief. The past is into oblivion. Live for the present, for the future— life can be gay and pleasant, if you only will it should. All around will be your servants—and I, the c' fief of this band of brave nfen—will be the humblest one of all at yourcommand. You make no answer,”’ he added, his keen eyes seeking to read the inner thoughts of the maiden. You are not offended at my plain words?" _ “ No-—not offended,”’ hesitated Lottie, at a warn- ing glance from the seeming idiot. ‘Thanks, Now I will give you a few words to think over for a time. And think over them care- fully you must, for a great deal depends upon your answer. You, among others, are deopl y concerned. In fact, upon your decision rests the whole of your future. Thus much, by way of introduction. “You may not know that by the rules of the band, Charley Guilford oo. became your master, by bis capturing you himself. Well—though he was a good enough man, in the way of duty, devil at heart. He would have killed you with his pide ak & month. For that reason I took you from him; for that reason, and because your face awoke a memory in my beart that [ thought: for- ever dead. Your face then, pale and careworn, re- minded me of my mother, as I last saw her just before she died, I know now that she killed her- self, because—but never mind. I did not come here to speak of the past. **Well, Guilford objected to my course, and—I shot him to-day. He would have served me so to- morrow, but I was ahead of him. ‘* Now what I mean is this. * You cannot lead this life always. You would die, shut upso close. And were you to walk about the village, you would always be in danger, from what, you can guess. For this reason, more than anything else, I am here now, to tell — that you must choose between me and one of the men. In other words, you must be- come my wife.’ * You—but Mabel is your wife!” ** Well—she passes for such, and so did the one foreher, Nevertrouble about that—~vou must decide upon whatT have told you. I must go now. You can give your answer to-morrow,” Yellow Jack left the room, and, after a warning gicnce and whisper, the spy did the same. That night Crazy Joe disappeared. As he had pre- dicted, this caused little or no comment, It was Ba ye idiot gone. Jn the morrow Yellow Jack again visited Lottie. diot heard his words or It is useless to repeat,hisarguments. They were the | one we fired at? Surely what oné man could place same in substance as those just recorded, save that they were more vehement and full of passion: Lottie, frightened and heart-sick, still did not for- he w: 4 Joe—or Joe’ Burleson, as e had told her his real name was—and begged for time. This he granted, though with evident relue- tance. Scaféely had he disappeared than Mabel rushed into the room witha maniacal fury, clutching a long, keen-poitited stiletto. With a half-stifled scream, she strove to plunge it into Lottie's breast. The peril Jent the captive strength, and after adesperate struggle,she succeeded in disarming the madwoman. Then, in hysterical sobbings the truth came out, and Lottie learned what had caused the sudden change in one who had, until that hour, treated her so kindly. She had overheard all that had passed between Lottie and Yellow Jack in the second inter- view. Fortunate it was tha son’s caution never Lottie remembered Burle- © speak without weighing ore word that she said, while in her dangerous position, Only for that she would have told Mabel all: have told her how she loathed the very sight of the monster, Yellow Jack, and that she only playing her cards to gain time that she might be saved, - - kaa Instead, she only disclaimed all thought of win- ning Yellow Jack from her; that she would far |. rather matters remain as they were. Mabel, on the other hand, saw only one hope left her, and that was in the escape of Lottie. Whileshe remained, the outlaw would only stray the further from his rightful allegiance, and with that hope, she declared to Lottie that she would assist her to escape. Rendered suspicious by this sudden change. Lottie was reserved, though the very thought caused ber heart to leap for joy. Thus she calmly listened, without a re yea or i At length Mabel turned and left the chamber. In the passage just without, a dark figure met her and clutched hey wrist with a grasp of steel. It was Yellow Jack, and in that moment she knew that he 4 ad overheard all, and that her doom was sealed. Netenln sik poet Wecgpre'ene —_ xen e — courage camé to her rescue, and she follow iis lead without a word. . Cntering their own cK fey Yellow Jack, with a He | ast—let it sink | | @ was a | | ih the lamp-light. It sunk to - The Mountain Devil. ; terrible courtesy, led Mabel to a softly-cushioned chair, and waited until she was seated, Then he drew another chair forward, and seated himself before her. Pale and calm, she met his steady gaze with one as unflinching. **Do you know what is in my mind now, Mabel?’’ he at length uttered. * Yes—if, as I suppose, you were listening to what I said to—to her in there.’ ie I did hear—that you intended to prove traitor to mé.’ ** Not to you—to the man who was about putting his wife from him in favor of a stranger.”’ *Well—we will not quarrel about trifles. You have known me long enough to guess what such attempts cost. NewI ask you a plain question : | would you rather leave me and return to your as or die here beside me?” “This is the only choice left me?’ Mabel asked, and for the first time het voice trembled. **Ts it not enough?” coldly came the reply. “Since ym say 50, yes. Forten years I have been with you, through all, day and night.’ 1 will not leave you now of my own will, because I love you, I will die here, but not by vow hand!” “Tam glad that you object to that, because T | ever. i hate such trouble. Well, to business. First, write | a line saying that this is your own deed, The men reverence you'so that they might make trouble were they to think T had killed you.” Without a word Mabel did as directed. Then again turned toward the ice-hearted monster. He knew not what mercy meant, else he would have relented at that look of ineffable love. * Well—you are waiting for—?” a Mabel moved round and knelt beside him. He frowned, thinking she meant to plead for her life. Instead, she wound her arms around him and press- ed her lips to his, in a long, lingering, farewell kiss. Then sbe rose erect. The bright poniard flashed e hilt in her warm bosom. Slowly she sunk to her knees, her eyes riveted on | his, and with that look of love died. ' CHAPTER XI. THROUGH GLOOM TO LIGHT. THE discovery made by Burr Wythe was a heart- erushing one, coming just as it did, when they be- lieved that freedom was now within their grasp. —_ ~~ a time the two friends sunk helpless beneath @ blow. | But the reaction came soon. It was foreign ta their natures to submit without a struggle at any, time, much less now, when to yield meant death—- death the most horrible; by starvation. 4) carefully worked with their fingers around the edge of what had once been the entrance. Only hard rock was there; not a particle of earth to give them renewed hope of cutting their way to the outer world by persistent use of their strong-bladed / knives. “Tis of no use, Duplin,” at length muttered Wythe, brushing the great drops from his brow. ‘* We are blocked in—we must die here like dogs!’ “itseems so, All around the mouth seems solid | | rock. But who’can have blocked it up? Not that | there, two could roll away.”’ “Tt must be the big rock that stood just above the | hole. It could be rolled over, lL. think, If so, fifty men couldn’t raise it now.” ‘* Well, one thing is settled. Whoever closed this entrance wished for our death. Thus it’s not likely | we have anything to hope from them, So we must depend upon ourselves, if we nope to ever see day- | lig t again,’ thoughtfully added Duplin. , *Yes—but what can we do? We haye no light, no | | food, no drink. We might as well sit.down here and | | : | die at once, as to wander blindly on through these winding passages that seem to end nowhere.” “* Come—this is pure folly, Burr. Though I admit that the case looks hard, very hard, I will not knock under so a We may as well nf bn life, even | though we fail, as to sit here idly bemoaning our | fate. Time will pass easier and quicker while we are busy. I am going to fight for it as long as I can. Then—when I can stand it no longer—the thirst and | hunger, I mean—why, Lhave arevolver, well loaded, here. You understand?” “Yes, andl am with you, Duplin. T was a fool. We will make another attempt. Jt can be no worse Wythe, springing to his feet, and then the hands of the comrades met in a hearty clasp. They turned and blindly re-entered the tunnel. It as slow, weary work, but they persisted, and for urs crept on, for the greater part of the time upon hands and knees, now and then cheering each other with an ee word of hope. Even was there time, it would be wearisome to follow them step by step through all these winding assages, more than once retracing their steps to “vrin anew, as they came to the abrupt termination of some tunnel, Enough has already been said, to give the reader an idea of their experience, in a pre- ceding chapter. . Enough to say that kind Providence guided them aright, after almost incredible sufferings, and finall adim light, far in the distance, broke upon their strained vision. For a moment they pause, fearing to move, to breathe, lest the glad vision should vanish. And in that moment they read the truth, . With inarticulate cries they arose and rushed for- ward. It was no delusion—the light was that of 1 t | than now, and may be better,” energetically cried heaven: and then they stood in the open air be- neath the welcome sun! They sunk upon the ground, faint and speechless. They were not what .is called Christians, and they did not raise their voices in loud thanksgiving for the great mercy that had been shown them. And yet they were grateful—they recognized the goodness of the Omnipotent in their rescue, and their thanks- giving, if mute, was no less sincere and devout than if it had been couched in the most eloquent of terms, Their hands met and were tightly clasped. For a time they seemed drinking in the fresh, balmy air, the clear, glorious sunlight, with a rapture that until now had been a stranger to their hearts. All this | was what they had mentally bidden farewell to, as they believed, forever. ‘“We are free at last, Burr!” murmured Duplin. ** Yes—but I’m awful thirsty!’ was the prosaic re- ply. ; That word recalled them to a sense of their sufferings. As they now knew, by the position oc- cupied by the sun, they had been beneath the sur- face for over a day and night; and during all these hours they had ate no. tasted no water what- Duplin gazed keenly nd. Then he gave alow, husky ery. He TeCceniNa the pot where they were. In their wanderings they had passed entirely through the great hill! — ‘“Yonder is the creek—now for water!” he cried, and then sprung forward like a startled deer. Flat upon their stomachs they lay, and quaffed the cool, sparkling water with ecstatic delight. It was almost wo enduring such a trial for the pleasure imbibed with that dranght. “Ha!” suddenly exclaimed Wythe, as he started up. *‘!Look at this, Duplin,” and he pointed to a damp, blood-stained rag that lay hal upon a rock, half in the water. The same neuen struck them both, They had assed through the labyrinth—might not Jack and his captor or captors bave done the same? “Tt’s so,’ muttered Duplin, pointing to a broad track close beside their own, ‘*There is the same track that Jack measured. Hurrah! we may find him yet!” “True—but how? Alive, or—dé¢ad ?” In silence the two friends scrutinized the sandy und around. Finally they were rewarded by ding where the traillead away from the further side of the creek, In silence they glanced at each other, as they noted the point toward which the trail now tended. It seemingly led direct to the valley whence they bad de that strange discon ani ate the cliff in which Bit Lean e couple, — : he rs Ee Cord and they wondered hat not thought of this solution before. : as their strangely-acting adversary. t they saw a solution of his wild an- Jowing skeletons. Surely no sane acted ” as he had uch danger. * Dead or alive, we will find Jack there,"' at lenviis uttered Duplin. “Find him we must, but it requires caution. One man like that could keep a thousand at bay from the cave, And if he is, mad, it would be a crime to kill him, even in self-defense.” “Come, We will do the best we can.” Though feeling morally certain asto where the trail would 1 them, the es eect did not neglect any precaution, and slowly traced out the footprints, e to their suspicions, they led direct- Bo the foot of the cliff, where they were lost upon e flinty rocks. Concealing themselves, they patiently watched the cliff for hours, in vain hoping to learn whether the madman was still in the cave. But then, urged on by anxiety for their comrade, they cautiously began scaling the cliff. en half-way to the ledge that served as en- trance to the caye, Duplin, who was in advance, Spropey, paused. A slight noise from above caugi:t his ear. For a brief instant a face met his gaze, then it vanished. But, brief though the glance was, he recognized it as the face of the maiden he had seen once before. “They've discovered us, Burr,” he muttered. ** Now for it! Up, or we are lost’ But, contrary to their exp tions, they reached the cliff-ledge unmolested, and then sprung forward to the cave-entrance. They paused; all was still. Only for that brief vision, they would have believed it was unoccupied. All within was dark, impenetrable to their gaze, dazzled by the bright sunlight. But then there came a cry—a voice well known to their ears, The voice of Jack iyrsel, for whom they had dared and endured so much! “ Boys—thank God! you are here!” ; These were the words. Then Duplin. and Wythe sprung forward, .It was a happy meeting, an a time none noticed the maiden, who had shrunk back against the wall. But then Jack glanced around and said: *“Luey, come here; these are my frie And, boys, if you are glad to see me, t her, She saved my life. This introduction put all upon the best terms, and for a time that was a joyous group. But then Lucy’s thoughts reverted to her father. Where was he? Why had he not returned? Never before had he remained so long absert, Jack, with eyes wonderfully sharpened b few hours, read aright her thoughts, and closely estioned his comr who were now eating the food set before omy ap oh in immense haste, as one—have for the last ¥
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* A woad * indeed that to which to whether they had seen the madman—cr, as he said, Mr, Bradtord. Warned by their suspicions, they said little of what had occurred, but volun- teered to go in quest of him. “Thank cog boys. I'd go, but this confounded hurt won’t Jet me. Take a look at the ¢amp while | out, He may be there.” Their hunger appeased, the two men descended the cliff, an e camp, After an hour's hard walking they reached the crest of the hill from which they had first. gazed down mpd the valley that contained the bed of gold nuggets. th paused with a simultaneous cry. Human forms met their gaze, Their camp was occupied! Over a mile distant, they could not recognize sex or color, Of course, none but men were there, but were they white or red—enemies or friends! Scarce- ly the latter, though. The two friends exchanged glances. A hard, de- termined expression rested upon each face, and their eyes told their resolve. fortune, -earned, lay there, belonging to them. Shout ey abandon it now, after all that they had endured? Not either’spoke a word, but looked to their pistols, renewed each cap, after Some ee the nipples were well primed. A mige-fise might be fatal, now. . Then they glided ard, notserKing to hide their movements. That, after the valley was reached, would be impossible. Nearly a mile of level sand, without a rock or shrub, must be passed over, And yet they reached the watercourse unmo- lested, unchallenged, unless the one feeble shout that came to their ears was such. They stood amazed, A terrible spectacle lay before their eyes. Four men lay stretched upon the ground, only one of whom gave signs of life. He had dragged himself to the «oF is 6 others were dead. Two of them lay upon . their faces, the flint-head of an arrow rokeuding from each back. The other, close by, still clutch a bow; in the other hand was an arrow, that could poe be fitted to the string before death overtook m, ‘It is the madman—Bradford!” muttered Duplin. ** And that man is Paul Chicot!"’ added Wythe. Help, friends—for the love of God! help!” gasped the wounded man—the sole survivor of this ragedy. It was hours before Chicot could explain this scene. : = piiiek onset eites ed h an ooley, an all occ since then. Of how the madman had warned then away, wher Upshur incautiously shot pie Even” ‘fell, Bradford Had his revenge. ike nd bolts, three arrows sped, god two men died, The third, with sure aim but failing power, pierced Chicot’s breast, inflicting a severe but not necessarily fatal wound, now that he could have care. had searched in vain for the buried store of gold, ythe found it intact. ae And then, le Wythe nursed Chicot, Duplin hastened to carry thé mournful ti es to Lucy, For a time she sunk beneath the shock, but then re- vivedy. dt had in a measure been ex . She had known that his life could end o n that way. nking Por the tualiy dahon” Reema hes cooking for the sily-laborin -hunters, and nursing Paul Chicot. . pero prs —_—— CHAPTER XIL EXIT YELLOW JAOK. ~ %& 4 Late one night Duplin came into campin a state of Soueiterane Ufdanieat It belg is day to act as forager, he had remained so long absent, his companions were very uneasy lest harm had be- fallen him. Great was their agitation when he made sow. aoe a “i ; ande further to the south than customary, he had just oma come upon a large encamp- ment; after ef scouting he recognized the body as being United States soldiers. He did not venture hastened back to lay the nearer them, but at on a ad ee 5, peel © escort d, by accepting which they might be spared al fee toil oor danger they otherwisé ment to meet on their return pete yee tes. But, on the other hand, here was their gold. It could not be concealed, 80 that the eyes of the 3 would not recognize it. Among so many, there might be some eyil-hearted mep, only too glad to win independence by an act of treachery. matter was thoroughly discussed, and then de- . cided: They would trust to t heir former plan At this Paul Chicot gave aSigh of relief "Hi yet too ill to be moved with safety He.7res This body of cavalry, as the reader gosces, was °F Burleson had alluded in his conversation ra — oo bed had succeed- ed in reachi it, al 7 8 the retreat = Yellow Jack and his out ta enc ‘oaneuee Duplin - rr BS mentiy re ng their animals UPS, prepari for a oe and forced march. That ine bl ~~ Wi : under cover of the dao, Ty hoa te ered witout ya om ded as they were by one so thoroughly with the surroundings as ph Burleson i¢ cer leading the "save her If possible. But would he tg in set off at a rapid rate toward their‘ h camp, and was now lying in its Upshur had tempted him y; glided up and gained foothold in the outlaws’ village, “And trent “give details? Surely enoug The robbers | The Mountain Devil. The bold spy shuddered as this fear assailed his heart. Though knowing her for so brief a time, he had given his entire heart to the pale-faced maiden. | And the love of such a man, rude and unlettered ' though he was, was not to be despised. With this view, Joe glided on in advance, while the soldiers dismounted and stood their horses at a safe distance, then removed all articles that, by jingling, could possibly alarm the foe too soon. Dressed as he had been when first appearing at the village, Burleson entered Without fear, knowing that Crazy Joe was a privileged person, But the village was quiet. Tne outlaws seemed all asleep. : Notall! From the hillside, shining through the tiny windows that he knew looked out from the grotto, Joe caught the faint ray of a light. And more! A hak-stifled scream came from that direction. His teeth grated together, his eyes flashed with a deadly. glow ashe glided into the little hut that shel- tered the entrance. : He recognized the voice of Lottie Mitchell! He paused at the entrance of the grotto. All was still, But a sight amet his eyes that fairly maddened him. | ? Near the center of the rooma man was. bending over the form of a woman; the latter seémed in- sensible. Thesman was Yellow Jack. The woman was | Lottie Mitchell Thank God! he was yet in time! Such was the thought that flashed across hig mind like intuition, Why, he could not have explained himself. d not speak—made nosound. But he bonnd- ed forward like a panther that'thirsted for blood. One hand clutched the neck of Yellow Jack. The other, uplifted, clutched a long-bladed knife, The weapon descended with a dull, thrilling thud. The steel guard dented deep into the outlaw’s back. The blood-stained point protruded through the gay- ly embroidered shirt-front. : Without a groan, Yellow Jack sunk forward upon the insensible form of his intended victim, a dead man. The blade had cloven his heart in twain, Tenderly Burleson lifted thewmmaiden from the floor and bore her to the soft couch of skins beyond. Her eyes opened, and a murmur of thanksgiving told that she recognized him as a true friend. In hurried words he told her all, and cautione’1 her to remain silent, Then, with a lingering glance at her, he turned-and glided away to give the signal of Silently, like the shadows of death, the soldiers r ese i | ae tes et the sur ae elm tem that, as the r ing flames of their blazing huts roused the slumber- ing outlaws, the wild yell of assault was given, is enough. The atrugele, though brief, was desperate and | bloody. The outlaws never, thought of begging mercy. lng, the that it would be denied them, and so, fighting, they died, An hour—then the band was annihilated. The next day a Strange cavalcade left the Retreat. Horses and cattle were heavily loaded down with lunder. Ina comfortable litter rode Lottie Mitchell. Besiue her was Joe Burleson. Poor. fellow, he was appy then, But his awakening came s00n enough, hough his love ceserved better reward. _| , In safety they reached Fort Laramie. And then Lottie was taken ill, and only awoke to life again | when winter had snow-bound all within the fort, And, oh! the joy that awaited her then! The form | that first met her conscious gaze, worn and pale with pong, and constant watching, was that of Burr > ae is fact is easily explained. The “pocket”? of gold eyentually gave out, or afforded so little reward that it was not deemed | worth while wintering there. So Paul Chicot—now recovered—amd ‘Duplin contrived to capture a sufficient number of horses and mules from those | that had escaped 'to'the hills during the attack on | me outlaws’ retreat, to mount the party and convey heir precious gold, Chicot guided them aright to | Fort ie, though the most of their gold was | Securely cach-d among the hills where it would be safe. 1en they entered the fort. There they first | heard the fate o the train they had abandoned, aod found Lottie Mitchell, the sole survivor, besides themselves. Burr was prepared to meet Lottie’s words con- cerning the murder of r Hefler.. Upshur had | confessed to the deed, and Chicot could bear witness | toit. And then, though there was little need of the words, he confessed his love. And Lottie? Well, she gained in health and spirits so amazingly, , BH Mad. Anton that long before the snow began to disap ; | ar before the warm breath of spring, there was a } ouble wed- ding at the old fort, that occasioned more pure, heartfelt joy, a8 well ag boisterous fun and jollity, than ever before marked its annals. And then, when the green grass b to appear, asmall cavalcade took its departure from Laramie, heading toward the rising sun, At fall Duplin and Chicot rode back and opened their cache, bring- | ing with them its precious contents. Never was @ more delightful trip than that, but our space forbids a detailed description. They reached “the States” in safety. Paul Chicot settled at St. Joseph, Mo., and entered into the fur trade, He still ves. f Duplin returned to the loyal maiden who had so long waited forhim. They, too, were happy. | And thus we leave them. y THE END. _I.-—John Paul Jones. BEADLE AND ADAMS’ STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS. Speakers. Each volume contains 100 large from clear, open type, comprising the tion of Dialogues, Jramas and Recitations. a Dimé Speakers embrace twenty-four yolumes, viz.: es, printed collec- 1, American Speaker, 13, School Speaker. 2. National Speaker. 14. Tudicrous Speaker. 8, Patriotie Speaker. » 15, Komikal Speaker. 4, Comic Speaker. 16, Youth's Speaker. 5. Elocutionist. 17, Eloquent Speaker. 6. Humorous Speaker, 18. Hail Columbia Speak- 7. Standard Speaker. er. : 8, Stump Speaker. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker, 9, plein: « be py sol bY _— 7mm nal 10, Spread-Eagie Speaker 5 nny Speaker. 11. Dime Debater? |S Jolly Bocaker. 12, Exhibition Speaker. | 28. Dialeet Speaker. 24. Dime Book of Recitations and Readings. These books are replete with chee pieces for the School-room, the Exhibition, for Homes, ete. 7 to 100 Declamations and Recitations in each book. Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 pages, em- brace thirty books, viz.: Dialogtues No. One, \Dialogues No. Sixteen. 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D4 PG q n a 9 frond gh B25 Keer, Hicker & | a Company, the Slewths eee 826 teed . Ten Pards; or, The Terror of Take-Notics. By T, ©, Harbdaug 827 Creeping Cat, the Caddo, By Buckskin Sam. 828 The Sky Detectives, By Major Mickey Free. 829 Red-Skin Tom. By Harry Hasard, 880 Little Quiek-Shot, By Edward L, Whealer, $81 Biack Nick, the Demon Rider, By Capt Fred. Whittaker, 882 Frio Fred. By Buckskin Sam. B88 Brimstene Bo a MMi af Notte, ty wie and Hick Lightning Horse Que. 884 Kangaroo Kit; or, The Mysterious Minar. By E. L. Wheeles, 885 Old Double Fist. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr, 886 Big Benson. By T. 0, Harbaugh. 887 Ben Bird, the Cave King. By W. J, Hamilton, 888 A*Tough Boy. By Philip 5. Warne, 889 Kangaroo Kit’s Racket. By Edward L. Wheeler. 8406 Clip, the Contertionist. By Edward Willett be! 841 Tony Therne, the Vagabond Detective. By Charles Mervin, 842 The Mountain Devil. By Harry Hasard. 848 Manhattan Mike. By Kaward L. Wheeler. 844 Rattlesnake, the Tonkaway. By Buckskin Sam. 845 Pitiless Matt. By T. 0. Harbaugh. A New Issue Every Tuesday. The Malf-Dime Library for sale by afi newndealern, Oey cents por copy, or sent by mal) on receipt of six conte cach, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishery, 98 William Street, New Yost Me By Use Meet,