Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 348) (1884 03 25)
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areens: IE OT A ET Rs (ETI IES TET LE RE wx i be ashe. - of A ee Sys : aa ST ae Stas rt SMTIO“, ‘ ae LC ; \ ke WENO WH ae ee =_— ims es ak . OBR= Coa ~. OF : a! (| | im Gd? Syl fp ak RI Vi = utah Wei teal | Yh { | (a! a tl ol Hl (ha! Hi we Pe as ay $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyright, 1884, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, March 3, #84 T\y Single | PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS Price Vol. XIV. Number- __No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 2 5 Cents. No. 348. FIREHEELS: or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. BY ROGER STARBUCE, AUTHOR OF ‘OLD TAR KNUCKLE AND HIS BOY CHUMS,” ‘‘THE BOY CORAL FISHERS,” ETC., ETC. ei peu TET ee Y My RS Zz ti ee DD as 5, Bg ian tt a S F o - LAT v A, 31 4 iM Wi y y ‘MISERABLE RAT! HYAR I AM—SKINFLINT, YER DEATH-SHADOW!”
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——— “4 ‘ Fireheels ; ? Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. BY ROGER STARBUCK, AUTHOR OF ‘‘THE GOLDEN HARPOON,” ‘‘ THE BLACK SCHOONER,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. WAYLAID f ‘On, father, what a Beri oe gloomy place! I be- lieve this is where a coach was attacked and a robbed, two years ago.” he “I think so, bus you need not feel alarmed. If there are any robbers here, now, they would have shown themselves before this,” The first speaker was Bell Danton—a lovely rl of sixteen, with black eyes, a rosy, piquant ace and a round, supple form. “a Her father, who had replied to her, as shown, aN “was an energetic-looking man, now on bis way to establish a salmon factory, near the Salmon " River mountains, Idaho Territory. ‘ The traveling-coach in which the girl and her parent were seated had just entered a gloomy gorge, the rocky walls of which were thickly covered with shrubbery, while below, “on each side of the road, extended a dense ‘thicket of willows, adding to the gloom of the tocality. . The coach, containing gold-dust, taken in at i Montane, was on its way to Salt Lake City. % There were, besides the two passengers men- tioned, ten more, five of them, who wore : slouched hats and heavy boots, having the ap- By pearance of miners. Three of the others were elderly women and the remaining two were heavy, sleepy-looking Germans. All the male ( occupants of the vehicle were armed — the miners, especially, being well provided with re- volvers and knives. Presently both Bell and her father leaned forward, peeping through a window, on seeing @ young hunter half-hidden by the willows, seated on a rocky ledge, apparently gazing at : the coach. The brief, indistioct glimpse the two obtained of him showed him to be a mere youth of nineteen, of handsome, manly ap- pearance, He wore a hunting-shirt of dressed deerskin, a catskin cap, leggins and moccasins. In his b right hand he held a rifle, and ina broad belt "A about his waist were a pistol and a knife. ““A trim-looking fellow, I should say,” re- % marked Mr. Danton, ‘‘ although I caught but a . “flying’ glimpse of him.” Wa “He looked well enough,” replied Bell, a blush suffusing her smooth cheeks. “I only ae gianced at him.” Her father laughed. i “The glance was a long one, at all events,” ae he remarked. a The vehicle had nearly passed through the ie i orge, when suddenly a couple of men sprung . Ross the shrubbery and seized the borses’ reins. At the same moment a noise was heard on the roof of the coach and the driver tumbled sense- less to the ground, ‘There are only two robbers!” cried Mr. - Danton, drawing a revolver from his pocket ¥. and addressing the miners. ‘‘Come, we can easily drive them off!” As he spoke, he opened the window, but ere a he could raise bis weapon, two of the supposed miners held their pistols at his head, while another struck his wrist with a force which caused his revolver to drop from his grasp. The other two miners, with the muzzles of their Tay pistols jammed against the heads of the Ger- mans, threatened to blow out their brains if ee ba’ attempted resistance, Ra ell, with a shriek of terror, clung to ber pa- cs rent, when she was rougbly ordered to let go of im. s The coach-door was opened and three villain- * ous-looking fellows, attired like the pretended miners, who it was now evident were their con- x Rete phe in. f ¢ “Come, gal,” said one, “‘ stop yer squawkin or we'll stick yer with this!” pes iy ” And, as he spoke, he pulled a formidable _ knife from his belt, > “You had better keep silent, Bell,” said Mr. i Danton. ‘Your cries can do no good. There is, evidently, no person in this wilderness at ae hand to help us.” “Yer may think yerselves lucky to git off 4 / with yer lives!” exclaimed one of the gang. _ _ ** All we want is the dust, and what little val- __ febles, in the shape of gold watches, jewelry, 7 ke 7 vy. y . Bis he > - etc., you and the other passengers may hev about ’em.” “So, then, “per took passage in this coach to rob it?” said Mr. Danton, in order to gain time, for he fancied he heard approaching foot- steps. P Yer might see that with one eye. Come, fork over—you and yer gal heer, or it’ll be the worse fur yer!” ““T have not much money with me, and my daughter has no jewelry.” ‘*As ef we hadn’t our eye on the gold watch she tuck out a moment sence.” ‘That watch was a present from her mother, before she died. Surely you might let her keep 16,77 =: At that instant the sharp ring of a rifle was heard, followed by a one of the robbers holding the horses dropped dead, shot through the brain. “This way, pards, this way!” came a clear, trumpet-like voice, and, from the dense willows, rushed half a dozen sturdy fellows, in buckskin, headed by the same youth who had been ts id the coach go past the ledge on which e sat. Both Mr. Danton and Bell could see him through the window, as he dashed toward the vehicle, Cries of rage escaped the robbers. They jumped from the coach, and, in a moment, all disappeared in the thick shrubbery, on the side of the gorge opposite to that from which tbe hunter and his companions had advanced. The youth already alluded to had entered the coach, He was, as stated, a fine handsome fellow, His face, bronzed by sun and wind, glowed with health, he had clear, blue eyes, long, brown hair, and a firm, handsome mouth, graced by a slight mustache. Raising his catskin cap, he said: ‘*Ladies and gentlemen, I am glad to say that my pards and I hev driven off the robbers, It was fortunate that we were hear enough to hear the crack of the varmint’s pistol. We sus- ected how things were, and came like white- igbtning, at your sarvice!” Mr. Danton smiled and shook hands with the speaker. “ After I get settled near Logville, where I am building a salmon-factory, I shall be happy to have you call on me.” “Thanks, I shall be happy to come,” said the outh. ‘‘But the place is a os way from yar. ‘You’ll bev to foot it for at least twenty miles, and ef you like, 1’d be pleased to be your escort,” ‘Oh, yes, sir, that is if it would not be too much trouble,” said Bell, blushing. ‘*None at all, miss,” answered the youth, his blue eyes sparkling with pleasure. ‘*T should be glad of your company,” said Mr. Danton. Meanwhile the coachman had persuaded the other hunters to go with him a sbort distance, as he was afraid of a renewal of the attack by the robbers, further on. The six men were therefore in the coach when the driver, who had recovered his senses, again started his horses. A ride of about thirty miles brought Bell and her father to the station where they would be obliged to leave the vehicle. They were fortu- nate enough to hire a wagon and team, when, in company with Frank Belton, they kept on for the new settlement—tben called Logville. There they finally arrived, when Belton, politely declining an invitation from Mr. Dan- ton to go to his house with bim, but promisin to cell upon him in a few days, took leave o father and daughter. ““Do you know that young fellow?’ Danton inquired of some rugged-looking hunter-settlers, who were busy about their houses, “Oh, yes, sir, that’s FrREHEELS.” ** Why is he called Fireheels?” ‘*Because once, when he was captured by Snake Indians, he escaped by running through a burning thicket, which they bad set on fire. roan near the coach, as’ Si et, $n Since that the Indians have all given him that | yere name,” “But how could he being burned to death? ¢ “Well, yer see the thicket had jest begun to burn, hyar and thar, but fore he got through he was almost in a cage of fire. Thenhe took off his buckskin shirt, and wrapped it round his head fur the rest 0’ the way.” : ‘‘ So then, besides having other good qualities our friend is a salamander,” Mr. Danton laugh- ingly remarked to his daughter, as the two moved on. Bell smiled, but made no reply. go into the fire without 4 Fireheels: or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. ’ os A few minutes later she and her parent en- ton’s agents. CHAPTER II. THE QUARREL. Mr. DANTON had not been long in ille, ' when he became tolerably well acquainted with his neighbors. Among those who called upon him, wasa young manof twenty, named Luke Lorne. He appeared to be an intelligent per- son, although his manners were ccarse, and he had a babit of using violent expletives, when provoked. He was rough in appearance, with large fea- tures, thick lips, and a constant twinkle in his blue eyes. His hair, of an auburn tint, curled closely about his round ‘bullet-head,’ and a heavy mustache of the same hue flourished on his up- rlip. In stature he was about the middling ight, broad in the shoulders and otherwise powerfully built. It was of this en who owned several houses and many plots of ground in Logville, that Mr. Danton had purchased the site for his salmon factory, now being erected. Lorne was said to have inherited much money from a relative, who had died at a distant settlement and made him his heir. ‘‘4 worthy young man, I should say,” re- marked Bell’s father tothe girl, one day after Lorne had paid them a visit. ** He wants a wife —he hinted as much to me. He even went fur- ther, saying that what first attracted him to you was a startling resemblance, which you bear toa fair cousin of his named Ellen Board- man, of whom he was very fond. Hetold me that when he first beheld you, in the street, he thought you were his cousin, Ellen, and was going to address you as such, when he saw me come from my factory, to meet you, and heard me call you by your first name, which showed him his mistake. “If so fond of this cousin why did not he marry her ?” ‘*Oh, well, be did not like berin that way, you know—only as a brother.” ‘‘T must confess I huve a curiosity to see this girl who so much resembles me.” ‘*Tt seems she does not live here now. She has moved to another settlement. Her mother. who was a widow and an invalid, fancied that the climate a little further North would do her good. Lately, however, Lorne beard that the widow was supposed to be dying, and he seemed rouch affected by the news, for he has a heart— this Lorne—besides being a person of means, Upon my word, I don’t think you could ‘do better.’” ‘*T suppose you are jesting, father,” said Bell, ‘* but if you are not, I sbould let you know that Mr. Lorne is a man whom J never could wish fora busband. He is too coarse~too—” ‘* Pooh!” said her parent, ‘‘ you mistake his gruff backwoods air for coarseness, For my part I admire the manly bearing of our Western pioneers.” ‘““So dol,” said Bell. ‘‘Ido not dislike the rough frankness of the trapper; but Mr. Lorne is different from the wild prairie-men. There is something vile—something mean and cunning in bis way, which reminds me of the wolf and fox combined.” ‘‘Upon my word you give him a good name,” remarked Mr. Danton, rising and leaving the room. For half an hour after he was gone Bell sat silent and thoughtful. j ‘‘Where have I seen his face before?” she asked herself, as she had done several times since becoming acquainted with Mr. Lorne. “I have certainly seen it somewhere before we came here.” : All at once the truth flashed upon her mind, /** Yes, the more I think of it, the more I am convinced that it was there 1 saw that face,” she continued—‘‘in the coach which was at- tacked. It was the face of one of the three rob- bers who rushed into the vebicle. Owing to the slouched hat and a high cost-collar, I could not see the eyes; but the nose, the mustache, and the sneering smile were this Lorne’s,” Then it occurred to Bell that possibly she might be mistaken, It was likely there were other faces in the world like Lorne’s; and so even if she clung to her suspicion, she would say nothing about it to her father or to any other person. As time went on it seemed evident that Lorne, undiscouraged by Bell’s coldness, was making, as he had owned to her father, ‘a dead set? aguinst her affections. Mr. Danton reasoned with bis daughter, cit- i tered the new house which bad been erected and prepared for their reception by one of Mr. Dan-
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Ping Lorne’s wealth, his ‘blunt honesty,’ as he ’ termed it, his manly strength of character, . ete., as recommendations; but in vain. Occasionally there was another c :\ler—young : Belton, or *‘ Firebeels,” as he wus termed by ST ‘most settlers and Indians, cee He always received a kind elcome from fa Bell, although her father had Jat«!y treated the youth with marked coldness, As Belton was approaching one « y for the eercoee of paying him another visit, he met r. Danton, who, contrary to his habit, scarce- ee ce ‘ly replied to his greetiug. } ‘* Are you going to my house?” he inquired. [ “ Yes, sir; I was going thar,” answered the ‘! ’ eer bey ma : she ‘‘T have to tell you, then, that I would pre- ‘fer that you discontinue your visits.” Belton stared at the speaker in surprise. ‘‘Tt may seem rude for me to say this,” con- ‘tinued Danton, ‘‘ but I have a good reason.” “Ef you'll speak more plainly, ll thank ‘ you,” said Fireheels, “Well, then, I understand that you have boasted to some of your companions that you were going to marry an heiress—that she was ' ‘dead in love’ with you, and that you expect- ‘ed to make more money that way than you .could by twenty years’ trapping and hunting. Of course, the heiress you alluded to was my daughter!” Belton’s eyes flashed fire. ““Whar did you hear such a base lie, sir? Some one, I see, has been plotting against me.” ‘‘T heard it from a person in whom I have confidence enough to know that he would not ja A ‘‘ Who is the coon, and whar kin I find him?” ’ said Fireheels. ' “It matters not. j rels.” With these words, Mr. Danton turned on his 4 ‘heel, woving toward his factory. Belton stood for some moments looking after ‘him like one dazed. Then he also turned and } walked away. ‘* Ef I could only find the varmint who has spoiled the sweetest part of my life, which ha’s been since I’ve got to going to Mr. Danton’s, and seeing the most beautiful gal that ever lived—ef I could find the rascal, 1’d drag bim before the man that’s just 5 ae to me, and make him own that it was a falsehood he had told.” | Thus muttered Belton to himself as he burried on and entered a lonely valley a few miles from ‘the settlement. As he was about to cross the valley to climb ‘up the other side of it, he heard a girl’s voice, rising from behind a rock, a few yards in ad- vance of him. ‘““Goaway! Lona does not want the white ‘man’s money. She hasa beart which is better ‘than money, even if her skin is red.” ‘‘ But,” came the voice of a man, ‘ Fireheels has shot and wounded one of your tribe. They should be glad to bave their revenge.” * Revenge is sweet to the red-man,” was the answer, ‘‘ but Fireheels never shot one of our \ tribe. It was the Indian of another tribe, who wanted to join us, that he shot—and then only ; because the Indian was going to shoot him.” ‘* But all the red-men should be of one mind. ‘So long as it was an Indian he wounded, what difference does it make to which tribe he be- longed?” i ‘* Lona has heard enough;she will go. The “white man’s money shall never tempt her to plot with her tribe against Fireheels.” Belton now saw the girl move rapidly away ‘up the valley and disappear in the shrubbery beyond. At the same moment, from behind the rock emerged Luke Lorne, looking angry and dis- / ppointed. F he young hunter stole up toward him, so lightly that he did not see him until he raised his eyes. : He started and turned pale, but, in a moment, ‘he recovered his composure. “ Well?’ he said, a little haughbtily, as Belton ‘stood gazing straight into his face, ‘‘ What do you want?” : “IT overheard, by chance, what was said. ‘You've been plotting against me, Luke Lorne.” ‘* Well, suppose I have. You are a nuisance to the country, going about shooting Indians, and, in that way, exciting the ill-will of the savages against the white settlers!” ; “I never yet shot a savage whose hand was ie, not first raised against me. You know that, F well enough ” “T cannot stop to anes with you,” d responded the other, “my time is too precious.” ; “T hev a question to put to you before you ie go,” said the hunter, as he brought the butt of I wish to breed no quar- chara foot Fireheels; or, Old Skinflint, the De * fo ‘ 1 his rifle to the ground. ‘I hev to ask you ef it was you who told that lie against me to Mr. Danton.” ‘‘ What do you mean?” Belton explained in a few words. **Tt was no lie,” was the answer, “‘ I can read you like a book, and I know you have said something of that sort.” ‘I never said it. It is notin me to talk that way. You own then you are the varmint who told the falsehood.” “T told him, but I don’t think it was a false- hood. Keep your distance,” added Lorne, pull- ing a revolver from his pocket, as Belton stepped toward him. ith one dextrous blow of his rifle, the hun- ter knocked the pistol from the speaker’s grasp, and laid an iron hand on his collar. ** You will go to Mr. Danton, and own to him that what you said was an infarnal lie, or I'll thrash you.” ‘*Never!” answered Lorne, gruffly, as he struck the other in the face. The two closed in a struggle. Both were equally strong, but Firebeels was the more active of the two. All at once he dexterously twisted his ad- versary across his hip and flung him headlong to the ground. Lorne had already been acoeare: | pummeled by the other youth, and now, his skull striking a stone, he lay fora moment stunned. At length he arose, but showed ng disposition to renew the combat. “*T will yet be even with you for this,” he said, as be picked up his revolver and moved off. Belton watched him scornfully as he left the valley, and then turning, walked away. CHAPTER III. A DARK DEED. On the afternoon of the day following the quarrel between Belton and Lorne, Miss Danton went out fora walk. The bright, clear weather and the charming scenery tempted her to go further than usual. Finally she found herself in the valley where the bunter and Lorne had bad their dispute. Sbe sat down on a mossy rock to rest, when her attention was attracted hy a sound behind her, which she at once knew to be that of a rattlesnake. She arose, but the snake was coiled ready to dart upon her, and she feared to move. There she stood, her eyes meeting the bright little orbs of the creature, as, with head erect, it gazed steadily upon her. The next moment it would have sprung upon her, but for a rifle which rung not far off, sending a bullet through its head and killing it almost instantly. The clear voice of Fireheels was now heard from the upper edge of the valley. “A plum-center shot, and it certainly was never more necessary than now!” He advanced and looked at the snake, whije Bell thanked bim for the timely rescue. ‘*T happened to be passing and saw your situ- ation, miss,” said Belton, ‘and I’m glad chance brought me this way.” Fie (ora have not called on us lately,” said ell. ‘‘Well, no; I hev been pretty busy hunting lately,” said the youth, coloring, as he remem- bered her father’s words to bim on the previous day. ‘Tl not say anything to her about it,” he thought. Soon after sundown, Bell; bidding him good- day and bestowing upon him a smiling glance cai her large black eyes, moved off bhome- ward, He stood watching ber until she entered a piece of woods a hundred yards ahead, when all at once he burried after her. Mr. Danton, learning from Bell’s aunt that the young girl was gone out for a walk, con- cluded to go to meet her on ber return. He walked some distance when, just at dusk, gazing ahead of him, he saw Fireheels appar- ently looking at something in a hollow. He hurried to the side of the youth, and a cry of horror escaped him at the spectacle which met his gaze. k In the hollow, lying upon her back, was the dead body of a female, who had evidently been pod ea as there were finger-marks upon the throat, ‘“Good God! it is my daughter!” cried Mr. Danton. For a moment he stood like one transfixed gazing with grief and horror upon the dead rm orm, ** What does this mean?” he then said fiercely, ath-Shadow. 8, shaking Belton by the shoulder. ‘‘ Answer me, will you?” ‘*God knows I would if I could,” the youth replied. ‘It seems to me likea dream. Only half an hour ago she was alive and well.” “Who killed ber?’ continued Mr. Danton, confronting the other and looking him straight in the face. ‘‘Come, perhaps you will not be so ready to answer me now.” Belton’s cheeks, which had already lost some of their ruddy color, became yet paler. “T do not know.” “Tn my opinion, you know more about this affair than you pretend!” said Danton, hoarse ye A look of horror was blended with the ex- pression of grief on the face of the youth. “I think I understand you, sir,” he cried; “but as true as thar is a God above us, you wrong me. So far from burting that sweet al, 'd have risked my own life in her de- oe elo h hat I find d ow happens it that nd you, and you alone, by her body?” qr a Belton commenced by explaining about the serpent. ‘“T saw her reach the woods; then I noticed a © form skulking about in the shadow, asef watch- ing her. As well as I could make out, when I got nearer, it seemed tobe a woman. Thinking that one of her own sex could mean her no harm, I turned and kept upon my way, which was in a direction from the woods. bad not gone far, and had got behind a knoll, which bid them from my sight, when J thought I heard a scream from that way. I burried to the woods as fast as I could go, and when I got tharI came upon this,” added Belton, shuddering as he pointed to the body. ‘“Your story seems improbable,” said Mr. Danton. ‘‘My daughter could not have been killed in this way by a woman.” ‘““No—no woman would hev been likely to do it,” answered Belton. Mr. Danton looked darkly at the speaker; then he seized him by the collar, and, at the same time drew a pistol from bis pocket. ‘““Come, sir, you are vot going to escape me. You shall go with me before Mr. Bole, the jus- tice,” ‘* Hands off, sir, hands off,” said Belton, more in sorrow than in anger. ‘‘And there is no need of your drawing your pistol. The sight of that sweet one, in that condition,” he added, in a voice of anguish, ‘‘ has taken the spunk clean out of me. But I am willing to go, of my own accord, with you to the justice, and tell him all I know, which is what I hev just told you.” “Come, then, come at once!” Belton, like one walking in a dream, followed Mr. Danton to the settlement. They went before the justice of the place—a bard-featured man named John Bole, who had been elected to his present position through Lorne’s influence. To him Belton and Mr. Danton told their story. The merchant then drew Mr. Bole to one side, and whispered to him, when the latter with- drew fora few minutes, to soon return with several stout, armed men. ** You will be put under arrest, Frank Belton, while the inquest is going on,” said the justice, “T hope that some new light may then be thrown upon the affair, which will clear you from suspicion.” “ And is it possible,” said Fireheels, seeming to commune with himself rather than to ad- dress the men before bim, ‘that thar kin be any suspicion of my having killed that sweet, baby-faced gal?’ He was led off to a stone building, which serving the purpose of a temporary jail, stood out at the further extremity of the settlement. The room in which he was confined was in the upper part of the edifice, and had but two small hc across which were fixed strong, iron ars. An hour later an inquest was held over the remains of the murdered girl, but no new facts were brought to light. Lorne, who acted as foreman of the jury, wound up with the following remarks: **T will not say that Mr, Belton perpetrated this foul crime, but I will say, and in this all the gentlemen of the jury agree with me, that he alone being found near the body, coupled with his own statement that he was with the young lady just before the tragedy, give strong grounds for suspecting that he and none other - was the assassin!” ‘* And yit he has the name of bein’ sech an honest chap,” said one of the members. * Honest enough he doubtless is,” said Lorne. oe is ~~ aes . wan oe , " wis aj > * > ri ti a eae ie eT at Pn Cert 7 Bee i hid sc 7 ins > aes meee aw i | tee > * oi
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—~ K “but he has a terrible temper. You can see it in bis eyes.” ‘* That’s so,” ** Jest.so,” ‘‘ I reckin that’s Gospel truth,” and other ejaculations of a similar na- ture, escaped the lips of the other members of the jury. CHAPTER IV. THE INDIAN GIRL. SEVERAL days passed, during which prepara- tions were being made for Belton’s trial. It had been predicted by persons who had visited him that circumstances were so strong against him that he would surely be hung for the crime of which he was supposed to be guilty. On the fourth night after the murder, as he sat in the prison, with his head bowed upon his hands, he imagined he heard a sort of scratch- ag ele, above his head. e looked up. The noise was repeated, and then, slowly and gradually, the scuttle of the apartment was raised, and a human head was thrust through the opening. By the dim light of the candle in his room, Belton recognized the iace, which was that of Lona, the Indian girl, who belonged to a tribe of Omah:s, encamped some miles from the set- tlement, She made a motion with her hand for him to keep silent; then she lowered into the room a slender rope-ladder, the upper end of which she had fastened to a hook, by means of which the scuttle had been secured on the outside. She next motioned to the youth to mount. He shook his head, and made signs to her to go away, but she would not do so. Instead of that, she descended into the room, revealing a face and form, which were more than usually attractive, Her long, black hair, escaping from under a jaunty little cap, ornamented with a drooping red feather, hung below the hollow of her back, Her skin, although of dusky hue, glowed with _ health, her features were regular and noble, and a sweeter mouth could hardly be imagined, Her eyes, large, black and soft, beamed with a blended expression of gentleness and spirit, her hands were as small as a child’s, and her shape- ly feet were incased in mouse-colored mocca- sins. The robe of light deer-skin confined about the waist and ornamented with fringe, showed the grace and beauty of her shape to advan- tage, and nothing could have been more easy and natural than her movements. ** Listen,” she whispered. ‘The Fireheels knows that Lona is his friend. He must go away from here, or bis death will be sure. Once Lona saved his life, and he then promised her that he would never refuse any request she might make. Come, let her save hislife a second time,” ‘It may not be,” answered the hunter, ‘Go back, Lona, or you will get yourself into trouble. I know I made promise to grant any reasonable ~ vest of yourn, but this one is onreason- able. ‘Lona will not go till Fireheels her,” said the girl, resolutely. ‘‘If get her into trouble, let him refuse.” “You know not, gal, what you're talkin about, In the first place, thar’s no prospects o death, for, ef I stay hyar, my innocence on trial must be proved.” ‘Tell me where you would look for justice.” said Lona, with dilating eyes, ‘The Indian girl has keen eyes, There is one person who will do all he can to hurry the young hunter to, pis fate, I need not tell Fireheels who that oes with © would “T kin think of no one who could be mean enexgh for such a thing.” “It is the man Luke Lorne that Lona speaks of. He hates the hunter. Lona has watched him, and she knows it. What she says is true. If Fireheels does not leave this place that man will cause him to be hung ! ona has heard him say he would do that,’ ‘*'You’ve heard the rascal say that?’ “Tt is true. Fireheels knows that Lona would not lie. The missionaries who have visit- ed her tribe, besides teaching her to read and write, bave taught her to tell the truth. Come, will the hunter go with Lona now?” “Yes, gal, I will. Ef thar’s to be any trick- ery on the trial by that mean coon, sooner than give him the satisfaction of hanging an thnocent man, I will go with you.” The dark eyes of the girl sparkled with joy. She pointed to the rope-ladder, which the pris- oner now nimbly ascended. After he had mounted it, Lona followed. She =F up the ladder and gently closed the scut- eu, coiling the ropes about her neck, she ~ > *) / > Fireheels: or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. | Oi iN ai [oy ; nee {7 Se pointed to a tree which stood about a foot from the edge of the roof. The building was not guarded by sentinels. Persons were only temporaril ly confined there to await their trials, after which they were re- moved to a better and stronger jail in a settle- ment a few wiles beyond Logville. Belton, descending the tree, was soon joined by his rescuer. The night was not very dark, and the girl went ahead to keep a lookout, In a few min- utes she returned hastily. “Down! down in the bushes!” she whispered. ‘Lorne coming this way with party of men, He already bas seen Lona!” Belton crouched bebind a clump of shrubbery, and a moment later Lorne came up. ‘*Halloa! Lona here at this time of the night,” he cried, suspiciously, ‘‘ and so near the jail, too!” ‘‘Lona goes everywhere,” she answered, coolly. ‘* That’s so,” spoke up one of the men, laugh- ing; ‘‘that gal is like a ghost. Yer meet her everywhere, and at all times of the nigbt.” “But I thought I saw some one with her just now,” continued Lorne, ‘‘ Come, Lona, speak up and tellus who was with you,” be added, moving toward the clump of shrubbery bebind which Belton was crouched. Fireheels perceived that discovery was inevi- table if he remained where he was, There was a hollow behind him, and into this he slid. “I’m going to look behind these bushes,” said Lorne, turning to the two men with him. ‘‘ Re- member, with a murderer in yonder jail, it is necessary to be careful. Here we are on our way, now, to suggest to the justice that irons be put upon his wrists, and it would be strange enough if, while we are taking these precau- tions, he should succeed in escaping.” So saying, he moved the shrubbery aside, and peered behind it, Belton had trusted to his being concealed by the darkness in the hollow; but Lorne, stepping forward, stooped and looked down into it. Firebeels remained so still in the pit that Lorne did not at first perceive that any one was there. To the intense surprise of Belton, he now heard a low, hissing voice:at his ear. ‘Jest change places with me, and yer’ll see him go off like a ghost. Quick! Heer he comes!” The speaker—a long, gaunt shadow—had emerged from a mass of high grass in the hol- low on Belton’s right. The youth could not, of course, see him dis- tinctly—could discern little of him except his eyes, and these seemed fairly ablaze, like those of some wild beast, They looked like round balls of fire, girdled by two white rings; and as he met the steadfast gaze, he felt a band, like the claws of a bear, clutch him by the arm. Mechanically, he shifted his position to the left of the stranger, who at once took his place. : Lorne, thinking he saw a moving form, had ace about to creep down the side of the hol- ow, Then, all at once the strange being elevating his head in the moonlight, as if it was that of a serpent, whispered in the young man’s ear four words, which caused him to start back with a low cry of terror, and draw quickly away from the hollow. “a OEY “What is it? What did yer see?” inquired Lorne’s companions, ‘* Nothing,” he said. ‘**Then there was no one there?” “No; but a snake rubbed against my hand, and it startled me!” CHAPTER V. THE COMBAT. LorNE and the men with bim moved on. As soon as they were out of sight, Belton turned to thank the person who had so oppor- tunely saved him from being discovered. To his surprise, he then perceived that the stranger was gone. ‘Did you see that man come out of the pit?” he inquired of Lona. “Yes, he go off that way like a shadow,” and she pointed toward the eastward. y ‘Tt was very strange,” said Belton. ‘‘ He merely whispered something in Lorne’s ear, which sent him away at once.” She much afraid the white “Lona is glad. hunter be taken again.” ‘Seeing the other person in the pit, J reckon Lorne hadn’t any suspicion I was thar. ‘*No, but he soon find out now; you escape, and we must go fast. Come, we have far to go.” : of the Omahas. The chief—a_ tall, — savage—came forward and welcomed Belton. ‘* Fireheels is safe with the Omahas,” he said. “There was a time when he saved the tribe, and now the tribe will save him. Wono does not forget!” “That I saved your tribe, Wono, is very true; but you had to streak it some to save yourselves after I warned you that the Black- feet were coming to attack you.” ‘The bunter has had poor food of late,” re- marked Lona. ‘‘Let my brother give him of the best in the camp.” ‘‘Ugh! That is good. He shall have it,” an- swered the chief. Belton was conducted to a tent, and he was soon partaking of a good repast. When be had finished it, Lona came in, and spread for him in onecorner a comfortable couch of skins. The hunter, soon after, was buried in a pro- found slumber, from which he was awakened, before midnight, by a hand upon bis shoulder.. He opened his eyes, to bebold, by the light of the moon, which was now shining, the face and form of a youth of seventeen, who stood look- ing down upon him with a troubled aspect. elton recognized him as Tamina the son of one of the old Indian chiefs. ‘‘ Well, why bev you waked me from a sound and sweeter sleep than I’ve had before, since I was arrested?” “There is a reason. Tamina would ask the white hunter to leave the re ‘““To leave your camp? Who sent you on that errand? as it Lona?” ‘It was not Lona. Lonais glad to have the hunter here, and that is why Tamina is not glad.” ‘‘T understand—a case of jealousy; but you needn’t trouble yourself, Tamina; I’m not going to try to cut you out.” “That is why Tamina thinks the hunter should go away. If he wanted Lona for his. squaw, then the Indian would not say a word. But he knows the heart of the Fireheels is away from the ‘Singing-Thrush,’ and he would not have her throw hers awayonhim!” ‘° ‘Nonsense! The gal doesn’t care for me im the way youtbink. She is friendly, for the lit- tle sarvice I did her tribe. That is all,” “Tt is not so. She will never be the squaw of Tamina while Fireheels is here,” Again the hunter told the young Indian,. what he really believed to be the case—that he was mistaken, The other insisted he was not. ‘* And so Fireheels must go.” “Thar’ll be a price on my head, Tl be hunted down for a crime I couldn’t hey done, had I tried. If I go, i’ll be arrested.” ‘Ts it better, then, that Fireheels should, break the heart of Singing-Thrush?’ ‘“Thar’s no danger of that. Jl not leave your camp, so long as Wono is willing I should stay hyar.” “The hunter will not go?” “T have said it.” ‘Then Tamina and he are no longer friends.’”” ‘“Come, Injun, you'll not be so foolish as that,” said Belton. ‘What Tamina says he means.” “ You are not going to betray me?” said Bel- ton, sternly. But the young Indian abruptly left the tent, making no reply. Belton turned over on his. couch and again dropped tosleep. On the fol- lowing afternoon Tamina made bis appearance before Fireheels, who was still in the tent which had been given up to him for his use. “The white hunter bas refused to leave the Omaha camp!” “They. Why should I leave it?” “‘T have said why. Will Fireheels refuse to meet Tamina, too?’ “To meet you?” . “Yes. Tamina would meet Fireheels, knife in band, that be and the Indian may fight out their quarrel!” ‘*T have no quarrel with you, Injun. I don’t want to take human life ef I kin help it.” “The words of Fireheels are big. His heart may be big, too. But I will try it.” “Come, now, Tamina, thar’s no use of your trying to force afight on me, I’m friendly to your people, and don’t want to burt you.” The Srp ata curled his lip. **Tamina knows how to use bis knife as well aati) 9 ct do, but I t Pm not goi erhaps you utI re not going to fight you. ; bhi — It was late ere the twain reached the camp: Ee
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eee ile ~ ~« a Bran = : Pa 5 A ees Peet Fireheels 3 OF, Old Ss a a PK af Ts are) kinflint, the Death-Shadow. BR ie in eae ee Vy «Then Firebeels is afraid: He has the heart of y a squaw—of a coward!” e quick temper of the youth was not proof against this taunt. re be himself was hardly aware of it his hand flew out against the speaker’s tawny cheek. The other showed no emotion whatever, except a fierce glitter of the eyes. ; ‘*Firebeels has struck Tamina. refuse him, now, what he asked!” ppose you're right,” said Belton, regret- fully. ‘* Whar shall we meet?” ‘A mile from here there is a willow grove.” ‘*T know the place.” ‘‘Near the grove there are thick bushes. I will be there, waiting for Fireheels!” ‘All right, Injun,” said the hunter. ‘‘TI’ll be ‘thar with you, before the sun goes down.” Tamina strode out of the tent, and at once repaired to the spot he had mentioned. A manemerged from the clump of shrubbery. It was Luke Lorne, ‘* Well, how did you make out?” he inquired. ‘*Fireheels will soon be here. Has my white brother posted his men?’ “Yes, there are eight of them, four being officers of the law.” ‘Tt is well,” said Tamina. While he was speaking, Fireheels left the camp, and was soon on his way to the appointed rendezvous. The impatient young Indian went forward a short distance, and climbed up a tree to watch for his coming. At that moment Lorne beard alow whistle, elose bebind him. He turned to behold a tall lean, figure he had never seen before, wearing a slouched hat and a teamster’s long blue frock. “This way,” said the stranger, drawing the youth toone side. ‘‘ You are after Fireheels, are you not?” “ Yes,” ‘Well, if you wait for him heer he'll escape ‘yer. He has suspicions, and will come round this way, instead of taking the path you expected he ~would!” ** Who are you, and how do you know?” “To your first question I hev to say that I’m ‘a person, who, heerin’ of the escape of that mur- derer, hev made up my mind todo what I could to help catch him. I hey been watching him, He cannot since he left the Omaha camp, and I know what Tm taiking about. I saw him take the route which will lead to yourrear. He will then see you and your men posted here, and will hev no trouble to avoid you.” ‘* What is your name?” “* John Henderson, sir.” ‘Well, Henderson, if what you say is true, and we succeed in re-arresting that fellow, who I may say is guilty of one of the foulest crimes ever committed, [ shall reward you.” “Thank you, sir. Follow me, and I will put yer in the way of capturin’ him.” CHAPTER VI. BAFFLED. HEADED by Henderson, Lorne and his men moved swiftly and stealthily through the grove. “Tt seems to me you are taking us a long distance,” remarked Lorne, as the man kept on, after passing through the grove. **Tt’s the only way to catch him. He, too, is going to take a long, roundabout course.” They kept on in silence, The shadows deep- ened as they proceeded. “There,” said Henderson, pausing at last near asmall valley. ‘‘ Here, behind these bushes, we will wait for about five minutes, when we will gee Fireheels pass.” The five minutes went by and thirty more, but no sign of Fireheels was to be seen. Henderson, who had crept away from the party, saying he would go and look if he could see any sign of the young hunter, had not yet returned. Meanwhile Fireheels, having left the Omaha camp, burried along toward the place where he had agreed to meet Tamina, who now, from his position in the tree, saw bim approaching. “Ugh!” muttered the Indian. ‘‘Tamina will have the white hunter in a trap, and this shall be his revenge. He has won the heart of Lona away from the Indian!” He then descended from the tree, and took his position near the sbrubbery, in which he sup- osed Lorne was still hidden with his men. ‘*Tamina has waited ne he said to the outh, as he came up. ‘He began to think Figeheel be hae a ” the hunter quietl “T always keep my word,” the r quietly auted, but ai own I’m sorry thas must be < this knife-work between me and one of the | tribe which are my friends!” ‘*Fireheels can never be the friend of Tamina,” the Indian replied. ‘*Come, let him draw, for the sun is down, and it is time we commenced the fight.” The youth pronounced the last word in a | lcud voice, as it was the signal agreed upon for | Lorne to rush forth, and seize his prisoner. Not a sound, however, was to be heard in the | bushes. Belton drew his knife, and said he was ready. | Tamina pretended to be looking at his blade, , as if to make sure it was in good condition, | when, in reality he was delaying the fight, in order to give Lorne time to come out of the | shrubbery. Seeing no sign of him, he was enraged, and he now made a sudden rush at his opponent, aim- ing his knife at his heart. Belton avoided the thrust by een J himself, and, at the same time, pricked the Indian in the right arm. Tamina, with flashivg eyes, drew back, and, perceiving he was no match for the skilled hun- ter in the use of the knife, be quickly loosened his tomahawk from his belt, and sent it flying, with tremendous force, full at the head of his ees ‘he latter dodged quickly enough to avoid the flying missile; then he ran at the Indian, | aiming at his arm another blow, which, had it taken effect, would have disabled the limb for | some time. But the wily savage avoided the thrust by gliding bebind a tree, and then, suddenly point- ing full at the youth a pistol, which he pulled from his pocket, he fired. The bullet would have passed through the hunter’s heart, had not a strong arm knocked aside the pistol, ere it was discharged, causing the shot to take an upward direction! At the same moment, the young Indian fell senseless to the earth, as he received 2 blow from the butt of a revolver upon bis head. ‘* Thar, yer are—but the mean skunk hev not got bis desarts, which would be a knife in his gizzard!” was uttered by the person, who to Lorne bad said his name was Henderson. Belton saw before him, wearing a teamster’s frock, a tall, sinewy personage, so thin that he had the appearance of a gaunt shadow. Al- though, in reality. not more than forty-two years of age, he looked as if eaey years older. His visage was half-concealed by a white beard, which descended to his chest, his nose was long and straight, his eyes, of a light gray | color, looked almost white. timely interference,” said the young | hunter, ‘* That varmint asked to meet me here | that we might fight out a little trouble of his own making, with knives. He broke his agree- ment by first using his tomahawk and then his pistol. To whom do lowe my rescue?” ‘*My real name is SKINFLINT. This red:skin bhyar did not mean to fight you at all, but to lead you in an ambusb of Lorne and his men. They were tocome out on you, ’fore the fight could begin, but I balked the raskil nicely. edie: and his party are at least halfa mile from ar ‘He went on to explain. ‘* How did you discover Tamina’s intentions?” inquired Belton. “I overheard what he said, last night, to Lorne, when he met him. I was close by in the shrubbery.” ‘You seem to take a kindly interest in my affairs, thar’s a fact,” said Belton, holding out his hand. A strange, fierce light gleamed in Skinflint’s eyes. fe I b’lieve in helpin’ them that’s in trouble,” was the answer, “and,” he added, in a voice hoarse with passion, ‘‘ I’ve made one vow of revenge, which I’d go through coals of fire to keep. But, come, you are no longer safe in the Omaha Nar i Belton followed the speaker, who made his way toward the mountains, looming up in the distance. “ IT know a cave yonder, whar all the detect- ives in the universe couldn’t find yer.” “Thar is many a cave thar, which I know of myself,” said Fireheels, ‘‘but they are also | known to other bunters.” ‘The place I'll take ver to was never known to mortal man but me.” By the time the two reached the mountains the moon had risen and lighted the dark rocks wherever they were exposed to her rays. . Skinfliot. raising a small bowlder on the sum- mit of a cliff, revealed a hollow in which a rope was coiled. One end of this rope he fastened to a projecting rock; then he dropped the other, lite ge it to dangle from the edge of the ight. x Yer kin see a ledge ten feet below us,” he said. ‘Climb down to that ledge and push aside the bushes thar, and yer’ll see an openin’ which will take yer into a cave,” ‘** Are you coming?” “Not now. In the cave yer’ll find deer’s meat and other things which are useful.” ‘‘Suppose I should want to come out before you join me?” *Yer’ll find a sort o’ rope-ladder thar by which yer kin reach the rock twelve feet below the ledge. Come, yer better lose no time in git- tin’ to yer quarters, for Lorne and his men are by this arter yer like so many bloodbounds,” ‘Upon my word, I think you are very good to me!” said Belton. “*T hev reason to be.” “What?” ‘“*T hev reason, fur I never furgit a kindness. Do ver remember a stormy night, one year ago, when yer saved a gal, which was lost, from be- ing captured by savages or froze to death, and went miles out o’ yer way to take her to her home?’ : “*T think I remember something of that kind,” | answered Belton. “ Well, that gal war my little sister, Mary,” said Skinflint in a voice of emotion. ‘‘Sbe war an angel upon the airth, and when I came home and my wife showed her to me, all safe and sound, and said that a hunter, calling bimself Fireheels, had saved her and brought ber thar. I blessed yer from the bottom o’ my heart, and made up my mind that, ef ever I could sarve you a good turn in any way, that I’d do it!” “The girl must be a pleasant companion to you,” remarked the other. ‘‘ I hope she is well.” ‘““No more, fur the love o’ God!” cried Skin- flint, in a husky voice. ‘‘ Don’t speak of her!” And, to the surprise of Belton, he saw a big tear trickling from the eye of this fierce man. Without another word he seized the rope, descended to the ledge, and entered the cave, — nS reg ad of which had been concealed by the ushes, CHAPTER VII. THE MEXTING. NEXT morning Henderson, or rather Skin- flint, the latter being his real name, emerged from a but which he had made his habitation since coming to the settlement. He went straight to Lorne’s abode, and knock- ed at the door, An old woman, employed there as housekeep- er, answered the summons, and asking to see Mr. Lorne, Skinflint was shown into a hand- somely furnished parlor His gray, whitish eyes gleamed fiercely as he glanced round him. ‘*Rayther bright—rayther bright, fur this part o’ the country,” be muttered. ‘Ther things I see must hev cost a heap o’ money.” Lorne soon came. “A fine trick you played me last night,” he said, angrily. ‘Don’t understand yer.” ** You didn’t return, after leading us off from the very place where it seems Belton did that evening. It looks to me as if you did i on purpose.’ ‘“No, I made a mistake. After I left you, I saw a man stealing along, whom I thought was this Belton, and not until l’d tracked bim a lon distance, did I discover my mistake. When came back to whar I had left yer, I found that yer war gone!” ‘*We waited and waited for nothing,” said Lorne, “and might have staid there longer but for Tamina, who came, at last, and told us that he and Belton had met and fought, and that the white bunter had run away!” A scarcely perceptible smiled hovered about the corners of Skinflint’s eyes. *‘T repeat,” said Lorne, ‘that I believe you deceived me on purpose, and I mean to have you arrested.” * Do yer?” Yea, I dos *T don’t think so. yer. Hyar itis!” As he spoke, Skinflint pulled from his pocket a crumpled bit of paper. ‘My eddication bev been neglected, but I think that was writ by you, as yer name's signed at the bottom!” Lorne took the note, at which he had no soon- er gazed than his cheeks blanched and his hands arc eee int ee ‘Where did you get this?” he x “T found it near the holler our woods, I hev a little letter fur whar they tell me the late murder was done!” , .
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Fireheels; or, “Oh, yes, I remember. I dropped it from my pocket, the other day.” ‘* What’s the meanin’ of its bein’ thar? I enly ask fur information, yer know, as I’m bound as well as you to ferret out all I kin about the crime.” ‘‘I dropped it, and the wind must have blown it to where youfound it,” quietly answered Lorne, who had recovered his composure. “ll mention that, after you hev me ar- rested,” ‘T do not really mean to have you taken up. I only said so to frighten you a little,” “Let me see, that note’s writ to a gal or woman, whose first name is Ellen, I b’lieve,” “Ob, so you read the note?” “T read it—yes, as well as I could. It ap- se de to me that the person whom you writ to ad begged you to come to her, fur in the note yer refuse to go, and, worse than that, threaten to kill her.” “There is no such threat,” said Lorne, looking surprised, ‘‘ Besides, I did not send the letter, after writing it.” “Yer say in it that, ef she attempts to come to you, after you refusin’ to go to her, that one of ou would vanish as if from the face of this arth! Lorne laughed. ‘* Foolish fellow,” said he, ‘‘by that I meant that I would clear out somewhere where she eould not find me.” ‘Was that all? Whar is she, now?” inquired Skinflint, fixing the steady gaze of his piercing gray eyes full upon the face of Lorne, The latter, however, preserved his composure, ‘* You ask me where she is? What business, pray, is that of yours?” My Nothing pertik’lar; only when I half know a thing, I like to find out the rest.” “T repeat, then, that this does not in any way concern you as it is an affair of my own,” Skinflint bowed his head. ‘‘Te I were you, I would not tell any one about finding this note. Jt cando no good,” re- joined Lorne. ; ‘*Tt’s queer though, that I should hey found it by the hollow, whar that gal, Miss Danton, was killed!” And, as he spoke, he again turned his white eyes upon the young man. “‘T nave told you [ dropped the note.” “True! true!” said. Skinflint, nodding his head, while, for an instant a puzzled look came over his face. ‘Don’t be afraid,” said Lorne, misunderstand- ing the cause. ‘I promise you [ll not havé you arrested.” ‘“*And couldn’t you do something for me,” said Skinflint—‘‘that is ef I promise to say nothing about the note?” ‘*What do you mean?” cried Lorne, sharply. ‘*My ooly reason. for uesting you not to Peng of. finding that worthless old letter, is that it might provoke discussion, which would be annoying.” ** And again—” ** Again what? Goon!” ‘Queer suspicions sometimes spring up, yer know, from small foundation. Now you might say the wind blowed the letter whar it was found, when t’other folks would say it was drop thar !” Z Heaven!” laughed Lorne. ‘‘ What are you trying to make out?’ ‘Well, well, responded Skinflint; ‘I won’t speak of it, then.” **' You spoke of my doing something for you. What did you mean?” “T thougit yer might put me in the way of earnin’ an honest livin’, Facts is, I hevn’t nothin’ to do at present, an’ ef I could only git hold of money enough to buy a pritty jewel like tbis,” he added, suddenly pulling a diamond ring from Lorne’s vest pocket—‘‘I’d be a happy map.” “Give me that ring,” said Lorne, quickly. Skinflint, however, had stepped back, and was coolly examining the ring. ‘‘ Here,” he then said, presenting it to Lorne. “Yer kin hev it. I s’pose stolen property is amore valleble than any other.” And as he spoke he turned his whitish-gray »ayes full upon the face of the young man. “Sir! scal! What do you mean?” “Don’t yer go fur to git in a passion. That ‘was a pooty ring, but ef I war as rich as yer- self, I don’t think I'd hev taken the trouble to stop the carriage and threaten to shoot the bie lady who owned that jewel ef she refused ‘ive it to me.” e turned pale, ‘ at are you talking about?” he inquired. . “Come, now, let’s understand each other,” said Skinflint, laugbing. ‘‘ I see’d the bull thing. The mask didn’t hide yer face enough fur me not to git a good squint at it. It all happened four days ago, and, though no one was killed this time, the news of the robbery is all over the country.” ‘* You talk like a madman,” said Lorne, with a surprise which perhaps was assumed, ‘‘ How could you know my face, even had | been there, at night, witb a mask on it?” ‘** Don’t yer remember seeing a chap rolled u in a great overcoat, in one corner of the coach?’ No one molested me, fur you all thought 1 was asleep, but sech warn’t the case. You grabbed me by the throat, and I seemed fur to wake up, but I had the look of one who had been ’toxi- cated, which I warn’t at all, but only put on, letting my head bob to one side, and seemin’ to go to sleep again. Thev you left me and went on robbin’ the frightened young lady and her negro servant woman, which was the only pas- sengers but me in the coach.” Lorne listened to these remarks with a wild, surprised look. ‘*T had a good chance to see yer face when you was so clus to me,” continued Skinflint, ‘and it ain’t easy fur me to forgit faces.” The speaker now watched the agitated visage of the young man with an amazed look, ‘*You’s safe enough, fur all that,” he con- tinued, after'a moment’s pause, ‘‘ fur who do you suppose would believe a ragamuffin like me, ag’in’ sech a gentleman, as you, even ef | war to blab on yer, which [ kin truly say 1 bev no in- tention of doin’, Had I been opposed to yer work, of course I’d hev told on yer, ’fore now, so yer needn’t be so terrible down in the mouth about it. I don’t know as I blamed yer for rob- bin’. It’s an easy way to git a livin.” The two men looked at each other. “I think you and I will agree,” said Lorne. ‘* You told me you wanted employment,” “‘ Anything fur an honest living!” and at the word ‘ honest,’ Skinflint laughed. ‘First of all, you must help me track that es- caped murderer, and arrest him,” said Lorne. ‘Tl do that,” was the emphatic reply. CHAPTER VIII. A REVELATION. Wuen Belton entered the cave to which Skin- flint had conducted him, he noticed that it was about fourteen feet square in area, and dimly lighted by crevices in the rocks above. On the wall hung a couple of good rifles, and, among other things he saw there, be noticed a variety of articles for male attire, such as blouses, jackets, hunting-suits, and different kinds of hats, In one corner a heap of soft skin seemed to in- vite repose. Before lying down, the youth went to the opening of the cave and looked out, By the clear light of the moon, he then beheld a spectacle, which at once roused him to action, eated on a cliff, not fifty paces off, was a slight, boyish form—evidently that of a travel- er, as a wallet was slung at his side, and he car- ried a stout stick. About twenty yards bebind him, a large, ferocious wild-cat was stealing toward hin, with noiseless pace, evidently to spring upon him, and make him its victim, The boy, appar- ently in a reverie, knew notbing of the presence of this foe, and Belton comprehended that he could not enlighten him on that point, without revealing his secret retreat. Resolved to save the youth at all hazards, he descended, by means of his rope-ladder, from the cave, and, rifle in hand, advanced until he reached a favorable position for a shot. Then he fired, and bis unerring bullet passing through the head of the animal, killed it instantly, The person who had thus been saved by the timely shot of the young hunter, presently ad- vancing to thank the young man, was fully re- vealed to the latter by the light of the moon, which was at this place unobscured. Apparently, not more than seventeen years of age, be was of slight form, with a profusion of light, brown hair alling, in natural ringlets, to his shoulders, His eyes were very dark, and his face was extremely pale. It was a hand- some face, with its fine, regular features, and yet it was almost haggard in expression, while, about the mouth, young as he was, were lines asjof deep suffering. A slouched hat which the stranger had worn he had raised with one slender hand, while he extended the other toward his rescuer. ‘“‘Thanks,” he said, in a musical, boyish voice, “You bave saved my life.” : ‘And glad I am I came up in time to do it,” said Belton. ld Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. “I did not know there were such wild-cats in “ this part of the country. I thought the only dangerous creatures hereabout were robbers.” ‘‘Not only robbers but murderers, too,” re- sponded the hunter. ‘'Probably you have: beard of the murder of Mr. Danton’s daughter —the sweetest gal in these parts?” “ And as he spoke Belton heaved a deep sigh. The stranger answered, in a hollow voice; ‘‘I1' have heard of it.” ; ‘Yes, and I believe, now, thar’s devils on the: face o’ this earth, though I'used to doubt it.. The man who murdered that gal must hev been ~ one on ’em.” “How do you know it was a man?” inquired! the other, in the same hollow voice as before. Belton was a little startled by the question. “‘Shorely no woman could hey done it?” he- said. ‘‘ Women have done such things,” replied the: other. The hunter looked closely at the speaker. His» dark eyes gleamed coldly and steadily—his. expression was very sad. ‘‘How long hev you. been in these parts?” inquired Belton, “Not long. I would rather you would ask: me no questions.” ‘‘ But—but—perbaps you’ve not heard that a certain young man—a bunter, was arrested on: suspicion—tbat he escaped from prison and that law officers and others are now searching fur~ him?” ‘(It is too bad, since he is not guilty! No.. I had not heard of that.” “Tt is true; but you say you know he is not: ilty! _How do you know that?” ““T said I’d rather you would ask me no ques-- tions,” “Yes, but when I tell you that Jam the per- son accused of the crime, perbaps you'll excuse- me for not complying with your wishes.” The dark eyes of the stranger scintillated in the light of the moon, as he-:started and looked: at the speaker. ‘“ You, my rescuer, accused of that murder?”’ ‘* Alas! thar’s a fact—I am.” ‘‘The accusation is false! I know who killed the girl!” ‘“Then, for the Lord’s sake! go and tell the justice, and free me from the imputation!” cried: the other. At that moment half a dozen forms were seen: approaching, with Lorne at their bead. “Here he is, men! We have bim, now!’ shouted the leader. And, as he spoke, he leveled a pistol at Belton, who had not yet thought of ‘reloading his piece,. calling upon him to surrender. In a moment, however, the stranger, as quick. as a flash, raised his head from bebind the rock near which he had been segted. The position he occupied now was between Belton and the pistol, and as he stood witb bis« hat off, bis whole visage was distinctly revealed. to Lorne. No sooner did the latter see the face thus pre- sented to his gaze, than he staggered back, his- pistol dropping to the ground. The next moment, dodging among the rocks, the boy glided off, while Belton also bounded) along in another direction. The hunter finally gained his retreat and drew up the rope-ladder, while the voices of bis pur- suers yet sounded in the distance. He thought more of the person whom he had: saved from the wild-cat than he did of Lorne- and his people. The lad had said he knew whohad committed the crime, and this declaration inspired him: with a feeling of hope. The young stranger, knowing that Belton bad been falsely accused of the crime, would certsinly go to the justice and make known the truth. But the conduct of the youth had been very strange. After Lorne, for some mysterious: reason, had been startled by the face of this lad, the latter had run away, 8s though he, too, was anxious to conceal bimself! What could it mean? If he found it necessary to keep himself hid- den, what chance was there that he would ven- ture to make any revelation to the justice? ‘*T must find him and bave further conversa- tion with him,” muttered the bunter. After a restless night, be rose early and tried to partake of some of the provisions in the re- treat. While doing so he heerd the noise of a stone, thrown up among the bushes over the entrance: of the cave. Peering cautiously forth, be was surprised She looked carefully around her, as if to make to see Lona, the Indian girl, on the rock below, .
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| if | =e 7 ie + Y =e se, : Gi ie 5 tee it aye a2 SIRE ~ sip vee ae eS. eee a we a? ee Fireheels; or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. a e., 4 " 7 ee ree oo - e Serae oS ys : ¢ ieee seed ey ——————— sure that she was not observed; then she made a motion for Belton to lower his ladder. He did so, and the girl soon was in the cave. ‘Glad see all safe,” she said. ‘‘ The Fire- heels did wrong to leave the Omaha camp when he did. , He should have known that Tamina was laying a trap for him.” “ Had I known it, my good friend, you kin be shore I wouldn’t hev gone. But how did you find it all out, for I reckon you now know everything about it?” ‘Phe hunter isright. Lona met Skinflint, and he told her.” “Did he send you byar?” “Tt is true; with this,” And she presented a scrap of paper to Bel- ton. It was as follows: “Dear Frrenp:—Things is goen on well. I’m shadowin’ a sart’in person, and hope fore long to cl’ar yer from the accoosation of murder. Don’t ou fret ef yer dun’t sea, fur sum time, yer best riend, SKINFLINT.”’ ‘** Whar is Skinflint now?” inquired Belton, ** Lona cannot tell. She met him in the woods, yesterday, and he told her all about you, and gave ber this note.” ‘He is keen enough to see that you kin be trusted.” ‘It istrue, There is nothing Lona would not do for the white hunter,” answered the girl, ina low voice, ‘ Belton now described to her the mysterious stranger he had seen the night before, and re- lated all that had happened on that occasion, She listened eagerly. Her eyes shone like stars, ‘*Lona very glad,” she said. ‘‘ Fireheels soon allright. The white stranger will go to the justice and tell all.” ** Phar’s the trouble! I don’t know whether he will or not. Perhaps, ef you could find him, you might persuade him to.’ ‘Lona will find him,” the girl answered. “* And she will get him to go with her before the justice.” Without another word she quickly descended the ladder, and as Belton drew it up, he saw her disappear among the rocks on the other side of the valley beyond. CHAPTER IX, A SURPRISE, On the night following the visit of Lona to Belton’s cave, two persons banal masks stood in a clump of shrubbery near the road then usually taken by the mail-coach from Virginia City to Salt Lake. ; ““ A wagon, you say?” remarked the taller of the two. ‘Yes, a wagon—a plain a, and ree with fifty thousand dollars in gold- ust hidden in a bag under the front seat. * And no guard?” ‘Yes, half a dozen miners, but there’s more than a bullet for each of them as soon as they get to the turn of the road yonder, near which our ten men are posted.” “Good; tell yer what, Lorne, the better I know yer, the greater’s my admiration of yer.” ‘‘Never mind your admiration, Henderson. Now that you have become one of my band, your business is simply to obey me, and to help me in cases where pluck is required.” ‘* Well then, after the miners hev all been gaot what’s to be done with the bodies?” ‘“* A few sharp spades will soon dispose of them. The ground is soft and holes are soon du Rid “But the wagon and horses?” “We'll set fire to the prairie grass, and burn them up—horses and all. ‘“Why, thunder! yer’sa perfect genius!” said Skinflint, ‘‘ But we’ve been heer an hour, and I don’t yet heer the wagon comin’.” “Ttll be along soon.’ “*T think I heer it now. if I kin ‘twig’ it?” “ All right, but be careful the miners don’t see you watching them, or they may suspect something.” Skinflint glided away asstealthily asashadow, making no noise with his soft moccasins, He was soon out of Lorne’s sight, in the shrubbery which skirted the road. Lorne listened, and, in a short time, he heard the wagon coming. It sooned reached the } mi of the road, but the outlaw beard no shot 'e . Puzzled to account for this, he crept toward the spot where he had posted his ten men. He saw them peering through the bushes at the wagon, which had stopped, but which ap- parently, contained no riders! bto S’posin’ I go and see ms “Come, you fools, why don’t you rush out and see what’s the matter?” said the outlaw chief to his men. ““We think ther’s some trick fur us!” an- swered one, ‘‘Them miners might be hid in the bottom of the wagin, in wait to surprise us.’ ‘*To surprise you? and what of it? Are there notten of yous ‘Come, now, le: us see what the matter is,” continued Lorno as he moved, pistols in hand, toward the wagon. His gang followed him, He got upon a wheel spoke and looked in. As he did so, a man thrust bis head from un- der some canvas where he had been lying. It was Skinflint. ** Halloa!” cried Lorne in astonishment. ** Halloa!” echoed Skinflint. ‘* What does this mean!” said the other. ‘* What does what mean?” inquired Skinflint, ‘*- You being here and no miners.” **No miners?” ‘Yes, the miners we were going to rob, and the bag of gold-dust!” cried Lorne impatiently. ‘Miners and bag of gold-dust?” said Skinflint, | scratching his head in a puzzledfashion, Then, as his eyes lighted up, he said: ‘Tr seems to me I do remember somethin’ of the kind!” “‘ Come, explain yourself,” said Lorne. Skinflint appeared to be reflecting. ‘“‘T hey it now,” be suddenly cried. ‘I went to see ef the wagin was comii’ didn’t I?” “ Yes, ” ‘“ Well, the miners must hey see’d me peerin’ at ’em, fur I remember somethin’ strikin’ me on the bead, and then I knowed no more till I found myself in this yere wagin, jist before you looked in it,” “You don’t know what became of tke miners?” ‘No, but Ireckin they’ve gone to git help from a buntin’-party not fur off, which I no- ticed in the moonlight ’fore I was hit, on one of the hills yonder. They must hev see’d your men lurkin’ in the brush, and hev guessed what they were arter.” **And so made off with the gold, first put- ting you in the wagon?” _ Yes, fur safe keepin’, I reckon,” said Skin- int. ‘““What made the horses stop, as they have just done?” “Yer must ask the hosses ’bout that,” re- plied Skinflint. **It seems very strange,” cried Lorne, “Stranger things hey happened *fore now. Ker-whoop! hyar they come, and we’ll all be hanged ef we don’t take leg-bail!” added Skin- flint, as a distant shout was beard, anda band of hunters, followed by the miners, were seen spproaching fromthe direction of the hill he ha inted out. ‘*Come, men, we'll bave to streak it now!” said Lorne. Followed by his companions, be burried through a narrow gully, leading into the heart of a dense thicket. Finally the gang entered a rocky cave, which they often used for a temporary shelter. The opening they closed with a bowlder, which would prevent any person near the place from guessing that a cave was there. Skinflint accompanied the others to their place, whence the gang finally set out for this regular rendezvous among the mountains. CHAPTER X. THE MYSTERIOUS WITNESS. AFTER leaving Belton, Lona repaired to her camp. A few minutes later Tamina also made his ap- pearance. The girl looked at him pert & : ‘“‘Why does Lona watch me?” he said, coming close to her side. ; ‘* Lona would like to know where Tamina has been,” she answered. The truth was she suspected that the youth hed been tracking ber, and she thought she could make sure of it by bis manner when she ques- tioned him. It is nothing to Lona where be bas been,” was the sullen answer. She at once inferred that, missing her from ae + Mie Tamina had tried to find her, but had ailed. She went to her tent, and soon was fast asleep. Tamina also repaired to his tent, but not to sleep. His eyes were flashing like coals of fire, and his mouth was set as if with some fierce purpose. ‘The time has at last come!” be muttered. ‘*Tamina is no longer an Omaha, No, his beart | 4 \ j ah es “4 SRM sR tus ae © c ‘ ; y yaoce rath oa: i fi sg ae Eee, is turned from the tribe who have given shelter to his worst 6 His mother was of the Snake tribe. The Snakes are now the foes of the Omahas, but they shall be the friends of Tamina, He will go to the Snakes, and there he will seek another squaw. But Lona shall never be the wife of the white hunter. I have said it. I will prove my words.” An hour later, when all the Indians in the | camp except himself were asleep, he stole to Lona’s tent. Looking round him to make sure he was not observed, he glided into the shelter. - The girl was fast asleep. Through a small crevice in the tent, the light of the moon fell upon her long, black hair, which streamed over her shoulders, ora moment the young Indian gazed upon her; then he drew a long knife from his belt, and stealthily approached her. Kneeling down by her side, he raised his deadly weapon, holding it directly above her ao so that the blow should be sure and etal. The blade was about to be driven to the haft in Lona’s beautiful bosom, when the Indian felt a grasp like that of steel upon his wrist, and his hand was pulled aside, causing the knife to de- scend into the ground. PRs ip the savage beheld the visage of Skin- int. ““You war out of yer reckinin’, that time, In- jun!” cried the hunter, ‘*Ugh! Knife goin you, first!” grunted Ta- mina, tareged. But, ere he could lift the weapon, he felt the cold muzzle of a revolver at bis head. **T’'m not onprepared,” said Skinflint, quietly. The noise awoke Lona, who at once rose, staring, in surprise, at the two intruders. “*What means this?” she said, “It means that this chap war a-goin’ to kill yer by stickin’ yer, as ef yer war nothin’ more’n a pig. I hev been follerin’ him, to see which way he went, thinkin’ he might be tryin’ to cut up some shine I didn’t want bim to,” He gave Lona a significant glance as he spoke, and she understood him, knowing that be had tracked Tamina, in order to see if he should detect the cave in which Belton was hidden. ** Arter follerin’ bim some time, I saw him feteh up in this camp. I kung about a little while, when, the fust thing I knowed, he comes out of his own tent and makes fur yourn. I suspected he meant mischief, and it seems I was right. Glad I came in time to purvent bis work,’ ‘*So Tamina would kill Lona?” said the girl, addressing the youth. ‘““Why did he—” But, ere she could finish the sentence, the In- dian, by a quick movement, broke from Skin- flint’s grasp, which had been a littie relaxed, and rusbed out of the tent. ‘‘Let him go,” said the bunter, carelessly, to the girl, ‘I reckin you'll find him good rid- dance. But yer better be keerful, as he may hang about byar, tryin’ to git another blow at yer with his knife.” “Lona is not afraid,” she answered. ‘But she thanks the white man for saving her life.” Skinflint having spoken a few more words, took his departure, when the brave Indian girl, again lying down, went to sleep, as if nothing had happened to disturb her. At dawn she rose, and after breakfast, start- ed on a hunt for the mysterious youth, who had met Belton, on the night before, and had said that he knew who bad killed the young lady found murdered in the woods, Lona after a long and diligent search, found certain tracks of small feet on the ground. She looked at them narrowly as she followed the trail, until at length she lost all trace of them where they terminated among rocks. She, however, kept on, but she bad not pro- ceeded far when the ring of a rifle saluted her ears, not far off, and she heard a bullet pass over her head, Turning, she beheld Tamina, making off at full speed, holding a smoking rifle in his hand. “So he is determined to kill Lona,” mut- tered the girl. ‘‘We shall see. The Omaha braves shall soon be on his track!” As she spoke sbe saw a youthful aizanger whom she had not previously noticed, running in a direction opposite to that pursued by the Indian. That this was the person whom Belton had spoken of, and wished her to see, she did not doubt, so, with the speed of a deer, she ran after, and soon overtook bim, The lad, as she confronted him, pulled his slouched hat further down over his eyes, ‘Lona would speak with the white boy,” she . said. % { be } a ‘ ba y > ' ¥ ie? op <a ay . # r Pe ie Re a ye eS rT, Sa er tas" ~ ‘ _ . Tie ot sl ein a ee es eh aaes 0 3 a a - eR his aa Sy U ¢ mi %: "7.5 « is inte * - ‘4 oe my
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« - , i: _ v y —— _ ® Was it Frank Belton?” } Fireheels; or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Sh “No need of thanks,” was the answer. ‘I saw him aim the rifle at you, and fortunately, I was near enough to run up behind bim and knock up the piece, just as he was pulling the trigger, thus causing the bullet to pass over your head! Then I made off, and was glad to see him go the other way, for I thought he would try to wreak vengeance on me for saving you, _ “That is why he ran,” answered Lona, poiut- ing to a party of the Omahas, who were ap- proaching. “*T am glad of it. I have seen enough of ‘death!” He shrugged his shoulders, and turned pale as he spoke. ‘* Where has the white boy scen it?” inquired na. The youth started, and looked at her keenly from under the rim of bis slouched hat. ‘“ Why do you ask?” he inquired, ‘Lona would like to know. She believes ‘that he means the murder of the white girl when he speaks of death. Is not that so?” “Yes, you are right,” the other answered, after a moment’s hesitation. “*Did the white boy see who murdered the girl?” “* E.@ia;” “Who was it?” A flush, as of anger, appesred on the lad’s cheeks. **You question me too closely,” he said, im- patiently. ‘The life of an innocent man is in danger,” replied Lona. ‘‘He has been accused of the crime. You know whom I mean, You saw bim last night.” “That young hunter?” ‘* Yes. You know he did not do the deed?” “Oh, yes.” “Then, to clear him, and get him out of trouble, the white boy should go before the jus- tice, and tell who killed the girl.” The lad bowed his head. ‘*No, I cannot do that,” he said. **The white boy should do it. right.” ‘Still I cannot.” “You shall do it!” cried Lona, with energy, stamping one little foot. **-You cannot compel me against my will.” And he turned away, which, however, he had scarcely done, when, taking a small willow whistle from her pocket, Lona blew upon it a shrill blast. In an instant the band of Omahas, who had started in pursuit of Tamina, turned and hasten- ed toward the girl. The boy, seeing them coming, quickened bis pace along the inclined precipice which he was obliged to descend to reach an unobstructed path below, By the time he arrived there, however, the Omahas were only a few paces off. “Do not hurt the white boy!” shouted Lona, “but let him be made prisoner!” The youth, perceiving he could not escape, stood motionless. Lona came up as her people surrounded It would be him, “Why has Lona had the pale-face captured?” inquired Wono, the chief. ‘‘We are at peace with the whites.” She soon explained. “He must taken to the justice,” she said, “He should be made to tell all he knows about the murder.” “Good!” said the chief. ‘‘The Omahas are glad if they can help their friend, Fireheels.” ““You may as well let me go,” said the boy. **T shall tell nothing.” The Indians, however, accompanied by Lona, conducted the boy to Logville. The appearance of the band with their pris- oner created some excitement among the inhabitants of the settlement, and a crowd of men and boys followed them to the house of Justice Bole. The latter came to the door, “What is this?” he inquired. Lona explained, and two of the Indians followed by the girl, were permitted to lea the prisoner into one of the rooms. ‘What is your name?” inquired Bole. ‘Charles Forner,” was the answer. “You saw the person who killed the young Jady—saw him kill her?” pi Ang “And you know his name?” “ oO. , Id “What was it?” ) “T refuse to answer that question.” baie. % LP de lhe ene ee ie \ 8 ates oe * “No.” * You refuse to tell who it was?” **T do,” was the firm reply. “Do you know that such refusal is a crime?— that you can be locked up for it?” ‘'T am aware of that.” The justice scratched bis nose thoughtfully. ‘*T have a suspicion,” said he, ‘‘ that this is all a trumped-up story to screen that bunter, Frank Belton, who, it is evident, is really the guilty party. Do you know where Belton is?’ ‘*T do not.” ‘¢‘Humph! I have another suspicion,” contin- ued the justice, looking keenly at’ the youth, “and that is, that it was through your conniy- ance this Belton escaped from prison.” ‘‘T had nothing to do with it,” was the reply. ‘‘T must bave my friend, Mr. Lorne, here, to see what he thinks of this aifair,” said Bole, He turned to his clerk, a boy of about seven- teen, and fold him to bring Lorne to the house. The clerk at once departed on his mission, Bole having first drawn him to one side and whispered to bim. A few moments later two stout men ap- peared. * You will\keep guard over this boy in the next room,” he said, ‘‘ You can withdraw,” he continued, addressing Lona and the two In- dians. ‘* We have no further use for you.” The Indians left the room and went back to their camp. The windows of the apartment to which young Forner was now conducted, overlooked a path, bordered by shrubbery, leading through a gar- den to a small gate, in a bigh board fence. Both windows were open, affording a view of the distant mountain scenery, now growing dim in the twilight. Each of the men placed himself by an open window, and looked out. ‘* Here comes Mr. Lorne,” said one, a quarter of an hour later. Forner started, and turned deathly pale. He gazed at the figure of the youth who was approaching, until it was hidden by a neighbor- ing fence. Then he bounded to one of the windows, leap- ing through it ere the man stationed there could raise a hand to stop bim. The window was but nine feet above the ground, and the boy, unhurt by bis leap, sped rapidly along. **Stop, there, stop!” shouted one of the men, raising a pistol ‘and pointing it toward the shrubbery, ‘‘or Ill fire. After him, Jack!” he added to his companion. But ere Jack could go, the door was quickly opened by the justice. “What's the matter?” “That boy has ad 5 answered the man with the pistol. ‘Shall I fire at him?” “No use now,” answered the justice. ‘‘ You would not be apt to hit him, as you cannot see him, “T think I can catch upto him,” said the man who had been called Jack. He was about to spring to the ground when Bole stopped him. ‘** No use,” he repeated. ed-up affair—that story of his, anyway. see about looking him up to-morrow.” The men withdrew, after which the justice, rather pleased than otherwise at Forner’s escape, returned to his room, rubbing his hands, Soon after Lorne appeared, and to him Bole described what bad lately taken place. The face of the youth fairly turned blue. “You say he declared that he saw the person who killed the girl?” * Just so,” and the justice laughed incredu- lously. “Of course, it is a story invented to screen Belton—the really guilty party.” “Oh, of course,” said Lorne; ‘tor else the witness you speak of must have been a little in- sane.” ‘‘He appeared to be sane enough. At all events, he was enough so to get away.” And again the justice laughed. ‘You have sent no onein pursuit of him?” “ Certainly not. It was not necessarv. Toa person of my penetration, the whole effair was plain enough. We do not want this boy. His testimony would be worthless—hey?” “Of course it would, In my opinion, there can be no doubt that Belton is the guilty party. That Indian girl, Lona, was always friendly to the hunter, and she has got this boy to come and testify solely for the purpose of shielding Belton.” “My Own opinion exactly,” — “ Still, if you think the boy really told the truth,” added Lorne. ‘“ You—” “Tt was all a trump- I will 35> we adow. os ** No, no, sir, time.” ** You say he would not tell who the person ; was that—that he saw kill the girl?” ‘* Bxactly—that of itself proves there was no truth in his story.” ‘*-Yes, I did not think of that.” : ‘‘In my capacity of justice J think of every- thing,” said Bole, with an important air. ‘ Not the slightest trifle escapes my notice.” ‘True! you certainly are well fitted for your position.” “And I may say,” responded Bole, cordially grasping Lorne’s hand—‘‘ that your apprecia- of my worth is of more consequence to me even than my salary!” ‘“*T am glad to hear you say so,” responded Lorne, “for mcst of the people of Logville being poor, there bas been some talk of reduc- ing your salary a trifle, and—” ** Not to be thought of—not to be thought of for a moment!” cried the justice, excitedly. “This idea must be put down—must be crushed at orce!” And Bole stamped the floor, as if to crush it, then and there. “Twas going to say that I would use my ut- most efforts to oppose the measure,” said Lorne, ‘‘and not only that, but would try to have your wages increased !” Bole’s visage fairly beamed. ‘Tf ever there was a man of unsullied honor, sir—a man of the most spotless integrity—a man of—” ‘‘That will do, sir, you overpower me,” said Lorne. Afew moments later he had left the house, CHAPTER XI. THE CHAINED CAPTIVE. ‘‘ THE hypocrite,” thougut Lorne, as he walk- ed along. ‘Still he is just the man I want to hold the position he does, and I must try to in- crease his salary. But heis a disgusting wretch in some things.” The youth moved on until he reached his house. He remained there only a few minutes, when, having whispered to the old woman who acted as his servant and housekeeper, he quitted the building. He bent bis way toward the mountains, and as he hurried on, he was not aware that he was being followed. It was the boy, Forner, who endeavoring to keep him in sight, glided along bebind bim, now and then dodging under a bush or a rocky projection, when it chanced that the young outlaw turned bis head. Finally, going into an old, dilapidated-look- ing hut, Lorne disappeared from the gaze of his follower. The boy, however, kepton, and, at last, when close to the habitation, he peered into it. But he could discover nothing of the person who had entered it. Surprised at this, Forner looked around him. ‘Tbe light of the moon streamed into the but, but the lad could see no place which could con- ceal the form of the cutlaw. He looked at the ground, which was of bard clay, perfectly smooth, apparently, without a break. “This is strange enough,” he thought. He was about to go out, and conceal himself bebind a rock, in a position which would afford him a view of the interior of the hut, when he fancied he heard low voices directly beneath his feet. Instantly the truth was made evident to bim, There was a trap door, probably covered by the hard clay, in the floor. He waited until he could no longer hear the voices, when, stooping, he felt about the ground, At length balf buried in the clay, he touched a piece of rope. ulling upon this, he raised a small trap-door, which, as he had divined, had been hidden by the clay that covered it. The boy now beheld the floor of a pit, about four feet beneath bim. He descended into it, to find himself in front of an opening, ha which was a passage, slanting downward. <A dim light showed bim that this passage was rocky, evidently leading into some chamber or vault below, where a lamp shed a faint light. Moving along the passage, he soon came to this vault, and saw the lamp, which was placed in a niche in the rocky walk The sound of voices fell upon bis ear. He saw a door and, peering through a crevice, he beheld a large cavern, in which were seated about twenty fierce-looking young men, with Lorne among them. “ A robbers’ den,” thought Forner. It would be mere waste of *
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ls; or, ’ He had noticed another door in the side of the Pp xssage he had traversed, and now, seein Lorne approaching, he darted toward it re tried to open it. >» 4 But the door was locked, and finding he could B. 4 not open it, the boy shrunk into an alcove in ‘ the wall, hoping he would thus escape the ea notice of the outlaw, in case he should come “TI will make you a good husband,” continued : Lorne. ‘‘ As you know, Lama man of means, v and your every wish shall be gratified.” ** Away!” was the reply. ‘‘Leave me, and never come near me again. I accept death, ra- ? ther than you !” 4 Lorne turned away with a ery of anger, and so quick were his m>vements that Forner, stand- ing with bis back pressed in a hollow of the ‘wall, had no time to make bis escape, as he had intended to do ere the young man should start on his return, Owing to the gloom the boy was not seen, and the outlaw left the passage as he had come, lock- oe door after bim. orner bowed his head upon his hands and shuddered. *“‘ Who is there?” came the faint voice of the Ws chained girl. 5 The boy did not answer, The question was repeated. j “It is I,” replied the youth. ; ** You are not one of the band?” “ce No. ” “Then, for God’s sake—” Ere she could say more, the door at the end of the passage was cautiously opened, and some one entered. Forner shrunk close to the wall until the per- son who had come in had passed him; then he ay glided to the door atid made his escape, J He soon gained the hut, and leaving it, he burried along. ; “ Another, yes there is another !” he muttered, clinching his hands and speaking in a voice of intense anguish. ‘I care not what becomes of vy me now. Better to end this misery at once!” he added, as the noise of a rushing torrent abead fell upon his ears, A few minutes later he gained the bank of the torrent. ‘Now, then, farewell to life!” he cried, as he { plunged into the stream. . 4 The swift waters bore him along toward the brink of a precipice, over which they flowed, _ and in another moment he must have been dashed to death upon the rocks below, had not his arms been seized by some one near the edge of the cataract. This person pulled him upon a flat rock, and a the moon, which was now shining, showed him that his preserver was the Indian girl, Lona, : “Why did you save me? Why not let me meet the fate which was of my own seeking?” he inquired, irl, ‘‘ but my answer is the ou will never obtain from — - “The white boy talks like a squaw! Wh via arco a boy of his years Waitt to end his ; life es “Do not ask me,” groaned Forner, “ Believe me, though, when [ say that you have done me EAE: no baver bY saving my life.” ee) “The boy has a soft heart. One of his years . 3 y ee See f = at gt freer te Oe es ay: “+ 5 =% oF Old Skinfliint, should not be crushed by sorrow. It is very strange!” .“* Tell me if you can,” said Forner, clasping his hands tightly—“ tell me who she is /” ‘Of whom does the young pale-face speak?” The eyes of the boy gleamed wildly. Of the girl! the girl! the one in ‘that rocky dungeon!” ie cried, “Lona knows of no dungeon. Has the white boy lost his mind?’ “No! no! I tell you she is there!” repeated Forner, “and he wants her—he wants her to be his wife.” Then he went on raving incoherently, and Lona perceived that he was in a delirium. ** Come,” she said, gently. She grasped his hands, he staggered to bis feet, and the Indian girl conducted him to the | camp of the Omahas, which had lately been ; On the fourth he was much better. moved nearer to the mountains, There he was placed on a couch of skins in a tent, and a skill- ful doctor of the tribe attended him. For three days he was in a burning fever, but e wanted to leave the Indian camp, but Lona, fearing that he might again attempt to destroy himself, advised her people to persuade bim to remain with them, The Indians, therefore, would not let him go, urging as a reason, that he was too weak to do so. The remarks of the boy about a girl in a dun- geon had greatly impressed Lona. Although he had spoken while delirious, yet she could not help thinking that there might be some truth in his statements, and as he had more than once mentioned the name of Lorne, ber curiosity and interest had been aroused, On making a search, she discovered the hut which, among other things, the lad had men- tioned during his ravings. * Loua always thought Lorne was a bad man, and now she is almost sure of it,” muttered the girl on the morning she saw the hut, ‘The boy spoke of a band of men with him, in a rocky cave, Those cannot be good men. They must be robbers.” Se entered the but and looked about her, but, as Forner bad not mentioned the secret trap- door, she did not discover it. Leaving the hut, she mounted the high rock, - okaeg which it was built, and examined it eenly. Finally she saw a crevice or fissure in the top Shad large enough to admit a slender human y. She kneeled, and looked down into it, but all was darkness below, so that she could not see to the bottom of it. She went back to the camp, procured a long rope, and with it returned to the rock, astening one end of therope to a projection, she descended into the cavity. The sides of this were so rugged and contain- ed so many knobs that she might almost have climbed down them without the assistance of the rope, hoe going about thirty feet, she touched ound. The ~~ here was very dim. She found her- self in a large vault, which, beyond her position, was in complete darkness. Cautiously moving forward, she fancied she heard heavy breathing, as of some person ina profound sleep. She kept on, and finally took from her pocket a match, which she lighted. The brief gleam fell upon the face and form of a young girl, who, with a chain about her middle, lay fast asleep on a pallet of straw. A low cry of astonishment escaped Lona’s lips, and the match dropping from her hand, was extinguished, At the same moment, she heard a door open and the outlaw, Lorne, with a lamp, entered the passage, the rays of the light falling full upon the person of the Indian girl, at once re- vealing her to his gaze. She sprung to the place where her rope hung, but, ere she could commence her ascent, Lorne was there pointing a pistol toward her, ‘‘Hah! you are nicely caged, and you shall not leave this in a hurry,” he said. ‘Come down, before | fire.” Lona dropped lightly to the ground. “T know you, now. You bad man!” she said, eying him steadily. The young outlaw laughed. ‘You'll have to keep that to yourself, at any rate,” be replied. ‘IT have you in my clutches, and I am glad of it.” Lona was unarmed. The youth, with some cords, picked up from one side of the vault, made her hands fast behind her back. Then he the VeetaSiediow. } pushed her into a pit, about seven feet deep, near the spot where the two stood. He next climbed by the rope the girl had used to the top of the rock. ‘“‘T must stop up this place,” he muttered, “TI thought to leave the opening as it is, for the sake of the fresh air, but I think a less quanti- ty of air will do.” He rolled a bowlder over the fissure, so that only two narrow crevices, on each side of it, were left; then he returned by way of the hut to the dungeon, which he had previously en- tered to convey some food to his girl captive. The food consisting of bread and water, he de- posited by the slumberer then he left the dungeon, locking, as usual, the heavy woeden door after him, ae CHAPTER XII. A RUSE, Ir was Skinflint whom Forner had noticed, entering the passage leading into the dungeon. The darkness had prevented the youth from seeing bis face, and, had also hindered the man from detecting the Loy as he crouched against the wall. Scarcely had the lad reached the hut, when Lorne returned to the passage, looking down as if searching for something. As be approached the door peng into the dungeon, be was startled to perceive that it was ajar. ‘He at once entered, to distinguish the outlines of a man’s form, ahead of bim, Jn a moment he had pounced upon this man, seizing him by the collar. “Who are you?” he cried. ‘“ What don’t yer know yer own friend?” said Skinflint. “What are you doing here, Henderson? What right had you to come to this place? You found my key, which I dropped, and have been looking for,” “Yes, I found yer key, and that’s how I got in heer,” was the answer. ‘‘ Let go my collar, ef yer please.” “Give me that key, or I’Jl throttle you!” said Lorne. “Easy, thar, easy,” cried Skinflint, as he pressed the muzzle of a revolver agaimst Lorne’s. temple. ‘“‘ By the ’tarnal! ef yer don’t let go of me, yer’s a dead dog!” Lorve at once released the hunter. ‘“*Give me the key,” he repeated. **In good time,” answered Skinflint, but fust I want to hev a little talk with yer. Who is tbat gal I kin jest make out, ahead on us, tied to the wall, with a chain round her?” “* That’s none of your business. It is my own affair!” *‘ Quick! light a lamp, and let me see her, or it’]l be the worse fur yer!” Lorne, who had left his pistols in the other cave, reluctantly complied. He lighted a small lamp, in a bracket on the wall. The features of the girl now. were plainly re- vealed to Skir flint. ‘“* Who are you, miss?’ he inquired. But the young woman, who stood leaning heavily against the wall, made no reply, ‘*T see; the poor gal, whoever she is, has fainted; her eyes are closed.” “She is my sister—a person who is subject to fits. I’m obliged to keep her chained in this way, for being insane, she is very violent and wou'd kill me if sbe were at liberty,” “Humph!” grunted Skinflint. ‘That's a strange way to treat a sister. I wouldn’t treat mine so!” Lorne was startled by the fierce expression of his companion’s eyes as he said this. “T think we’d better set the gal free,” con- tinued Skinflint advancing toward her. **No, no,” said Lorne. ‘I tell you she would give no trouble.” ‘“ We'll see, at any rate,” was the answer. “‘ Tt goes a’gin’ my nater to hev a poor thing like that chained to a wall.” As he spoke he gained the girl’s side, and looked closely at her face. ‘You say she’s yer sister, and she doesn’t look a bit like yer,” cried the hunter. : Something came whizzing through the air, eee the speaker dropped to the ground, sense- ess, Lorne had picked up a stone, and had hurled it at Skinflint, with a force which would have caused it to crush his skull, ha’. not the missile struck his bead senene A ‘Hab! hah! my fine fellow,” muttered Lorne. ‘We'll see if you’ll have your own way here!” He looked asek at the ee man, and wrenched from his grasp the revolver he still) held.
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10 . oe he pointed the weapon at the hunter’s ea “One pull on the trigger would send him to eternity!” he muttered. ‘“* I have had my doubts of the feilow’s good faith, from the first. He knows too much about me, and—” At that moment some one touched him on the arm, and, turning the young outlaw beheld one of his band. ‘You must not kill him, captain,” said the man. ** How do you know I intended to, Jasper?’ ‘You looked as if you wasa-goin’ to, that’s all I know; but you mustn’t—at least not until he pays me the debt he owes me.” ‘A debt?” ‘* Yes,” answered Jas dred dollars, which he this very day!” ‘Foo 1! do you think he ever meant to pay ou! **Oh, yes, I’ve parfect faith in bis bonor.” ‘*Honor!” repeated Lorne, laughing, ‘“‘ who talks of honor, here?” ‘*'Tber’s no doubt ‘bout his bein’ an honorable thief,” was the rep) ‘ “Well,” replied Lorne, ‘I must own that I had thoughts of killing him, for, in my opinion, he’s a sort of traitor. We must shut him up somewhere, or the first thing we know, he’ll be betraying us all.” *“ What makes you think so?” “T have watched him sharply,” ‘* Where shall we put him? “We will lock bim up, for the present, in one of the rooms of the cave. Go and bring some men to carry him there.” Jasper went away, to soon return with several stout fellows. They picked up Skinflint, and conveyed him through the larger cave into one not much wider thau a baker’s oven, It was provided with a wooden door, which was now shut upon the senseless man and locked, ‘*Tbere!” said Lorne. ‘Now we will havea talk about the fellow, and [ think I here have evidence enough to show that he is a traitor.” At these words all the gang gathered about the speaker. They were fierce-looking fellows, most of them under twenty-two years of age. Lorne, who bad rummaged Skinflint’s pockets ere he was carried to the rocky cell, had found an old note-book, on one of the leaves of which was written: ‘Things is workin’—reckin I will spot this cussed chap—’fore long!” , When Lorne read this, he said that the “chap” stood for him and that by spotting him, the man must have meant he would be- r, ‘‘ he owes me a hun- ost at cards with me, ba 4 him. here were different opinions among the gang on this subject, but the majority ‘thought their captain was right, ‘We'll talk the thing over until to-morrow,” said Lorne, ‘‘and I have no doubt you will all conclude that our best course will be to get bim out of the way!” phen vere Skinflint, still lay senseless in the cell. Some minutes elapsed ere he came to, At first he was a little confused, but he soon remembered what had lately bappened. As the gang spoke in loud voices, outside, he could hear the proposition made to take his life, on the morrow, His light gray eyes flashed and a scornful * We'll see about that,” ha muttered. ‘‘At any rate, thar’ll be some trouble ’fore it’s done!” As he spoke be pulled froma concealed pocket another revolver, precisely like the one which had been taken from him. *T didn’t come into this farnal den ‘thout takin’ a few precautions,” he continued, Late at night be heard some one unlocking his door. The next moment the young ruffian, Jesper, entered. e was armed with a pistol. “ Halloa!” said Skinflint, ‘I s’pose yer’ve come to kill me. I thought it was to be put off until to-morrow!” “Pve pot come fur that. I’ve come fur the 2 age of what you owe me, If they should ill you to-morrow, how am I to git my money ?” **Tt’s a wonder to me Lorne let yer come in heer.” ‘*Mum’s the word. He’s gone out, and most of the gang is asleep. Fortunately I had a key of my own to fit the lock of the door, as the room used to be mine for sleepin’ in.” ‘Suppose I give you your bundred dollars. Will you make no alarm ef I try to git away?” smile added to the ugliness of bis visage. Fireheels; or, old = 2 a a) Ss on “You couldn’t git off. No use of yer thinkin’ of that, fur to-night ther’s some of the gang on guard in the outer hut.” ‘*Never mind tbat.” ** Well, then, it’s ag’in’ | principles to let eal go. It wouldn’t do. Still, ef yer could and over three hundred, or promise yer’d give it to me in the futur’, | might think over what yer say.” ‘You ask too much. I hev yer hundred dollars snug enough, but jest please shet that door, while I count it out to yer.” Jasper closed the door, when, plunging a hand into a secret ket of his coat, Skinflint drew forth a roll of bills. He counted out a hundred dollars. ‘* Heer you are,” he said, ‘‘ Now I hope you'll let me go.” ‘*No, none of that,” said Jasper, as he locked the door and put the key in bis pocket, ‘Yer seem flusb of money, Henderson. Come, now, how much may yer hev about yer?” ‘Ts none o’ yer bizness, but I don’t mind tellin’ an honest chap like yerself that I hev five hundred about me in all.” ‘* And do yer mean to say yer life ain’t worth two hundred? Come, give me that, and I’ll let yer go.” As he spoke there was in his eyes a peculiar expression which did not escape the notice of Skinflint. It was a fierce, greedy look, like that of a wolf. ‘* Poor fool,” thought Skinflint, ‘ be thinks I don’t see through him. Thar goes his hand now in his breast-pocket, feelin’ fur the stiletto he carries thar.” The prisoner had guessed rightly. Jasper, on seeing the money, had said to him- self, mentally; “What is to hinder my saving Lorne the trouble of killin’ this chap, by doin’ the bizness myself, now ? The captain will not be put out —he will only thank me fur it, and I shall git hold of ev’ry cent of Henderson’s money with- out any one bein’ the wiser. I'll not use the revolver—that would make a noise and bring all the gang heer ’fore I could find the secret pocket where the money is kept.” As the idea crossed his mind, he walked round bebind Skinflint, and drew bis stiletto, intending to deal him the death-blow between the shoulders. Before be could give the blow, however, Skin- flint, suddenly turning around, brought his clinched fist against the side of Jasper’s head with a peculiar ‘ back-hand’ movement. As the man was falling senseless, the prisoner caught him in his arms, and gently laid him on the floor, ‘* He’s not quite sech a shadow as me, but our clothes ‘Il go on each other,” thought the hunter. Taking off bis long blouse and wide-rimmed felt hat, he put them on the prostrate man as soon as he had removed the coat and hat of the outlaw. The latter’s bat was of a light color, considerably wider in the rim than his own. He put it on his head, and also donned the gray coat. Then, baving turned the fellow over on bis side, and baving pulled down the front of the bat, so as to conceal his face, he quietly left the cell, locking the door after him. Some of the outlaws, who were awake, saw him, but as he imitated the swaggering gait of Jasper, their suspicions were not aroused, Makirg bis way through the passage to the eaprdeos, he raised it and came out into the ut. ‘* Halloa! Jasper, where are you bound to, at this time of the night?’ inquired one of several men, who were in the but. “Thought Vd come out to take the air,” an- swered Skipflint. imitating the voice of Jasper, “ther’s not balf enough in that cave.” “That’s so. The captain ought to make im- provements, though we had trouble enough to shape the cave, in the fust place.” *Yer’ll all hev trouble enough, ’fore long, I dare say,” answered Skinflint, as he quietly walked out of the but. CHAPTER XIIL A MISTAKE. ‘WHat did Jasper mean by that?’ said one of the men to the other. “Don’t know, and don’t keer, He often speaks in riddles,” An hour later Lorne was seen to glide into the hut. “*T couldn’t rest,” he said, ‘‘thinking of that cursed Henderson! Death to the rascal, at once! No use of putting it off until to-morrow. I have just learned something, which convinces =" Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. cael S ae] nt me that he is a mere spy—a traitor, come heré to find out our concerns, and to betray us.” * * What is it, captain? What have you learn- vo “T had not Jeft the cave balf an hour, when I met with a party of bunters, who, it seems, to use their own words, are searching for “ those rascally outlaws,” who are causing s0 much trouble—robbing honest people, and making travel so unsafe. Of course 1 pretended to- chime ia with them, and, on inquiry, I learned that hundreds of people are now in search of the robbers. “ We must be keerful!” remarked one of the men to Lorne. “Ob!” said the latter, ‘‘I’d risk their finding: our quarters, here, unless we were POLTB Fed, and now I come to the point. I hurried alon to Logville as fast as I could go, and authorize Justice Bole to offer a reward, in my name, of $500 for the arrest of the robbers!” ‘* Good!” cried ove of the men. ‘Then the justice told me that, on that very day, he had been visited by one of those miners we were going to rob, a few nightssince. The man informed bim that he had been warned, on that night, before the wagon could reach the turn of the road, that there was a gang lying in wait to rob him and his companions. ow, who do you think was the person who thus gave notice, and balked our little game? I will tell you, It was Henderson !” ‘* Henderson?” echoed bis hearers, “Yes. The miner described the person well —bis dress, air and manner. He came out of the bush, hailed the wagon, and told all!” .‘* Then we have proof of his treason,” said one of the listeners. ‘* Death to the traitor!” “Yes, death to him! death at once!” echoed: the others, fiercely flourishing their knives. Headed by Lorne, they entered the cave.. The young outlaw unlocked the door of the- small room in which their prisoner had been: confined, and the party beheld, stretched out, witb his back to the door, the occupant of the- cell, whom they supposed was Henderson. “He is asleep,” said Lorne, “but that does. not matter. Shoot the rascal at once!” The report of several revolvers rung through , the cave, waking such of the outlaws as were: asleep. They came thronging to the cell, to learn why : the prisoner had been shot, “Away with the body!” said Lorne, ‘‘ Bury” bim outside of the but!’ veral men advanced, and, turning the body’ over, his ghastly visage was revealed to all. “Jasper!” cried Lorne, in dismay. The others stared at the dead man in aston- ishment. y Strange enough!” cried one. “IT don’t know as there is anything so very” strange about it, considering what. a set of dolts you all are!” cried Lorne, ‘t How you contrived: to let Henderson outwit you in this manner,. uzzles me.” ‘‘Tt was natural enough,” said a man who hadi been one of those on guard in the but. ‘ We: thought it was Jasper wbo came and passed us,, for he was dressed in Jasper’s coat and hat, with the rim of the bat pulled so far over his face that we could not see it,” “Well,” said Lorne, ‘‘the mischief is done, and the sooner we bury our man and go to look for Henderson, the better! It will be stran enough if among us all we don’t succeed in tak- ing the life of that wretch!” ‘Death to him—death to the traitor!” cried several, and the cry was caught up and echoed: by the others, Jasper was soon buried not far from the hut, several of the gang having first been to recon- noiter and make sure that no spy was there to watch their proceedings. Meanwhile others of the band were looking for Skinflint. The fear that he would betray them to the authorities induced them to make great exer- tions to find bim, Finally, four of them who had reached the summit of a cliff, descried in the distance a figure, which they at once inferred was that of the fugitive. Taking a roundsbout course to head bim off, they posted themselves bebind a clump of sbrub- bery which be was approaching. Skinflint, unconscious of their presence, strode on toward the lurking-place of his foes. The latter resolved to kill him with their knives, as the noise of their pistols, if fired, might attract the attention of some one of the gangs who were searching for robbers, and who migut be in the vicinity of the place. the hunter was about to pass the shrubbery , OTe.
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‘the men sprung toward bim, thinking they would be able to bury their knives in his body ere he would have a chance to defend bimself. **Hillo!” cried Skinflint, nimbly springing back and dropping into a hollow near the path, ‘*Come on, ef yer want me to plug yer!” Ashe spoke he drew his revolver, and was about to pull trigger, when one of the gang, who had darted round to the other side of the hollow, sprung into the latter, and, knocking aside his arm with his left hand, endeavored to plunge his knife in his back between bis shoul- ers. The hunter, however, was too quick for the rascal. Whirling round, he avoided the blow, and, apparently averse to taking life when it could be avoided, dealt him on the head, with his re- volver, a blow which knocked him senseless, The three others of the gang were now in the hollow, but ere they could use their knives Skin- flint nimbly swung himself out of the pit by means of the branch of a tree which he had seized, “Now, then, you raskils!” he cried, pointing his revolver down toward them, “I hev yer trapped! Don’t yer try fur to come out of that yere hole, or, shore as yer’s born, I’l] plug yer!” The three outlaws looked at each other in dis. may. Skinflint was decidedly the master of the situation. There he stood, sheltered by the tree, and, ere they could draw their pistols or get out of the hollow, he could send a bullet through each of them. ‘* What are yer goin’ to do with us?” inquired one, ‘*Well, ’'m not perticklar, but I think hang- in’ would ‘be a little too good for sech villains! Isee some folks comin’ this way now, and I hope they may prove to be people who are hunt- in’ fur the robbers which hev done so much mis- ‘chief !” ‘* For God’s sake! let us go, Henderson!” cried one of the men, ‘‘ and we swear to you that we will not try to molest you again.” “*T don’t think I kin trust yer,” said Skinflint. ‘* However,” be added, for a keen glance at the aperewsing party had made bim suspect that they belonged to the band of his enemies, ‘I mou’t let yer go, ef yer’ll promise to do all yer kin to hinder t’otbers from findin’ me.” “We will! we will!” was the eager answer, ‘*Go then,” said Skinflint, ‘‘ but don’t forgit yer promise!” The outlaws, scrambling out of the hollow, had proceeded some yards ere their comrades ‘were heard calling to them. “What fools we’ve been!” cried one. ‘‘ We might have had that cursed Henderson out of the way by this time, had we only waited, for, ‘see, our men have now reached the hollow, and yonder goes our ‘game,’ streaking it in the other direction !” In fact Skinflint had left many yards behind him and his foes, but, unfortunately, bis course now led him toward an impassable marsh. The gang darted in pursuit of him. He reached the marsh, and could go no further. ““Hyar’s a diffikilty I didn’t expect,” he mut- tered—‘‘not bein’ very well acquaint with this = of the country. Well, I must make the t on it! He coolly faced round, and aimed his revol- ver at the approaching party, now not more than a hundred paces off, numbering a dozen men, They came to a halt bebind a slight mound of earth, which would hinder Sinflint’s shots from taking effect, and pointed their pistols to- ward bim. **No use, Henderson, you're a dead dog!” cried one of them. As they fired, Skinflint dropped upon_ thc ground, and the bullets passed over his nead. Ere they could fire again, there wasa ve'l, and a large party of Omahas were seen ap- proaching, on their right. Firing a few parting shots, the gang took to their beels, and a minute later Skinflint, un- harmed, was among the Indian braves. ‘Good! Come just in time,” said Wono, the chief. ‘‘ We look for Tamina, but no can find. We have seen you with Lona. We know you to be a friend of the young white hunter.” “Thar yer’s right. I am bis friend.” “We have seen you with Lorne, Belton’s es A too. You are not his friend?” “No, Injun, but I don’t mind tellin’ yer that I’ve purtended to be, fur a sart’in purpose.” ‘It is well. Come to the Omahas’ camp. The bad men who would take my white brother’s life cannot reach bim there.” “Til go to yer camp fur to-night,” answered ‘Bkinflint. ~» , ‘ ye le aut 4 final A en aes, ? 9 e i ~ . Cary, 47 Maa La — a , a ¥ a ” = r take i) = cl i . Pat ie aa nq ao tee, 23 at. |) ee Fireheels; or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. BS RG Breve | 11 a TT He accompanied the Indians to their camp, which was not far off. ** Now, then,” he muttered to himself, ‘‘ thar’s no use of going to the justice of Logville to tell him about Lorne’s true character. e wouldn’t b’lieve me, or would purtend that he did not. Fur the sake of that boy, however, that Belton, I must wring from him a eonfession that be was the raskil who killed Mr. Danton’s darter, fur ther’s hardly a doubt in my mind that he did it though I hev’n’t yet been able to git him to tell meso. He ought to be made to own that ’fore I go to an honest magistrate who ll see justice done.” CHAPTER XIV. THE CAPTURE. On the next morniug Skinflint left the Omaba camp to pay a visit to Belton before going on to lie in wait for Lorne, He foui:d the youth still in the cave, but he said nothing to him about the young captain of the robbers. To the questions of his friend be simply an- swered that things were working right, and that he boped soon to obtain proof of Belton’s in- nocence, Fireheels now described his meeting with the boy, Forner, and related what he bad said about the murder, “Thar’s the cha Skinflint. ‘ Yes, yearth to find him. Yer’ve no idea whar he is now?” ‘* No, but I doubt not Lona has found him be- fore this time.” **T must see Lona first, then.” An hour later Skinflint left the cave and went in search of the Indian girl. She was not at the Omaha camp, so the bunter went elsewhere to look for ber. He wa however, unable to see her, although for severa days, be searched far and near. At last he conciuded be would go back to the Omaha camp, hoping she had returned to it during his absence, Tbe twilight hour was near when he found himself not far from the rock under which was the outlaws’ cave, Thinking he heard voices behind a clump of shrubbery near him, he cautiously approached, drawing bis revolver, and crouched behind a bush, I must find, then,” said must move heaven and | Through openings among the twigs, he now saw Lorne and one of his gang, who were seat- ed on a log.conversing in a low voice. **T don’t hardly think it would be safe to kill that Indian girl,” Lorne was saying, ‘ until we are ready to leave these parts, which’ll be be- fore long. That Henderson may betray us at any moment, The girl is safe enough where we have her—in the dungeon—and there is no danger of her being found, as I’ve rolled a bowlder over the crevice on top of the rock which leads down intothe cave, As I said, we'll soon have to leave this country, which is getting too hot for us, as there are people now, ar and near, looking for the robbers who have done so much mischief. When we are ready to go, it will be time enough for us to end the life of that troublesome gir!.” Skinflint distinctly heard these words. **Tll soon hev that gal out of yer clutches,” he thought; ‘‘and I reckin yer’|l not git away from heer quite so easily as yer seem to think!” Cautiously moving round to the other side of the rock, he ascended it. Then he pulled a coil of slender rope from the wallet he carried, and baving rolled the bowlder away from the opening, over which it had been placed, he fastened one end of the rope to a rugged projection, allowing the other end to hang down into the dungeon. Rapidly descending, he was soon in the gloomy cavern, at one side of which Lona was now fastened by a chain to the wall. At first he could not see ber, but a moment later, be heard her voice, * Who is there?’ “Tt’s me,” answered Skinflint, ‘‘and I’ve come to git yer out of this hole.” “That is good. Lona will be glad to go away from bere, fresh air.” ‘Of course yer does,” He advanced to her side, but he could not un- fasten the chain by which she was held. At length, however, he succeeded in knocking from the wall the staple to which one end of it was secured, Then be tied the chain around her waist, so that it would make no noise during ber ascent from the dungeon. or she mucb likes the sun and the ‘Now, then, yer kin climb the rope, but: whar’s the other gal—the white gal, who was heer? I don’t see her.” “They took her to another part of the cave;: they say she die if she kept here.” ‘The mean varmints! Well, go on, Lona.” The Indian girl commenced to climb the rope, which she found it easy to do, as there: were projections on the side of the rocky wall,. all the way up to the opening. Skivflint followed her, and when he had reached the summit of the rock, he returned bis rope to his wallet, and rolled the bowlder back in its place, As the two hurried along in the direction of the Omaha camp, the hunter spoke about the boy, Forner. ; “Did yer find that young chap? Belton told me yer went to look fur bim.” “Yes, find him. We take to justice, but jus- tice would not believe. Boy getaway. After- ward, he try kill himself by drowning, but. Lona save him, and lead him to Omaha camp.” * And is he thar, now?” ‘‘He was there when Lona left the camp, few days ago. Hope be is there yet.” hey soon reached the camp, but Forner no longer was there. On the day before, he had contrived to slip away, and the Indians did not know in what direction be had gone. “Too bad!” said Skivflint. ‘‘I wanted to hev a talk with that boy about the murder.” There was a peculiar expression on Lona’s face when Skinflint made this remark, but she said nothing. Next morning the bunter left thecamp. He hovered on the outskirts of Logville, evidently watching for some person. Lorne finally passed that way. Skinflint followed him until he reached a lonely spot, near a thicket, when he sprung for- ward and collared bim. ‘No noise, or yer’ll git this!” cried the hunter. savagely, as he leveled his revolver at the head ot the young outlaw. ‘““What are you going to do? What do you want?” inquired Lorne, coolly. “Confess that you murdered her—you mean varwint!” ‘“*Murdered who? What are about? Have you lost your senses “T mean that you are the coon that killed Mr. — Danton’s darter! Come, own up at once!” “You know better,” was the quiet answer. **You know I had no band in that «ffair. You know it was your friend Belton who did the deed!” . “No! no! yer don’t git off with any of yer ies!’ ‘You better let me go,” **No, I’m not goin’ to let yer go, arter what I’ve farned. ‘Yer’ll jist go with me fore a mag- istrate, aud I'll bev ver locked up fur trial. I know enough about yer, now!” “You cannot barm me. Bole would not be- lieve you.” ‘*I'm not goin’ to Bole, I’m goin’ to Justice Wentworth, who is a friend of mine, and who'll: b’lieve what I say.” a turned pale but quickly recovered him- se At that moment the noise of approaching footsteps was heard, not far off. ‘* Here come some of the men who are hunt- ing for the robbers,” said Lorne. “If you don’t let me go, it’ll be the worse you.” ‘*T bev a few questions to ask yer,” said: Skinflint, fiercely. * Questions?” © Yes, what hev yer done with Mary?” At these words, Lorne looked confused. ‘Mary?’ be stammered. “Yes; the poor gal that yer married, and! then desarted, after cursin’ ber and bestin’ her,. leavin’ ber in a snow-dritt to freeze to death!” - **T don’t know as this is any of your business,” said Lorne, striving to speak cally. “Ttis my business, and i'll tell yer why. That sweet little gal was my sister !” ‘You, her brother!” cried Lorne, startled. “Yes, and 1 swore to bunt yer down, and avenge the gal!” ‘You are not going to kill me?” said the out- law, alarmed at the fierce aspect of the man be~- fore bim. “No, ’m not goin’ to kill yer. I’m goin’ to» let the law deal with you, as you desarve. It’s. fur this I’ve shadowed yer so long!” ‘Well, then, it is true I left my wife, but I hope she was not frozen to death.” ““Sbe was not. It was that noble boy, Bel- ton, who helped ber, and may God bless him fur it. But what I want to find out from yow is whar she is, now! She left my house, and I -, +e ‘ et = . f - : ‘% -_ ay at . fs ‘ ) Aa OR ¢ * 7 ) 4 7? 5 ee Yan ‘ Aah by : : ; -s oS oe, ms: ‘ \ on _ - ay es a il ‘ me i. ote ” ’ P ig talking . a
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> 12 tracked her as far as heer, after which I lost all trace of her. "You must know what has be- come of her!” ‘Upon my word, 1 do not,” gasped Lorne. ‘‘Gome with me, yer varmint—come!” said Skinfliint, dragging bim along with bim. “ You sball go with me to Justice Wentworth!” Lorne now made a desperate effort to free himself, but in vain. Skinflint’s grasp upon his collar was like iron. “IT told yer I did not mean to kill yer,” he said, ‘ but, by the *tarnal! ef yer try to git away from me, I'll do it, in spite of conse- quences!” . Lorne knew that Skinflint would keep his word, and he offered no further resistance, re- solving, however, to watch for a chance to es- cape. 4 But mile after mile was traversed, and still wo such chance presented itself. Skinflint’s whitish eyes were continually upon his prisoner, who had no opportunity to draw one of the pistols he had with him. He knew that the moment he should do so, his desperate captor would shoot him dead on the spot! ‘* Yes,” said the hunter, as they moved on. ** My little sister war an angeles war a good gal, and she war bappy untll you saw her—you cussed viper! Ef {had been at home when you came to my house, yer’d never bev contrived to git her to marry you. It war all done while I war on a huntin’ and trappin’ tramp, but | aeerd, when I came back, how yer beet and cussed her—then how you set out with her as you said, to go to another settlement, hundreds of miles away, and left her in the wilderness to die. She war vever the same, arter that. I think it onsettled her reason a little, and when I saw her ag’in I couldn’t git a smile out.o’ the gal, who always, ’fore that, had been so glad to see me. She kep’ pinin’-like, until one day, a few weeks ago, I found her gone, I'll Varn what’s become of her, ef I hev to wring yer neck fur it!” To this Lorne made no reply, but his face prene ghastly, and he erect from head to oot. Suddenly the sound of an approaching party was heard, and the eyes of the young outlaw lighted up, for he hoped he would now find a chance to escape. His disappointment was great when the chief Wono and some of his men came to view. ‘“Ugh! good!” said the chief. ‘‘The hunter has his foe.” _. ‘‘- Yes, and I’m goin’ to take him to Justice Wentworth, who lives ’bout thirty mile from heer.” “Tt is a long way. There are some of the tribe of the Snakes about, and they are the enemies of the Omahas, Tamina has joined them, and so, if the hunter should fall io with them, they would take his prisoner from bim.” “Ef they do, they’ll not take him alive!” cried Skinflint. ef ba! will make the hunter prisoner, too, and, if Tamina sees him, be will tell them to take his scalp. Wono will send some of his war- riors with the hunter.” ‘**Good!” said Skinflint, “that'll make things safer.” Six of the Omaha braves were detached to go with Skinflint, and Lorne now saw less chance than ever for an escape. CHAPTER XV. ALIVE, OR DEAD? CROUCHING in the shrubbery, one of Lorne’s gone bad seen his captain led off a prisoner by kinfiint, The man, whose name was Jobn Jasper, was a cousin of the person who had been killed through mistake by the outlaws, as already de- scribed, in the cave. This person, having with him a revolver could easily have shot down the hunter and nave thus freed his chief. But, ou reflection, he concluded not to do so, for a reason which will soon be shown. : Quietly seated on the und, he watched through an opening in the bushes the two forms until they were out of sight, Then he rose, say- ing to bimself: : ‘All the better that he should be taken out of the way. This will leave the coast clear for me. He rubbed his hands and seemed much pleased. Then, after a few minutes’ reflection, he went straight to the bouse of Mr. Danton and asked - to see that person. resence, and he stood _ He was admitted to his moments, apparently surveying bim for sever with some satisfaction. , | Fireheels ; | ‘ 1 te a 4 , The lines which had appeared on the face of the salmon-merchant and the many white threads that were now blended with his raven bair, were not there before his daughter met with her terrible fate. She was bis only child, and deeply seated melancholy, which would probably never desert him, had succeeded to the grief and borror which he had experienced when the tragedy first became known to him, “Pye come to see yer bout somethin’ impor- tant,” said John Jasper. ‘© You want work in my factory, I suppose?” said Dapton, glancing at the man’s rough team- ster’s garb. “I think I have seen you before. You were a juryman in that—that—awful—” “Not so awful as yer seem to think, sir,” interrupted Jasper. ‘‘ What do you mean?” “Tt is not for work, but it is bout that affair I’ve come to see yer, sir,” was the reply. ‘Go on, for heaven’s sake!” ‘Well, then, ’ll begin by askin’ yer what yer’d give me if I could bring back yer darter to yer ?” “Bring her back?’ cried Mr. Danton, with a wild stare. ‘* Are you crazy?” “Not a bit of it, sir.” ‘Do you mean to tell me that she lives?” “| didn’t say so, sir!” “Wretch! get out of this house! You either have come here to torture me, or you have lost your senses, and don’t know what you are say- ing!” “Come now, sir, keep cool. J didn’t say yer darter .is alive, but, supposin’ she ts—what would ver give for havin’ her restored to you?” Mr. Danton looked steadily at the speaker. There was, in the expression of the man’s face, nothing indicative of insanity. “Unforiunately,” said the merchant, ‘‘my daughter does not live, and, therefore, I see no use of this senseless talk. Good God! did I not see her body myself? Did I not—” “ How do you know it was her body?” quie'ly interrupted Jasper. ‘How did I know it?’ gasped Mr. Danton. “Why, by her face—ber dress—by her size.” “You cannot say by her face !” ‘‘What. do you mean?” cried the merchant, shuddering. ‘‘Rascal!” he continued. ‘ Leave me! Go! You have come here to torture me— to gratify your own curiosity!” “Well, then, Pll come to the p’int. Yer darter is alive !” “ Alive? my daughter?” cried Mr. Danton in a wild voice. ‘Yes, your darter. Now, what will yer give me fur restorin’ her to you?” “Where is she? Come, tell me, where is my child? But no; you are imposing on me!” «« As true as thar’s a sky above us,” answered Jasper solemnly, ‘“‘yer darter is alive! I have seen ber. The body found was not hers! It was that of another person, who looked like her and was dressed like her.” “ Tmpossible!” ‘Jt isso. Yer darter, I’ve l’arned, is kept a pris’ner. I know where sbe is.” Mr. Danton sprung forward and collared the speaker. ‘You know where she is?’—you are keeping her a prisoner? This is unlawful, and you must be dealt with as you deserve. I will have you arrested.” ‘* Please let go of me, sir. [had no hand in yer darter’s being made a pris’ner. It is the Injuns who are responsible.” ** Indians?” : “Yes, a wandering tribe. Your darter is in their hands. I alone can git her by bargain- in’ with the chief, who is under oblergations to ” “Take me, then, to the chief, and I wili pay the ransom.” “That wouldn’t do, They’ll deal only with me. They would scalp you, and marry yer darter to one of the tribe, and clear out where yer’d never see ’em ag’in! Come, Til tell yer what I’ll do,” continued Jasper, as Mr. Danton now let go of his coliar, ‘‘Give me ten thou- sand dollars. and yer’ll see yer darter ‘fore yer’s two days older.” ‘*-You’re an impostor!” cried Mr. Danton— “ce You—” “The money te be paid only when your darter is before you!” interrupted Jasper. “Oh! can this be true?” cried the mer- chant. “‘Tt’s the livin’ truth, sir. Does it look like imposition, my tellin’ ver that I expect no mon- ey until I free your darter and bring ber before ou? Facts is,” added Jasper, in a whining, y pocritical voice, ** I'd do this fur nothin’ ¢x- ceptin’ the ransom asked by the chief, but fur or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. my bein’ a poor man, with a famerly to keer ; for, and—” ‘s Enough!” interrupted Mr. Danton. “ lagree to your terms. You sball have the money the moment you restore to me my cbild.” _ And as he spoke his eyes gleamed with wild joy. ‘Ther’ must be no trick’ry in this bizness,” said Jasper—‘‘no spies sent to track me or to ar- rest me. Ef ther’s anything of that kind done, VJ know it, and then ’ll have nothing more to do with the affair.” ‘*No, no, I promise you that there’ll be noth- ing of the kind. Tell me how soon you can bring her tome! For God’s sake! speak quick- ly, and make the time short!” ‘‘To-morrow morning I will come here to take you to yer darter—that is previded yer show me the cash which you are to give me. But you must keep silent about it. You must not tell a livin’ soul until after our bizness is done, or the whole thing falls through.” “ Be it so! beit so!” cried Mr, Danton, eager- ly, ready, under the circumstances, to promise ‘mostanytbing. ‘‘ You will not disappoint mef” he added, in so beseeching a tone that even the hard heart of the villain was touched. ‘“ You are not deceiving me?” ‘As true as I’m a livin’ man I’m not,” an- swered Jasper, in a voice which carried convic- tion with it. ‘You will come to-morrow morning?” ‘*T will come—at eight o’clock.” As may be imagined, the merchant obtained no sleep that night. Never before had time seemed to him so long. He had great command over himself, however, and contrived to appear calm and self possessed. The bour agreed upon came at last, and with it Jasper, true to his promise. ‘Come, let us lose no time!” said Mr. Danton. “You have my daughter at the place to which you intend to take me?” ‘** Yes, she is there, but first. please let me see the money?” Mr. Danton took out bis pocketbook and ex- hibited twenty $500 bills, which made the eyes of the young villain glisten. ‘All right,” he said, ‘I am ready.” They left the house. They had not proceeded far when a terrible thought—one whicb bad not occurred to bim before—crossed the mercbant’s np ind, Might not this beatrick to rob him of the money in his possession? Might not the person with him be an outiaw—one of that gang which was now being hunted for all over the country? The more he thought of it, the stronger be- came bis conviction that such was the case. However, he would be on bis guard. He car- ried a small pistol in bis pocket, and upon this he kept his hand as the two walked on. The Y gars taken by Jasper led toward the wild- ve and most unfrequented parts of the coun- ry. ‘* How much further will we have to go?” in- quired Mr. Danton, when they bad walked sev- eral miles, and were out of sight of the settle- ment. ‘*Not much further,” answered the other. ‘Where will ] find my child?” “ Seated on a rock in a small cave, where I’ve left ber for security.” Some minutes later he pointed to a rock ahead of them. ‘*The cave is in that rock,” be said. They soon reached the place. Jasper pulled aside a bowlder there, ‘“* Here she is!” be cried. He peered into the hollow; then be drew back with a ery of surprise and disappointment. ‘* She is not there now!” he said. ‘* Raseal!” exclaimed Mr. Denton. ‘ You have tricked me, and I know » by!” “Upon my word, I heve not. I left her in that cave to wait for you!” “‘ Was there any one witb ber?” ** Not a soul!” “Then she could not have got away. She could not bave moved that bowlder!” “ That’s so, she could not bave moved it, but ee is gone for all that, as youcan see for yer- self!’ Mr. Danton looked into the cave, to discover thatit was empty. He saw something on the ground there, and picked it up. It was a small coral breast-pin, which he at once recognized as having belonged to his daughter | . ‘*My God! you were right!” he cried. ‘She has really heen bere, for bere is ber breast-pin, which must have dropped! What can have be- come of her?” “An Indian bas bad something to do with it,” said Jasper, pointing to the print of a moc- : ig
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casin, on the soft ground, near the cave. The track was lost among the rocks, further be- ond. - ‘““We will look forher! We will find her!” cried Mr. Danton. ‘‘ Come, help me—come! she a4 not have gone far!” e merchant, now off his guard, suddenly felt the hand of Jasper grasping him like a vise by the back of the neck, while he raised a long knife he had drawn, to stab him between the shoulders! The aim was sure and deadly, but, as the knife was descending, the arm of the villain was seized in an iron grasp, and the blow from the butt of a pistol laid him senseless on the ground. Danton turned to discover that his,deliverer was Frank Belton! — CHAPTER XVI. WHAT HAPPENED ON THE WAY. SKINFLINT and the Indians kept on with Lorne toward the settlement where Justice Wentworth was to be found. The country traversed was wild and lonely, abounding with rugged peaks, deep wooded glens, and dark thickets. All at once the Omaha braves paused. * Helloal What’s up?” inquired Skinflint. ‘Snakes come,” said one of the Indians. “* Whar?’ The Omaha pointed toward a distant thicket, Skinflint could see the shrubbery there gently moved, and, to a less practiced eye, it might have been thought that this wascaused only by the wind. The Omahas at once prepared for battle, those who had rifles cocking them, and such of them as were provided only with spears, holding their weapons ready for service. They had not long to wait. With a wild yell, a dozen Snakes, headed by Tamina, sud- denly broke from the shrubbery, and rushed to meet their enemies, discharging rifles as they came. A couple of the Omahas fell, shot through their hearts, so that there were now but four left. Meanwhile Skinflint’s piece, aimed with un- erring precision, brought down two of his foes, but, ere be could reload, the savage band came rushing up with spears and tomahawks, and a hand-to-hand combat ensued. This was of hrief duration. Another of the Omahas having been killed, the rest took to their heels. Skinflint finding himself surround-. ed, endeavored to use his knife and revolver, but Lorne caught one of his arms, and strove to hold it, while Tamina, with a blow of bis rifle,. knocked the pistol from his grasp. An Indian had been about to strike Lorne revious to this, with his tomahawk, but Tam- na had said: ‘ No, white prisoner is our friend. He must not be hurt!” and the savage had im- mediately lowered his weapon. Several tomahawks were flourished about the head of Skinflint, when Tamina again inter- posed. ‘‘ Scalp now too good for white hunter. The torture for bim!” A yell of fierce delight was given by the war- riors, as they crowded about the hunter, fast- ening his arms securely behind his back with thongs. These savage fellows, naked to the waist, with their bideously-painted faces and their head-dresses of black and red feathers, some of which drooped over their fiery eyes, were soon capering about their prisoner, performing a wild, triumphant dance, while their yells and hoarse, guttural cries rung upon the air. ‘Yer may as well stop yer dancin’,” re- marked Skinflint, ‘‘as it has no effect on me. I don’t keer shucks fur any one on yer!” “Why help Omaha?” inquired one of the In- dians. “If not help Omaha, would not tor- ture.” > “Td help ’em again, ef I had the chance,” was the reply. ‘¢Good! then like torture. Make dance and scream when fire burn. The pale-faces cannot stand fire.” ‘We'll see *bout that,” answered Skinflint, coolly. : Lorne now stepped in front of his late captor. “The tables are turned,” be said triumphant- ly. ‘* How do you like it?” he added, taunting- ly. YSkinflint showed his teeth, and his eyes liter- ally blazed, but he said not a word, “JT wish you would permit me to shoot down this fellow as he stands,” continued Lorne, turn- ing to Tamina. ‘ He will make much mischief, if he should escape.” ‘‘The hunter will not escape,” replied Tam- Fireheels; or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. ina. ‘If my white brother wishes, he can go with us, and see us burn the prisoner to death |” ‘‘T will go with you to see that,” replied Lorne, ‘‘even though I lose much precious time by it.” Six of the savages started off in pursuit of the Omahas; the rest, with Tamina agd Lorne, went on toward their camp. This was situated on the other side of the thicket. A fire was about to be made for the torture, when a furious storm of wind and rain came on and prevented it. Skinflint, bound hand and foot, was then placed in one of the skin tents. The storm raged all day. : When night came, a guard of two Indian youths was stationed near the prisoner’s tent. One of the boys seated himself under a tree, near the edge of a thicket, where he was partly sheltered from the rain, The night was so dark that, even had any of the other warriors emerged from their tents, they could not have seen him, Ali at once the youth received upon his head a blow which laid him senseless on the eke An Indian girl glided from behind the tree whence she had dealt the blow with a heavy stick. This girl was Lona, who now proceeded to put upon her head the mass of drooping feathers worn by the boy and also the tattered blanket in which he had wrapped his form. Then, seating herself for a momenc under the tree, she rose and walked leisurely toward the tent armed with the spear which the boy had carried. The youth who had not left his post glanced at ber, and muttered something which she could not hear, but it was evident that his sus- picions were not aroused. Finally Lona started to creep into the tent. ‘“‘What are you doing there? Why are you going there?” inquired the youth, in his native tongue. ‘*To see if our prisoner is all right,” answered ona. ‘*You take too much trouble. Of course he is well enough.” Lona, however, kept on. ‘+ Hello!” whispered Skinflint, ‘‘ what are yer up to now, Injun?” ‘Hist! it is Lona. She come to rescue her friend.” ‘God bless yer, gal, yer’s an angel!” said the hunter, as, with her knife, she quickly severed his thongs. She put a pistol in his hand. “Come!” she added, ‘‘ you must make a rush! It is even now uncertain if we succeed in es- caping!” “Give me the range of the woods, and I'll risk it!” was the answer. Followed by Lona, be dasked out of the tent. The youthful guard, shouting an alarm, sprung to thrust his spear into him, but Skin- flint adroitly avoiding the weapon, knocked bim senseless with the butt of his revolver. A moment later, as he darted into the woods, he beard the yells of the savages, who had been aroused, and were now in pursuit. He looked for Lona, but he could see nothing of the girl in the gloom. Ahead of him he be- held the dark forms of the camp-guard, who stood vear the other side of the thicket. He could see the gleam of their fiery eyes like those of wild beasts, as they leaned forward, and, fearing that they might get a glimpse of his form, he glided off in another direction. Meanwhile the boy whom Lona bad struck senseless, had come to and joined in the pur- suit. As he crept swiftly along the ground like a serpent, he saw the indistinct form of Lona crouched bebind a tree, g few paces ahead of him. In a moment he was upon her, holding ber fast in spite of her struggles, until Tamina came up with several of the warriors. The latter were about to bury their toma- hawks in her head, when the young Indian in- terposed,. : “No!” he cried. “ Tamina want the girl. He will make her his squaw, and his slave!” ‘¢ Lona rather be killed!” said the maiden. “Tt shall not be. Tamina has her, at last. She shall hereafter stay with the Snakes. The Omabas shall know her no more!” “Lona will never forget her people, nor will her ple forget her!” answered the girl, proudly. “Tamina is half a Snake. is mother was a Snake, but Lona is of the noble tribe of the Omahas!” “Tt does not matter. At last Tamina has her in his clutches, and he will make ber love and respect him!” “That can never be done, for her heart is amy. from Tamina. It was never with him.” “It was with him until Firebeels crossed her path!” cried Tamina, enraged. ‘‘That pale- face will yet be in our hands. The Snakes are on his track,” A shudder passed through the girl’s frame. She feared that Belton would be captured by the Snakes, who she knew were wonderfully skillful on the trail. It at once occurred to her that it was best to soothe Tamina, so that, if the white hunter should be made prisoner by the Snakes, be might not be tortured. ‘‘Tamina’s talk comes too fast,” she said. ‘*What does he mean? Lona likes Firebeels as a friend—that is all!” “It is pot so. Tamina has keen eyes. cannot deceive bim.” The girl was then taken to the camp, and her ankles having been bound, she was placed in one of the tents, y Next morning the savages who had hunted for Skinflint came back to the camp. They had been unable to find this man, who bad contrived to escape them by dodging about,in the dark thicket. Lona CHAPTER XVII. STRATEGY. Mr. DANTON, saved as prshot ag! described,,. by Frank Belton, who had struck John Jasper down at the moment when he was about to plunge his knife into the back of his intended victim, was at first, on recognizing his rescuer, too much agitated to speak. ‘* You, it is then you,” be cried, at last. “Yes. sir, and it was lucky I came this way.” ‘¢J would rather owe my life to any person than to you /” said Danton. “T know why, but youre mistaken. God knows I had no hand in killing your daughter!” “Tt is too late for you to deny it vow. Sur- render yourself! You are my prisoner. 1 am not yet too old to arrest my daughter’s mur- derer.” And as he spoke, Mr. Danton pointed his pis- tol at Frank’s head. The youth, leaning on his rifle, looked at him, calmly. “ Surrender, I say, or I’ll shoot!” ‘¢T will not surrender,” answered Belton, ‘‘be- © cause Iam innocent. I hope before long that this may be proved.” ‘What do you mean by that?” “'Thar’s a youth, now at large, who saw the person who did the deed. At present he can- not be found, but I hope he soon will be, and will be made to tell who the assassin was.” ‘Rascal, you speak of your accomplice, or friend, Forner. I heard all about him from Lorne. You bired him to say what he did.” “Thar you mistake. I had never seen him before I met him, one nighf—” ‘Never mind particulars. The question now is, will you or will you not surrender? The law will justify me in shooting you down, for there has been a reward offered for you, dead or alive.” At that moment something came whizzing through the air. It was a spear, which, striking the pistol held by Mr. Danton, knocked it from his grasp, and passed through the body of Jobn Jasper, who still lay senseless, pinning him to the ground. A vell was heard at the same moment, and half a dozen fierce Indians of the Snake tribe were seen rushing toward the young bunter from a thicket not twenty paces off. ‘Run and save yourself,” said Belton to Mr. Danton. ‘The Snakes are on the war-path and will scalp you if you remain.” The merchant bad heard that this tribe bad lately attacked and killed some white men in another part of the territory. ‘* You will come with me,” he said. “No, sir; I'll stay hyar to keep the varmints at bay as long as possible.” Danton burried off. He bad seen in the dis- tance a party of hunters, whom he hoped to notify and bring up to the assistance of Belton, for he was determined to have the youth ar- rested if possible. Meanwhile, as be ran on, he reflected on the trick of which he believed he had been made the victim by Jobn Jasper. But how came the breastpin in the cave? ‘““T am sure it is the one which belonged to my daughter,” he muttered. ‘‘That rascal Jasper must have stolen it from the body after death, and put it there on purpose, in order to carry out the deception, and not excite my sus- picions, so that he might have a chance to kill me and possess himself of the $10,000. Well, he has met with his deserts, at any rate, and now, Ow Ae
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~ F YS n -_ a ¢ - ? oa es aie, Ns ~s ¥ Ee eae dif I cen only get Belton in the hands of the au- ‘thorities, it will at least be some satisfaction.” Belton by this time had fired two shots from ‘his rifle at the approaching savages, and each ‘bullet had wounded an Indian. The hunters, in the distance, heard the sound -of the weapon, and seeing what was going on, «they came to meet Mr. Danton. But they were too far off to render Fireheels ; any assistance. Ere he could reload, the sav- \ sages had surrounded and captured him. { After securely binding their captive’s hands “ they hurried off with bim, making good speed iin order to escape the hunters, who, although still far off, were fast coming on. Night closed about them ere they halted. The violent storm previously alluded to now was raging, but a careful watch over the pris- oner was kept. In the morning they continued on their way, ‘and soon reached their camp, to hear of the events concerning the escape of Skinflint, the capture of Lona, etc., which have already been described. On seeing Belton, Lorne uttered a cry of tri- ‘umph. ‘* A greater prize could not have dropped into my hands,” he said. “What does my white brother mean?” in- quired an old chief. ~ “T mean that this person has perpetrated a “horrible murder. Has not my red brother / heard of the murder of Bell Danton—the white girl at Logville?” “Think hear of it; but why speak of prisoner as prize to my white brother?” ** You should know that that girl was a friend of mine, and that I want to avenge her death. At was a terrible deed.” ** You think Fireheels did it?” **' Yes, Iam certain of it,” “Ugh! my white brother make mistake. } Fireheels would not kill a white squaw—he would not even kill an Indian squaw. His ‘heart is too big and too brave. The Snakes ‘ know him to be their enemy, but they can see . his heart, and they are not blind.” ‘There is every reason to believe be was the f assassin,” said Lorne, impatiently, “‘and a ¢ brutal one at that.” Turning to the old Indian * Belton said: ‘‘The Snake tells the truth when he says I did not kill the girl. I would have protected her with my life.’ “ Chief,” cried Lorne, ‘you must give this man up to the white people. They are hunting for him. They want to hang him for the mur- der, as he deserves. A reward has been offered for him, and you will get it if you give him to the pale-faces.” ‘Tt is well. Samodi will have a talk with his --warriors. If they agree to what my white brother asks, it shall be done.” A council was at once held. In this council Tamina had great influence. He advised the _ giving up of the prisoner, and the Snakes final- 5 resolved to surrender him to the whites, in- . stead of putting him to the torture, as they had intended to do. Scarcely had they come to this conclusion when the crack of rifles was beard, and an in- - dian brave came rushing into the camp, saying - that the Snake scouts had been attacked by a party of pale-face hunters, who were coming on toward the camp. “There must be no fighting to-day,” said Lorne. ‘I will go forward, see those hunters, and propose to them not to attack you; but to arrange to pay you the reward and receive Fireheels,” “Good,” answered Samodi. ‘‘ My brother speaks well.” Accompanied by one of the Indians, Lorne walked off and soon met the white hunters, to whom he explained the proposed arraugement. Now it chanced that these hunters were one of the parties searching for the outlaws who | had lately done so much mischief. ‘They were the same men whom Mr. Danton had met on the day before, after bis flight from the sav- ages, and he had advised them to get possession, at all hazards, of Belton, dead or alive. Great, therefore, was their satisfaction when they saw Lorne, and learned from him that there would be no difficulty in obtainin; the prize, for which, in addition to the reward al- ready offered, Mr. Danton had declared he would pay five hundred dollars more. A few muskets and some powder would satis- fy the savages. The hunters would manage to retain the bulk of the reward. Among the party there was a person who bad joined them that morning, on their way to the camp. He was a tall, sinewy man, as lean as i 2) fa lah ham Sees 05 ae aTt > ioe. oi é oe tay ip Sy ch as ot z ; Fireheels - or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. @ shadow, wearing leggins, a blanket, and an old felt hat with an enormous brim, which had nearly concealed his face. When he saw Lorne coming, he had with- drawn from the band, saying he was going to get a drink of water from a spring, not far off. At length, after Lorne set out on his return to the camp to prepare the Snakes for the ap- proach of the hunters, he rejoined the latter. ‘Them Injuns is treach’rous,” he remarked, ‘and I thartore think our best plan would be fur only one on us to go to the camp, and return hyar with the pris’ner. Ef they mean to mas- sacre us, Only one will then be killed, which are better than fur all to fall into the trap.” ‘But who'll hey the pluck to go all alone in that way?” “Tl go, ef yer like,” answered the stranger. “The risk is worth runnin’, fur they may not mean to trap us, arter all.” This proposal was agreed to. The stranger went into the thicket, and he was soon in sight of the camp. Instead of going on, he crouched behind a tree and listened. Finally, hearing footsteps, he saw Lorne and Tamina pass on their way back to the hunters to tell them that the Snakes were ready to sur- render Belton to them if they would agree to give them in return fifty rifles and as many pounds of powder. The concealed watcher waited until Lorne and the young Indian were out of sight. Then he moved rapidly forward and boldly stalked into the camp. > The first person he met was the old chief, Sa- modi. “T come from the white hunters,” he said, ‘‘ for Fireheels! I am to take him tothem. They sent me for him.” ‘‘Our white brother bas gone to tell the hunters what we will charge for the pri-oner and to bring them or their answer.” “‘Tam the chief of that bunter party,” was the response. ‘Tell me yer farms, and we'll see ef we kin not close the barg’in, so as to save time.” “Fifty rifles—fifty pounds good powder. Rifles must be good, too.” “Lord! Injun, yer goes it pooty steep. Ef yer’d only lower yer tarms a bit.” ‘‘T have said it. Will take no less.” “ Well, then, I reckin I’ll bev to close with yer. Give me the pris’ner, and yer better send an Injun "long with him, too! That white chap yer hev hyar—that Lorne, will sarve fur a host- age\fur the safe deliv’ry of yer goods, soon as we git the reward, which, yer see, will hev to be paid to us, ‘fore we kin pay it to you.” “Tt is well.” : Samodi then said something to his men, who soon approached with the captive. Belton looked closely at the person who had come to conduct him from the camp, and re- cognized Skinflint. CHAPTER XVIII. STRANGE DISCLOSURES, Tok moment he made this discovery, the young hunter comprehended his friend intended to effect hisrescue. Neither by look nor manner, however, did he show that he knew his con- ductor. ; An Indian, named Gonok, was summoned to go with the twain. Ashe was a large, powerful fellow, armed with knife, tomahawk and rifle, Skinflint perceived that he would have to make use of all his strength and agility to overcome such an opponent, When the three were out of sight of the camp, he snatched from the hands of the savage the rifle carried by the latter,and which was the one he had taken from Belton, at the time the youth was captured. Ere the Indian could draw his tomahawk, Skinflint made a blow at his head with the butt of the piece, but the wily Snake, adroitly dodging it, was about to give the alarm and use bis knife, when his an- tagonist squeezing his throat with one hand, dealt him a tremendous stroke between the eyes with his huge, clinched fist, which laid Gonok senseless at his feet. “Thar yer are!” said Skinflint, as, with his knife, he severed Belton’s bonds, ‘‘ Now, off yer go and make tracks that way,”—pointing as he spoke, ina direction where the fugitive would not meet with the party of hunters. f As he spoke, he put into the hands of his young friend the rifle he had taken from the Snake. “You are not going with me?” said Belton, “No, I hev to go another way,” was the reply. “But I hope to meet yer, ’fore long. Come, streak it, pard, like white lightnin’, fur the secret cave.. Yer’ve no time to lose!” rer, 4 < — a he a ini daha ot ust oo” Jon i re. . “rh 2 ge tS ar Tax “ear a. A : ag ; Speen The youth darted cff,and was soon lost to ae view in the shadows of the forest. “‘ Now, then, fur that poor Injun gal!” mutter- ed Skinflint, as he made his way rapidly toward a mountain which loomed in the distance, In a valley at the base of this mountain, the Omaha warriors had all collected to prepare for an assault upon the Snakes, the news of the late conflict having been brought to them on the night before,, by some of the fugitive braves. Wono had his men ready for the march, when Skinflint made his appearance. “Thought the bunter prisoner,” said the chief. ‘‘ How come here?” ‘‘T was saved by that noble gal of yourn— Lona,” he answered. Having described his rescue, be went on. ‘Arter gittin’ off, 1 skulked about in the woods, and contrived to keep cl’ar of the In- juns. Finally, [came upon a dead Omaha, I tuk off his leggins and blanket, and-put’em on. As these clothes war the same kind that’s worn by some hunter-tramps, I knowed no suspicion would be raised among the enemy by my. dress. Well, all at once, I heerd voices, and going to whar they comed from, I bit upon a party o’ white hunters, making a fire for a night-lounge. I soon l’arned that they war arter Belton, who, it seems, had been captured the night before, by some o’ the Snake scouts, I purtended to be as anxious to git persession of him fur the sake o’ the reward offered fur bim, as the rest war, so, in the mornin’ we all went on together, to- ward the Snakes, with my bat pulled so far down over my face that the Injuns would not see it enough to recognize me.” He went on to relate what has already been told, after which he marched with the Omahas toward the hostile camp, the exact locality of which he was now enabled to deseribe to his dusky companions. By rapid movements the band reached the camp of the enemy an hour later, and, creeping close to it, unobserved, they suddenly rushed to the attack. Surprised by its suddenness, the Snakes made but a feeble resistance. They fled in confusion. Tamina was killed, and many scalps were taken by their foes. Among those who escaped was Lorne, much to the regret of Skinflint, who had wanted to capture bim. Lona was found in one of the tents witb her hands tied. Her thongs were severed, and she was soon among her people, thanking Skir flint for helping to rescue her. “And do you s’pose, gal, that I would hev left yer, arter what you did fur me? No, it would not be nat’ral fur me to do that.” ‘But where is Fireheels?” inquired Lona. “TI heard of his being take pris’ner. He not been pir ?? she added, her dark eyes gleaming wildly. ‘“No, he’s safe by this time in my cave, I reckin.” And the hunter went on to state how he had saved his young friend. A few hours later, Lona left the camp of the Omahas. ‘*T must make sure he safe!” thought the girl, as she burried on. Before night, she reached the base of the cliff, in which was the secret cave. Having made sure there was no spy about the place to hear her, she called Belton by name. At first he did not appear and ber heart sunk within ber. Soon, however, she saw him at the opening above. ‘Ts it you, Lona?” be joyfully cried, Then he lowered the ladder and the girl was presently at his side, ‘‘Safe now; Kireheels’ troubles are over!” said Lona, looking up at him with beaming eyes, ‘‘I bave escaped the Injuns, it’s true,” an- swered Belton, ‘ but 1 suppose I am still being hunted for by white people.” ‘‘ White people cannot hurt,” rejoined Lona, with a peculiar expression in her eyes, “ What do you mean? Speak, my good friend; thar’s some meaning, I see, that you’ve not made cl’ar to me?” ‘* THE WHITE GIRL IS ALIVE!” said Lona. “How? What white girl? You don’t mean—” ‘*] mean the girl whose name is Bell Danton, and who was thought to be kill!” The young hunter staggered back, and stared wildly at the speaker. ‘‘Lona, I hope you are not jesting with me. Thar’s no use of waking hopes, ef they—” ‘Why sbould Lona jest? It is true what she says,” interrupted his companion. “Where is she? Who, then, was the mur- dered girl? I saw her, myself, The form was / Fy myn et ae ra ay
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i i ° ¥ dz. a “ r — . even of a detective. that he wanted to secure the ransom for me Skinflint been take pris’ner, she go to rescue him.” Ike that of Miss Danton, and it had on her shawl. The dress, too, was white—the same as hers. I tuck it all in at a glance.” “Te is true, The dead girl bave on white dress like that of Bell Danton, and she look, when dead, like Beli Danton. Her shawl be- longed to Bell Danton, too, Some must have ut it on her. She in woods, at dusk, when she ear scream. She see Lorne strike down girl, and choke her! en Bell see this, it affect her so, she faint. After while she come to, and find herself in outlaws’ cave—in dungeon. Lorne had been take her there! He fasten her in there with chain!” «So this Lorne is an outlaw and a murderer!” eried Belton, in surprise, ‘‘I always thought he war a bad coon, but I’m shore of it now! Whar is Bell Danton—with her father?” “No, me find her in little cave. Lona going t rock, and she hear voice out, She pull bowlder away from entrance to cave, and there was the white girl.” ‘* Wasn’t you started, on seein’? one whom you thought war dead?” ‘No, for Lona been see before. Lona know she in cave of robbers, for she been see her there. She going that very time to see Mr. Danton, and tell him about it—at time when she pass rock and hear girl.” “Well, why didn’t you then take her home to her father?” “She too weak—she sick. Lona take her off to a comfortable place—to a good cave, and there she make her lie down on skins, and give her medicine. She been rave—ber brain on fire—but she better now!” “We will go there, instantly. and take her to her father!” cried Belton, “Don’t know if she is strong enough yet for walk,” answered Lona, ‘But we go and see. If not, then Lona go to Logville, tell Mr. Dan- ton, and bring people to help her.” Belton went with Lona to the cave in which ‘she had left Bell Danton. The retreat was one which the Indian girl had used for her own quarters when the Omahas were encamped near the place. Screened by willows and thick shrubbery, it might have escaped the notice Entering the cave, Belton saw Miss Danton, still quite weak, seated ona log, which served for a chair in the rocky hollow. On bebolding the young hunter a bright blush suffused her cheeks, and her eyes gleamed with oy. ¢ Y Belton !? she cried. ‘‘ Thank Heaven! you are safe—you aresaved! Lorne’s plot to have you bung for a murder has failed!” “Well, now, you surprise me by what you say, miss, but ef ever thar was a happy man, Tm the one at seeing you alive—for your own sake—and rescued from the dungeon whar Lona says Lorne had put you.” ‘Yes, he had his reasons for putting me there,” said Bell. ‘‘One was because I was a witness to his crime,” she added with a shudder, ‘for I saw him strike down and throttle the ir] who was found killed; another was because e wanted to have you executed for the crime; and the third was that he wanted to obtain from my father, through some one of bis band, alarge ransom for my restoration, after you should have perished on the gallows! Yester- day I was freed by one of the gang, a fellow they called John Jasper, and was by him con- ducted to acave. He said he felt sorry for me, and was going to restore me to my father, who would come to the cave, if I there waited for him. “The distance from there to Logville being five miles, he said I was too weak to walk so far, which, in fact, was really the case, “The moment he left the cave he put a bow]l- der, too heavy for me to move, against the entrance. Then I guessed the truth, which was from my father. I strove to move away the bowlder, but could not. I heard footsteps pass- ing, and called, when Lona, displacing the rock, appeared before me. By this time I was much excited. I told Lona how I came there, but remember little more until I found her yester- da bending over me, and giving me cooling ” 8. ‘You should then bev gone to Logville and told about it,” said Belton to the Indian girl, “Lona then ’fraid to go,” was the answer. « for she been see tracks of Snake Indians, an she fear they make girl pris’ner. Afterward she go out and scout; she see Skinflint, having Lorne captive, ahead of her, and she try to catch up to him, but, before she could, Snakes attack. Then she bide, and after a while, when aw wee eg — . 4. r? ae Fireheels; or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. CHAPTER XIX. CONCLUSION, SCARCELY had Lona concluded when asbadow darkened the cave, and Lorne sprung through the opening. ‘You have escaped me, wretch!” he shouted, pointing a pistol at Belton’s head, ‘“‘but you shall not live to boast of it!” He was about to pull the trigger when Lona sprung between the weapon and the youth, Tue report of the piece rung sharply, and the Indian girl fell, mortally wounded. _ Belton at once raised his rifle and leveled it at the young outlaw’s head. ‘“*Don’t you move from hyar or you area dead coon!” he cried. ‘‘The whole truth bas now come out, and it’s been proved that you’re one of the blackest villains on the face of the earth!” Lorne folded his arms, “Shoot, if you want to,” he said. “TIT am not afraid to die. The ‘game’ is up, and I sup- pose I may as well own it. I have heard most everything that bas been said here, for I was hidden in the shrubbery near the opening of the cave, waiting fora favorable moment to get at you!” ‘Tt is not for me to take your life,” answered Belton. ‘Ef I should, I’d only cheat the scaf- fold, All I want of you, is to go with me to Logville and give yourself up.” , ‘*T will not go there,” said Lorne, ‘ We will see where I will go to !” As he spoke he pulled a dirk from his breast- pocket and aimed the point toward his heart. Ere Belton could have hindered him he would have plunged the weapon into his breast, had not his knife been knocked from his hand by a blow from a rifle upon his wrist, which was be- numbed by the stroke. The next moment the gaunt, shadow-like form of Skinflint, his whitish eyes blazing with a furious expression, glided before of the outlaw. ‘* Speak!” roared the hunter, shaking bim vio- lently. ‘‘ Speak, and tell me who the ga} was you murdered!” Lorne became as pale as death. **You will never get that secret out of me!” he gasped. ‘*Miserable rat! Hyar I am—Skinflint—yer death-shadow—come to make yer own it war my poor little sister Mary yer killed! She war tke same complexion as Miss Danton, and, in death, with her face swollen and disfig’red, she mou’t hev looked like her. It war to find out what had become of my sister that I’ve shadowed yer all along. I bad a suspicion that you had a hand in her disappearance, but I didn’t think at first that you’d gone so far as to kill her, though I suspected you had killed Miss Danton. Do yer remember what I whispered in yer ear that night in the hollow, jest arter Belton’s ’scape from prison? It war these words: “You murdered Miss Danton!” but now I know it war my Mary that was killed, and not the other gal!” To this Lorne made no reply, but he appeared to be much agitated, — Skinflint shook bim violently. ‘* Well,” he cried, “yer’ve got cornered at last, and yer’ll die with a rope about yer neck— that’s one consolation, I shall be thar tosee yer —to shadow yer to the very scaffold.” With the assist:-nce of Belton, Skinflint now fastened the bands and feet of the young villain. Meanwhile Lona lay dying. Miss Danton bent over her, much distressed. ‘*Good-by,” murmured the Indian girl faint- ly. ‘* Lona going to better place—to happy hunt- ing ground,” Bolton now stooped down by her side. She took his hand and pressed it, “Farewell,” she gasped. ‘Lona loved the young bunter, Fireheels, and she die happy, be- cause she saved his life with ber own, and—” She never finished the sentence, The seal of death was on her face, and with one last convulsive movement, she expired. Skinflint now started for Logville, which he reached in a few hours. He soon collected a porty: among whom, in his carriage, was Mr. Danton, to go with bim to the cave. The joy of the merchant when he beheld his daughter alive can hardly be expressed. Explanations were made, Then Bell and her father entered the carriage and soon reached Logville. Lorne was also taken to the settle- ment, some of the men following with the dead Het of the Indian girl on a rudely-constructed itter. Next day the Omahas came and buried Lona, and Belton was present at the funeral cere- mony. Lorne’s trial took b may a week later. He made no attempt to deny Miss Danton’s state- ment. It was also proved, not only by Skin- flint’s testimony, but also by that of some of Lorne’s gang lately arrested, that the youth was the chief of the band who had com- mitted so many robberies, and for whom so many hunters bad been searching. g The prisoner refused to tell the name of the girl whom he had choked to death in the woods, near Logville. Skinflint, bowever, felt con- vinced that it was his sister, Mary, and every time he declared this to the outlaw, the latter's visage showed an expression of fierce triumph, as if he exulted in the rage and grief of his enemy. lt was generally believed, that she was the person who had been the murdervr’s victim, and much sympathy was felt for the rude hunter, whose deep sorrow was plainly depicted on his rugged visage. inally Lorne was brought to the gallows. The rope was put about his neck, and the fatal word was about to be given, when a piercing sbriek was beard, and the boy, Forner,was seen rushing toward the scaffold, with wild eyes, and a visage as pale as death, ‘‘No! no! don’t hang him! He shall not die! See ! Iam alive !” cried the lad. Skinflint looked toward the speaker. His words were unheeded, and, the next moment, Lorne dangled in the air, as the trap gave way beneath bis feet. He expired in a few minutes, but Forner did not see his last struggles, for he had fainted. Ere the boy could drop to the ground, Skin- flint ceught him in bis arms, with a joyful shout, ‘“‘Hyar she is, after alll—my own little sister !—the one I thought was killed?!” “That boy?’ cried Belton; ‘‘ you don’t mean—” “Yes,” interrupted Skinflint “it is my Mary— ga Spr 5 dressed in boy’s clothes!” e pulled a flask from his pocket, and finally succeeded in bringing the disguised girl to her senses. He supported her to his lodging, and there, for days, he watched by her side, as she lay raving in delirium. At last, however, she re- covered, and, on learning what a monstrous villain Lorne had proved himself to be, she gradually ceased to mourn for him. She stated that she had disguised herself, and came here to watch the man who had treated her so badly, because she had heard that, after deserting her, he had married another person, his cousin, Ellen Boardman, and she wanted to ascertain if the report was true. Tracking Lorne, she saw him meet Ellen in the woods near Logville, toward dusk. She heard the girl threaten to prosecute him for desertion, This enraging him, be knocked her down and throt- tled ber, It was the remarkable resemblance in personal appearance between the youn woman and Beil Danton, previously commen on, together with the tact that each wore a similar white summer dress, and that Ellen had round her Miss Danton’s shawl, which had caused her to be mistaken, in death, for the merchant’s daughter, Lorne, after killing the girl, had heard Miss D nton’s ery of terror, and seen this witness fall senseless. He bad then taken from her, her shawl, and put it round the corpse, after which he had conveyed the unconscious young woman (Miss Danton) to his secret retreat, Mary, the other witness, had not waited to see him do this, but had fled, horrified from the spot. Almost driven mad by what she had seen, she had lingered about the outskirts of the settle- ment. When she learned that Belton was sus- pected of having murdered the girl who was found in the woods, she had not declared the truth to the authorities, because she would not testify against her husband. Badly as he treat- ed ber, she still loved him.” Skinflint could account for her continued attachment toaman who had treated her so shamefully; and had otherwise proved himself to be so great a villain only by the fact that her mind was ‘ unsettled’ by the sufferings she had undergone, Be this as it might, it is certain that Mary finally regained her cheerfulness, and, again living with ber brother, in their old home, made him happy with ber pleasant companionship. It is only necessary to add tbat the noble young bunter, Frank Belton, was eventually rewarded for the persecutions and trials he had ~ undergone, with the hand, in marriage, of Mr. Danton’s daughter, Bell, who had secretly loved him from the moment he became a Vis- itor at her father’s house. THE END. t \
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BEADLE’S«H ALF- DIME* LIBRARY. Published Every Tuesday. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, Deadwood Dick Novels. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. 20 Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Defiance, 28 Buffalo Ben; or, Deadwood Dick in Disguise, 85 Wilda Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval. 42 Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza. 49 Omaha OL; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger. 57 Deadwoud Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar. 78 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or. Calamity Jane, the Heroine, @? Corduroy Charlie; or, Deadwood Dick’s Last Act, 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville. 104 Deadwood Dick's Device: or, 109 Deadwood Dick aa Detective. Che Double Cross Sign. 129 Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s | Gulch. 188 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base. 149 A Game of Golds; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike. 156 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party, 195 Deadwood Dick’s Dreams; or, The Riv ls of the Road. 201 The Black Hills Jezebel; or, Deadwood Dick’s Ward. 205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Last Ad- venture. 217 Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl Brigand. 221 Sugar-Coated Sam; or, The Black Gown. 282 Gold-Dust Dick, A Romance of Rough: and Toughs. 268 Deadwood Dick's Divide; or, The Spirt of Swamp Lake. 268 Deadwood Dick’s Death Trall. 809 Deadwood Dick’s Big Deal; or, The Gold Brick of Oregon. 821 Deadwood Dick's Dozen; or, The Fakir of Phantom Flats. 847 Deadwood Dick’s Ducats; or, Rainy Days in the Dig- gings. B51 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta, 862 Dendwood Dick’s Claims or, The Fairy Face of Faro F late. 405 Deadwood Dick tn Dead City. 410 Deadwood Dick’s Diamonds; or, The Mystery of Joan Porter. 421 Deadwood Dick in New York? or, A “ Cute Case.” 480 Deadwood Dick’s Dust; or, The Chained Hand. 448 Deadwood Dick, J ' 448 Nicke!l-Plate Ned 458 Sunflower Sam, vo! Hand, 459 Flush Fan, the Ferret; d Dick Jr’s Defiance. » Deadwood Dick Jr’s or, Deadwe Shasta; o1 Full or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Big Ronnd Up. 465 Philo Fly, of Phenix; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Racket at Claim 10. 471 Bozeman Bill; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Corral. A776 Humboldt Marry, the Hurricane; or, Deadwood Dick Dog Detective. 451 Moll Mystery; or, Deadw 491 Prince Pistol, the King Jr’s Compact. 496 Monte Cristo, Jr.: or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s itance. 500 Deadwood Dick’s Diggings ; or, Dr. Death-Grip’s Swoop. 50S Deadwood Dick’« Deliverance, 5615 Deadwood Dick’s Protegee. 5622 Deadwood Dick’s Three, Jr’s od Dick Jr. in Deadwood. of the West; or, Deadwood Dick Other Novels by E. L. Wheeler. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Buffalo Demon. 82 Bob Woolf; or, The Girl Dead-Shot 89 Death-Face, Detective; or, Life in New York. 45 Old Avalanche; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand, 58 Jim Bludsoe, Jr y Phenix. 61 Buckhorn Bill; « he Red Rifle Team 69 Gold Rifle, the Sharp er; or, The Boy Detective. 80 Rosebud Kobs or, Nugget Ned, ths Knight. 84 Idyl, the Girl ‘liner; g nud Rob on Hand. 88 Phetograph Phil; or, Kose »b’a _Reappearance. 92 Canada Chet ; or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp, 96 Watch-Eyes or, Arabs ond Angels of a Great City, 18 Jack Hovle the Young Speculator, ? Gilt-Edged Dick, the Sport Detective. 1 Cinnamon Chip, the Girl Sport. Bonanza Bill, Miner. Boas Kob the King ot Bootblacks. Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent. Captain Ferret, the New York Detective; or, Boss Bob’s Boas Job. New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective. Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Sierras Scamps, Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo. Fritz, the Bound-B Detective. Fritz to the Fro or, The Ventriloquist Hunter, Snoozer, the By: n: or, The Arab Detective, Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado, Cyclone Kit, the Young Gladiator. Sierra Sui, the Frontier Ferret. ’ Sierra Sam’s Secret; or, The Bloody Footprints, Sierra Sam’s Pard; or, The Ange! of Big Vista. Sierra Sam’s Seven or, The Stolen Bride. Jumbo Joe, the Boy Patrol; or, The Rival Heirs, Denver Doll, the Detective Queen. Denver Doll's Victory. Denver Boll's Decoy ; or. Litle B 1V’s Bonanza, Turk, the Boy Ferret. Denver Doll’s Drift; or A No. 1, the Dashing | Liza Jane, the ‘dirl Miner; or, the Iron-Nerved Sport. Kelley, Hickey & Company, the Sleuths of Philadelphia. Little Quick-Shot3 or, The Dead Face of Daggersville. Kangaroo Kit; or, The Mysterious Miner. Kangaroo Kit’s Racket. Manhattan Mike, the I First-Class Fred, }¢ Yreka Jim, the Gold-Gatherer; or, The Lottery of Life Yreka Jim’s Prize. Nabob Neds or, | be Cool Kit, th t Kids; or, A Villain’s Vengeance. Yreka Jim's Joker; or, The Rivals of Red Nose, Biecyele Ben; ©. The Lion of Lightning Lode, Yreka Jim of Vuba Dam. ; Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective. 3 High Mat Marry, tie Base Ball Detective. Sam Slabaidesa, the Beegar y Detective. Jim Beak and Pal, Private Detectives. Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher. 436 Sealskin Sam, the Sparkler, he Road Queen. 880 B84 &89 648 Secret of Slab City. BY ALBERT W. AIKEN. 11 The Two Detectives; or, The Fortunes ofa Bowery Girl. 26 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. 79 Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. 288 Joe Buck of Angels and His Boy Pard. 447 New York Nat. A Tale of Tricks and Traps in Gotham, 458 New England Nick; or, The Fortanes of a Foundling, 464 Nimble Rick, the Circus Prince. 498 Taes Ted, tae Arizona Sport. 510 Cool Colorado, the Hal!-Breed Detective, 518 Ceol Colerade in Now York. | 287 | 898 | 402 | 407 Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers. BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM, The Flying Yankees or, The Ocean Outcast, Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccaneer; or, The Fugitive Yacht. Diamond Dirk; or, The Mystery of the Yellowstone, The Shudow Ship; or, The Rival Lieutenants. The Boy Duelist; or, The Cruise of the Sea-Wolf, Dick Denad-Eye, the Boy Smuggier. The Sea-Devil; or, The Midshipman’s Legacy. The Hussar Captuiny or, The Hermit of Hell Gate, Little Grit; or, Bessie, the Stock-Tender’s Daughter, Gold Plume; or, The Kid-Glove Sport. Bison Bll, the Prince of the Reins. Grit, the Bravo Sport; or, The Woman Trailer, Crimson Kate; or, The Cowboy’s Triumph, Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain.” Merle, the Middy ; or, The Freelance Heir. The Midshipman Mutineer; or, Brandt, the Buccaneer. ue Floating Feather; or, Merle Monte’s Treasure sland. 269 The Gold Ship; 276 Merle Monte’s Cruise; Ship.’” 280 Merle Monte’s Fate; or, Pearl, the Pirate’s Bride, 284 The Sea Marauder; or, Merie Monte’s Pledge. Billy Blue-Eyes, the Boy Rover of the Rio Grande. 804 The Dead Shot Dandy ; or, Benito, the Boy Bugler. 808 Keno Kit; or, Dead Shot Dandy’s Double. 814 The Mysterious Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler’s Long Trail. 877 Bonodel, the Boy Rover; or, The Flagless Schooner, yr, Merle, the Condemned. or, The Chase of “The Gold | 888 The Indian Pilot; or, The Search for Pirate Island, 887 Warpath WII, the Boy Phantom. Seawattf, the Boy Lieutenant. Iaodor, the Young Conaptrator ; or, The Fatal League. The Boy Insurgent; or, The Cuban Vendetta. 112 The Wild Yachtaman; The War-Cloua’s Cruise, 429 Duncan Dare, the Boy R A Cabin Boy’s Lucky or, The Corsair. The Sea Raider. The Ocean Firefly ; or, A Middy’s Vengeance, HNaphazard Harry; or, The Se ipegrace of the Sea, Wizard Will; or, The Boy Ferret of New York. Wizard Will's Street Scouta. The Born Guide; or, The Sailor Boy Wanderer. Neptune Ned, the Boy Coaster. Flora; or, Wizard Will’s Vagabond Pard. Ferrets Afloat: or, Wizard Will's Last Case, Nevada Ned, the Revolve Arizona doe the Boy Pard of Texas Jack, Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. ’ The Royal Middy ; or, The Shark and the Sea Cat, The Hunted Midshipman. The Outlawed Middy. Buckskin BIL, the Comanche Shadow, Brothers in Buckskin. mere oe oe SS meen ee Sam ioe ~ A> se iba ib ib b> op ib ib ap : ie he SS Te TCO aS ¢ Your 260 It, the Ranger. hero. Saul. BY T. C. HARBAUGIEL 28 Nick o’ the Night; or, The Boy Spy of ’76. 87 The Widden Lodge; or The Littl Hunter, 47 Nightingale Nat; or, Tne Forest Captains, 64 Dandy Jack; or, The Outlaws of the Oregon Trait, 82 Kit HWarefoot the Wood-Hawk. 94 Midnight Jack ; « he Boy Trapper. 106 Old Frosty; the Gu he White Queen. 128 Kiown Charley | anger. 189 Judge Lynch, Jr.: or, The Boy ante, 155 Gold Trigger, the Sport; or, The Girl Avenger, 169 Tornado Tom; cr, ! ack From Red Core. 188 Ned Temple, t 198 Arkansaw: or, 7 I 1 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. 215 Captain Bullet; or, Little Toy t's Crusade, 281 Plueky Phil; or, Rosa, the Re 241 Bill Bravo; or, The Roughs of 255 Captain Apolle, the Ki: 267 The Buckskin Detective. 279 Old Winch; or, The Buc! 294 Dynamilie Dany or, The Bowie Blade of Cochetopa, 802 The Mountain Detective; or, The Trigger Bar Bully 816 Old Eclipse, Trump Card of Arizona, 826 The Ten Pards; or. The Terror of Take-Notice, 886 845 856 Cool Sam and Pard3 o 866 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. 886 Captain Cutlass; or, The Brecaneer’s Girl Foe. 896 Rough Rob; or, The Twin Champions of Blue Blazes, Al1 The Silken Lasso; or, The Rose of Ranch Robin, 418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter. A25 Texas Trump, the Border Rattler. 486 Phil Flash, the New York Fox. 445 The City Sleuths; or, Red Rolfe’s Pigeon, 161 One Against Fifty; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar, The Boy Shadow ; or, Felix Fox’s Hunt. The Excelsior Sport; or, The Washington Spotter, Single Sight, the One-Eyed Sport. Sranded Ben, the Night Ferret. 2 Dodger Dick, the Wharf-Spy Detective. Dodger Dick’s Best Dodge. Revenge. zebel, » Rockies, ¢-Pin of Bowie, kin Desperadoes. Big Benson; or, The Queen of the Larso. Pitileas Matt; or, Red Thunderbolt’s Secret, The Terrible Six. LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. The Jolly Pards to the Rescue. § Fox and Falcon, the Bowery Shadows. Deadwood Dick’s Danger Dueks. The Buckskin Bowers. By Col. P. Daisy Dare, the Sport from Denver. By William G, Patten The Cowboy Duke. By Edwin Breeke Forrest. Wrestling Rex, the Pride ofthe Sixth Ward. By Jo Pierce Deadwood Dick’s Death Hunt. By E. L. Wheeler. Ready October 18. The Bue’ skin Bowers. Rea *-ondway Billy’s *f Difikilty.” i dy November 1. Old Buckeye, the Sierra Sleuth. Ready November 8. BSS Podger Diek, the Dock Ferret. Ready November 15. . o Ry T. By E. L. Wheeler. Ingrabam. = or * R Ot ot = a By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. October 25. By J. C. Cowdrick, By J. W. Osben. By T. C. Harbawgh. A New Issue Every Tuesday: The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all newsdealers, five gents per copy, er sent by mail on receipt ef six cents ensh. BBEABPLE AND ADAMS, Pebliskers, 98 William Street, New York.