Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 350) (1884 04 08)

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—— “See r re y \y Net ZEN eter dnl nl at al Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyright, 1884, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, year, ——_—<—<—<$$$<$<$ $$$ i Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS Price, Vol. XTV. Num ere No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. ; 5 Cents. No. 350. RED RALPH, THE RIVER ROVER: or, THE BROTHER'S REVENGE. iS, IND: BUNT Trai ee SS 4 " , ( oY a ~ ed SUDDENLY THE WHIZ OF AN ARROW WAS HEARD, AND THE ARM OF THE WRETCH WAS LITERALLY PINNED TO THE TREE

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Red Ralph, THE RIVER ROVER; oR, The Brother’s Revenge. } BY NED BUNTLINE. CHAPTER I. “Go} HENCEFORTH YOU ARE NO SON OF MINE.” Tr was a beautiful place, that of Edgar Rolfe, situa- ted upon the banks of the James river, chosen b fiis father, when hand-in-hand he roamed throug (he forest with the noble-hearted and queenly Poca- hontas, whom he married, and who died but too soon after she gave birth to her only son. In time the father passed away leaving his son sole heir to his large estate, which pong his care had become one of the most beautiful an profitable in Virginia, That son grew up, proud and haughty, with ‘all the fire of his mother’s princely blood in his veins, and the stern and haughty resolution of his father. The son married young, finding in the daughter of anei hboring planter, soon after his father’s death, one who could make the mansion less desolate and his heart more warm. Thesecond son of this mar- riage, Eugene Rolfe, is the principal hero of the fol- lowing story. He was at that age when youth has ee merged into a full consciousness of manhood, @ was tall, well-formed, hi8 frame lithe, but mus- cular—his features and his brunette complexion plainly showing traces of his maternal descent. His eye of jet-black, at one time would be soft and liquid as a drop of water in a flower-cup—at an- other, lighted by excitement, it would flash like a diamond in a blaze of light. His nature did not seem so stern as that of his sire, and he differed from his aristocratic elder brother as much as day- light differs from darkness. Nor was there less dif- ference between his nature and that of his sister, who then but eighteen, was two years younger than himself. She was not only haughty, but sordid, quarrelsome, ungenerous, Reared with spirits so uncongenial, it would not seem unnatural if he met those more like himself away from the old homestead, that with them he should form intimacies and attachments stronger than he had at home, And Eugene Rolfe had for:n- ed such an intimacy, and, as his brother and sister thought, with those who were far beneath them in station. Itis true, they were so in wealth; butif pur- ity of blood, probity of character, and a descent from one of the oldest and proudest families in France were considered, the-Miniers stood second to none in the province of Virginia. Yet they had not had the means to settle as well nor cultivate a¥ uergely as their more fortunate nighbors, nor had their children the same chance for education at se- lect schools and foreign universities as others. But they were not utterly neglected, as the sequel will show. Adolphe Minier and his wife, Fe'icite, were blessed with but two children—Gustaye, a boy of the same age as Eugene Rolfe, Mignionette, their daughter, a flower even more beautiful than her namesake, two years younger than the son—in truth, of the same age, within a few days, as Irene Rolfe, The son was a bold, brave, adventurous. boy—one who, with gun in hand, was ever in the woods, roaming through the forest, which then was almost athless. He was as much attached to Eugene if2 as one boy could be to another, although he was more rude and uncultivated. But a warmer heart never beat in human bosom than throbbed in his—a more courageous youth never faced a foe. His sister was all tenderness, all love, all gontle- ness. If.aform to which nothing could be added or aught taken away without marring its perfection; if a face whose complexion was almost transparent; if eyes darkly, beautifully blue and liquid as a vio- let’s in the dewy morn—if hair like sunbeams twisted into waving, golden curls, could constitute beauty, then was Mignionette very beautiful. Eu- gene thought that she was, for from_ her childhood he had watched her beauty expanding, and he al- most worshiped her. Sbe had been far ‘better edu- cated than her brother, for EKuzene had taught her jis lessons,and what he had learned he bad imparted to her. Thus even in her childhood she had literaliy become a part of bimself. In frout of Mr. Rolfe's mansion, a park of large oak trees extended quite down to the edge of the river, where beside the grassy bank, several neat canoes, shaped by the hands of the skillful natives were movred. Out in the river a short distance, a neat sailing shallop, or pleasure boat lay at anchor, swinging to the current, for the breeze was so light that it searcely lifted the little red and blue pennant which was hoisted at its mast-head. Up and down the broad and beautiful river, canoes might ocea- sionally be seen paddled by the wid rh natives as Sher catered oysters or pod he bright-scaled fish. Flocks of wild ducks floated to and fro, scarcely swimming out of the way of the swift canoe. I¢ was summer-time, the year 1753. So warm was the weather that the tame deer which roamed un- disturbed through the park, stood half immersed in the edge or the river in the shade of the broad spreading limbs of the large oaks. The sun had f vigeai its meridian, when a man who had passed 6 meridian of th days usually allotted to man—for - fis locks once a glossy black were now silvering in Red Ralph, the ment to gather sume grepes, ver Rover. spots—accompanied by one many years his junior, approached a rustic bench near the water-side and seated himself. One was the elder Rolfe—the other was Eugene. “Tsay again’’—continued the father, who had been conversing earnestly with his son as they ap- | proached the spot—‘*that you must choose a pro- | fession. I can get you a commission in the army or a position in the navy of his majesty!” ‘But suppose, dear father,’’ replied the young man mildly, “ that I do not feel anxious for either. Suppose that I prefer to live as you have lived and become an independent planter?’ * [ will not suppose such a thing, Eugene!” said the father firmly. “The plantacion wii fail to your brother, according to the law of inberitance—lLec—”’ the father hesitated, but the son finished the remark according to his own interpretation. J “Would not like to share a part with me, you would say, father. I know that, but I can start up- ona plantation without his assistance, nor would I accept his aid if he offered it. He loves me not— would, if he dared, treat me as meanly as the com- monest varlet.” “ Softly, my son—Francis is haughty in his nature but he is not at heart unkind. Only this morning he was speaking most kindly of you.” “Yes, father, and probably suggesting that it would be better to send me off across the occan to get a commission in a service where a chanve bullet might make one less in the family! I will wager wy favorite horse against a donkey that it was he who put this idea of sending me abroad, into your mind!” The elder Rolfe was silent—he could not deny Eu- gene’s inference. **T know several of his reasons for wishing me out of his way,” continued the latter, “ one in particular, but ‘hat reason alone, more than all others, would induce me to stay.” At that moment, a light canoe impelled by a pow- erful arm, shot out from a small creek —— op- posite to them on the other side of the river, There were two oe init, one evidently afemale. The course of the boat was angularly across the river, its prow pointing a little above. the spot where the two speakers were seated. If the father had glanced at the face of his son, when his eye first caught sight of the canoe, he would have seen a quick but tran- sient flush oe over his fine manly features. “Ara not those the Miniers?” asked the elder Rolfe, as the canoe brought them rapidly nearer and within a recognizable distance. “They are, sir,’’ Eugene answered, “They remind that your brother said that lately you had become very intimate with that family!” said the father sternly, ‘“‘Not more so, sir, than I have been since my childhood!” responded Engene, and as the flush of anaet rose up and mantled both cheek and brow, he added—‘‘ if I were, it is no business of my brother’s —he is not my keeper, If the truth were known he would be glad to have the beautiful Mignionette smile upon him!” At that moment, the young girl who had been looking toward the shore, seemed to recognize them and the brother evidently at hcr request turned the row of the canoe a trifle more down the stream, his brought it within about fifty cr sixty yards of the shore, when again with a dexterous turn of the paddle the rower headed it more up the stream. Eugene arose, and walked down to the bank and hailed young Minier. “Where away this sunny day, Gustave?” “Tam going with my sister up to the old settle- sir,’ replied young Minier in a full manly voice. “They are ripe and very fine—will you not go along?” ““Not now—I! may ride by there by and by!” re- lied Eugene. ‘‘ How isthe fair Mignionctte to-day?” * Well and happy!” cried a voice as swect and soft as the tones of a flute heard at eve, across the wa- ters. “She is very beautiful!” muttered the elder Rolfe to himself. “It must be as Francis says. This in- timacy must be stepped before it goes too far!” The canoe was soon out of sight in the deep shad- ows of the trees up the river, and Eugene returned to his father. i “That Minier girl is very good-looking,” said the father, apparently in a carcless manner, but his eye now noted the expression of his son's face. ‘**She is, and as good as she is beautiful,’”’ said the young man, earnestly, * Perhaps so,” said the father, in a sarcastic tone. “She may seem fair and good, but still be rotten at the ‘core.”” “Sirl’’ eried the youth, turning pale with anger. “Sir, were any other man than my father to make such an insinuation I would st-ike him dead at my feet. This I expect is more of my brother's work. He had better beware or he may make me forget that the same blood flows in our veins. Good-day, sir.’ t ° So saying, Eugene turned haughtily away and strode off in the direction of the mansion. For afew moments the sire sat in silence, appa- rently astonished. Then the angry blood mounted to his own brow. and, as he rose to his feet, he ex- ) claimed, bitterly: j ‘‘Things have gone thus far, have they?_ The reckless boy dares for a Sregy menial to insult bis own father. He shal! take a commission and obey | my mandates or I'll turn him from my door as cried the father, ‘‘ you need not cor “Nothing in Noe cigete my sweet child,” he re plied, while his frown relaxed into a smile, . Irene Rolfe would have been pretty if the ex- pression of her face had not indicated her disposi- — tion, She was small, but ueatly formed, of grace- ful figure and good features; but there was some- thing indefinable. hard to describe, which would not — a ae an observant person favorably upon meet- ng her, R What was the matter with Eugene, father?’ she continued. “Eugene is a fool,”’ replied the father—his face n flushing. ‘*1 did but allude to that pert hussy, the daughter of old Minier, the Frenchman, and he flew into a passion. I shall send him to England to enter the army,” he added, after a short pause. “It will bea good place for one of his ungovern- able temper!” said the thoughtful sister. “And will tear him away from these degrading associations!’ continued “tr, Rolfe. } “Very true, dear father-but will he go?” “Will he go, did you ask, Irene? Will he go? He has not yet arrived at an age when he dares to re- fuse obedience tome. If he gid I would drive him a beeear from my presence, e dare not cross my will, **He is very willful, father, and has ever been so! But where is he going now? I see him riding along the lane that leads up to the river.”’ ‘Going to meet the Miniers I expect!’ said the father. ‘‘A curse on them and their breed. Where is your brother, Francis, child?” “He rode out about two hours ago, father, te look over the plantation. He always does, you know, to see that the hands are at work and no waste going on!” ‘*Yes—he is an attentive boy. He does well tu look over the place—it will soon be his to look to al together.” “It is our lunch-time nearly, dear father; will you go up to the house now? ‘Twas for that I came to eall you,’ ‘*You were kind and attentive, Irene; if I am cursed by one willful and disobedient child. I have reascn to be very grateful for two that are affection- ate an.] ever thoughtful.” The father and daughter now went up arm-in-arm tothe old mansion, which was built in the old style, only two stories high, with a broad veranda extend- ing all around it. Entering the sitting-room, the were met by one whom we have not yet introduced, Mrs. Rolfe. She was a pale, one woman, one who did not appear to enjoy good health, al- though if she suffered mentally or bodily, she would keep her aan to herself, The resemblance be- tween herself and Eugene was striking in seme re- spects. But there was not the color in her cheek, or the fire in her eye that flashed in his. Sbe rose as her husband entered the room, and was about to speak, when a hurried step was heard on the veranda, and as she glanced to the door, her face blanched whiter than before, and with a fain. scream she sunk back upov her seat. Mr. Rolfe turned tosee what was the object of her alarm, and beheld his eldest son entering the room in anything but fine condition, His face and clothes were cov- ered with blood which was streaming from his nose, and one of his eyes could scarcely be seen, and it was encircled with mourning for its misha ‘What is the matter—how were you hurt?” ex- claimed both father and sister in a breath. “Eugene has beaten me, but his heart’s blood shall pay for it!’ said the brother hoarsely. “Infamous! What caused him to do the brutal act?” asked the father. ‘* Merely some words which I addressed to the sis- ter of young Minier, who was trespassing on our land,” replied Francis, “There—I thought so! Eugene is perfectly infe+- uated with the upstart jade!”’ said Irene. “Let me wash your face and apply some lotion, my son,” said the mother kindly, she having now re- covered from her first fright. ‘““No—you needn't trouble yourself about me—~ you can reserve your care for your pet, Eugene. after I have a him‘up for this assault!’ crie Francis brutally. ‘*Francis—Francis, you should remember that }. am your mother!" said the lady, with more spirit than she had shown before. “T won’t forget that you are Eugene's mother, and that he is your favorite!’ savagely responded the unfeeling son. ‘* Beware, sir, how you speak to my mother!” said a deep voice at his back. ‘‘I have chastised you once to-day for insulting a woman, who as yet is no rela- tion of mine. Do not force me to utterly forget that yeu are related to me,” Every spot on the face of Francis which was not covered with blood turned pale, and his whole frame trembled. It was evident that he, like all things in the shape of men who can abuse a woman, was & dastardly coward. ‘“How dare you abuse your brother se?” shout- ed Hs, elder Rolfe, seeing that Francis made no reply. ** How can you, sir, permit him in your presence to insult my mother and your wife?’ asked Eugene calmly, as he stepped forward. “Oh dear, this : pcg = Bh ps oh coe “ “Tf youcannot keep your hands off your browber, y ag der this house your home!” 2 . “T shall not much lon¢ger, sir!” said Eugene proud-

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themselves out between the jeweled fingers which she held before her face, “Go to your room, Francis, my dear boy—l will have a surgeon sent for,’’ said the father. “ Eugene had better look out or he’ll need one be- fore I do!” replied Francis bitterly, as he withdrew from the room. “You may have courage enough to play the as- sassin,”’ said the other calmly—‘ ou ” “T command you to go to your room and to stay | there until I decide what to do in regard to this mat- ter,’ cried the father. “Excuse me, sir—if for the first time in my life I deliberately tell you that I will not obey you!” re- plied Eugene. “Oh my son, for my sake be calm and do not an- ger your father,’’ murmured the mother, her eye glittering with tears. ‘Mother, dear mother, for you I would do any- thing, everything! For your sake I have borne wrong and insult until forbearance has ceased to be avirtue. This day my father was proposing tosend me far away from you, where I could neither pro- tect you or cheer you when sorrowful. But I will save him the trouble! I will leave this house, sir, and no longer trouble you or my affectionate sister and brother. But woe be to those who offer harm to, or draw one precious tear from the eyes of my mother!”’ **Rash boy, if you leave this house yougo forth as a beggar!”’ “Not quite, sir. I have five hundred pounds of my own, which my rrandfather left me—’ ‘And which you cannot touch until you are twenty-one—a year yet—and I am your guardian!” “*Tf you choose, sir, to defraud me of my rights, do so—I have strong hands, a willing heart, and do not think there is any danger of starvation while I possess them!”’ The father's face became livid with rage—he d for utterance—but was too choked to speak. With unstead steps, like one reeling from drunken- ness, he left the room, followed by Irene, who had suddenly recovered from her hysterical fit. The tears of Mrs. Rolfe now fell hot and fast. “Dear mother!” said Eugene, seating himself by her side and putting his arm fondly around her neck, * do not weep, I love you very dearly—but I could not bear everything. Francis has often pro- voked me almost beyond endurance and I have borne it—but he abused the only being in the world who shared my heart with you and I could net stand it. Iam going away, mother, but not so far that I cannot hear from you often. Within the last half- hour I have made up my mind—” * And now you can execute your plans!” said the elder Rolfe, ser yon’y | with a package which he threw at the feet of his son. ‘There, sir, is the amount of your grandfather's bequest; aot shall not say that a Rolfe defrauded you! Go, hence- forth you are no son of mine!” : “Ido not thank you, because this is my right,” roudly replied the son as he placed the money in is pocket. ‘‘Farewell dear mother,’’ he added, ‘**you will hear from your son, at times!”’ One glance of agony flew from her to him—then = was gone, and she sunk back senseless upon the oor. CHAPTER II. BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER. Arrer leaving his father by the water-side, Eugene had passed on to the stable and ordering his favor- ite horse saddled, mounted it and rode off up the river. His face was still flushed, his Fp ner- vous, and his mind agitated. He passed swiftly on beneath the huge oaks, now glancing through the openings toward the river, then spurring more rapidly forward. He had ridden perhaps a mile, or even more and had not yet — the boundary of his father’s estate, when the sound of loud and angry voices fell upon his ear, At first he checked his horse to ascertain from whence the sound came, It seemed to emanate from a thick growth of oak and persimmon trees, to his right. But the trees were so completely laden with wild grape vines, from Which depended clusters of the delicious blue grapes that he could not see the speakers. But when he heard the voice of a lady speaking in tones of terror and entreaty, he did not hesitate a second in his intention of becoming one in the party. Driving his spurs home and bowing his head down upon the animal’s neck to avoid the overhanging branches, he burst through the thicket and came most unexpectedly upon the scene of excitement. There were four persons there—his brother Francis and a huge brutal negro who usually accompanied the latter on his excursions over the plantation, and to whom, for his own reasons. he gave unusual liberties. Uapeers to these two, stood young Minier, his face flushed. his fists clinched, his dark eye flashing—his whole appearance indicative of anger and excitement, In the rear, her face suffused with blushes and tears. stood Mignionette, appear- ing the picture of terror. The attitude of Francis end the negro showed that an attack upon Gustave Minier was intended, ‘*What does this mean?” shouted. Eugene, as he placed his horse at a bound between the par- ties. ‘* Speak, Gustave, for 1 know you will tell the truth.” “While 1 was absent, carrying a basket of grapes down to the canoe, that villain—I must call bim a villain if he és your brother, Eugene—insulted m sister, See, he tore the bonnet from her head— heard her scream and if you had not come I don’t know but I should have made some of his blood atone for the insult. But for your sake T’ll say no mMore—though if ever he dares to even as much as but I do not fear | Red Ralph, the River Rover. speak to my sister again, I'll send an ounce of lead through his base heart!” Eugene dismounted. while Gustave was speaking, ps face growing as rigid and pallid as snow as he so. * Slave,” he said, sternly, addressing the negro who stood by the side of Francis, ‘* hold this horse!” He was equipped as for travel. A knapsack was at his back, pistols and knife were in his belt, and a | short, heavy rifle of very large bore, such as are The negro looked irresolutely at his own master | and hesitated to obey. ‘Did you hear me?” said Eugene, drawing a pistol ) from his breast and taking aim at the black rascal. ‘Yes, massa—for God’s sake don’ shoot!” cried the negro, turning from black to a bluish gray in the face, as he hastened to take the horse by the head. Eugene replaced the pistol, then advanced cooll to Francis, who, pale with anger and yet confused, stood guivering before him, “Sir!” said Engene—“ brother I will not call you | —the epithet of viliain, which Gustave Minier applied to you, was just—you deserve it for your black- hearted attack upon his sister. Will you try to re- deem your honor as a gentleman by giving him the satisfaction of a man? If you will, friend and you may seek another.” “* When brother, with a sneer. ‘““Your equal cannot be found, you dastardly coward.” The elder brother, maddened b his wrt, ian to strike Eugene, but the latter with a single bound sprung inside of the intended blow, and quick as thought, striking with both his clinch- ed hands, knocked the ruffian back bleeding upon | Blood gushed from his mouth and | the ground. nose and he made no effort to rise and return them. Eugene then turned to Mignionette to calm and quiet her, and to assure her that he would protect | her while he had an arm touse in her defense. He | m received her thanks, and a hearty shake of the hand from her brother, who said: “I’m sorry that you didn’t let me dress him out, Eugene; I was just going into him when you came up. I'm afraid it may give you trouble at home.” “*T do not fear it,” was the reply of Eugene. “I intend leaving there at any rate.” ‘* What, are you going away?” asked Mignionette I will be his | Gus Minier.” fight I fight with my equals," said the | | this retort, raised . as the returning color suddenly again left her | cheeks. ‘Not far from you, sweet lady!” he replied— **but as to living longer under the same roof with yonder dastard, I will not. But if you have got re- composed I will see you and your brother to your boat, for [must return to the mansion to make my arrangements for leaving.” **Come to our house to stay!” said Gustave. “It isa humble home, but you will be as welcome as if it were a palace, and as much honored beneath its roof as if you were a king.” **T will at least pass the night there!’ said Eugene. “*T wish your good parents’ advice as to my future course.”’ Eugene now accompanied the na 4 couple to'their boat, and then returned to where he had left his horse. The horse was tied to a bush—but the negro and Francis had disappeared. CHAPTER MH. THE HOME OF THE MINIERS—A CLOSE CALL. Tue home of Adolphe and Felicite Minier and their children was not only situated in a beautiful spot, but was in itself the perfection of architectural beauty, combined with simplicity. It was of the Swiss-cottage order, continued with the French, Americanized by having a neat veranda extending entirely around it, as is the case with most buildings in the South. A lattice of flowering vines complete- ly curtained this veranda, except at the entrances, creepsng up over the roof as it determined to hide the dwelling from the eyes of a too curious and too heartless a world. The few outbuildings and the little ground which, with the help of his son and a couple of house-servants, Minier could cultivate, all bore the same marks of neatness and gocd taste. The stock, consisting of a few horses and cattle, looked as if they too had been well cared for, And yet, it could be seen that Adolphe was poor com- pared to his neighbors, by the small scale on which e operated. But beautiful as all was outside of the cottage which, by the side of a small, clear bayou which led to the river, was nestled io the protecting shade of some umbrageous oaks, it was excelled by the neat- ness within. Eugene Rolfe, on parting with Gustave and Mign- ionette at the river-side, had promised to go to used with such unerring aim by the Swiss chamois- hunters, was in his hand. He was followed, too, by a favorite dog, a cross between the hound and mastiff, fleet of foot and of powerful build. His step was firm, but his look was anxious and care-worn. “Welcome, my young friend, welcome!” said Mr. Minier as Eugene approached. Before Eugene eould speak Gustave was by his side, warmly pressing his hand, and the littie hand of Mignionette was also pressed within his palm. * You look as if you intend going upon a jour- ney?’ continued the elder Minier. “Tam. I have left my father’s house forever,” said Eugene hastily. “but you go not hence to-night—take off that knapsack, lay down your rifle. efter considera- tion you will go away, you may have my head fora plaything if I don’t go with you!” cried Gustave, “It was for me and sister that you got into the quar- rel, and I'll see you out of it, sure as my name is ‘*Come in, come in, my dear boy, and let us talk over this matter,” said Mr. Minier. addressing Eu- ne. ‘* Your brother is unlike your father; he at east has some noble traits,”’ ‘But your mother, your dear mother. It will kill her to lose you,” said Mrs. Minier. A shadow of anguish crossed his pale brow as he replied: **T feel deeply for her, madam, but my stay will not lessen her sorrows, It pains her to see me im- posed upon by those whose blood at least sbould make them love me. She is an angel, mother, and wherever I go her prayers and blessings will go with He had by this time taken off his equipments, and turning to Mignionette, who had remained silent all this time, he seated himseif by her side, and taking her hand in hig, whispered words of undying love. Let not the reader wonioee that all he said was over- heard by the others. r. Minier and his son were engaged in conversation, and Mrs. Minier had gone into the house to give directions in regard to the evening repast, which on pleasant evenings was served out on the veranda. Soft and low toned were the words which Eugene whispered in her ear, but they were such as gave | life to her heart, such as thrilled her very soul. He their parents’ house that night, and before the sun | had kissed the pale brow of twilight, and gone away from one part of the earth to warm another, they were out on the sice of the veranda facing the wa- ter, listening for his coming. But the night-shadows had come, and the stars looked down with twinkling eyes upon the quiet scene, and he came not. The to-hoot—to-hew of the owl, the singing of the tree-toad, and the lonely wail of that bird whose note is seldom heard but at night, the whip-poor-will, could be heard, but not the plash of the paddle for which sweet Mignionette then lis- | tened, as she often had before, tave. “T wonder what keeps Eugene back?” said Gus- ) “He may be detained by his father—or perbaps,”’ | and her cheek paled as the last thought suggested itself, “he may have had further trouble with his brother!’ said Mignionette. But their remarks were cut short by the sound of a paddle, and in a few moments a small canoe came swiftly up the bayou and landed by the grassy bank in front of the house. And the rays of the moon which was just rising threw light upon the ‘tall, graceful form of Eugene. ; | h was telling her not only of his love, but of his inten- tion to ask her band from her parents, and if he gained their consent, to go somewhere into the in- terior to some lonely spot not marred by the hand of man and there to build for her a home—a home wherein naught but joy and happiness could find a dwelling-place. He told her that with the excep- tion of his grandfather's legacy he had nothing— but that was enough for him with bis strong frame and bold brav* heart to begin the world with. Tea was prepared, and our lovers, for such they truly were, were aroused from the romance of their situation to the reality of corn cakes, coffee and chicken fixings. An hour later the table was cleared—Mr. Minier and Gustave had sat down to play a game of chess —Mrs. Minier was near them with her lace-bobbins in her hand, serge Pe Mignionette was seated on the veranda in a flood of golden moonlight, with Eugene by her side, still clasping ber hand in his— still pouring fond words into her willing ear. His eyes were upon her face, yet hers were too timid to meet his impassioned glance, and they wardered out into the deep shadows of the woods, or on the green velvet of the lawn. Well it was for him that her glance had wandered thus, for sudden- ly she saw a dark shadow cross a wake of moonlight —then her quick eye discerned a tell form raising a weapon, the deadly barrel of which glittered in the moon-rays. With a wild scream she sprung from her seat, and drew Eugene by almost superhuman =e with- in the verenda at the same moment a ball grazed his cheek so closely that it cutaseam in it from which the blood gushed out, while it also severed one of the golden curls from her head. The echo of the piece had hardly rung forth in the woods when nunderbolt, Eugene’s dog, with a fierce growl dashed off in the direction from which the shot came. In an instant Eugene had recovered from the shock, and accompanied by Mr. Minier and Gustave, ali with arms which they had hurriedly snatched up, rushed after the dog. In a few moments they heard his growl cease, then the cry of a man in ter- rorand anger, then in agony, and in a few seconds they had reached an open spot in the woods where Thunderbolt held a huge and powerful man on the ground, his teeth fixed in the feiJow’s throat. Eugene ordered the dog to release his victim, and while he held his gun at the villain’s breast, he re- cognized him to be the same negro belonging to his brother whom we have before described. ‘“Wretch!” shouted Eugene. ‘“ Who sent you to assassinate me? Speak before I blow your soul Into eternal perdition Y’ : ‘Don’t kill me, Massa "Gene! Don’t kill mean’ J tell,”’ cried the negro. ‘Speak quick, you infernal hound! Out with it,” ‘Massa Francis, sah. He make me free and me plenty money s’pose me kill Massa Gene,” said the negro. **Shoot the black ee § of Satan,” cried Gustave, and then let me go and knock your brother in the “No,” said Eugene, ‘he must live—both of them must. But lll ped my mark on you, Tony—so that your master will remember me when he sees you.” 60 saying he drew his knife, and while the negro

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lay cowering at his feet, he drew it across his fore- head twice making an incision to the bone, in the shape of a cross. “Now, up, you black do your master and tell him of his minions can hurt me. Begone—you need not look for your gun, I shall take care of that. Make tracks in a hurry, or I'll let Thunderbolt take an- other hold.” The negro needed no second bidding, but with a look of mingled fear and hatred made more hideous by the blood which streamed over his mutilated : face, he fled from the spot. at ““Now what do you think of my brother?’ asked . Eugene, after the black had vanished from their Pa view. ‘That he is infamous beyond belief! His treach- erous design ought at once to be made public and he consigned to justice,” said Mr. Minier, “Two reasons will prevent it,” replied Eugene. “In the first place I would not have my family name i San disgraced by making public such a shameful act of one of its members. Next, the evidence of the negro you know is valueless in court, even if I de- sired to use it. My brother will be punished by the oe: failure of his scheme.” ‘ ry “If by your leniency he isnot encouraged to try some other plan,” said Gustave. ‘ You'd better let me take care of him—I’ll give him a fair chance for rt his life. The insult to Mignionette is excuse enough » 4 forachallenge.” . “Thank you, dear Gustave,”’ replied Eugene, smiling at the enthusiastic manner of young Minier. ‘*T can punish him sufficiently.” When they returned to the house, they found Mignionette pale and anxiously awaiting, with her : mother, their report. . : The story was soon told. The ladies were horrified is at the depravity of Francis Rolfe. BP er “To you, dear Mignionette, I owe my life,’ said Ap Re oa Eugene. “That negro is one of the most skillful [> Eee shots that Iever saw. Had you not seen him when you did, he would surely have executed his master’s 4 es. 4 “God is good! It was His will that you should fae, not be destroyed,” she answered, with tears of joy P in’ in her eyes. ee y guardian, esd ‘f my. : ns which he held to his li "he cried, “and go to hat neither he nor any OCTET RY good, for he made one of his angels ene, as he pressed the hand 8. “What were your Iobeutte and what did you mean to do?” asked the elder Minier after they had ‘ once more seated themselves within the cottage. oe | “Tintend to ask your advice. You have ever been b ; like kind parents to me,”’ said Eugene. at “ But you surely had some plan in your mind.” ? “None which I did not intend should have your wt. sanction, sir. Although I have thrown off all alle- ae) a gence to my own father, I do not feel that I am “Soa competent in all things to act without advice and guidance. And besides—I did not know but that 7, plans might coincide with some of year own. I have often heard you express an intention ; of removing further inland, where the land was ? richer and unpleasant neighbors more distant.” * ame is true.” po ve juently reached uso of the ay rts ha tl hed f late of th rich lands in the valleys of the Delaware and Sus- quehanna, And if you would go there—I would add q my stock; it is only five hundred wpe ed —— but it would help, and if you would let me, T wo d ; roud and happy to become one of your own . Gustave and myself could work side by side together, we could join in the hunt, we could a" make ourselves and you happy and at least inde- jpn pendent. And, sir, if you and Madame Minier would ” : consent, two hands would be joined, where hearts have — been united. You know that from my ehildh up to the present moment Mignionette and myself have loved each other, This ht she has saved my life, let me devote that life to her.” “With your affections, neither wife nor myself will ever interfere,” said the father, kindly. ‘‘In it would scarcely be right to burden you.” “Dear sir, such joy as you would give me by ‘joining me in a removal some pleasant place ey would be inexpressible. And.when I can claim 1 Mignionette as my bride, then can I say indeed that I am blessed.” wy “We will think of matters until morn decide. In the mean time, may the good above de our thoughts and guard our persons,”’ said . Minier, rising to retire. _ CHAPTER Iv. A MESSAGE AND A PLOT, and then tage home of the ers,and while yet the dew- diamonds gli on the flowers, ¢~o persons went By) forth to. enjoy—first the sweet breath of the ros morn—next the converse which two linked so j which know but a single hope, two united hearts +) which know but a single thought, can enjoy. é uA “ Mignionette, sweet angel mine,” said Eugene, as he clasped va fhe Mite i ot i we dark- appears e e-pal tf) ev rah velatire except my dear mother has their iets raised against me, yet all is bright and clear before beacon which gleams at the mouth of — stand a i sweet guiding star, and before me.” sighed, looked up at him with her to our removal, I have long intended it, But ay i Tux next day the sun rose brightly over the cot- Red Ralph, the River Rover. —$—$$$ — Me ——= ti “What is that fellow doing here, father?” asked the son in an angry tone, AS ‘*Fratricide, that would be!” said Gustr ve, angri- ly, ‘‘you would soon be testing the beautics of justice were it not for the kindness of your brother. y message has been delivered, and I have no more to say. Before another ee Bo sun is set, ] and all e “Dear Mignionette, fear not for me. He who has saved me thus far will protect_me still. I have no fear, no tribulation, so ~—- T know that you are mine in heart and soul. >t the holy man of God unite us, and when the words are spoken and the vows uttered which make us twain one, then I shall feel that a new world is opened unto me, that I can look for nothing beyond.’ of mine will be beyond the reach of your hated “Dear Eugene, I cannot be happier than I am | voice, at least.’ bie while I know that I am beloved by you, but still I! ‘“ls—is Eugene, my son, going away?” asked Mrs. + must tell you that an icy foreboding, a dark shadow | Rolfe. “Yes, lady—far from here. row.” *“Not beyond my reach!” muttered Francis, in a ; tone so low that it was only heard by his sister. {ae Gustave now departed, and Mr. Rolfe informed his ch children of the import of the message which he had i) received. After hearing it, they walked forth on e the lawn, where they could converse without being heard by others. i dar) 13 ‘““What do you think of this. Irene?’ asked the i brother, with a lowering brow. ; “Only that what you have to do, must be done . quickly!” was her ready reply. ‘* How can I prevent his marrying her?” ** You need not prevent it!” “What! Do you counsel that Ishould tamely yield her to him?” seems constantly to rise before me, a something to We go onthe mor. fear which I cannot see. Let us go quickly beyond ; the circle of its influence, far from those who would destroy f if they could.” “ Towill, my sweet Mignionette, but not until I can call you wife, Gustave brother, and ask your parents to bless me as their son.” “Tt can be done this day,” said the fair girl, and she did not even blush. Why should she? Her thoughts were pure—she loved her betrothed, and who that loves purely need conceal that affection? It was two hours later, breakfast had been at- tended to, and a council was being held by_ the Miniers and Eugene, on the same veranda where Mignionette, through her watchfulness, saved Eu- gene from death, The question before that council was, when and where shall we go. ‘‘No, my brother—not at all. Let him marry her % “Let it be on the morrow!” said Eugene, “with | and then Jet him learn that marriage is not posses- pe our consent and blessing, this day will see Mign- | sion.”’ : 4} ionette my bride, Such things as cannot be trans- “How? Take berfrom him after marriage? Is : ported hence easily, can be sold as well within a day | that your idea?” ‘| asa week, Our means of transportation will be our “Itis. Let them wed and within an hour after "4 boats. The course, if you would go, where I would | tear her from his side and bear her I care not Yay advise, from all that I have heard, would be down | where. To the sea if youlike, You can get men to ee: the river into the Chesapeake, thence into the river | do this can you not?” , which the Indians call crooked or Susquehanna, “TI think so. There is a fellow down the river, and up its bright waters until we find an abiding- | who lives I think by smuggling. Money will induce place, a spot where we can rest and know the happi- | him to do almost anything.” ness which we cannot enjoy here!’’ **You mean the man that they call Red Ralph the ‘“‘T am not averse to the destination you propose!” | Rover?” pas said Mr. Minier calmly. ‘And I can see that our “Ido. He has the name of being a bad man and ’ child is willing to cast her lot with yours for life. | there is always a gang of men about his place whose Yet it ssems to me, my dear boy, that we are hasty. | characters are quite as questionable as his own. We should not hurry off like thieves in the night- anpepes they can be used.” time, for we have wronged no one.” *Most likely—but all must be well disguised. If I ‘True, my father,’ said Mignionette, ‘‘ but I fear | were you, I would ride down and see him, brother.” some wrong may come to him who unto me is more “*T will, Irene, I cannot sleep until I am revenged than life. Therefore, I counsel a speedy departure. | for the insults which rankle in my bosom.” ; His enemies are wealthy and powerful we know; The two plotters now returned to the house. ; “4 that they are unscrupulous, the act of last night } gives proof! If we are to go hence, let us go CHAPTER V. he ull quickly.” RED RALPH AND HIS DAUGHTER. “T go in for the same course,” said Gustave. Axnovr seven or eight miles below Mr. Rolfe’s “One day will be time enough for preparation, I | plantation, dwelt Red Ralph—at least he staid there . should think.” . a portion of his time in a huge log-house with only 1’ “Well, let it be set for to-morrow,” said the | two rooms in it, which he dignified by the name of 7] father. ‘‘And you, Eugene, shall be our pilot and | tavern. His accommodations for man and beast ide.” were rather limited, if one article should be excepted { “| will, sir—and now Gustave, will you do me a | —rum, for of that he had a large Ny right favor?” , from Jamaica. Whether it had been passed by the “You know T would, Eugene, even if I lost my life | Revenue officers or not we are unable to say. in doing it! What shall I do?” His face was almost as red as that of an Indian, “Take your canoe and go over to my father’s—” | his hair a shade darker than vermilion and even his “What, and give Mr. Francis Rolfe my compli- | gray eyes were bloodshot, looking out from under ments in the shape of a lump of lead? That I'd do | red eyebrows also, This peculiarity of coler gained with great pleasure.” him the name of Red Ralph although his real name ‘ _“No—I'll not give you so much trouble. All that | was Ralph Rafferty. Little was known of his his sh I wish done, is to have you say to my father and all | tory previous to his coming there but it was said the family, that I am to be married to your sister | when he had “a full” of liquor in him he would : this evening at the set of sun. Speak kindly to my | throw out dark hints of having been engaged in j mother, and ask her to come and bless her son and | something other than a lawful ca ry He owned a A fine fast sailing schooner, in which he occasionally ife.”’ “I will speak kind to her, Eugene—but if Francis Rolfe does not keep a civil tongue in his head, he will learn a new lesson from me. I'll go right away.” Xtter you have carried that message,” said his father, “‘ you can_go to the different planters in the neighborhood and tell them that we are about to ss het and I have some things which I can dispose of,” Gustave hastened off with with his messages. The sun was not four hours high when young Min- ier reached the house of Mr. Rolfe. One of the ser- vants, by his command, informed Mr. Rolfe of his visit. That gentleman sent him no inyitation to en- ter, but came out upon the veranda with a scornful air and asked: “Well, sir—what do you want with me?” “T wish to see all your family, sir,” said Gustave boldly. ‘‘I have a message, at least, which concerns them all.” ‘*T can deliver any message which concerns them, his w made long trips, with a larger crew than most other vessels carned. It is noon of the day on which Gustave crap delivered the message to Mr. Rolfe. Ralph is seated on a rude bench in front of his house with six or eight persons all looking as bad and desperate as himself. By their garb it would be hard teh their occupation, although a part of the dress indi- cated them to be seamen. A huge jug of rum was , in front of the landlord with which he filled the large awkward drinking cups of the party whenever they called for it. But though Red Ralph looked stout, his red-head- ed wife and two red-headed and freckled daughters that slouched about the house didn’t. They were as lean as a marine on short commons, and as limpy and about as clean as a dish-rag just out of service. ‘Here's to the next voyage of the Fly-by-night and heavy profits,” cried Red Ralph, as he tossed off a cup of rum, ‘When will you sail, old man?” asked one of the young upstart. What have you tosay?” rary ** Where is your lady, sir? I care not for the rest ** Before long—when the first nor’wester makes up but she will be glad to hear what I have to tell her.” | and comes snortin’on! I like a full breeze and a “Ts it news from my dear son?” asked the lady. flowing sheet. Short voyages make the heaviest re- . for she had followed her husband and heard the last | turns. remark, “That was a short one we made last January, eh “Yes, madame. Your son hp pag me to say | Captain Ralph—when we berrowed that cargo o that he would be married to my sister this evening | rum from them infernal Dutchmen, I wonder if they'll ever come back to ask us to return it?” “if you don’t keep a close tongue in your head, Splattering Joe, I'll send you where they went to!’ growled Ralph, looking around to see if any but his own gang was in hearing, and scowling angrily at the speaker. ‘ One of these days you'll blat some- thing that will cost you your neck! Hallo, I wonder who is coming yonder; he rides faster than traveling — folks are apt to do. Goin the house, some of you, “ scatter off till I see what he’s after, and who he 8s! ; These last directions were given by Ralphincon- — sequence of seeing a stranger riding rapidly from up at the set of sun. And. he asked particularly tha you would come and bless his union,” ~ “Bless it? Ha—ha! Rather will she do as I do. Curse him and the union!” ‘*No—no, e husband. I cannot curse him, even if you do,” said the pale, sad lady. ‘If he loves Miss Minier, and she returns his affection. I do not see why that love should be thwarted or their union be prevented. You have cast him off, driven him from his home—you need not curse him more.’ ‘Madame, I know that it is a difficult thing for a woman to hold her tongue, but you will favor me by bor Bi now. Your interference is not Mee Shee Pinte Nee nda a betarantin. 3h Sik | papproociion so sear thee Ral recognized ing Anot now e its a| if so near s co ° eeue and Francie the latter looking Fm h!” he muttered. Mit's that proud foo Frank Rolfe. He thinks that nobody that ign interestingly pale except about the eyes.

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born with a silver spoon in his mouth is worth shucks! I wonder what he’s stavin’ after, now—no + good, I'll warrant.” ~ In a few moments Francis Rolfe had reached the building, and contrary to his usual custom, (for he enerally rode by without deigning to cast a look Sirard alph and his associates,) he reined in his horse and dismounted. Fastening his horse to a ost, he approached Ralph, who had not risen from is bench, and with a very gracious smile, or a look that was intended for one, said: * Good-day to you, Captain Ralph—this is fine weather, sir!’ : ‘‘Yes, for them that likes it,’ growled Ralph. “Wor my part, ’d rathersee it blow great guns, rain marling-spikes, and thunder loud enough to shake the airth, with the lightning flashin’ and ; whizzin’ through the air like snakes of fire in a bat- pf tle.” *“ Have you any good liquor, Captain Ralph?’’ “Not such as quality folks like—but my rum is good enough for the likes of me and my custom- ers.” “*Texpect it is very 3 seg try some of it. I was thrown from my horse, and got my face quite disfigured.” ' “Yes, I see your figure-head has been battered some!”’ said Ralph rather relaxing in his roughness, as he poured out a cup of rum. : Rolfe tossed this off with an effort to conceal his dislike of its taste and fiery strength, and then said: *T came down to see you on business, very par- ticular business, and I wish to see you alone.” ** Business, eh? Well, I’m on hand when there’s anything to be made,”’ said Ralph, deliberately tak- ing out his flint and steel and ting an old-fash- ' joned Dutch pipe, which he had Very likely borrow- ed just as he had the rum that Joe had spoken of, a short time before. : After he had done this, he arose and said: **We'll go down alongside the river, Mr. Rolfe—I reckon there'll be no one to hear us there.” ’ They walked on some ways in silence, untila quiet and lonely spot was found, and there Rolfe stopped and said: rita “*T s’pose we're out of ear-shot of everybody now 4, —Ican hear what business a gentleman like you have with Red Ralph, for they’re few that ever deal with him.” “Tf you are well paid for it, can you do a smart job and keep a secret?” “Tecan keep a secret as well as a dead man. but before I undertake a ‘job of any sort I must know what it is. I’m not over-scrupulous in my deeds, but it takes a considerable pile to make me risk my wizzen.”’ “There’s but little risk in what I want You to do, if it is managed right,” said Francis. ‘Thetruth | - ‘ ig that my brother intends to be married to-night to ah the seug ter of old Minier.” i; + ae ““Well, I suppose that touches your pride!” said one Ralph with a half perceptible sneer. “ You would like to have the thing prevented I we nag rt “*No—curse him, he may marry her, but within one hour from that moment which makes her his wife, I want her tornfrom his arms. You can get wa a a di yourselves as Indians, and carry bia er off!’ ae “Tsuppose you'd like us to scalp her after we'd esd knocked her on the head, wouldn’t you?” ‘Tat “No—not by any means, that beg not consum- © mate my intention. I have a suug place to which I wish her carried. I'll take care of her after she is secured there.” “You must Jove that brother of yours!” said Ralph with another faint sneer. j , '*Torehim? I hate him with an intensity which no words ean describe. But yesterday he struck , . “Wh? Was that the stump against which your horse threw you? Excuse me, sir, if I laugh, but I didn’t know that gentlefolks cowld lie as well as we roughs, If he hits so hard when he strikes a bro- ther, he might handle a stranger a little more rough- . What did you intend to offer me if I undertook e job?” ek hundred guineas in gold down—the moment io say you'll do it—another hundred when you , have succ2eded and she isin my power. The mat- ter can be done quickly—the Inaians will be blamed for it and:no one will suspect either you or me!” “Tf you and your brother have had words about the girl, he’d suspect you the. first one, and if he’s ot the spunk that I think he has, he'll try hard to d her and dig your grave—but that’s no'hing to me. If, I run my risk, l’ve nothing to do with ours.’ “Well, then, if I understand you, you agree to take the job, eh?” “T didn't say I would. It rather goes against. my grain—old Minier did me a small favor once, and it's not natural for me to forget good or evil deeds to- war? me or mine. But then two hundred panes isn't to be had every day!” muttered Ralph, ap- ‘parently as if in a deep study, but his keen eyes were peering out from beneath his red brow with an expression of cunning which ought to have put Rolfe upon his guard. Put he was too intent upon his object to notice this look. “Here,” said he, ‘is the first hundred guineas; ‘say the word and they are yours. I'll procure the 2 you take disguises and weapons for you. W them?” ey ae 2 ey I must,” said the man, his eyes bright- ening as he looked upon the bag of gold. “ You're sure there is one hundred good guineas there?” | * You can count them—I know they’re right. Slowly, place fem in the bag and put it in his pocket—he e by one he counted them and as he re- “Yes, I'll see you through. What time are they to be married?” “At sunset. You’ve no time to lose—i’'ll hasten home to make my arrangements and then return with your disgnises and give you further directions, Ill not be long gone—farewell.”’ ““Won’t you try some more of my Jamaica, before you go, sir—just to wash down the bargain?’ ““No—l’ve no time to spare now!’ said Rolfe shuddering at the remembrance of the fiery draught he had taken. ; The young man now hastened back to his horse and rode off. Red Ralph was just about to follow him, when a rustle in some bushes near caused him to turn back. As he did so, he saw a red head rise to his view, and then the thin lank form of Susan, his eldest daughter, made her appearance. ‘* What the deuce are you sneaking there for, you red brat?’ he shouted. ‘“*T wasn’t a-sneakin’ round to hear nothin’, father, but since I have heard somethin’ I'm glad of it. I reckon you'll buy me a gown now, if I hold my) tongue, won't you?” “If you blab it ['ll buy you a winding-sheet, you lazy minx!” said the father angrily. * What was that small favor that old Minier did for you, father?’ asked the girl. “He only saved my life, and that gal of his nursed me as if | had been an angel instead of swearing Red Ralph—mean old cuss that I am!” replied the man warmly. ‘*That was the time when you first came here te settle, wasn’t it, father?’’ continued the girl. ““Ay; when I was capsized in a squall, and soaked e’ena'most the life out of me.” ““And now, father, you are a-goin’ to return evil for good, eh? If you do, I'll never call you father ag in—that's all about it; and I'll tell, if it costs my e.”? ‘But then two hundred guineas, gal—that’s a snag 0’ money to be made in a little bit of time.” “Tt’ll take a longer time than they took who saved your life, and make them sorry they ever did a good act for so base a return.” ‘You're right, gal,’ said Ralph, huskily. ‘“ Vll go after Frank Rolfe and give him back his gold, and tell him I'll have naught to do with it.” “*No—I wouldn’t do that either—I’d keep his gold and fool him besides!” replied the girl, her gray eyes flashing with an expression of anger. ** How can I do it?’’ asked the old man, anxious to retain his hold upon the gold, “Pll consider a plan and let you know in half an hour, I know it can be done, for I’ve got wit enough to match Frank Rolfe,” veplied the girl. “Ay, the old Satan himself—and the spunk to carry it out! You're a chip of the old block, gal, as sure as I’m Red Ralph. But beara hand wit that enya = yours —whatever is done has got to be done quickly. t “Tll not be long; and now you go up to the house and keep your own counsel. Go to work and get por men all ready to do the job, as if you were real- y going to do it—he’ll be back soon, and we must be ready for him.” So saying the girl turned off in an opposite direc- tion, and Ralph returned to the house to indulge in another swig of rum, for his lips were seldom so long absent from its brim. Some time before dark, Frank Rolfe returned to the “tavern * of Red Ralph, He was accompanied by his favorite negro with a large bag containing the necessary disguises, The negro had a felt cap so drawn over his forehead that the mark upon his black brow which had been made by Eugene, could not be seen, Leaving the bag in the house under the care of\ the negro, Rolfe walked down to the river-side with Ralph to arrange the fina] programme of action, ; “Have you selected * ta men?” he asked. ‘Yes,’ replied Ralph. | , “ How many?” asked the other. “Six besides myself, and I’m as good as half a dozen!” “Can they all be depended on?” “Red ph is not such a fool as to have those ae him that can’t be depended on!’ was the re- iy. r **Then we have nothing more to do until the time comes for us to act!” “Yes we have, Are you goin’ to be there to help us to run the gal off?" = ‘‘No—that wouldn’t do. I must be at home and have neighbors there to prove it. I’ve asked half a dozen friends there on purpose to spend the even- * Well, that’s all right so far as it goes—but where am I to leave the gal?” ; ‘In a cabin that 1 have got ready for her. Tony, my black boy, who’ll go with you, will show you, and when you get the girl there, you can leave her under his charge. The Fit is hid in the cabin et i and he knows where to get it.” ] &: / Why you don’t trust a nigger that way, do ‘ou?’ 7 ““Yes—I can trust him with anything—he fears me and hates my brother. But I have no more time to apa } must be at the wedding to see how it s off!” “You take things as cool as a man-o’-war's man on fu owance!”’ said | 5a n 00 full all !”’ said Ralph pemnasre $0} kk gg Se en ag on ae a th of t cee eon ‘e made no reply e flattery, but remarked: “I depend on you now—let the time be as soon after dark as le,” and rode off. “T rather think it'll] not be much darker than day- light gion “gee except it should cloud oe The moon will be wel up high, I hate moonlight—it may suit Red Ralph, the River Rover. for lovers, but it is death to them as wants darkness to cover their work. Hallo, the gal’s back a’ready.” The last remark was made by the reappearance of the daughter spoken of before, who came up at a full gallop, mounted on a lean, shaggy-looking, but ctive pony, whose steaming flanke betokened the peed with which she had ridden. ‘Well, zal, how goes it?” asked the father, as she sprung off the pony, and seizing the half-drained mug of rum from his hands, dr. it as coolly as if she was used to the beverage, “All right!” said she. “Dll tell you by and by when things are ready. It takes me to do a thing when I set my mind on it.” “So with most wimmen-folks. Them that can’t win one way, will another, If they can’t storm in. their way, they'll do it by sniveling.” “You never knowed me to snivel much, father,” said the girl. *No—Ill be blowed sky-high, if I did. There's too much of Red Ralph in you. ‘“ Who did you see while you was gone, eh, gal?” a If I told you you’d know as much as me about is Y “In course I should, and that’s what I want to know,” “Well, I saw them that will be thank&ul to you for a good act, and who couldn’t have been master- ed very easy, for they’ve got their eyes open to every danger. But come inside; now that I’ve got my breath, I'll spin out the whole story and show you how the things are to be fixed to-night.” CHAPTER VI. BAFFLING A VILLAIN, THE sun was low in the west: its deep crimson and golden light tinging sky and earth, tree, and flower, and river with gorgeous light. And calm should be the eve and bright the scene for it was to be the bridal eve of Mignionette and Eugene. Already had the minister and a few neigh- bors and friends arrived, r “But one thing is wanting now,” said Eugene as he glanced down toward the river, where the boats were moored in which they intended to depart. “The presence of my dear mother would add a joy to 4 heart!” “There is a party coming up the river in a boat,” said Mignionette, ‘a lady is with them—yes, two of them. It may be that your father and brother have altered their feelings toward you and are sorry for their injustice.” ; “If so, such sorrow comes too late. But I hope my mother is there!’said Eugene. “She is—my dear mother will bless our union,” added he, as the near approach of the boat enabled him to see who were its occupants. a In a few moments the party landed and advanced to the house. It consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Rolfe and Irene and Francis.’ Mr. Rolfe looked stern and gloomy. his lady looked kind, but very sad and tear- ful, while on the faces of their two children an air of mock cheerfulness reigned. Mr. Minier, with that courtesy so peculiar to the French nation, advanced to welcome the party, while Eugene hastened to embrace his mother, This done, he bowed respectfully to his father, but took no notice whatever of his brother and sister. All was now ready, and*at the request of Eugene the ceremony was performed which made the twain one. Each of them breathed the response in a firm tone, solemnly as such vows should breathed by those who mean to keep them. is ‘ A Pm repast was served after it “= over, but the Rolfes did not remain to join in it, The mother of Eugene embraced and blessed his bride ere she turned tearfully away. The father simply bowed as he left, after exchanging a farewell word with Mr. | Minier, but Francis could not restrain his wish to wound his brother’s feelings, so with a sneering voice he said: “JT wish you joy. quisition—be careful harm.” ‘**T will soon place her be agua your dark machina- tions!" said Eugene, bitterly. Then, as if fearing that his passion would get the better of him, he turned [to his bride, and paid no attention to the other. He only smiled as Wea cis muttered: ; “We'll see—we'll see/ ” i After the guests had departed, but not before the ood and venerable minister who had wedded the overs, had asked Heaven's blessings upon them all, the Miniers and Eugene began to make preparations for their departure. The moon had risen high in the sky, and was pouring a flood of golden light over everything beneath it. Mr. Minier had disposed of everything that he could not remove, during the day, and now only those things needed for their comfort in travel, and with which to begin a new home in the wildernes were left; and these were to be removed to the boats which were to bear them _to that new home wher- ever it might be found. Had not the kind pencil of hope tp a bright future for I ionette, she would have sadly turned away from the roses she had planted, from the honeysuckles which she had trained. Had not the warm light of love filled the heart and brightened the pathway of Eugene, he would have felt sad in leaving the vicinity of his beloved mother, for he felt no kindred with the rest. of his blood. Had it been the place of their birth; had friends ot youth and maturity, or loving neigh bors been clustered around them, elder would have been loth to leave a spot where they had ed many pleasant days. But nothing to bid them stay. An they went, there was Gustave . my dear brother, at your ac- to keep your bride from all wie: tee Bea nee Pe Cpe > nabs = ts p Pant oe = ahs Ot Ne cio

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¢ “ey ‘usa ht heart, bound to go, for they were all his peo- pled world. Two hours had ren, a since the last guest had departed—over two Hours since Francis Rolfe had sneeringly turned away with a bitter threat _ his i. The only three house servants of Mr, Min- ier, faithful negroes, had been busy under the direction of Gustave, in carrying to and packing the boats such things as were necessary for their ourney. ° ‘*Ts it not time that they came for their reward?” asked Mr, Minier of Eugene. F “Pull time, I should think!” replied Eugene, “Had they intended to fulfill the wishes of mg brother they would have been here long ago. Ah, there they come.’” As he uttered the last remark, two canoes filled with persons dressed in the uncouth war-dresses of the Indians, were seen paddling rapidly toward the landi This they soon reached, and springing to the shore, uttered their shrill whoops and yells go flercely, that Mignionette drew shuddering up to aay side of her newly-wedded husband, and whis- red: ; at? Are not these real Indians, my Eugene; may we not be in some danger?” “Fear not my love,” was hiscalm reply. ‘‘ I wished them to carry out the original design as far as they could without injury to you, for I wish to Serer my brother in the bitterest manner. Without doubt he has witnessed the departure of these men, perhaps even now is listening to their shouts or has some spy within hearing. Be calm, and rest assured that ail * will go well.” By this time the approaching band had surround- ed the party, and then the leader approached, and doffing his plumed head-dress, he remarked: *“ Ar’n’t we purty tolerable speciments of Ingines, master Eugene?”’ ‘First rate, friend Ralph!” replied Eugene—"' but te to that fellow who is leaving; it is Tony, is it not?’ “ Ay—trip up that blasted nigger some of you, and tie him neck and heels hog-fashion.” It was done in a moment, and Tony, who had at- tempted to escape as soon as he saw how things were, suddenly found himself a prisoner. “Gal, have you got the dunnage to put on the nig er?” again asked Ralph. ‘Yes, father—let some of your men fit it on him!”’ said the daughter, who was disguised like the rest, at the same time tossing ‘a suit of her mother’s old _worn out clothes on the ground. The men dragged the negro to an out-house, and soon rigged him up in the old woman’s clothes and then brought him forth, ‘*Now. Ralph,” said Eugene, “after we have set- tled, I wish you to carry Tony gagged to the hut where my brother wished you to carry my wife, and leave him there.” \ “Long life to your honor and all happiness to the fady!? shouted Red Ralph and his men, as they drank off a bumper of the generous liquor which he offered them. “And now, Captain Ralph,” said the elder Minier, mpureselng, “Twill perform my part of the bar- Fa. made with your daughter. I told her if you re- ed from attempting the fulfillment of that vil- lain’s wishes I would ave you a hundred guineas. = meee. has your part been performed—here is the ‘*Mr. Minier!’’ said Ralph, huskily, ‘‘ Red Ralph is a hard old cuss, but he isn’t quite onhuman yet. He hain’t forgotten how you risked your life to save his’n, nor how that purty angel there nussed him as _ tender as if he was a baby instead of a devil-may- care old ranger! Keep your gold, sir, for a stormy day, and if ever Red Ralph can do you a kind turn he'll do it, if it costs him an eye. After all, my om, here has been the boss in this bysiness, and I[ think she’s rigged the matter up first rate.”’ “Let her wear this to remember me /’’ said Mign- ionette, unclasping from her ueck a necklace of ar pearls, and extending it toward the disguised rl, “No, lady, no—it is too pretty for a coarse being like me!” said the girl. ‘‘l’ve only done my duty.” “Nay, keep it for my sake—look upon it when I am far away and think that it is from one who will ever think gratefully of you!” “T'll take it, lady, but, indeed it is too pretty to " wear—but I'll’ keep ‘it as long as I live!” replied the zirl . placing it in her bosom. “Tf your honcr will be so good as to give Red Ralph an idea of the course you mean to steer, he'll keep a sort of lookout in your wake and see that no harm follows arter you!” said that worthy to Minier. “He is right—my brother is revengeful ant might follow us,”’ said Eugene, “We shall enter the Chesapeake and go up the river Susquehanna—how far we know not, but far ee to find some lovely spot where we can build ome secure from disturbance and alarm.” “T wish we were going along, father!” said Ralph’s og “"Tisn’t likely the gentlefolks would, like to have such ro h neighbors as we are, gal!’ ___“ Rough bosoms often inclose warm hearts.” said Mr. Minier kindly; ‘‘ we shall never object to neigh- bors who are either poorer or rougher than we are, ff they are only good.” _. “If danger should follow in your wake and I smell id Ralph. Then turning to ipl see me, sir!” said men he added: ae that nigger to the boat and then we'll be off. “Did my brother direct you to give any signal hers at succeeded?” asked Eugene. * Yes, sir, we were to give a yell or twoin front of. be mansion as we pi Nd w ‘ / bh. ; f Red Ralph, the River Rover. “He told you not to harm any of the rest of us, didn’t he?”’ ** No, sir—he bade me be sure to knock Master Gus- tave on the head; and—” “I’m much obliged to him for his intentions,” said Gustave, sward for just five minutes at this time,” ** And he said *—continued Ralph, “that I might keep you a prisoner for a week and then let you go. As to the old folks, he said he didn’t care what be- come of them!”’ “The dastardly wretch!’ muttered Eugene. Then addressing Ralph, and handing him a letter he said: ** Fasten this letter to the negro’s clothes, so that my brother will find it when he goes to look for his rize, “That will Ido, Master Eugene—and now good- night all, and a safe voyage to you; we may meet again. The party were soon off, and before the sound of their paddles had died away the preparations of the Miniers for embarkation were completed. And just as they were stepping into their boats, three in number, occupied by the servants and family, they heard the shrill yells which had been the signal de- sired by Francis Rolfe. CHAPTER VII. ““HWERE’S TO THE WINNER!” As he had stated to Ralph, fearful of the suspi- cion which might attach to him in connection with the abduction, Francis had invited several of his boon companions, young men from other planta- tions, to spend the evening with him. As usual, cards and liquor were their sources of amusement, and while they poured the one down, they handled the others as those do who are used to them. The young men noticea that something was out of the way with Rolfe, for he drank deeply and played carelessly, but when spoken to about it he declared that nothing was the matter with him, and as he | was a Virginian gentleman of course they were bound to believe him. from his seat and listen intently as if for an expect- ed sound, and then sinking back in his chair would | empty his glass and proceed with his play. At last the wished-for signal came and with a scarce suppressed expression of joy, Francis rose | from his seat and went to the window to look out. **T wonder who can be hooting and yelling so to- night?” asked one of his companions. ** Probably some drunken Indians coming up from below,” said Rolfe with studied carelessness. “They are always prowling around here. I wouldn't wonder if they did some damage yet,’’ he continued, “we are too careless in regard to them. They have many fancied wrongs to redress, and think that we have driven them from their hunting- grounds, but let us to our cards again. First, fill up —I have a toast to give.” They all filled their glasses and awaited his words. His eye flashed and his face flushed as he said: “In the game of life, as in that of cards, here’s to the winner!” “To the winner! c at the door, which sounded strangely like that of his brother. Dropping his untasted glass to the floor, on which it shivered to atoms, Francis rushed to the door, which was ajar, and dashed it wide open. Not a person could be seen. “ Gentlemen, did you hear a voice?”’ he asked, as he returned with a pallid fuce. “We did; but it sounded like the echo of your own!” said one of the party. “Perhaps it was,” said Francis, with a tremulous | voice, as he filled another glass and drank it off, without naming the toast again. He now scarcely concealed his impatience for the Cae to leave, and it was not long before they gratified his wish, all wondering at the singularity of his demeanor, Hardly had the last guest mounted his horse and rode away, when, wrapping a cloak around him, Fran- cis hastened from the house, His course was toward a dense and almost impenetrable wood, east of the mansion, lying at least a half-mile from it, and ex- tending to the bank of the river, This he entered; although th>s thick branches overhead almost pre- vented the moonlight from reaching the narrow and tortuous path which he trod, he moved on rapidly as if he was used to the way. Into this wood he ee some four or five hundred yards, when e came out into a small clearing, containing per- haps-a half-acre of greensward on which grew nei- ther bush or shrub. In the center of this, the moon’s clear light fell upon a small hut or cabin, such as was generally built for the use of the ne- groes on the plantation—having no windows and but a single door. “Tony! he cried, as he entered the edge of this clearing. rf He heard no sound in reply—only the rippling of the not far distant river, and the sighing of the wind through the trees fell upon his listening ear. “Qurse the black scoundrel! what can have be- come of him?” he muttered, as he strode across the green plat to the door of the cabin. His eye brightened as he opened the door and saw a female's dress and the outlines of a figure at its further side. “They've got her at any rate!” he cried, He turned sharply around at sound of a footstep behind him, and confronted his sister, who, en- ree in a cloak, and closely hooded, had followed ‘im. ; ' “Forgive me, brother—I am not here to thwart you in anything—I knew you were coming, ar hought I fvould be present to see how the proud minx bore her capture. Bring her out, brother, so that I can see how the bride looks by moonlight; 7 Sg ai pe 5 eae te peel a , - i) \ a 9 Spee “T'd like to have him out on this green | But often would he start | Ha! ha! ha’! shouted a voice | Petia Ga es wedding night!”’ cried Irene. Francis entered the hut to do so, ; ‘She is cursed heavy,” he muttered, as he at- bat 7% to lift up his prize. ‘‘Never mind—drag her out, dear brother. She’s used to rough exercise.” prize out into the open air, ““Confound it!’ he eried, fiercely, ‘“‘we are be- trayed and fooled—it is Tony !” ““Ha! ha! ha! Here’s to the winuer!”’ shouted a voice in the woods, in the direction of the river. “Ten thousand curses! I'm foiled after all,” al- most howled the brother, as he cut the thongs which bound the negro and removed his gag. ‘How came this?—speak, you black wretch, be- fore I cut your infernal throat.” At first the fellow could not articulate a word, so long had his jaws been distended by the immense gag which Ralph had so skillfully placed there. He - y pointed to the letter which was pinned to his aress, i Francis hastily snatched this up and read. It ran thus: ‘* KIND, VERY KIND BrRoTHER:—I am capable of tak-' How ing care of my own bride, and I hope you will give yourself no further trouble upon her account or my hate. EUGENE.”’ “* Beyond my ie ig No, not if I know myself, with passion. “Beyond my power/—no, by the Hand which ‘* Better go toward heaven—that’s the road they've taken,” shouted a voice in the woods. Who’s there—speak, or I'll fire,’’ shouted Francis half in terror, half in anger, as he drew a pistol **Dat’s Red Ralph, Massa Frank—you'd better leff him be or you get bucked wuss dan dis nigger. He’s nives, and dere’s more like him.”’ ‘Has he played the traitor? Robbed me of my “He's a’most killed dis nigger o’ yours, Massa Frank. Him and his men tossed me about like a like to knock some ob ‘em down.” “Curse him, Pll make him answer for this. He'll “Here’s to the winner! Ha! ha! ha!” cried the same voice in the woods. woods and hunt that fellow up!” shouted Francis, raising his pistol in the direction from which the “Ki, Massa Frank, dis nigger ’d radder not. can | trabble in dese wimmin-folks’ clothes?” say nothing about this, but come to me early in the morning. Come, sister Irene, let us return to the geance, for I’ll never rest until I have it. To think that that villain, Ralph, should deceive me—that, | worth of it out of him, I know he defrauds the king—he’s a smuggler, if he’s nota pirate. I'll set To-morrow I'll take further steps to carry out my wishes.” ship of that Ralph. Had you led the affair yourself all would have gone well,” replied his sister. would have been ruined. Had Ralph done as he promised, she would now have been in my power, duction I was enjoying myself with my friends. Many a leader in crime has been shielded by less we have been foiled—all we have to do is to renew the trial and be sure next time. It is useless to hey now returned toward the mansion, Tony leading the way, moving awkwardly enough in the They had scarcely got out of hearing when Red Ralph, accompanied by his daughter and still in | the ajar “So, so! he'll set a trap for me, will he?” said the o’ Mother Cary’s chickens—ever on the wing, and wide awake, He'll have to grow a heap older aoe him pull the nigger out into the moonlight—eh, ral? “7 wish own, for we are beyond your power and scorn your you are not,’ yelled Francis, his face turning livid made me, I’ll follow you to the very gates of hell!” *“Who’s there? Spies and traitors on every hand. | from his bosom. got forty-leben pistols and a belt chock full ob gold and my revenge?” bag o’ ‘taters—butt my head ag’in’ de trees and find that two can play at a game of this kind.” “The devil! Dl not becr this—Tony, into the sound came, but forbearing to fire. “Go to your cabin, then, and change your rig— | house. I must study out some new plan of ven- | too, when I paid him so liberally. But I'll have the | a trap for him, Come, sister, come—let us go home, * You was a fool, brother, to trust to the leader- ‘*Not if Thad been foiled and detected, for then I and I could have proved that at the hour of her ad- palpable evidence than that would have been. But Degree this failure,” strange garments in which he had been dressed. disguise, emerged from the woods and came out in old man in a musing way. “ He'll find me like one and wiser than he is now. But wasn’t it rich to “It was worth a deal,” replied the girl. Mr. Eugene had been here to see it; it would have done him so much good! Didn’tI imitate his voice well when I said, here's to the winner ?” “First rate, gal. I could have sworn ‘twas him that spoke. By the way, we can plague him that way again some time. We must watch him close and see what deviltry he’s up to next.” “That I'll do, for the sweet lady’s sake. Didn's she look like an angel, father?” “ As I’ve never seen any of ’em, I aren’t preparect to say; but she’s handsomer than e’er a picture | that T've seen. But let’s get down to the boat. gal; it’s getting to be late, and I think we've had fun enough for one night.” nd | “Where do you think they are now, father?” ask- ed the girl, alluding to the travelers. ZS ong ways down the river, gal, or perhaps | camped before this; for the old gentleman told me naughty thing to leave her husband alone on hig. With the greatest difficulty Francis dragged his

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ae : Red Ralph, the River Rover. 7 a +7 ‘be shouldn't run all night. We've got to go up to = 1eir old place in the morning; he left some nice things for me and your mother, that he said we must go after.” “You're glad you took my advice, ain’t you, father?” ““Tcan’tsay but what Iam zlad, gal! We’ve made money, and haven’t done ‘nything worse than cheating a rogue, after o11.” The two now took their way to their boat. It was midnight when the three boats of Mr, Min- fer with their precious living cargoes, reached a lovely island, whereit wes proposed they should en- camp for the first time, and from whence in the morning they could resume their voyage in a regu- larmanner. _ The island did not contain over four or five acres of land, and was thinly wooded with fine lofty trees, with but little underbrush. A nice sward of green grass extended Jeyond the smooth, pebbly beach upon which they landed. A sweeter place for an encampment never greeted the eye of a practiced voyageur. Uson landing, Mr. Minier, who had been an old soldier in La Belie France, announced that, as commander, he should now give directions for camping, such as, for their future comfort and se- curity egainst danger, they should always follow. “It is well, even here where there is probably uo danger, to commence,” said he; ‘for then we will set used to the routine of duty by the time that it ecomes actually necessary.” Three tents had been provided and these were now pitched. One for Mr, Minier, his wife and Gus- tave was pitched in the center—next, on the left, for Eugene and his bride—that on the right was to be occupied by the servants. While the tents were going up, one of the servants built a camp-fire, hung their coffee kettle over it— put some meat to broil, and had some fine fish in the pan. In less than half an hour as good a meal was served upin that center tent as any traveler could wish for, In truth, Mrs. Minier said that it tasted better than any she had eaten fora long time—that the traveling appetite had already come upon her. ““T suppose you'll set a sentry to-night, father?” said Gustave, ‘Yes, my boy, for we’re in the field now, I make you guard for the rest of the night; Eugene’s faith- ful dog will keep you company.” “Ti enter on my duty with pleasure, father,” said the young man, gayly. Their supper finished, with the blessing of their parents the newly wedded pair retired to their tent and soon all was still in that moonlit camp, except the sound of Gustave’s footsteps as he paced to and fro upon the beach before the tents. It was sunrise before Gustave aroused the party. “This will never do, sir sentinel!’’ said his father, ie as soon skin this nigger alive as he'd eat a ‘ta- er, : “Coward! I'll go with you, if you're afraid. I’m well armed and feared him not,” said Rolfe, spring- ing into the canoe and er) a paddle, y this time the boat which Red Ralph was steer- ing was out of sight in the narrow lagoon which led to the late residence of Mr, Minier. Pushing from the shore, Frank and the negro were soon darting rapidly across the stream, which, yellowed by the rich rays of the rising sun, looked almost like a flood of molten gold. Instead of following the other boat, as soon as they had crossed, they drew their canoe up out of sight, into some bushes which grew by the water- side. Then, stealthily they moved on through the woods toward the Minier place, keeping close under cover of the trees and bushes, so as not to be seen. On arriving within sight of the buildings, Rolfe halted, the negro keeping behind him, and observed that Red Ralph was removing several articles of furniture from the house. “*Can it be possible that they have gone already ?” he muttered. “T reckon dat’s a fact, Massa Frank!’ said the negro. ‘Lass night, deir boats was all full ob moy- in’ things!’ “A curse light on them, if they haye—but one thing is sure, they’ve not gone where I cannot fol- low. But I must see what that scoundrel Red Ralph is doing—he shall pay me back my money!” said Francis, roughly, as he strode forward toward the house. Ef he’d take dis nigger’s advice, he’d keep clean of dat Red Ralph—ef he ain’t a nigh relation to de debbil, de ole gentleman hasn’t got any!’’ said Tony as he slowly followed his master, ‘*What are you doing here, sir?’ said Rolfe, as he met Red Ralph, coming out of the house, with an article of furniture in his hand, ‘““When I know what right you have to inquire, Mr. Frank Rolfe, then I'll think about telling you!” replied Ralph. “Scoundrel, why did you deceive me last night?’ asked Rolfe, his face reddening with anger, ** Look ye here, Frank Rolfe—if you don’t want to get a worse face than your brother gave you the other day, just keep your jaw tackle belayed! Blast me for a fresh-water lubber if I haven’t two-thirds of a mind to give youa dose of hickory sprouts, as it is. **Villain—rob me, and then threaten me, eh? But I'll match you yet. I know what your habits are.”’ **Do you?” cried Ralph, laying down the article which he had in his hand. Do you think you fully understand all of them? This one for instance,” and as he spoke, before Rolfe could comprehend his intentions, he raised his clinched hand, and with a with no disturbance. They had successively ae the mouth of the ‘‘ Blue Juniata,” the West Branch and the Chemung, and had got so far up the rapid stream that the increasing swiftness of the current, as well as the shallow bars, began to make the as- cent laborious. On the noon of the twenty-second day of their voyage they landed to take their mid-day meal, at a place which pleased them more than any which they had yet seen. Although no lofty mountains reared their craggy heads around, lovely hills, thick- ly wooded, were seen back of the level plains which extended for near a mile back on the northern side of the river. On its southern side, right up from the very bank, arose a range of hills which were covered with a heavy timber-growth. The land was rich and fertile. From a northerly course, a creek came rushing down to miagle its waters with the larger river. And up from the center of the plain, right upon the river’s northern bank, arose one sin- gle hill round and lofty, standing like a watch-tower or some monument reared by people long since passed away. The plains were covered with trees, and green grass grew thick and chaeaa f beneath them. The — of deer and elk were thick down by the water- sicte, “Here is the spot, at last! t j my children?” said Mr. Minier, gazing with delight upon the lovely scene around him. “I could be contented anywhere with those who are here, but this is indeed a lovely spot!” said Eugene. ‘‘ What says Gustave?” “That it looks like first-rate hunting-ground, and corn would grow without work, just to thank you for planting it!” replied that individual, who was busy in preparing an elk steak for broiling. ‘** And are you pleased, my Mignionette?” ‘* Dear Eugene, that which pleases you, delights me, you know.” * And my mother?”’ ‘els satisfied with what pleases the rest,’ replied Mrs. Minier. “Then the vote is taken!” said her husband— “here we will pitch our tents, and here we will build our home, for as speedily as possible must we pre- are a house rot only for comfort. but for defense, if ever, unfortunately, the red-men should become Do you not think so, tree. After they had eaten, the two young men departed ; timber for building purposes, and to mark that which could be most easily brought to the spot where they intended to bwiid, for not having cattle or horses, they had to on a tour to examine the best tim Fi S * when his son awakened him. We should have broken | quick heavy blow laid him a teas on his back, study convenience as much as possible. 0H “ the camp before this hour. A good soldier never “There,” said he—‘‘ take that and learn that one It is not necessary for meto describe their labors "av sleeps after the dawn of day.” 2 of my habits is to knock men down when they in- | forthe next ten or twglve days—let the result suffice. eye ** Pardon, dear father, 1 thought that as it was | sult me.” At the end of that tiffe a neat log house with four 4 oe late when we encamped, you might wish to rest this ‘““Curse you, you shall die,” yelled Rolfe, as he | apartments occupied a little knoll which was above 4b. morning. : arose and drew a pistol. . the high-water mark as seen elong the river banks. , “ Thought. my boy? Thought has nothing to do} But before he could use it, Ralph’s foot arose in | It was floored, ceiled and shingled with split siahs < with discipline, A good soldier never thinks, his | the air and the pistol was kicked twenty feet from | the chimney was composed of stones, sticks an a * superiors think for him. Hereafter, remember that | him, mud plaster, but for ail that it was strong, warm ca we rise at, tee in other words at daybreak. I'd ‘* Tony—you black scoundrel, why don’t you help | and comfortable. It had a kind of projecting second re beat reveilles, but we have not got a drum. ’ me,” shouted Rolfe. story, and was pierced with holes, through which R - It is scarcely necessary to detail the proceedings “The nigger knows more than his master,” said | guns could be used against besiegers, for old soldier- a on of the morning. Breakfast was got, dispatched, | Ralph, pointing to the negro, who was moving off to- | like, Mr. Minier was detetmined to be ready in time A) the tents struck and packed in the boats, and before | ward the woods. ‘And you better foller in his | of peace for war, if it should come. the sun was an hour high, the party were sailing down the river before a light but pleasant breeze, And thus for a tims we will leave them CHA: TER VIII. A FRIGHTENED NEGRO, Tuat was a sleepless night to Francis Rolfe. He did not close his eyes even te dream of vengeance, but lay awake, his soul full of *itter thoughts and maddening reflections. At the very hour when our travelers entered their boats from their first encamp- ment, he was up and at the cabin of his negro. “ Tony!’ he shouted, ‘“*up, you black scoundrel— I want you.” ““Well, Massa Frank, here I is—what’s wantin’ now?” said the negro, grinning so as to show a double row of ivory as sharp and white as the teeth of a tiger. “T want you to take a boat and cross the river, then sneak up under the cover of the woods to see what is going on at the Minier place?” said Rolfe. “ Ki, Massa Frank, if dat’s de word I s’pose dis nigger’s got to go, but by my gum, I’s a-rwine to keep clear of Massa Gene, now. Dis nigger’s had the wuss of it two times, may be he'll lose his wool next time,” replied the negro, “You need not put yourself in danger!’’ said Rolfe, leading the way by a narrow by-path, down to the river. They soon reached the bank where a canoe was moored. As the negro unfastened and stepped into this, the eyes of Frank Rolfe caught sight of a large skiff with three men in if which was pulling wp the opposite side of the river close in under the and, ; ee can those be in yonder boat, Tony?’’ he as . The negro looked at the boat intently a few mo- ments. Two of the men in it were rowing—the third was steering. ““*Fore de Lord, Massa Frank, I beliebe it’s Red Ralph.” *Onrae him, what can he be Gcing up this way so darly. He must be Ww tched—see, he goes up the bayou toward Minier’s!—push off, Tony—push off et tracks, young man, afcre I get mad, and do some- thing that your father’ll be sorry for—make him alter his will, seein’ as he’d have no such scoundrel as you to leave it to.” *What—would you murder me?” ** Killin’ a dog isn’t murder in law, is it? Clear out afore I get mad, I tell you,”’ cried Ralph, advancing toward Rolfe. The latter seemed to think that a prudent retreat was preferable to an inglorious defeat, and now re- tired, muttering curses as he went. ‘“ Where do you think the Miniers went?” he ask- ed, as he overtook the negro. “T hearn ’em say dat dey was a-gwine up the Susquehanna country, Massa Frank,” replied the negro, “They must be followed. Ten thousand curses on that red-faced scoundrel. Vi have his heart’s blood yet. Iknow not who to trust here—I must carry out my plans of vengeance alone. Even you, Tony, are a cursed coward, and desert me when I’m attacked.” “No, Massa Frank—dis nigger isn’t a coward, when he’s only got ahuman man to tackle, But dat Red Ralph is the debbil—I knows he is dat, and Iam afeard ob him.” ; bee yt put him where you'll not have occasion to fear him,” said Rolfe, bitterly. “ Ki, Massa Frank, ef you was to kill him, maybe he’d be wuss dead dan alive. I wouldn’t meet his spook on a dark night, for all ob ole Massa’s plan- tation!” ““Poh—his ghost wouldn’t trouble you. But we must get ready fora voyage I'll pursue that party till T have satisfaction, or I°ll die. ¥ will neither for- give nor forget!” Having arrived at the river-side, Rolfe washed off the blood which had followed from the blow from Bed ae h, and then entering the canoe, they cross- ed the river. CHAPTER IX. A NEW HOME—ONFONTA, THREE weeks had gone by, and Mr. Minier and his arty had passed along way up the river without hey had also cleared away an acre or more of ground immediately about the house, which they would have planted had it not been too late in the season—for it was now harvest time. While these operations were going on, they were visited by several parties of Indians, who, though they strove to appear stoically indifferent, still ex- hibited much curiosity in regard to the movement, By giving a few presents to these, Mr. Minier strove to gain their good will, and mig omar A did, for they brought him in return corn, beans, pumpkins and wild fruits, which, with winter before them. were very acceptable. The*bunting skill of Eugene and Gustave was brought into use in killing meats which were smoked and dried for winter use, and in a short time everything wore an appearance which betokened that plenty would reign with tl.em for the winter, and as they had seed for planting in the coming spring, they had no fear beyond the first season. ‘ Among the few who visited our new settlers none were worthy of very particular note except a sub- chief of the Delawares and his daughter, a young squaw of rare beauty and grace. Mahaca, tle chief, had in some way quarreled with the members of his tribe, and had Jeft them, pr«ferring to hunt on the ground where the Oncidas, the Onondages and the Susquehanna Indians ranged, for the two former tribes in those days frequently left their own greunds to bunt amid the mountains where bear and elk were the most plenty. He was astern and gloomy man, ever silent and thoughtful, but a most skillful hunter and fisherman. His wigwam he had reared on the river’s brink, at the foot of the precipice which formed the southern side of the round hill before spoken of, and was car- | peted and lined with soft furs from the beaver, the martin, the black and the silver-gray fox. Tasty work of beads and feathers could be seen on every hand, the manufacture of Oneonta’s hands. Meats and dried fish enough to feed a small ariny were stored away in a dry cave at the back of the wig- wam, From its location one might suppose that he had enemies whom he feared, for it was almost inac- cessible except by water, for it was built op a smatl hostile.” The tents were speedily pitched, close on the point of land formed at the confluence of the two streams —beneath the broad-spreading limbs of an immense and get a A ign , seiciesdlie ease alos ikaa pings Le pe Ripe t em to igo ae plats rm of roc ae bie 8 ni re into = ' AC ey encamped as they did on the | which reared a per icular wall above and om you—but, Massa’ Frank, 1 feels skeery ob dat man. Hé J either hand. eta first night which we described, and had so far met

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q Frequently had Gustave and Eugene paused at the wigwam in their fishing excursions, and the former upon his return always descanted most enthusiasti- eally upon the exceeding beauty of the Indian maiden. Some little presents sent to her by Mign- ionette brought the pretty girlin return with gifts of furs, beaded moccasins, and other articles. And Mahaca came with her, for as a miser watches his gold or a mother her babé, so was. his keen eye ever with his daughter. She was his only child, and warrior-hunter as he was, he worked about the wigwam, brought the jvood for the fires and bore home the game which ‘he slew, contrary to Indian custom, rather than see her perform the drudgery. . He had been among the whites considerably at Albany, andin the settlements at the head of the Delaware, and had learned to speak English tolerably well. So had Oneonta, and with the language had learned many of the customs of the pale-faces, al- though she strictly adhered to the original and beau tiful dress of her nation. It became her well—the coronet of snow-white feathers—the petticoat of fringed fawnskin, the beaded moccasins on her tiny feet, and over all, the brilliant mantle of feathers, of every hue that could be found on the beautiful forest birds. Never a queen wore her robe of.ermine more proud- ly or more gracefully than did Oneonta wear her mantle. ; But it is time we left our new settlers and their _ friends for a time, and returned to those whom we left in the East, and see how they get along. CHAPTER X AN EAVESDROPPER. Rep Raupp stood down by the river-side after the Miniers had departed, looking anxiously up the river, as if he was waiting for some one. , The hour was late—the moon had gone down, and only a few stars now and then came dn a mea the drifting clouds which overspread @ sky. ‘“*T wonder what keeps the gal so long?’’ he mut- tered. “If she don’t come soon, I'll out boat and arter her; and if harm has come to her, Frank Ife will rue it.”’ At that instant the quick plash of a paddle was - heard up the river, and in a few moments more a canoe shot in to the landing-place, and a person nee in man's clothes, leaped lightly to the shore. “Ts that you, Jennie? Is that you, gal?’’ asked Red Ralph, Ee rriedly. ¢ ae phicy father; and I am as dry as a chip,” replied 6 girl. “ Well, what news Fo that devil-bird up to more mischief ?’’ asked Ralph, “As soon as I wet my whistle I'll tell you, fa- ther. I've not been ‘twenty minutes in coming down,” ; “T reckon there was need for such haste, or a. al as lazy as you naturaily are, wouldn’t have used it.’ : ; : * Need enough, you'll find out, when I tell you.” The girl, without waiting for his ass tance, and with a strength which seemed almost eg oe dragged the canoe far up on the pebbly beach and then led the way up toward the house. The first thing which she did upon entering this, was to ur herself out a cup of Old Jamaica, which she drain ined at a single dra G) i ught. No one was in the except her mother and a sister, and upon her . father again requesting her to narrate the result of her expedition, she did so without hesitation, . “Twas so well disguised,’ she said, ‘‘ that I’d no fear of being known either by Rolfe or the nigger, ~ and none of the rest of the folks there ever saw me that I know of, sol rowed right up to the landing, d moored my canoe close in by some boats of theirs, intending to go rightup to the house and, pretending to be a traveler on my_ way down the river, ask for a night’s lodging. and then take my chances of learning what Frank’s intentions were. But as luck would have it, just before I got to the house 1 saw some one come out of it. Though he was all bundled up ina cloak, I knew by his hight and step that it was Frank Rolfe. So I drew back f into the shade of a large tree and let him pass. As . _ he went by me, I saw that he carried a gun, and I ne. ‘felt a little anxious to kiow what that was for, for is 1 didn’t think that it was likely that he would go | hunting wild game in the night time.” - * Not exactly,” said Ralph as he quictly lighted | a) oT 0 Ol, gh , * So after he’d gone by I aps out and followed him, keeping as much in the shade of the trees as I could. He went toward the negro-quarters at first, but when he got nearly to them, he turned off to a cabin that stood by itself and pushed open the door: There on a bench before the fire sat the same et, 2 that we rigged up in mother’s clothes, him with a eross cut on his forehead. He had a gun anda whole lot of other traps about him, looking as if he was bound on a hunt ora journey.” _ * Ay—mayhaps they are, but if Red Ralph don’t shorten it, he’s a cursed liar!’ was the answer. oS Just kvep still till I’m done reporting and you'll _. {enow more,” said the girl. Then she continued her story: , ; wf He shut the door when he went in and I crept up to it to listen and hear what was going on. The first thing he said was: ‘ Well, Tony, have you got _.., things about ready for a start?’ ‘ Yes, Massa Frank,’ gaid the pe lam right—de pervision's in de bo: d I’se got hooks and lines and de blankets, i wder and lead you gib me, and de beads, nd “apy os ealikers for de fool Injuns, and de e m too, I guess you can pass fora _. *waong dem as easy aseatin’ 'possum!’ ‘Then to- a rich trader night ll be a good time to start,’ said Frank Rolfe, ‘we've nothin to delay us.’—* Ki, Massa Frank ’ said the nigger, ‘dis am a Friday night in de fuss place, an’ de next difficulty am dat dare isn’t no moon!’— | ‘So much the better,’ said his master, ‘for we waut | no prying eyes upon us when we start. That cursed Red Ralph or some of his devilish crew might have | an eye on us and try to interfere. It’s a deep game | Sy I'm playing now, and I must spare no caution } in it. “T heard him that far, father, and I don’t know why, for I couldn’t help it, I sung out just as I did in the woods when you was with me, and in the tone of Bugene as far as I could imitate it—‘ He7v’s to the winner : “T heard them spring to their feet, heard the click of their gun-locks, and heard Frank utter a curse of some kind—I thought that it was about leaving-time then, and springing into some bushes which were near, [ started on a keen run for the river. The next thing that I heard was the whizz of a couple of bullets over my head and the report of their guns, but that didn’t hurt me, and I kept on and here I am,”’, ** Didn’t they follow you?” “*] reckon they did, for I heard them at the boats after I had pushed off, but I came fast and I heard | no more of them.,”’ “Do you think that they believed you to be Eu- gene Rolfe?” ‘“ “Tt is hard to tell about that, I tried to speak like im!” “I'd like to be sure about it. If they do start to o up the river after him, blast me if they sha’n’t ave company, and that too when they least expect it.’ ‘Tf you go, father, I’m bound to go along.” “You shall, gal!” : “All right, pop, But I’m going to turn in. I’m tired as a sick i on an eight hours’ guard.” CHAPTER XI. A BROTHER SEEKING REVENGE. WE will now return to Francis Rolfe and the negro and see what they did after the alarm of the girl Jennie. When they heard the cry, ‘‘ Here’s to the winner,” ‘both rushed to the door, and as they saw the person who had uttered it bound off into the woods, they firea, but with such a hurried \aim, that their shots were ineffectual. Without waiting to reload, they ursued the fugitive, but Jennie was very fleet of oot, and arrived at the beer, 3 some time before them. When they got there, they could hear the | plash of the paddle far out on the night-enveloped river, but could not see the canoe. 2 “Do jou think that was my brother?” asked olfe, “Ki, no, Massa Frank. I’sesart’in sure it was dat gal of Red Ralph. I knowed her voice. She’s been’ then,‘| playin’ spy.” : “By Jupiter, I believe you're right. Perhaps she overheard what I said!” * Jis’ as like as maybe, Massa Frank,” | “Then, the sooner we're off the better, for if we start in the night we can go by his place without _ his discovering us.” . - “Dat’s a fact, Massa Frank. I don’t like dat deb- bil-bird; he’s deff on dis nigger.” “ Well, go and get all things in the boat, boy. I'll go up to the house to se¢ my sister and make an ex- cuse for my absence, so that even if Red Ralph comes to ask about me, they'll throw him off the track—and then we'll start.” ‘ The negro started off to obey these orders, and Rolfe went up to the mansion. s About an hour later he returned to the boat, in which the negro sat waiting, for he had got every- thing ready for a start. They at once shoved off, and the negro, taking up apair of sculls, rowel the boat noiselessly along close in by the shore, keeping on the opposite side of the river from that on which the house of Red Ralph stood. f The day dawned just before they reached the island where the Minier family encamped on their first night out, and here Rolfe directed the negro to land, intending to have some breakfast cooked there. ' \ “ By Jove! they’ve been here! If we keep a good lookout, we can track them by their camping- places,”’ cried Rolfe gleefully, af he noticed the signs of the camp. } ‘Mayb@dey’ve gone a long way, a in de Susque- hanny country, Massa Frank,” said the negro, as he proceeded to light a fire. “T care not how far,” replied Rolfe; ‘they can’t escapeme. Like a bloodhound I'll follow on their. track until I reach them, and then they shall find are Bega worse than a bloodhound to deal with!” ; The negro soon had breakfast ready, and Rolfe hastily dispatched it, for he was eager to be on his ‘way. Before the sun had fairly ed on its day’s iene’, they were again under motion, moving rap- vy f along before a fine breeze which had set in. tthe same hour Red Ralph was going up the river as fast as he could row a light skiff, on his way to the mansion of Mr. Rolfe, to endeavor to learn whether Frank and the negro had started or not. His intention was to make some plausible excuse for the visit, and to ask for young Rolfe. — pi waa cue hob by. Mie Ieeee, weno, prob d rea eé house, by s Irene, who prob- bl nee aeeee him coming and anticipated the nature 0 ‘ y . Good-morning, ma’m,” said Ralph, as he re- Red Ralph,, the River Rover. spectfully raised bis hat, ‘‘Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Francis,Rolfe?” Yo J he foe, ‘ , pis By OW PO RO be nit “ GAo * Pye ae) Pe ued f a “ What do you want with him?” she asked, curling - her bbe lips scornfully hat I can only tell to himself. My business — é with him is important!” “Tt will have to remain unfinished for a time, then,” answered Irene. ‘My brother has gone away.” “Texpected about as much,” said Ralph. “Can your ladyship tell me where he is gone?” — “T don't know,” said the lady, with evident con- fusion. ‘ Somewhere south, I believe.” ne “The Susquehanna don’t lay south, ma’am,”’ said Ralph, fixing his eyes upon her face, which now was alternately paling and blushing. “What do you mean, sir?—you are impertinent,” — she retorted, angrily. ‘Td rather be impertinent than tell lies, ma’am.” “You graceless villain, leave this place instantly,” “ Look ye here, ma’am, you're a woman, and can say what you please; but 1 knocked your black- hearted cuss °f a brother down for calling me out of my name. You know as well as I do, where your brother has zone, and what he has gone for.” “Tf I did, | wouldn’t tell such a brute as you,” “You needn’t trouble ‘yourself, ma’am—I know where he has gone, and I shall see him before you. I will be on his track before twenty-four hours are yassed, and I will foil him in his intended villainy just as sure as my pame’s Ralph.” “You had better be careful, he is well armed, and would shoot you down like a dog if he saw you fol- lowing him.” “ He'd soon learn that shooting was a game which two could play at, I don’t fear him any more than T would any other dog, and if he desires ever to see his lovely and amiable sister again, he'll be careful how he offers to harm me.”’ ‘Scoundrel, I understand your sneer! But I de- serve it for demeaning myself by standing here and conversing with you. If you do not instantly leave this place. I'll call to some of my father’s negroes and have them lash you with their whips.” “Your father couldn't well afford to spare his niggers just now when they’re getting in the *baccy crops; but he’d have just as many dead niggers as offered to lay hands on me. But I’m losin’ time—I must give chase to that sneaking vagabond brother of yours,” replied Ralph, as he turned on his heel and walked toward his boat, “Ten thousand maledictions upon his head !’’ mut- tered Irene as she turned toward the house, “ He evidently knows all and will foil Francis if he can, Iwish that I could warn him of his danger; but I cannot now. He must take his chances!” When Red Ralph reached the landing in front of his house, his daughter Jennie stood there awaiting him. ; “Well, father,” she cried, ‘ did you see him et “No, gal; but I saw young Jezebel, his sister. Him and the nigger has sure gone,” fF ‘Good! we'll have the fun of following him., I’M on with my boy rig, we’ll take guns and fishing- tackle, and have rare sport.”” “Hadn't I better take a couple of the men along?” asked Ralph. “ No—if we two couldn’t handle them I’d sell my- self for a chaw of tobacco, Let the men stay to take care of mother and the house; we can do all that is to be done.” : “Well, gal, I guess you're about two-thirds right, Get some baking done, and fix up for the cruise, Don't forget plenty of pees and lead.” “T won't, father; nor the rum either. Neither you nor me would be worth shucks without that.” , “That’s a livin’ fact, gal, You're sensible to the ast.” ‘* When will you start, father?’ “The first thing in the morning. He mustn't et too much start, or it’ll be long afore we overhau) im. “Not very; for 1 know he'll be too lazy to pull him- self, and we two can_out-row_ the nigger. Well, good-night, father, and here's to the winner |” said the girl, as she entered the next room, CHAPTER XII. PERSISTE’ T PURSUERS. Taree days from the date of our last chapter had elapsed, It was almost night. The sun had sunk behind some ragged-looking hills just above the mouth of the Susquehanna—twilight had drawn its gray mantle athwart the sky and pinned it with the evening star. No wind shook the tree tops or ruffled the silvery bosom of the river. And here at a grove of maples, Frank Rolfe had made his third camp. His fire was built where fire had been built before, for coals and brands were there. He seemed joy- ous, for as no rain had fallen since the Miniers were there, the traces seemed fresh. After he had par- taken of his supper and Tony bad eaten, he lighted his pine for a smoke before lying down for the night. After it was lighted, he said, ina quiet tone: ‘“ We must be near ’em, Tony.” . “Maybe nigh, maybe not, Massa Frank. Dere’s been no rain dis two week—it am hard to tell when dat last fire was made.” “That’s true, Tony; but what was that? What me rear poenee crack aoe ' didn't b “De wind I guess, massa—dis nigger nuffin else.” : ah ‘Perhaps not!” said Rolfe; “ this is a delicate game that I’m playing and I feel somewhat nervous. “You ought to, for here’s to the winner!’ cried a shrill, clear voice that seemed close by his side, “Thunder! , Who spoke?” cried | Be Wt mater! Beware! you cannot win!” cried € voice, “Fury and ag Ralph has followed me’” ec. - exclaimed Francis ‘Ab

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Ha! ha! ha! Here’s to the winner!” shouted a voice from the woods and all was still. -. “We must go on, ’ll not stop here!”’ said Rolfe, an hour or more atter the events just narrated. “Tf Red Ralph is after me, I must get ahead of him. Night and day we must push ahead, Tony.” ‘6 Jes’so as you like, Massa Frank, I’se more ‘fraid vb dat man dan you be.” “Well, get the things into the boat, and we'll start rigbt away. We must get the start of him to-night.” na few minutes they were off, and if you please reader, we'll go down the river about a mile, an visit the camp of Red Ralph and his daughter. The camp of Red Ralph was pitched with due con- sideration about a couple of rods back from the river-bank in a small hollow, surrounded by a dense growth of small pine trees, so that the light of the camp-fire could not be seen from the river, although bright and cheerful gleams rose rapidly up above and around the green circle about it. Red Ralph was alone, employed in frying some meat and boiling some coffee for supper. After these were ready, he lighted his pipe and sat down on a rock, near by, growling as he did so: “T wonder what keeps Jennie so long! She’s a err gal that—red-headed gals al/evs are. I wish she’d come—I’m as hungry as a marine on short allowance.” “And I’m as dry as a sailor when his grog is stopped,” said Jennie, who had approached so noiselessly that the old man had no idea of her near approach until after she had bounded out from amid the pine trees into the circle of the camp. _ Excuse us if we pause to tell you how she looked in her boy’s rig. She did not appear so long nor so lank in her neat fitting jacket and wide trowsers as she did in her woman’s dress, nor half so awkward. Herred hair was cut short, revealing quite a white neck—her shoulders seemed broader—in truth, she seemed like a smart, rosy-cheeked, active boy, one of sixteen or seventeen years of age. In the belt which encircled her waist, were a hatchet, knife and a pair of pistols—over her shoulders a powder- | horn and bullet-pouch were suspended, and in her hand she held a good double-barreled gun which she carried as if she well knew its use. “Have you seen any signs of ’em, gal?”’ asked the old man, ; * W-IlT have, father; I reckon'Francis Rolfe thinks the devil is after him, certain.” “Why, gal? Where is he?” “Camped about a couple of miles, may be less, above here.” “So you've seen him?” “Yes, father, and told him he wouldn’t win.” * What, you haven’t been such a fool as to venture into his camp?” asked Ralph, “Not csactly, but my voice did, and he looked as seared as if he’d been bitten by a rattlesnake,” =e Jennie, and then related what she had seen, said and heard, precisely as the reader has already read it. Butshe did not know that Francis Rolfe and the negro were at that very moment pushing up the river as fast as they could, “Gal, you was too fast; red-headed gals allers are!” said the old man gravely, after she was through. ‘That infarnal he heathen oughtn’t to have known that we were so close in his wake, Like as not he'll up stakes and. be off afore daylight, or perhaps he’ll attack us here.” “Nodanger of his Sonne. us here, father,” said Jennie. ‘ You caz,'t get a glimpse of our light from the river-side, and I’ve hid our canoe where no one ean find it.” “Well, gal, we must hope for good luck; but you must be more prudent.” “T'll try to after this, father,” said the girl. Then she continued: ‘* How is the grub? I am monstrous hun as well as dry.” ter this remark she filled herself a cup of spiritual comfort from the jug, while her father set out the provisions for the evening meal. After the latter was properly attended to, Jennie having of- fered to keep guard for the first half of the night, the old man wrapped a blanket around his burly form, and threw himself upont he ground with his feet to the fire, Indian fashion. Soon he wasin deep slum- ber. She kept her watch through without sleeping on | her post, and at a proper time aroused her father, who stood guard for the remainder of the night, while she occupied his blanket, and former place before the fire. He had breakfast ready before the dawn of day, and before the sun had warmed the frosty air of morn, they were once more moving up the river, but with great care and circumspection, keeping close under the land, so as not to be seen by those whose camp they supposed they’ were approach- ing. ; On arriving within a ee ope of hundred yards of the place where Jennie had landed the evening be- .fore, they carefully pulled to shore and drew their boats up in the bushes. After examining their arms carefully, and ae main 3 for action, they crept cautiously toward the spot where Jennie had last seen Francis Rolfe. But when they arrived at the spot, they found ‘that the birds had flown. “They've been gone a good while—the ashes of their fire are cold,” said Ralph, as he carefully ex- ined the deserted encampment. : ” “Yes, likely as not they started right off t night, buteven if they did, they can’t be far ah of: as,’ said Jennie, “Remember that with one day behind them in we have caught up with them in three. If we push hard, we'll overtake them again to-night or get ahead of them.” ; Red Ralph, the River Rover. “Dat he has, Massa Frank,” said the negro, with | | | a | &@ bateau coming down, which contained two per- © That’s true, gal, and we’ll push off, and go ahead | as fast as we can.” They were soon moving along up the wild and | romantic stream, the banks of which were so grand | and air ae a beautiful, as very Seqnensy to elicit words of admiration from Jennie, who rough as she appeared to be, had within her inner nature @ strong perception of the sublime and the beautiful. | Our voyagers kept on up the river for several | hours, without coming in sight of those whom they were following, but when it was near night, (they bad not stopped for their usual nooning,) they met sons, one an Indian, and the other a white man. As Ralph rowed out near them, he saw that both were | evidently under the itifluence of liquor, the Indian, | however, less so than his comrade, “ Have you seen a boat with two men in it, going up the river?” asked Ralph. “ No, me no see ’em,” said the Indian, sullenly. “Have you any neck greasin’ in your boat, old fel?’ asked the white man, who could hardly sit up in the boat. “Tf you mean rum, lots of it.” * Well, give me a quart, and I'l] tell you what you | want to know. That ’ere copperface is.a-lyin’.” ** White man fool, cuss, dam,” said the Indian an- grily trying to move on with the boat. ; But old Ralph had his hand on the gunwale, and held it fast while he replied to the-tipsy man; } * Tell me the truth and you shall have the rum and a pound of tobaeco besides.” / “Gin us yer fist on that stranger, I’m yer man when yer talk of rum and ’baccy,” cried the drunken man. “Me want "baccy too,” said the Indian relaxing | his ete as he heard his favorite weed men- tioned. * Well, spit out the truth now, said Ralph, filling | up a bottle with rum, while Jennie got the tobacco. ) “You did see a boat with two men in it?” “Yes, we did, and got as much brandy as you've given us rum, for promising not to tell any one we met them.”’ “We got no ‘baccy,”’ said the Indian, evidently thinking that the extra price would justify break- ing the former promise. “Was there a white man and a nigger in the | boat?’ asked Jennie. ‘Yes, sir, there was a nigger and a white man in that ‘ere boat, and the nigger would ha’ been the smartest lookin’ fel of the two, if he hadn’t had a | kind of a landmark cut on his for’ead,”’ said the white man. “Twas them. Ral “ How far ahead are they?” asked h. That depends on circumstances,” said the white man, taking a long pull at the rum, and then hand- ing it over to the Indian. ‘If they’re hurryin’, they might be five miles, or even ten from here; but if not, it’s likely they'll camp somewhere above the next bend, say about four or five miles from here.”’ “Then we'd better push on,” said Ralph, releas- ing his hold upon the other boat, and resuming his fore the drunken stranger again hailed them, “What's wanting now?’ asked Ralph. ‘‘ Have you ever run the Buttermilk Falls, old fel- low?”’ shouted the man, “No, what of them?’’ asked Ralph. ‘Why, they’re easier to run down than go up. | Ha! hal ha!” yelled the man, as he toppied down } into the bottom of his boat. Ralph resumed his car, eae the while the | meaning of a question often asked by our old rafts- — men nowadays, when they want to puzzle a green- , horn on his first trip down the river. { . They toiled on_until night closed in, keeping a good lookout for Rolfe and Tony, but an unsuccess- | ful one, and then landed for fear they might pass.) them in the dark, This night they took extra pains | to conceal their landing-place and fire, for they | knew not how near to Rolfe Shey were, and, as the sequel will prove, it was well for them that they did. CHAPTER XIfl. INDIAN CONFED#RATES. Tr was nearly night wher Francis Rolfe and Tony, who were worn out with labor, having pulled allday | as wellas most of the night before, meeting no one | but the two persons whom we described in our last chapter, determined to land and rest. As they turned their bow to the shore, they observed the | smoke of a camp-fire ascending from amid a clump of trees,and on nearing the land, saw a couple of | Indian canoes drawn up onthe pebbly beach. “Tf these are friendly Indians, there will be a double safety to us if we encamp with them,” said lfe, to the negro. y “Tf dey isn’t fr’en'ly, dey can’t be no wuss dan dat debbil Red Ralph,” said Tony. The Indiare were attracted to the beach by the noise of the approaching boat. They were four in number, grim, stalwart, rough-looking fellows, whose clothing consisted of a blanket, hunting-shirt and moccasins. : “What does the pale-face want?” asked one who p< sy to be their leader, as he was the oldest, ‘ when Rolfe stepped to the shore. , “We want camp and eat and rest—we are tired and hungry!” said Rolfe. LO “Ugh! Got fire-water for "conte eae al ‘Yes; fire-water to warm him and make his heart Eietspiniand!® salt Rolfe, producing: «brand e spirit-land!"’ sa: 8. W a brandy- flask and a plug of tobacco, | ; 4 | Red-man likes fire-water. He will smoke peace with his pale-faced brother, and with the man that is like the cloud.” * 1 oar. ° They had not gone more than a couple of rods be- | | on ’em, maybe they’re after'us.” He alluded to Tony in his last remark. ' ae hy is pale-face so tired?” asked another of the ndians, “* Because enemies are on his track who want to kill him. He has come far since the sun rose.” “Ugh! If the enemies of the pale-face come here, the red-man will take their scalps and give them to their pale-faced brother that he may hang them up in his lodge!’’ said the Indian leader, as he led the way to the encampment, while Tony brought up | such things from the boat as Rolfe directed. On arriving there he found fish, venison and wild turkeys already on the fire, and soon with the aid of his liquor and tobacco, was on very friendly terms with the Indians, After he had eaten, the chief— whose name was Miontic—asked Rolfe who it was that was following him, and why he feared them. “T know not how many they are—one is a red- faced white man—his hair is red, but his heart is pees + ee he would kill me while I slept if he could. “S"pose Miontic go and see?” said the Indian. “ Me great chief.” is oi “If Miontie and his braves will go, I will give him and them plenty of fire-water to warm their hearts, and paint for the battle— beads and painted cloths to carry to their squews; and if they will kill my ene- mies, I will be their friend forever, and will make them rich with many presents.” “Tt is good—we will go,” said Miontic. “When?” asked Rolfe eagerly, for now he hoped by the aid of an Indian's cunning and cruelty to rid | himself of his dreaded pursuer. ‘When the sun sleeps,” replied the Indian. “There isno moon. It is dark; they'll camp—we'll go along down the river and smell fire, Then we | find camp and take ’em scalps!” ‘“My red brother speaks wisely and well,”’ said Rolfe, pressing him to take more brandy. “Pire-water is good, but it make too much talkee talkee!”’ said the chief, who well knew the effect of *If you don’t want dis nigger along, I'd radder stay an’ take eare|ob de camp, Massa Frank!” said Tony, as hé noticed the preparations for the night expedition. Well, stay here, and don’t let the camp-fire ty down,” said Rolfe, as he went off with the In- dians. | liquor. CHAPTER XIV. DRUNK AND ADRIFT. Ir was not more than ‘a mile below the encamp- ment of the Indians to the spot where Red Ralph and his daughter had hauled up their boat, and stopped to rest for the night. They could have seen the light of the Indians’ camp: ire had it not niet ag a short point of wooded land whieh inter- vened, Ralph and Jennie, as we before stated, had deter- mined not to build a fire that night, They merely took a cold bite and a cup{or two of their favorite beverage, rum, and then lay down upon their blan- kets near their boat. ‘ ‘Hark, father!” pays esha Jennie, after they had lain theré a half hour o so; “I hear the plash of paddles.” é * Hist, gal! so do I, and voices, too. Lay low,” dif you can help it,” replied Ralph and don't breathe lou Ralph and his daughter could distinctly see two canoes, one containing two and the other three persons, which were paddling down the river, slowly and with caution, keeping in near by the shore, 7 “Can you make them out, father?’ asked Jennie, in a whisper. r ‘Hist, gal! Nota lisp,if you'd live. There’s five It seemed to the old man that this might indeed be so, for slackening their paddles, the canoes drew alongside to hold a consultation. ; “ How far my brother think he come his enemies?’ inquired Miontic. * Far—ory far—we traveled all the night and day!’ responded Rolfe. “Tt isthe blasted he heathen!” muttered Ralph, as he recognized the speaker, ; “Ugh! It may be long way but Miontic will have their scalps before sleeps!” said the Indian. ‘He means us, father?!’ said Jennie in a whisper. “T ’spect he does, gal; but he sha’n’t have ‘em without a tussle,” replied Ralph, in the same guard The canoes now moved off, and soon the plash of their paddles could be heard no more. . ‘*A thousand curses on ’°em—it was us the after. Rolfe has hired Indians to kill and sca said Ralph bitterly. ‘‘ What shall we do, gal?’ ‘Get out of this latitude as soon as possible,” said since he saw | ed tone, were us,” the girl, uncocking her gun, which she had prepared _ was So near. for use while as 4 “Right, gal. I ike poet spunk. You're worth a dozen boys. Let's be off.” ; Ina few moments their boat was launched, and they were silently but rapidly moving up the river, It was not long before they rounded the intervening point alluded to. Soon after Jennie paused at her oar and said in a low voice: 5 i smoke, father.” : ‘ ‘So do I, gal—let’s land and reconnoiter,” said the old man. The boat’s my was noiselessly turned in to the shore and as they struck the beach they discovered the boat of Rolfe which Ralph at once recognized. — As there was no one in it, they backed their own | preform phe Bier pent Rn = e y ANC ng their S with them, © Saleh unk bis’ Waughter scoceskel te thé ae tu the now — Mere ; before we catch ‘em— ay

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eee nrsing eae fee of the Indians to see who was there. |] ng cautiously they soon discov- ered the fire, which was fast dying away, but by its flickering light they saw the negro with a mh by his side, His loud snoring attested the depth o his slumbers. 3 ““Hadn’t I better kill the black serpent?” asked Ralph. ‘*’Twould be one less out of the Ma al The girl thought a moment, and then said: “No, father, I reckon not. He’s drunk, and I'd ‘tote him down to the boat, take it out into the ig 1 » and set it adrift. If they find him well and good, - t they don’t so much the better. Let him drift off, and his master ‘ll think he has run off with the boat maybe and give ~ the look after us.”’ * yee poly twould be so! Gal you’ve a good head. You hold the guns, and let me see if the nigger is drunk enough to be toted without waking.” Having handed the weapons to Jennie, Ralph ap- plied the toe of his heavy boot not very gently to the shins of Tony. / “* Wake up here, imp of darkness,”’ he cried. The negro only snored a little louder, and turned half-over, his head now so close.to the embers that the kinky wool was fairly crisped. “Drunk or asleep, eh, snowball?” asked Ralph, as he gave Tony another kick. “As drunk as a begesr on full allowance; tote him down, father,” said Jennie. Ralph shouldered the drunken negro, and carried him down to Rolfe’s boat, into. which he pitched him as carelessly as he would a bale of smuggled goods. The shock did not awakeu the darky. They then brought their own boat down, and tak- ing Rolfe’s boat in tow, carried it out into the middle of the stream. They were about to cast it off and set it adrift, when Jennie remarked: “ Wather, we’ve got.a couple of empty jugsin our boat—suppose we swap ’em/ off for a couple of full ones from Rolfe’s store?’ **T reckon an exchange isn’t exactly a robbery,” a Ralph. “I’m agreeable to your proposition, snnie.”” The transfer was made, and then Jennie said: “Td like to let Rolfe know how much smarter we are than he. Let me write him a line.” / * You can do it, gal, if you think best; and while per writin’ ’'ll proceed to make my mark,” said h, drawing a sharp-pointed knife from his et. With this he cut the mark of an anchor on each of the black cheeks of the negro—not cut- ting very deep, but sufficiently to leave the marks indelible. “There he is, stamped with the anchor brand,” “What have you writ- said Ralph, as he finished, ten, gal?” ‘Only this, father,’ said Jennie, reading the scrawl] which she had hastily traced: “Mr. Frank Roure:—Hereby you will find a pack- age of bad spirits, destined for a warmer rpsion, bret consigned to your care, as you are bound In that di- rection yourself. It is marked with the cross and anchor. We wish you and your red allies a pleasant cruise in search of the winners in every game. oo: ‘Rep RALPH AND HIS Saucy DauGuTer.”’ “Capital, gal! He'll be madder than a hornet with its sting pulled out, when he reads that. But e’re losing time, Let the nigger go now. Stow the note where it'll be found if they see the boat.” This last direction was obeyed. Then Ralph and Jennie, refreshed with a draught of Ralph’s good liquor, oe to their oars with a will which soon carried them far up the river, while Tony was un- consciously drifting down upon its rapid current. Miontic and his men, carefully skirting the shure, kept on down the river for some fifteen or eighteen miles without seeing a sign of those whom they sought. Miontic now advised that they should lie by until daylight, for fear of having passed the others. Rolfe was obliged to acquiesce, and taking care to keep the Indians awake with a moderate uantity of fire-water, he tried to curb his impa- tience until the sun rose, But before the dawn one of the Indians discovered in the dim gloom, far out on the river tide, some pte object moving with the current, and gave the arm. The re of Miontic had only glanced upon it, when e said: , “Tis a pale-face’s boat—not a cance like Mi- ontic’s.”” $ ‘Perhaps it is them going down the river! Let us follow at once,” said Rolfe, Semreehy. The Indians started, and just as the gray of dawn began Mean objects distinguishable, they reached the boat. ; “Ten thousand curses —’tis Tony, drunk and adrift,” cried apy as he recognized his negro. “What -is this?” he added, as he saw a note pinned to the pence of the negro. He read it, and at once comprehended all. He gnashed his teeth, and swore fearfully. “What does that tell to my brother?” asked Miontic, pointing to the paper. : “That my enemies have been at our camp. See how they have tnarked that drunken brute, there.” “Ugh hey tattoo much deep,” said Miontic, Jooking at the anchor marks on Tony’s face. “Why they no scalp him, when they ketch him?” / “T wish they had—curses upon him,” said Rolfe, violently kicking the negro who opened his eyes under such rough treatment, he having in a degree slept off the strength of the liquor. Mornin’, Massa Frank,” said he, stupidly, not ‘realizi ‘where and how he was. “Hav ketc dat debbi Red Ralph?” ' Ai ays “Caught Red Ralph, you brother of Satan? Feel | Red Ralph, the River Rover. at your cheeks and see what he’s been doing to you, you drunken fool.” “Ki—my cheek feel like I’se been in a brier- eer and my shin like a fall ober a log-heap. Why, whar’s de boat—what’s I doin’ out here in de ribber?” cried Tony, looking around, “So you pretend you don’t know what has hap- pened to you during the night, do you?” “*Fore de Lord I don’t, ates Frank. Arter you and de Masser Injines been gwine away, I jess took one long drink o’ brandy, an’ den I poke up de fire and lay down for snooze a little while. Den I wake an’ find myself here—dat’s all I know, Massa rank, if I nebber say anudder word!”’ ‘*If my brother wants to find his enemies, he will be wise to go up the river. not drift down!” said Miontic. “You speak truly,’’ said Rolfe. doubtedly passed us. From this letter, they have seen us, for they speak of you.’ ’ ‘Ugh! what do the enemies of my brother say of Miontic? Do they fear for their scalps?” ““No—they laugh at him—they say his fa are weak and he cannot see them—bis canoe is slow and it cannot catch them—his knife is dull and will not take their scalps!” replied Rolfe, who, with wily cunning, knew how ‘by such misrepresentations to touch the pride of the warrior and arouse every faculty of his savage nature. ““Ugh!’’ he cried, as his eyes flashed fiercely. “They shall see if Miontic is blind, if his arm is weak or his knife dull. Miontic will drink their blood—his warriors shall dance around their scalps! They shall die. How many do they number?” ‘*‘By this letter only two.” replied Rolfe. “Ugh! if they were many, like the trees on yon- der island, Miontic would cut them all down!” said the chief. “Let’s pull to the shore and eat some food; Ihave plenty in my boat,” said Rolfe, and then we will move up the river and pursue them; we will be strong and will not rest until we overtake them.” “My brother speaks wise words,” said Miontic, becoming more calm than he had been. They now landed on an island and refreshed them- selves, and there for a time we will leave them. ‘“'They have un- infer that ? CHAPTER XV. ““RED RALPH, AS I LIVE!” ONEONTA, the beautiful Indian maiden, is seated on a little knoll at the mouth of the Chokenut, a pretty stream.that tumbles into the Susquehanna wearly opposite the mouth of her father’s wigwam, The canoe of her father and another one are drawn upon the beach, a few paces distant from her. She is engaged in working a beaded bunting-belt. It is for Gus- fave Minier, who stands as if spellbound before er. Her father, the noble Mahaca, is fishing with Eugene but a little ways up the stream. Why is not Gustave with them? Is it possible that Cupid, even here in the wild wood, can have spread a snare and entangled his wild, free and careless heart? Let us hear his words. ‘*Oneonta is very lovely. In the land of the ale-faces there were none so beautiful as she. he is more beautiful to me than the stars at night, or the flowers by day.” The words of my brother are sweet, like music from the birds in the daytime, but when night comes then the birds do not sing.” replied Oneonta quietly, not raising ber eyes from the work before her, / ‘* But my song shall last always,” said Gus- tave. ‘‘I will ever sing for Oneonta. Earth can be made a paradise with such an angel as you are.” “My father and your brother come,” said Oneonta, looking up the stream where approach- ed the Indian and Eugene, with heavy strings of speckled trout, ** Before they come only tell me that Oneonta is not angry because I love her.” ‘*The flower is not sad when the sun smiles upon it,” said the pretty girl in a sweet tone, looking up at him with iidnabe beaming in her dark eyes. ‘Your language is ever figurative, but I be- lieve I understand you, lovely Oneonta,” said Gustave, with asigh. ‘1 wish you were mine; then I feel I should not have anything else to ask for on this side of heaven.” “Well, what luck in hunting, Gustave?” said Eugene, as he approached. ‘‘See, Mahaca and I have caught as many trout as we can carry.” | “T haven’t felt like hunting. I’ve been watch- ing the tiny fingers of Oneonta as she worked upon that beautiful belt for me,” said Gustave, blushing be scarcely knew why. ‘*Look! strange canoe on the water! Pale- face canoe; an old man and a young one,” said Mabaca, pointing down the river toward the selling of the Miniers, which stood in plain view, ; ; ‘ “And thev row rapidly, as if they were in haste,” said Eugene, whose eye rested instantly upon that which the quick eye of the Indian bad first discerned, , “Let’s paddle down and see what it all means,” said Gustave. Soon they were in their canoes. “Will not Mabaca and Oneonta come to our house?” asked Eugene, as they shoved off. ‘*Not now; strangers are there. If they bring bad news, and Mahaca can help his brothers, he will go,” said the Indian gravely. Only a look was exchanged between Oneonta and Gustave, but it spoke volumes. “You love that girl, Gustave!” said Eugene, as soon as they were out of Mahaca’s hearing. “More than life, Eugen¢!” replied the other, warmly. ‘ But who can they be whom father has met at the landing? Mahaca’s keen eyes told the truth—it is an old man and a boy.” ‘“* Red Ralph, as I live!|—who is that with him and what can he be doing up here?” said Gus- tave, urging on the boat more rapidly. In a few moments the two young men had reached the shore, whera Mr. Minier had just met and welcomed Ralph. “How are you, my kind friend, and what bas brought you up here?” cried Eugene, as he grasped the old man’s rough hand. ‘“A considerable deal of bard pullin’, Mr, Rolfe,” said Ralph, returning the friendly grasp of Eugene. ‘ But you'll soon bave less welcome visitors, if I’m not mistaken.” ‘Whom? What do you mean?” asked Eu- ene. ‘“Why, that rascally brother o’ yours, and his black nigger and four red niggers have tried to catch me for eight or ten days. Sometimes they’ve been ahead, and then they haven’t, but they’re after your scalps and mine.” ‘*Have they seen you yet?” ‘*No, I believe not, thank fortun’ and my red- headed gal there—you see that’s my Jennie, rigged up in boy’s clothes, there.” “IT beg your pardon, Miss Jennie, for not re- cognizing you in—your strange attire, although this is not the first time that you have donned a disguise to serve me and my Mignionette,” said Eugene. ‘If you will go to our bouse, she will welcome you, and ‘provide you with other apparel,” ‘Thank you, sir,” said Jennie, with a blush, ‘*T don’t want to change my rig for the present, for it’s a handy one to work ana fight in, and if you'll listen to father, he’ll tell you that very likely there'll be fighting to do bere before long.”” ‘You must stand in need of refreshments,” said Mr. Minier—‘‘ come up to the house.” “*T can’t sav but what Iam a leetle dry and wolfish,” said Ralph, as he shouldered his arms, and followed by his daughter, accompanied the party to the house. Here Jennie was introduced to Eugene’s sweet wife, who at first did not recognize her in her male attire, but who warmly welcomed her when she was informed who it was, “ve not forgotten you or your kindness, lady,” said Jennie, as she pulled from beneath her vest the necklace of pearls which Mignio- netts had given ber on her wedding-night. ‘IT see that you have not, and we are all very grateful to you and your father,” said the young wife, as she hastened to get refreshments as desired by her father and husband. After these were freely partaken of, a con- sultation was held as to the means and manner of meeting an attack, should one be made. Ere the sun went down, the stores and ammunition of Ralph were transferred from his boat to the house, and all the weapons loaded, ready for use, A regular guard was set, and Eugene’s large and faithful dog let loose to range around the dwelling. Night set in, clear and calm, but no alarm was heard, and our tired voyagers hada long and refreshing sleep. The sun had been for two or three hours on: its day’s travel before Ralph and his daughter awakened, and refreshed by the morning meal, made their appearance outside of the house, When they did so, they found Mr. Minier and his son with Eugene seated on alittle knoll near the door, with Mahaca and his dark but lovely daughter. “No signs of the enemy, yet sir, eh?’ said Ralph, as he approached Mr. Minier. *“Not yet my good friend,” replied the latter. “Ugh. Look there. See strange canoe,” said Mahaca, at this moment pointing toa canoe slowly paddling up the stream, with but a sin- gle Indian in it, All their eyes were instantly turned to that which the quick glance of the Indian man first discovered. ; “Do you think you would |recognize any of the Indians who were with Francis?’ asked Eugene of Red Ralph. Pen not overly and above sart’in,” replied : a : ; x J "9 i “ <& 7 r Nay “s : ak a c y ty ’ t : Wy38 } ‘ tis aod weer tak 2 ‘ ok 4 ¢ pati! ‘ a o . ye * aa ‘e r ‘ x: RR eit ied te. SC 2 Bs a teas Pei ees se at . a i Oe DRI) oa) y PES hers stew Een et ee

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4 ' x ‘ ae nf >. y¥ ‘ “ How a cactus aici |-vseiyta gia t dias Wk eau ounces | "hat aca en SL old man. “I’ve not had a nigh look at ne em.” fc ‘I might remember their voices,” said Jen- nie, “ I’ve heard them often enough, I think.” Meanwhile as they conversed, the Indian landed. It was Miontic. Tall, "of powerful build, with a soake-like eye, and with cunning and treachery strongly marked in his swarthy features, he seemed no despicable foe. But deeming bimself unknown, be approached the house in friendly guise, his ‘obj: ct probably be- ing to learn the strength of the party, and see how they were situated. He pen carried a gun and bunting-knife, his tomahawk had been laid aside. Not so his pipe—but the tobacco-pouch at his side was empty. Coming up to the party be addressed Minier, as the eldest, evidently supposing him to be the leader. “‘ How do, white father?” said he. ‘Me poor Indian—me want to trade—want buy rum and tobac.” ‘* Whence do you come?” asked Minier. ‘Miontic come from the great lakes of the North!” replied the Indian. “That’s a lie!” muttered Jennie, ‘I have heard you talk before.” The Indian heard her speak, but did not dis- tinctly catch what she said. He again ad- dressed Mr, Minier: ** Will my white father sell poor Indian rum and tobac? ‘““What have you got to pay for it?” asked Minier. ‘* Ugh—money, good!” said Miontic, produc- ing several coins of gold and silver from his grass Where did you get it?” asked Minier, notic- ing how the Indian’s eyes wandered about the lace (From the French pale-faces me get ’em,” said Miontic, with a fierce scowl, “That’s very likely,” said Gustave looking at the money. “The French use British money, eh?” * Pale-face boy—fool!” muttered Miontic bit- terly , as he turned his back on the last speaker. “Not fool enough to be taken in by such a red greasy varmint as you are, if he is young!” growled ed Ralph, ‘ Where’s Frank Rolfe, you p’ison sarpint?” “* Miontic don’t know what pale-face means!” said Miontic, looking Ralph in the eye. “What do you know?’ asked Jennie. “That you are a squaw!” said Miontic haugh- til ee and contemptuously. Yes, and smart enough to circumvent you and him who hires you,” said Jennie, while ber eyes flashed as haughtily as his did. ‘* S'pose you sell no rum and tobac, me go off,” said Miontic, addressing Minier. *T-will give you some tobacco, but no rum— it is a poison which does you no good,” said Minier, going into the house and getting a cou- le of plugs of tobacco, which he handed to the Sieh, refusing the proffered pay “ Good- by—me come again,” said Miontic, era revengefully at Red Ralph and his Wine you do we'll be ready to give you a omg reception,” said Gustave, in a meaning ne The Indian did not appear to heed his remark but marched su'lenly to his canoe and paddled off down the river. ‘What does Mahaca think of that warrior?” asked Eugene. ‘He isa snake in the grass—he spoke with a forked tongue. Oneonta stay here—Mahaca go scout!” replied the Delaware chief, as he moved rapidly back from the river until he was in the woods and then swiftly took a course parallel with the river. Mabaca was gone about an hour and a half, and his looks when he returned gave evidence that bis speed bad not been little. ‘Has my brother seen anything suspicious?” asked Mr. Minier. ** Mahaca hasseen the enemies of his brothers. They are sharpening their knives for battle— their hearts are hot and their faces are dark toward him!” replied the Indian. many are there of them?’ asked Gus- tave. “ Four red-men—one pale face—one whose face is like a burned stump,” replied Mabaca, holding upa finger for each that he enumerated, “Six in all. ell, here we are, five men good and true—” “And one woman who can shoot as good as any of you,” said Jennie, interrupting Gus in his calculations. _ “ We've the advantage of a house tofight in,” tontinued Gus, Red 1 ee eee the River Rover. “Yes, and I guess we can tan’em out,” added Ralph. “I don't t mean no insult to you, Master Eugene; but just so sure as that weazen-headed brother o’ yours puts his long corpus in range of my gun, if it don’t taste lead, then eat me for a land-shark—that’s all.” “I don’t know that I could blame you, friend Ralph,” said Eugene; ‘‘ but he must not fall by my band, if he should fall. Though he has deeply wronged me, and now seeks most prob- ably to destroy us all, I canuot forget that the same blood runs in our veins, and the same mother bore us.” * You are right, my son,” said Mr. Minier, ‘‘and if we are attacked and master them, as 1 trust in God we shall, let him be taken alive if possible. We must, during the day, make prep- arations for an attack, > said Mr. Minier. “ Every log, stump and bush, within range of gunshot must be removed so that they can find no shelter. Our boats must be drawn up and concealed. Mabaca, will you help us?” “My brother has been good to Mahaca and his child. He will fight for him, and dance around the scalps of ‘his enemies,” replied the Indian, gravely. “Thanks, Mahaca,” replied Mr. Minier; after which they all made preparations for defense. When Miontic left Minier and bis party, his course was laid directly down the river. He kept well in with the northern shure for about four miles, and then suddenly turned into a small narrow passage, the mouth of which was almost hidden by overhanging trees and bushes, Up this he pushed his canoe several hundred yards, and then landed at the foot of a steep and rocky hill which was crowned by a thick growth of bhemlocks. Here, close under the cliff, their fire was made of small dry branches so that it would give no smoke, though its warm fierce blaze answered all purposes of heat, where Rolfe and bis servant and the other Indians encamped. Fish, fowl, and flesh were _cooking, but the uncorked jugs which lay around, betokened that their spiritual supplies had Won out. ell Miontie, have you seen them?” asked Rolfe, as the Indian landed. Me see ’em, yes. Me get tobac—no \ Injin—four squaw,” replied Miontie. “One squaw, sassy —dress all same like man.’ “Yes, that’s Red Ralph's dau ~—i ” said Rolfe. “ But yousaid you saw an ndian there. Who was he?” “Don’t know. Not a Susquehanna Injun, bim. Delaware, maybe Mobawk.” ‘“ Friendly to them of course, or he wouldn’t be with them, Well, do you think we can kill ’em off, Miontic, and. get their rum and powder and tobacco? They’ve plenty of them,” said Rolfe, appealing to the cupidity of the Indian. ‘* Yes, s’pose we catch ’em ’slee “You gave them no cause of a rat” ‘“No—Miontic say he come from the great lakes of*the North, “Red-head squaw say sbe no believe bim—but Miontice big brave, be no talk with squaw; i ars they sleep to-night, to-mor- row we have p enty scalps, plenty rum.” ‘“ Well, if we’ve night-work to do, I'll lay down and sleep now,” replied Rolfe, as he cast himself down bs © i a bearskin robe. “Dis nigger ‘ll do dat way too, fore soon,” said Tony, as he tore cff a leg of ‘his wild tur- key, and began to eat it. CHAPTER XVI. ‘BROTHER, SPARE MY LIFE!” ALTHOUGH the day had been very calm and pleasant, scarce a breath of wind ruffling the water or making leaf or limb quiver, and though but one cloud was visible at sunset, yet Mabaca looked grave at that hour, and said: ‘Big storm come by and by. Heap wind! Heap thunder! Lightning heap!” ‘¢ How does my red brother know?” asked Mr. Minier. The chief pointed to the west, where the sun seemed to be sinking into a black cloud, a cloud which was rising rapidly. In fact, it came up ©o fast that in a short time the whole western sky was darkened, and a chilly shadow seemed to be crawling swiftly along the earth. The whole party went out to look atit, and won- dering that while it gathered so fast and rose so uickly, no wind was felt where they stood, he air became so heavy that rsbahes ge 3 seemed difficult. It was cold and seemed to pierce every frame. “Come in and keep powder dry. Storm break quick now,” said Mahaca, entering the wane but strong and well roofed house, j a long quivering ‘chain of lightning sprung like a writhing serpent from its bed in the far west, and rushed like fire along through tbe sky—crash, like the sound of an hundred cannon fired at one flash, came the deafening thunder —then flash after flash of lightning followed, until the air seemed filled with fire, and the ears were stunned with the deafening thunder. Suddenly the lightning ceased — seeming to have exhausted fits food. The thunder was heard no more. Buta sound like the rushing of an army of horses was heard. In a moment it came—the hurricane. They could bear, even above its tempest howl. the crash of the great trees as they fell in the forest. Soon the wind too ceased as if it had made one mighty effort and burst in doing it. Then the rain, can.e down in torrents. The sublimi- ty of the storm was passed. “This is something of a storm, friend Ralph,” said Eugene. “ Rayther. And even as be spoke, It ‘minds me of a West India hurricane. I’ve seen them blow the hair off a feller’s head clean, A burricane like this isn’t to be sneezed at, at sea.’ * Tt’ll do one ‘thing, I reckon,” said Gustave. ‘Our enemies will not be likely’ to attack us to- night. Will they Mahaca?” ‘Rain stop before morning,” said the chief. “*Then if all dark and still, they think we sleep, a careful watch all they come.’ “The only thing is to kee ep night,” said Mr. Minier. We must be con- stantly on guard, Let the door be well bolted —the back window ought to bave boards put be- fore it. It is not likely they'll attack us while it rains, this way. “Where is my brother’s dog?’ asked Ma- baca “ ‘Out i in his kennel, by the side of the house. If any one approaches be will scent them.” ‘Good, much good,” said the Indian as he drew his blanket around him, and cast himself down upon the floor near the fire. For some hours the rain poured incessantly, and the inmates of the house bad good reason to be thankful for such comfortable shelter. But at last, long after midnight, the rain also ceased. The angry rush of the river could be plainly heard, showing that it had risen very high, but the sky was still hung with clouds, and nothing could be seen twenty feet from the house, al- though many a glance was sent through the loop Flee by the anxious watchers within. By direction of the Indian, all the lights except the fire bad been put out. It was within an bour or so of daylight, when the Indian who had been apparently asleep was seen to move, and cautiously to creep toward the door. e Here he laid bis ear close tu the floor and listened. Seeing that Minier was about to speak from his seat by the fire place, he wis. pered, ‘“No speak, They come—one— four—five—six. They all come.” At the same moment the dog was heard growling in his kennel. They could plainly hear that the door was gently tried by some ove outside. But it could not be moved. Then steps very low and light could be heard moving abvut the house as if they were reconnoitering. Soon a heavy knock was heard at the door. ““ Who is there?” asked Mr. Minier. “* Poor Injun. Him sick—him wet, him bun- gry. Let come in,” said a voice which was readily recognized as that of Miontic. “Wait till daylight, and ll think about it,” said Mr. Minier. ‘*Me sick, me die "fore then,” said the Indian faintly, as if in great suffering. “Then die, you red cuss, we know you,” said Red Ralpb loudly. “If you don’t clear cff, you'll eat Piead afore long.” Another voice was heard outside now. It was that of Francis Rolfe. “Ho, within there,” he cried. ‘If you would save your lives, o x pe your doors, and give these savages some food and drink. There are thirty of them, and I cannot_restrain them, though I have tried todo so. For the sake of your own lives and those of your women, open your doors.” “Thirty of you, eh? You must have got au early to see double as fast as that, master ran “Fire through the door,” yelled Rolfe i in his | anger, ‘* We'll give ’em no quarter.” The Indians, and bimeclf and negro, now fired the door, but as it’ was oomposed of hewn slabs some six inches thitk, and bard wood, their balls did not penetrate. The next moment, four shots were fired through the port o—three—

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ae ‘Some Ce <r etsy co ms , ye _. At this instant the loud cries of Ralph, Gus- _ while be muttered: ' tobe her busband, ut suk her light torr in bie arms _ the spot where the Indians had left their _ canoes. Into one of these h it he Taunehing it, seized a paddle and turned its: aN 1 } 34 . sh on holes of the house toward them, but it was too dark for those inside to take any aim, ** Anybody hurt?” asked Rolfe, ‘Fore God, Massa Frank, I blebe one ob deir ballets hit dis nigger on de head, but no go through.” ‘* What shall we do Miontic,” asked Rolfe. ‘Take hatchet, and cut hole in door,” said “Indian, “The idea is good,” said the villain; ‘‘ stand- ing close before the door they cannot reach us from the loop-holes in the wall.” In an instant, three or four sharp hatchets were hewing away at the door, ‘It is my turn to dosomething now, Eugene,” ' said Mignionette. As the young wife said this, she took a kettle of boiling water from over the fire where it had been banging. Up into the second story of the log-house by means of a ladder, Mignionette now quietly moved. In a moment she was directly over the villains who were at work below, and through the wide cracks left purposely there, could partially distinguish their dark forms. In an instant the boiling liquid was dashed down upon them. With ascream of anguish—a yell of agony, the Indians dropped their hatchets and fled, yelling as they did so. ‘* By Moses! the woman has given them fire!” cried Ralph. Lei’s out and arter ’em now.” _ “Let the dog loose!” shouted Eugene, as he unbarred the door and rushed out with the rest, In a few moments the party heard the fierce barking of the dog, as if he had brought some- thing to bay. They next saw the flash of a gun which had missed fire—then, as they hyrried up, they saw the dog bound forward and seize a hu- man being, and as both struggled upon the ground together, they came up. ‘* Off, Tounderbolt! off!” shouted Evgene. ** Who is he?—what is he?” asked Jennie, com- ing up at this moment, * That we'll see as soon as I can drag the dog _ off!” replied Eugene. ** Brother! pare my life! God—the dog!” gapped Frank Rolfe, as be half rose from the ‘ound. en Off, Thunderbolt, off!” shouted Eugene. ** Jennies, Gus—keep the dog on the track of the rest. [can manage him. If you overtake the Indians, don’t spare them.” As the dog released him, and followed Gus xnd Jennie, Frank Rolfe rose to his feed, not at- empting to take up the gun which he had drop- ped. Nor did he dare to raise his eyes to the rother who stood before him, not offering to do him further harm. ‘*What have I ever done, brother, that you should thus follow me and seek to destroy my life?’ continue! Eugene, _ , The lips of Francis turned whiter and quiv- ered, but still he did not reply. ws Speak, Francis—in what did I ever wrong ou? ' ' You took Mignionette Minier away from ' me!” hoarsely replied Francis, ‘Took Mignionette from you ?” cried Eugene ina tone of astonishment. ‘' Why, you never spoke to her, except to insult her.” “ Nevertheless [ loved her!” said Francis, ‘* And had she loved you, with all your pride, would you have married ber?” tave and Jennie announced another capture, and Eugene hastened toward them. At once Francis Rolfe picked up bis gun and turned back toward:the landing where the Indians had left their canoes, As he did'so, be saw alight and lovely form come bounding toward him from the direction of the bouse. cognized her who came, be could scarcely re- ‘press a shout of joy. It was Mignionette, and fi the instant she did not recognize him. He turned his back that she might not see his face, ‘ “Fortune fayors me now. Ha! Eugene, ‘I am the winner now,’” ‘*Dear Eugene!” cried the lovely woman al-— most breathlessly, ‘‘have you caught any of them? Why do you not speak?” she added as she reached the side of him whom she supposed He turned suddenly and she discovered her fearful mistake. A sudden faintness came upon her, she sunk helpless at his feet. To tear a scarf from ber shoulders and gag and bind her, was but the work of an instant. Then _ snatching bis from the ground and raising the villain rushed to e cast her, and We ’ And as hé re- Red Ralph, the River Rover. prow up the river. Soon, unobserved by any one, he had gained the shadowy cover of the lofty round hill before mentioned, and was paddling along its rocky sides, As he came abreast of the wigwam of Mahaca, he was frightened, for he thought that be was discov- ered, but a second glance told him that the usual occupants were absent, Not being sup- plied with provisions, he landed and discovering furs and dried meats in abundance, he made free to help himself liberally. But bis delay was brief, and fearing pursuit, he resumed his paddie and dashed forward, now keeping under cover of an island, then seeking the shadowy side of the river where the banks, rose the bigh- est, It was not long before Mignionette recovered from ber temporary swoon, but it was only to recognize the horror of her situation. Though she could not ak, ber tears appealed to him for pity, but all in vain they fell. He scarcely deigned to look upon her, but plied his paddle with a strong but nervous arm. CHAPTER XVII. ABDUCTED. WHEN Eugene reached the spot where Ralph, Jennie, Gustave, and Mahaca were, he found all but the Indian roaring with laughter. _ “ Look at this nigger,” cried Ralph, convulsed with laugbter, as he pointed to an object kneel- ing before him. ‘‘ See, he’s been so scared, he’s turned white.” “Oh de Lor’—Massa ’Gene—all dis nigger’s skin | am scald off, wool and all,” groaned Toby. The negro had indeed been scalded white, and was a painful as well as a ludicrous sight, “Tt sarves you right, you son of the devil,” ire Ralph. | ‘‘ I hope your master is no better ° ‘*By the way, where is he, Eugene?’ asked young Minier. ‘“‘T let him go, Gus!” replied the otber. ‘He was my brother, and I couldn't help it.” ‘God grant we may have no cause to regret your merciful act,” said Mr. Minier, the elder. ** He is as dangerous as he is vile.” ‘Had we better pursue the Indians further?” asked Gustave. ‘*No, I think not. They have had a lesson which will keep them away from us, and they’re far off before now,” said Eugene. “What shall we do with the nigger?” asked Gustave. ‘** Hang him up,” cried Ralph,, ** Oh de Lor’! oh Massa "Gene dis nigger never st been bad if ’twere not for Massa Frank. es’ leff me g0 back to Jeems ribber, and dis nig- ger nebber’!l| come in de Susquehanny country no more, Or jess leff me work for you. as faithful as av ole blind hoss on a will gear. Don’t let ’em) hang dis nigger—he most dead a’ready.” ‘* Let him go with his master,” said Eugene, ‘*T wonder whar he am?” asked Tony. ‘*Somewbere in the woods. Hunt him up, bat don’t you come near the bouse if you don’t want lead in you,” said Eugene; then turning to the others, he added: ‘‘ Let us go back to the house. Breakfast will not taste amiss after our watcling all night and exercise this morning.” ‘Where is my Mignionette?” asked Eugene, as he entered the house on bis return. ‘‘Did you not meet ber? She went out to meet you a short time since,” said Mrs, Minier. “My heavens, no! How foolish in her! And strange too that we could have passed her, Which way did she go?” “T must go and look for her!” cried Eugene. “Come, Gus—come, Ralph; we must defer breakfast until she is’ found.” Eug ne now burried out, shouting ber name loudly as he went; but all in vain. No reply came; and after two or three hours’ search, party returned disheartened and gloomy, bring- ing Tonv with them, whom they bad found near where he bad left them. ‘* How did your accursed master and his party get bere?” asked Eugene of Tony. ‘‘ Speak! anh, you hound, or [ll tear you limb from imb! ‘* Wid de Injuns in deir canoes, Massa Gene; dat’s de way we'come, We leff our boat a lit- tle way down de ribber,” “Where did you leave the canoes?” asked the wretched husband. | “On de bank ob de ribber jess below de house, Massa Gene,” replied the negro. Down to the spot the pai ae indicated the par- ound there, but the ty now turned their foots Only one canoe could be heavy boot-mark of Frank Rolfe’s foot, as he shoved off the other, was still visible. And Ill be. he |. | not sooner overtaken, the leading ‘*Oh, God! he is gone, and has taken her off. there, close by the water-side, was a smalf bracelet which bad been worn by Mignionette, Why did I not slay him on the spot?’ moaned =) Eugene, ready to sink to the earth. * We must launch our boat and follow him!” cried Ralph, ‘‘He cannot get far down the river before we will overtake him.” ‘Yes, the boats—the boats!” cried Jennie. Gustave and Mr, Minier, aided by the Indian, were already launching the boat of Ralph, which, being the lightest, would pull faster than the other and heavier boats of Mr. Minier. Not a thougbt entered the mind of any of the party that the fugitives might have gone up the river, instead of down, ; Tbe party was soon ready for a‘start, It consisted of Eugene and Red Ralph and Jennie in the larger boat—two to pull and one to steer, and Gustave and Mahaca in the canoe that bad been left. Mr. Minier was to stay with Mrs. Minier and QOueonta to take care of the now desolate home, They were well armed, but took no provisions. In almost less time than we. have occupied in describing their preparations they were ready and off, swiftly as ushen vars and paddles could propel them. They had not gone more than four or five miles down the river when a sbrill cry was heard from Mahaca, who wasa few yards in the lead. Upon casting their eyes avd the stream, the boat in which Francis and the negro had ascended the river was seen about a mile ahead of them. Only four persons could be seen init, and they seemed unused to its map- agement, for they made but poor headway, and the pursuing party now exerting all their strength, rapidly gained upon them. Seeing this, the prow of the leading boat was turned in toward the southern shore. “Pull, father, pull Master Eugene,” cried Jennie. They're making for the sbore.” Exerting every muscle, the party gained fast. Soon they were almost within gunshot. They now could see that the leading boat contained four Indians, but in it, or elsewhere they could not see a sign of Frank Rolfe and his victim. Nearer and nearer came the pursuers—but then the foremost boat reached the shore. With a wild yell the Indians sprung to it from the canoe. As they did so, Mabaca and Gustave rose and fired, Two of the Indians fell, one shot through the body, the other through the head. In a moment the otber party were on the shore, but the other Indians were already far off in the woods, bounding away like deer, pursued by hounds. But ere they fled, one shout came back: ‘*Miontic will be revenged.” ‘*Here’s some satisfaction,” growled Ralpb, as he gave one of the dead Indians a kick. ‘We've fixed two of the red niggers, By thun- der, they were about as bad scalded as the nig- ger was. ' The lives of a thousand Indians would not atone for the loss of Mignionette,” said Eugene sadly. ‘‘But we lose time; let us move on. Francis is undoubtedly miles ahead of us pow.” ‘‘ We left that rascally nigger behind, didn’t we?” said Gus at tbat moment. ‘Yes, but I told your father to give him the oldest boat and some provisions, and to start bim down the river, without arms,” said Eu- gene. ‘‘He is a poor brute, and beneath our vengeance,” Leaving the Indians dead on the beach, for the wolf or the crow to dispose of, the party /now pushed off, and one boat taking each side of the river, so as not to pass anything unseen, they burried along on their mission, But be- fore they started, they stove in and sunk the iy which the Indians bad been obliged to eave, On, on they went, carefully examining the mouth of each creek—not stopping for noon— not pausing until the shadows of night began to creep over the form of the dying day. Then a halt was called, and a consultation held, It was determined that the boat should keep onall night, and the canoe remain whefe it was, so that if the boat should pass Rolfe in the night, the canoe might not be ahead and miss bim in the daytime. Little did poor Eugene think that each stroke of the oar, each moment of time carried him further and further from her whom he so much loved and so deeply mourned. Yet so it was, A place of meeting was decided upon down the Wyoming valley, where if the pursued was at was to wait for the canoe. On the night of the second day, both the boat and the canoe were at the rendezvous, but ne / ee | f |

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| | that it did not seem possible that one person ~ eould have kept ahead of them, nor did it seem the whiz of an arrow wash ‘and take me back to my husband. He will for- You see I’ve been in love with you myself for _ly intending to revew his _ one arm against the tree near which she was ‘SS 7 . ( « ings gt Rolfe or the lost Mignionette could be - So steadily and rapidly bad they come, probable that the villain could have endured to pull fast so far without pausing to rest. And now for the first time did the thought, that he might have gone up the river, come before them. Mahaca was the first to speak of it, for he seemed to feel sure that they must have over- taken the other canoe, had it come down the river, or at least seen some sign of it.- Even a glimpse of hope that this might be so, entered the heart of Eugene, but he well knew that it would take them at least four days to go up the distance against the current, which they came down in two, and his heavy heart sunk within him when be thought of the fearful ad- vantage which six days’ start would give his brother, if he had taken that course, Having left such word with the sympathizing settlers as would insure the detention of Rolfe and the recapture of his wife if they were seen there, and also hired a party to go a day’s jour- ney still further down the river, Eugene and his party, on the third morning, started on their return up the river. It was near sunset of that day, when tired and worn out pine ¢ were debating if it were not better to land and encamp. They were close in by the shore, and above them a dark and frown- ing precipice rose almost perpendicularly. It was crowned with laurels and hemlocks, and back from it even still higher rose rugged and almost inaccessible mountains, And suddenly a yell came ringing from the crest of the preci- ice, shrill and loud like that of the eagle when it seeks its prey, and is about to swoop down upon it. Involuntarily they suspended rowing and looked up, For an instant the form of an Indian was seen, and a shout heard, His words were: ** Miontic goes to sharpen his knife and black- en his face, Miontic knows his foes and will drink their blood.” Mabaca was on his feet in an instant, but ere he could raise his gun, the Indian had disap- peared, aud his shrill yell was heard far back 4 the impervious forest. The Indian bad evidently only got this far on his back track from his unsuccessful expedi- tion, undoubtedly did not find it so easy or such rapid traveling through the thick woods, over the high and rocky mountains, and down the dark and dangerous ravines as it would have been had he been on the river as before. CHAPTER XVIII. ONEONTA TO THE RESCUE, ALTHOUGH it was very tiresome to propel his canoe alone up the swift stream and over the many rapids which he met, Frank Rolfe, im- pelled by the fear of pursuit and a desire to get his victim beyond the reach of assistance, made no stop until the sun was far down in the west- ern sky, He had passed the Chenango and sev- eral other confluent streams, but on—on he kept through the day, until be was so tired that he could scarcely raise the paddle, Then seeing a small creek which wound its way out of a dark glen from the southward by the foot of a rocky hill, he turned to the shore, and mooring-his canoe, prepared to camp. And here for the first time he removed the gag from the mouth of poor Mignionette and loosened the bands upon her limbs, although he did not re- move them, At first she could not speak at all. Noticing this, he gave her some water, and then taking some of the skins which he had stolen from the wigwam of Mahaca and placing them under a thick-leafed hemlock, he bore her from the boat and laid her upon them. “Oh, for heaven’s sake have mercy upon me, ive all—he will reward you,” moaned poor anionette., “Tm sorry that I can’t accommodate you. some time. I love you in about the same pro- portion that I bate him,” Poor Mignionette made no reply, but the tears which rolled down her cheeks told her agony. Building a small fire, Rolfe proceeded to cook some of the venison which he had stolen from the wigwam of Mabaca. Some of this he offered to Mighionette, but she refused to touch it. He, however ate mh & : After he bad finished his meal, Francis arose and again turned toward Migotomta, evident- unts. He rested seated, and was about to speak, when suddenly eard, and the arm of the wretch was literally pinned to the tree, Red Ralph, the River Rover. At the same moment the prow of an Indian canoe touched the shore and Oneonta, the daughter of Mahaca, bounded from it. An ar- row was drawn tw the bead and pointed toward Rolfe as she approached him. ‘For the Lord’s sake spare me,” he cried, rb i before her fierce look and threatening and. ‘* Pale-face coward—you shall die. But I'll help the lily first,” said the Indian maiden, haughtily, turning to render assistance to poor Mignionette. “Saved — saved!” she cried, hysterically. “Where is my husband—where is Eugene?” ‘*The husband of the lily seeks her far down the river!” replied the Indian maiden, keeping her eye on Rolfe to see that he made no attempt at escape. ** And are you alone—who guided you to my rescue?” “I came alone—the Great Spirit was my guide,” replied the maiden. ‘*Oh, thank Heaven that you are here! You came only just in time to save me from that vile wretch,” murmured Mignionette, as she looked shudderingly toward the wounded Villain. ** How shall I kill him? Burn him, or with the arrow or my hatchet?’ said Oneonta, glanc- ing at Rolfe with a look which told her readi- ness to use either of those methods to send him to join his Satanic majesty below. “T know not what to do—lad you slain him at first I could not have blamed you,” said Mign- ionette. ‘‘It seems wrong to kill bim in cold blood. Heis my husband’s brother even though he is a villain.” “He is asnake. When Indian meet snake, he kills him,” replied Oneonta. ‘Not harmless ones. He is wounded—we can take possession of his arms and sink his boat— be cannot follow us then!” said. Mignionette, who, soft-hearted and woman-like, was ready to forgive bim who would have no mercy on her, now that she saw he was helpless. ‘*Oneonta will do her sister’s bidding,” said the Indian maiden. ‘ But the pale-face is bad; he ought to die.” ‘*T know it—but let not his blood be upon our hands,” said Mignionette. ‘ God wi!l yet punish him. We will destroy his boat; he dare not return to our settlement. But let us return there, quickly, for my busband will die without me even as I should have done without him.” ° Francis Rolfe, who had been an. anxious lis- tener to all this conversation, diseerned with anxiety the preparations made by the Indian muiden for their departure, He tried to tear his wounded arm away from the arrow, but the pain of even ents 4 it was so intense that he desisted. Not until he saw Oneonta disable his own canoe by cutting a bole in its bottom, and pushing it out to float down upon and sink in the rapid stream, after which she took his arms and laid them in her own canoe, did he speak. Then, in a piteous tone, he cried: aS Mignionette, for Heaven’s sake make that squaw release me from this position. Do not leave me here to perish by inches.” _. “Let him stay for crow to eat,” said Oneonta, scornfully. ‘I have done wrong, been very wicked,” groaned Rolfe. “I never will trouble you more only make her take this arrow out, I canno remove it myself.” Again the woman in Mignionette prevailed, and first prudently so arranging the canoe in which she was, so that she could oibaistly push it from the shore, she directed Oneonta to re- lease him. This the Indian girl did, but with no very good ce, nor did she offer to aid him in stanching the wound which now bled profusely, until Mignionette asked her to bind it up. Mis- led by this unexpected kindness, Rolfe thought he could presume further and ask for his arms. Knowing that the possession of these would place her life and that of Oneonta in bis power, she refused. ‘* But I will perish for want of food unless I have my gun to kill game!” pleaded Rolfe. ** Eat chestnut and acorn like hog,” said One- onta, scornfully. Again and again Rolfe pleaded for his wea- pons, butiall in vain; and his cries still sounded fainter and fainter upon their ears, as the happy Mignionette and her brave rescuer floated down the stream. ‘*How came you, my noble Oneonta, to fol- low me, while my husband went the other way?” asked Mignionette, after they were out of hear- ing of the wretched man. ._“Qneonta felt sad for the loss of the lily. Her father was gone with the lily’s husband, i ‘ and Oneonta went to see if all was well in her ‘father’s wigwam, There she saw the pale-face had been; she saw his track—it pointed up the river, and she followed it,” replied Oneonta quietly, as if she had done nothing extraor- dinary. + After they had descended the river some six- teen or eighteen miles, Oneonta spoke to Mign- ionette. ‘*We come long way to-day. *Spose we camp and rest. Hungry too, me think.” To this proposition, wearied as she was, and knew that the girl must be, Mignionette made no opposition.~ They therefore landed in a little cove, and within the close protection of some dwarf pines, Oneonta built a fire and prepared some food, of which they both partook beartily. Then the Indian girl spread a couch of skins upon the ground near the fire, and both of them slept sweetly and soundly, side by side, until the morning’s sun shone upon tbeir upturned faces. Then they arose, and after a basiy mea! egain entered their canoe and speeded rapidiy down the river. Before noon Mignionette was in the arms of ber glad parents, who, not knowing whither Oneonta had gone, bad feared that she, too, was lost. It would be no easy task to de- scribe the feelings of joy and gratitude whick overflowed their hearts when they clasped her to their swelling bosoms, The first thought of Mignionette was to follow her husband down the river that she might tbe sooner give him the joyous news of her rescue from her own lips. But this was most strenu- ously opposed by her parents, who, knowing nothing of what had happened down the river, feared that the Indians might still be lurking in the neighborbood. It was with great difficulty _ that they could induce her to remain. As it was, her gaze was constantly turned down the river in the direction from whence she expected be would come, It was not until the fifth day after her return that her eyes were gladdened by the sight of the boats coming up the river. With a wild cry of gladness she bastened down to the river-side to meet him, and as her little and graceful form bounded along, it was seen and recognized by those who so sadly returned from their frui‘less search. Then, quick as the-sun flashing out. from behind some temporary cloud which has obscured it, their gloom was changed to joy. A shrill, glad shout rose from their lips, which rung from shore to shore of the river, echoing far back among the bills, In a few moments husband and wife were clasped in each other’s arms, and tears rolled down tbeir cheeks—tears of joy which was speechless. ’ ‘“Why, what's the matter o’ you, father?” cried Jennie to Red Ralph, who was wiping his eyes with his rough coat-sleeve. ‘‘ Assure as I live, I believe you’re crying.” _ “No, [ha’n’t—it’s nothin’, gal—only you see I’m a leetle dry,” said the old man, trying to subdue his emotions. ‘‘ Find me some rum, gal.” Some minutes ela before Mignionette was sufficiently composed to relate how she had es- ‘By Jove, Oneonta is a queen!” shouted Gus- tave, when he had heard the narration. ‘If she’ll have a wild devil like me, I'll marry her in a moment.” ‘Let us all go to the house, and get refresh- ments first,” cried Eugene, ‘‘we all stand in need of it,” ; They all coincided in this announcement, and its necessity. : The meeting of Mabaca and Oneonta was cold and calm as usual; yet a close observer could bave seena gleam of pride lighting the dark eyes of the stern and stoical father as he heard praises showered upon his brave and beautiful daughter. And now once more tbe joyous laugh, the cheerful jest, and the sweet sound of music was heard beneath the roof of the log-house, and before tbe great fire, joints of venison, wild turkeys and ducks, were seen roasting. And thus having them once more in the sunlight, we'll look after our interesting friend Frank Rolfe, | CHAPTER XIX. CRIME’S RETRIBUTION. Arter Oneonta and Mignionette had left Francis Rolfe, the latter gathered wood with his well hand to replenish the fire, for the howl- ing of the wolf and the scream of the panther did not fall pleasantly upon the ear of the un- armed man. After he bad increased his fire, he cast himself down apes a bearskin, but the pain in his wounded arm was so intense that he could not sleep, In the morning he arose feverisitf and ——_

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a ase less rag to the ground, Eugene did not recover consciousness until the next morning, and then he looked calmly, with deatblike quiet on the dead bodies. Though his face was badly burned, and the right arm and hand which had dragged her from the flame were burned as red as the fire itself, he did not complain, He paid but little heed to the lamen- tations of Jennie, or the rude words of comfort with which Ralph tried toconsole him. He only -gmiled, when Ralph indignantly pitched the bod- ies of the two hostile Indians who had been killed into the fire. When Ralph proposed to bury the — he assented, but tvok no part in the painful ask, It was full noon, when beneath a tree, beside the river, in one large grave all five of the bod- ies were gently laid by Ralph and Jennie. Af- ter the last sod had been laid upon the mound, which covered their remains from his sight, Ralph and Jennie tried to induce Eugene to ep- ter their boat, and leave the spot with them. “No, "he cried, lifting his red and swollen hand toward thesky, ‘ I swear never to havean- other home but by her grave, save when I go to take vengeance on her murderers, And nev- er—never, will I spare a red-man’s life again, Go, Ralph, go, leave me to myself. ” ** No, we cannot, and thus alone and injured,” cried Jennie, “‘No, blast me if I can!” said Ralph, rubbing his rough sleeve over his face. ‘You must!” said Eugene, calmly—‘‘ but first tell me if you know who did this deed?” ‘*We do, for they passed us and in vain we strained every nerve to warn you in time,” said Ralph. We had to hide—tbey were so close to us that they could almost have touched us with their guns. There were one hundred of them. ““Was my brother, the accursed fiend, with them?” ‘‘No—they were led by Miontic. I knew the cuss, though your wife bad scalded one of his «yes out, and made his face look like a half-fried piece of tripe.” * One eye lost and his face scarred, you say?” “Yes, master Eugene.” “Tt is well, [ shall remember him! Now go, good Ralph, and donot let them harm you! Go and return in the spring—you will find me here of her grave if they have not killed me before. if I am not here, count the scalps which will be nailed to yonder tree!” Ralph and his daughter found it useless. to urge him further, and more sadly and tearfully than before, they left the memorable spot. THE END. Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. BY COL. A, F. HOLT. 899 Black Buckskin; or, The Masked Men of Death C . 419 Kenneth, the Knife-King. Stem ¥ ah fe a 485 Little Lightfoot, the Pilot of the Woods, BY ROGER STARBUCK. 25 The Boy Captain: or, The Pirate’s Daughter. 114 The Black Schooner; or, Jib Jonk. the Old Tar. 259 The Golden Harpoon; or, Lost Among the Floes. 848 Fire-Heels«; or, Old Skinflint, the Death-Shadow. 854 Big Horn Ike, the Hill Tramp; or, The Odd Pards. 861 The Phantom Light-house. $70 Breaker Ben, the Reef-Runner, ; BY PHILIP 8. WARNE. 67 Patent-Leather Joe: or, Old Rattlesnake, the Charmer. 175 Capratn Arizona; wr Patent-Leather Joe's Big Game. 198 Captain Mask; or, Patent-Leather Joe’s Defeat. 219 Despard, the Dueliat; or, The Mountain Vompires. 888 A Tough Boy; or, The Dwarf’s Revenge. 868 Little Tornado; or, The Outcasts of the Glen. 478 Little Jingo; or, the Queer Pard. SARS Little bf or, Caught in His Own Trap, 401 Little Shoo-Fly or, A Race for « Ranch. 408 Little Leather-Breeches ; or, Old Jumbo’s Curse. AS1 Little Ah Sin3 or, The Curse of Blood, 451 Colorado Kate. A Vale of the slines.' 4580 Three Jolly Parda. 517 Jim Gladden’s Deputy. 527 The Jolly Pards to the Rescue, BY HARRY 8ST. GEORGE. 80 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, the Ranger. 44 Rattiing Rube3 or, The Nighthawks of Kentucky 5Y Old Hickory ¢ or, Pandy Ellis’s Scalp. P 108 Dartnge Davy 3 or, The Trail of the Border Wolf, 166 Hickory Warry 3 or, The Trapper-Brigade’s Spy. 172 Thunderbolt Toms; or, the Woll-Herder. BY CAPT. J. F. ©. ADAMS, 84 Oregon Sol; or, Nick Whiffles’s Boy Spy. 46 Glaas-Eye, the Great Shot of the West. © 54 ed Hazel, the Boy Trapper. i 56 Nick Whiffles'’s Pet; or, In The Valley of Death, 60 The White Indian; or, The Scout of the Yellowstone, 79) Old Zip'’« Cabin; or, The Greenhorn in the Woods. 81 Lichtning Jo, the Terror of the Prairie. 85 Buck Buekram j or, Bess, the Female Trapper, 247 Old Grizzly and His Pets; or, The Wild Huntress, ; ety ig berg Lige ; or, Osceola, the Firebrand. 3 = The Lost Hunters; or, The Underground Camp. 8 The Scalp King; or, The Human Thunderbolt, Red Ralph, the River Rover. + ye BY HARRY HAZARD. 828 Arkansaw Jack; or, The Scourge of the Mines. 829 Red-Skin Tom; or, The Demon’s Trail. $42 The Mountain Devil; or, Yellow Jack, the Outlaw. BY WILLIAM ., EYSTER, 190 Dandy Darke}; or, The Tigers of High Pine. 210 Faro Frank; or, Dandy Darke’s Go-Down Pards, BY COLONEL DELLE SARA, 108 The Lion of'the Sea; or, The Vailed Lady. 186 Cool Desmond ; or, Tle Gambler’s Big Game. BY MAJOR LEWIS W. CARSON, 278 The Three Trappers; or, The Mountin Monster. 288 Indian Joe; or, The White Spirit of the Hills. BY JONUN J. MARSHALL. 40 Roving Ben, A Story of a Young American. 97 The Outlaw Brothers; or, The Captive of the Harpes. BY GEORGE C. JENKS, 485 Git Thar Owney, the Unknown. 492 Git Thar Owney’« Pledge. 518 The Demon Doctor. BY CAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLOR, U. 8. A. 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker; or, The Doomed iirteen. 194 Buffalo Bill's Bet; or, The Gambler Guide, BY FREDERICK DEWEY, 818 Cimarron Jack, the King-Pin of Rifle-Shots. 478 Tangemund, the Desert Detective. 542 The Canyon Pards. BY LIEUT. i. D. PERRY, U. 8. N. 176 The Boy Runaway; or, The Bucraneer of the Bay. 180 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow Well Kept, 192 Captain Kit; or, The Mystery of Montauk Point. BY BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG, 89 Ialand Jim: or, The Pet of the Family. 91 The Captain of the Club; or. The Rival Athletes, 101 Jack Narkaway tn New York, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. 7& Blue Dick: or, The Yellow Chief's Vengeance. S87 The Land Pirates: or, The League of Devil’s Island. 187 The hat pee Hand 3 or, Backwoods Retribution, 239 The Gold-seeker Guide; or, The Lost Mountain. ' t BY JACK FARRAGUT. 815 Ned, the Cabin Boy. 820 The Sea Sorceress; or, The Boy Skipper. BY JAMES L, BOWEN 107 One-Eyed Sim; or, The Abandoned Forest Home. 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies, A Story of Texas. BY C. DUNNING CLARK, 185 Captain Paul; or, The Boy Spy of the Mountains, 280 The Yankee Rajah; or, The Fate of the Black Shereef, 14 BY CHARLES E. LASALLE, 50 Burt Bunker, the Trapper. 52 The White Buffalo, A Tale of the Northwest BY CAPT. MARK WILTON. 256 Young Kentuck; or, The Red Lasso. 270 Blizzard Ben; or, The Riot at Keno Camp, 286 Josh, the Boy Tenderfvot. BY J. W. OSBON. 469 The Rival Glant« of Nowhar’. 498 Cactus Burr, the Man trom Hard Luck. 587 Old Buckeye, the Sierra Shadow. BY WM. G, PATTEN. 489 The Dlamond Sport; or, The Double F f Rock. 519 Captain Mystery ; or, five in One. ee 681 Dalsy Bare, the Sport from Denver. BY W. J. HAMILTON, 68 The Red Brotherhood}; or, The Twelve Avengers, 66 Single Handy or, A Life fora Life, 72 Mad Tom Weatern, the Texan Ranger. 887 Ben Bird, the Cave King; or, Big Pete’s Scoop. BY MAJOR E. L, ST. VRAIN, 292 Sancho Pedro; the Boy Bandit. 801 Leadville Nick, the Boy Sport. 812 Redtop Rube, the Vigilante Prince. 888 Brimatone Bob, and His Lightning Horse Quartette, 852 Tombstone Tom, the Arizona Boy of “ Sand.” oor Pirenty One eh , nun voy WY rextler, 8 wift. 14 Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Lamp. 16 Robinsen Crusoe. (27 Iilustrations.) 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By Juan Lewis. 88 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pirates of the Carribers. By S, W. Pierce. ; 86 The Boy Clown; or, The Queen of the Arena, By Frank S, Fi S, Finn. 88 Ned Wylde. the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 51 The Boy Rifles; or, The Underground Camp. By Archie C, Irons. 95 The Rival Rovers; or, The Freebooters of the Mississippi. By Lieur.-Col. Hazeltine. 198 Robin Hood, the Outlawed Earl; or, The Merry Men of Green- wood. By Prof. Gildersleeve. 105 Old Rube. the Hunter; or, The Crow Captive. By Captain Hamilton Holmes. 112 The Mad Hunter; or, The Cave of Death. By Burton Saxe. 124 Tippy, the Texan; or, The Young Champion. By George Glersen. 128 The Young Privateer; or, The Pirate’s Stronghold. By_ Harry Cavendish. 148 Sharp Sam; or, The Adventures of a Friendless Boy, By J. Alexander Patten. ‘ 227 Dusky Darrell, Trapper: or, The Green Ranger of the Yel- lowstone. _By Edward Emerson. — 298 Red Claw, the One-Eyed Trapper; or, The Maid of the Cliff, By C in Comstock. 817 Piaaseh tem, the Lively Lad from Leadville. By Lieu- lired Thorne. B28 The Sky werective} or, A Boy’s Fight for Life and Honot. ~ By Maior Mickey Free, 850 Red Ralph, the River Rover; or, The Brother’s Re- venge. By Ned Buntline. 865 Balthwere hte the Boothlack Detective. By A. P. Morria, 874 Gold-Dust Tomy; or, Ben’s Double Match. By George H, Morse, B76 California Joe’s First Trail. By Colonel Thomas 8 Billig Bombahell, the Clif'Climber. By F, 8. Winthrop. 1 4 e ne Cliff . By F.S. 5 Boe Pei panfoots the Gold Bowie Kid. By Arthur C, Grissom, 475 The Black Ship. By John S, Werner. : 484 Comanche Dick and His Three Invinelbles, By Henry J. Thomas. 528 Wizard-Arm, the Dandy a By Arthur F. Holt. B82 The Cowboy Duke. By Edwin Brooke Forrest. i A New Issue Every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by ail newsdealers, five conta per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. , BEADLE AND ADAMR&, Publishers, 98 William Sireet, New York,

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EADLE’S*}] ALF- DIME* LIBRARY. me Published Every Tuesday. Hach Issue Complete and Sold atthe Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers, BY EDWARD L. WHEELER. Deadwood Dick Novela. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. 20 Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Defiance, 28 Bulfalo Ben; or, Deadwood Dick in Disguise. 85 Wilda Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval. 42 Phantom Miner ; or, Deadwood Bick’s Bonanza, 49 Omaha O1L; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger. Bs Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar. 78 Veadwood Dick on Deck or, Calamity Jane, the Heroine, %7 Corduroy Charlie; or, Deadwood Dick's Last Act, 100 Deadwood Dick In Leadville. 104 Deudwood Dick's Device; or, The Double Cross Sign, 109 Dendwood Dick as Detective. 129 Deudwood Dick's Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s | Gulch, 188 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base. 149 A Game of (fold; 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. 2O1L ‘The Black Hille 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 Geld-Duat Dick. A Roinance of Rough, and Toughs. 2638 Deadwood Dick's Divide; or, The Spirit of Swamp Lake. 268 Deadwood Dick’s« Death Trall. 809 Deadwesd Dick’s Mig Deal; or, The Gold Brick of regon. 7 : 821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen; or, The Fakir of Phantom Flats. 847 Deadwood Dick's Ducats; or, Rainy Days in the Dig- gings. 851 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta. 862 pendweed Dick’s Claim; or, The Fairy Face of Faro ute. x 405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City. 410 panevces Dick’s Diamonds ; or, The Mystery of Joan orter. 421 Deadwood Dick In New York; or, A “ Cute Case.” 480 Deadwood Dick’« Dust; or, The Chained Hand. 448 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 448 Nickel-Plate Ned; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Defiance, 458 Sunflower Sam, ot Shasta; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Full Hand, 459 Flush Fan, the Ferret; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Big Ronnd- Up.- 465 Philo Fly, of Phenix; or, Deadwood Diek Je’s Racket at aim 10. A71 Bozeman Bill; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Corral, 476 Hambold Harry, the Hurricane; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s y / Detective, 481 Moll Mystery; or, Deadwood Dick Jr, in Deadwood. 491 Prince Pistol, the King of the West; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Compact. 496 ppente Criato, Jr.t or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Inheritance, 500 Deadwood Dick’s Diggings 3 or, Dr. Death-Grip’s Swoop. 508 Deadwood Dick’s Deliverance. 515 Deadwood Dick’s Protegec. 522 Deadwood Dick’s Three. 529 Deadwood Dick’s Danger Ducka, 584 Deadwood Dick’s Death Hunt. 589 Deadwood Dick Jr., in Texas. 544 Deadwood Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidoog, Other Novels by E. L. Wheeler. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Buffalo Demon, 82 Bob oolf; or, The Girl Dead-Shot. 89 Death-Face, Detective; or, Life in New York. 45 Old Avalanche; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand. 568 Jim Bludsoe, ae the Boy Phenix. 61 Buckhorn ills or, The Red Rifle Team, 9 Gold Rifle, the wey rere or, The Boy Detective, 0 Rosebud Rob or, Nugget Ned, the Knight. 84 Idyl, the Girl Miner} or, Rosebud Rob on Hand, 88 Phctograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob’s Reapprarance, 92 Canada Chet ; or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp, 96 AL Thea or, Arabs and Angels of a Great City, 118 Jack Hoyle the Young Speculator.. 117 Gilt-Edged Dick, the Sport Detective 121 Cinnamon Chip, the Girl Sport, + Bonanza iner. 8B Boas Bob the King of Bootblacks, 41 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent. 4 Cuptain Ferret, the New York Detective, or, Boss Bob’s ‘ons Job. 61 New Sree we ses Wes Lemctive. 77 No ek of Nevada; or, The Sierras Scam: Iai Wine si arr Fritz, the Bound-Boy rank, the Buckskin Bravo, Detective. _ 18 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventriloquist Hunter, 226 Snoozer, the Boy Sharp; or, The Arab Detective, Bill, the Trail Tornado, tt, the Young Gladiator, 244 Sierra Sam, the Frontier Ferret. 248 Sierra Sam’s Secret; or, The Bloody Footprints, 2538 Sierra Sam’s Pard; or, The Angel of Big Vista. 258 Sierra Sam’s Seven} or, The Stolen Bride. 278 Jumbo Joe, the Koy Patrol; or, The Rival Heirs, 77 Denver Doll, the Detective Queen, 1 Denver Doll's Victory. | 225 Denver Doll’s Decoy ; or. Little Bill’s Bonanza. 291 Turk, the Boy Ferret. 296 Denver Doll’s Drift; or, The Road Queen. 299 A No. 1, the Dashing Toll-Taker. 808 "Liza Jane, the Girl Miner; or, the Iron-Nerved Sport. 825 Kelley, Mickey & Co,, the Detectives of Philadelphia. 880 Little Qu!ck-Shot; or, The Dead Face of Daggeraville, 884 Kangaroo Kit; or, The Mysterious Miner, 889 Kangaroo Kit’s Racket. 848 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood. 858 irst-Class Fred, the Gent from Gopher, 868 ret Jim, the Gold-Gatherers or, The Lottery of 872 Yreka Jim’s Prize. f 878 Nabob Ned} or, The Secret of Slab City. BS2 Cool Kit, the King of Kids; or, A Villain’s Vengeance, ‘885 Yreka Jim's Jokers or, The Rivals of Red Nose, 889 Bicycle Ben; or, The Lion of Lightning Lode, 894 Yreka Jim of Yuba Dam, , 400 Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective. (416 High Hat Harry, the Base Ball Detective, 426 Sam Slabaldes, the Beggar-Boy Detective, bt ph bk 484 Jim Beak and Pal, Private Detectives, 488 Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher, the Sparkler, \ es oe ee ee BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAIIAM, ? The Flying Yankee; or, The Ocean Outcast, 17 Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccancer; or, The Fugitive Yacht, 24 Diamond Dirk ier The Mystery of the Yellowstone. 62 The Shudow Ship; or, The Rival Lieutenants, 75 The Boy Dnellist; or, The Cruise of the Sea- Wolf. 02 Dick Dead-Eye, the Boy Smuggier. 11 The Seua-Devil; or, The Midshipman’s Legacy. 16 The Hussar Captains or, ‘he Hermit of Hell Gate. 97 Little Grit; or, Bessie, the Stock-Tender’s Daughter. 204 Gold Plume; or, The Kid-Glove Sport. 216 Bison Bill, the Prince of the Reins, 222 Grit, the Bravo Sport; or, The Woman Trailer. 229 Crimxon Kate; or, The Cowboy’s Triumph, 287 Lone Star, the Cowboy Ne ig 245 Merle, the Middy 3 or, 'Uhe Freelance Heir. 250 The Midshipman M utineer or, Brandt, the Baccaneer, 264 ieee Floating Feather; or, Merle Monte’s Treasure sland. 269 The Gold Ship}; or, Merle, the Condemned. 276 mere Monte’s Cruise; or, The Chase of “The Gold onip. 280 Merle Monte’s Fate; or, Pearl, the Pirate's Bride. 284 The Sea Marauder; or, Merle Monte’s Pledge. 287 Billy Blue-Eyes, the Boy Rover of the Rio Grande. $04 The Dead Shot Dandy ; or, Benito, the Boy Bugler. 808 Keno Kit; or, Dead Shot Dandy’s Double. 814 he Mysterious Marauder}; or, The Boy’ Bugler’s Long rail. 877 Bonodel, the Boy Rover; or, The Fiagless Schooner. 888 The Indian Pilot; or, The Search for Pirate Island, th Warpath WILL, the Boy Phantom. 98 Seawall, the Boy Lientenant, 402 Isodor, the Young Consptrator 3 or, The Fatal League. 407 The Boy Insurgent; or, The Cuban Vendetta, 412 The Wild Yachtaman; or, The War-Clouu’s Cruise. 429 Duncan Dare, the Bo fugee, 488 A Cabin Boy’s Luck}; or, The Corsair. 487 The Sea Raider, 441 The Ocean Firefly 3 or, A Middy’s Vengeance. 446 Haphazard Marry ; or, The Scapegrace of the Sea. 450 Wizard Will; or, The Boy Ferre: of New York, 454 Wizard Will's Street Scouta 462 The Born Guide}; or, The Sailor Boy Wanderer, 465 Neptune Ned, tie Boy Coaster. 474 Flora; or, Wizard Will’s Vagabond Pard. 488 Ferrets Affloats or, Wizard Will's Last Case. 4ST Nevada Ned, the Revolver Ranger. 495 Arizona doe the Boy Pard of Texas Jack, 497 Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. 508 The Royal Middy ; or, The Shark and the Sea Cat, 507 The Hunted Midshipman. 511 The Outlawed Middy. 520 Buckskin BILL, the Comanche Shadow. 525 Brothers in Buckskin, 580 e Buckskiu Bowers, 585 The Buc skin Rovers, 540 Captain Ku-Klux, the Marauder of the Ris. 545 Lieutenant Leo, the Son of Lafitte, . BY CHARLES MORRIS, 118 Will Somers, the Boy Detective. he ripaig #3 “4 Boss a: “h tots cayune Pete ¢ or, codemus, the tective. Detective Dick; or, The Hero in ig ; andsaome Harry, the Bootblack Detective, Wildfire, the Thoroughbred, lack Beas, WI)! Wildfire’s Racer. tke Mervy, the Harbor Police Boy. an ears in fhe’ Wenge: RECA. the ron . A Wate Card; or, Will Wilatiee Wine and Loses, Bob Rockett; or, Mysteries of New York. Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, The Hidden Hands or, Will Wildfire’s Revenge, Fred Malyard, the Lite Boat Boy; cr, The Smugglers, Bob Rockett or, Driven w the Wall. hadowed ¢ or, Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life, Park Paul, the Tiger King. 212 Dashing Dave, the Lg Detective. 220 Tom Tanner}; or, The Black Sheep of the Flock, Sam Charcoal the Premium Darky. 5 Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy. The Two * Bloods”; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang. 3 2 Dick Dashaway ; or, A Dakota Boy in Chicago, 2 The Young Sharps: or, Rollicking Mike's Hot Trail. a3 sol Jim, the Detective Apprentice. 2KY9 Jolly Jim’s Job; or, The Young Detective, 298 The Water-Hound; or, The Young Thoroughbred. 806 Dashaway, of Daketa; or, A Western Lad in the Quaker City, 824 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective, 841 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. 858 The Reporter-Detective; or, Fred Flyer’s Blizzard. B67 Wide-Awake Joe} or, A Boy of the Times. 879 Larry, the Leveler; or, The Bloods of the Boulevard. 408 Firelly Jack, the River-Rat Detective. 428 The Lost Finger}; or, The Entrapped Cashier, 428 Fred Flyer, the Reporter Detective, 482 Inyincible oan, the Pinkerton Ferret. 456 Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. 466 Wide-Awake Jerry, Detective; or, Entombed Alive. 479 Detective Dodge; or, The Mystery of Frank Hearty. 488 Wild Dick Racket, 501 Boots, the Boy Fireman ; or, Too Sharp for the Sharper. 2 2 8 4 ANASSATS ea Saeeponeuenwsae 1 i 1 i 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 we coe as Zp BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR. 2 Yellowstone Jack; or, The Trapper. 48 Black John, the Road-Agent; or, The Outlaw’s Retreat. 65 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustang Sam and His Pard. 119 Mustang Sam ; or, The King of the Pla 186 Night-Hawk Kit; or, The Daughter sabe Ranch. - 144 Dainty Lance the Boy Sport. 151 Panther Paul; or, Dainty Lance to the Rescue. 160 The Black Giant; or, Dainty Lance in Jeopardy. 168 Deadly Dash; or, Fighting Fire with Fire. 184 The Boy Trailers; or, Dainty Lance on the War-Path, 208 The Boy Pards; or, Dainty Lance Unmasks. 211 Crooked Cale, the Caliban of Celestial City. 810 The Barranca Wolf; or, The Beautiful Decoy. 819 The Black Riders or, The Horse-Thieves’ League 885 Old Double Fiat; or, The Strange Guide. 855 The King of the Woods: or. Daniel Boone’s Last Trail, 449 Kit Fox, the Border Boy Detective. ! : BY BUFFALO BILL (Hon. Wm, F. Cody) 8 Kanaas King; or, The Red Right Hand. 19 The Phantom Spy: or, Ibe Pilot of the Prairie, 55 Deadly-Eye, the Bularex Scout, 68 Border Robin Hood; or, The Prairie Rover. 158 Faney Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s Trust, BY OLL COOMES. > Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew. The Dumb Spy. Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. 1 Keen-Knife, the Prince of the Prairies. Lasso Jack, the Young Mustanger. 4 The Border King; or, The Secret Foe. Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy. Hawk-eye Uarry the Young Trapper R: ogee, Rollo, the Boy Ranger. 184 Sure Shot Seth, the Boy Rifleman, 148 Scar-Face Saul, the Silent Hunter, 146 Silver Star, tie Boy Knight. 158 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. 168 Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. 178 Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper. 182 Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. 202 Prospect Pete; or, The Young Outlaw Hunters. 208 The Boy Hercules: or, The Prairie Tramps. 218 Tiger Tom, the Texas Terror. 224 Dashing Dick; or, lrapper Tom’s Castle, 228 Little Wildfire, the Young Prairie Nomad. 288 The Parson Detective; or, The Little Ranger. 248 The Disguised Guide; or, Wild Raven, the Ranges, 260 Dare-Devil Dan, the Young Prairie Ranger. 272 Minkakin Mike, the Boy Sharpshooter. 290 Little Foxfire, the Boy Spy. 800 The Sky Demon 3 or, Rainbolt, the Ranger. 884 Whip-King Joe, tlhe Boy Ranchero. 409 Herenles; or, Dick, the Boy Ranger. 417 Webfoot Mone, the Tramp Detective, 422 Baby Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone 444 Little Buckskin, tne Young Prairie Centaur. 457 Wingedfoot Fred} or, Old Polar Saul. 468 Tamarac ‘Tom, the Big Trapper Boy. 478 Old Tom Rattler, the Red River Epidemic, 482 Stonewall Bob, the Boy Trojan. Senn LT led Sneoe San vs BY T. C. HARBAUGH. 28 Nick o’ the Nights or, The Boy Spy of 76. 87 The Hidden Lodge; or. The Littl: Hunter. 47 Nightingale Nat} or, Tne Forest Captains, 64 Dand ack 3 or, The Outlaws of the Coe Trails. 82 Kit Harefout the Wood-Hawk. 94 Midnight Jack or, The Boy Trapper. 106 Old Froaty, the Guide; or, The White Queen. 128 Kiowa Charley the White Mustanger. dge Lynch, Jr. or, The Boy Vighante. 155 Gold Tr r, the Sport; or, The Girl Avenger. 169 Tornado Tomy; or, Injun Jack From Red Core. 188 Ned Temple, the Border Boy. 198 Arkanaaw ; or, The Quen of Fate’s Revenge. 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. 215 Captain Bullet; or, Little Topknot’s Crusade, 281 Plucky Phil; or, Rosa, the Rei Jezebel, 241 Bill Bravo; or, The Roughs of the Rockies. 255 Coven Apolle, the King-Pin of Bowie 267 The Buckskin Detective. : 279 Old Mulpens or, The Buckskin Desperadoes. 294 Dynamite Dany; or, The Bowls Blade of Cochetopa. 802 The Mountain Detective; or, The Trigger Bar Bally, 816 Old Eclipse, Tromp Card of Arizona, 826 The Ten Parda; or, The Terror of Take-Notica, 886 Big Benson; or, The Queen of the Lasso. 845 Pitilesas Matt; or, Red Thunderbolt’s Secret, 856 Cool Sam awd Par’ ¢ o- The Terrible Six, 866 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. in Cutiasa; or, | he B ccaneer’s Girl Foe. or, The | win Champions of Blue Blaset 411 The Ailken anno or, The Rose of Ranch Robin. 418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter, 425 Texas Trump, the Border Rattler, bri i ay the + head York sang iat e City Vampires; or, Ked Rolfe’s Pigeon. 461 @ne Against Fifty; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar, A470 The Boy Shadow ; or, Felix Fox’s Hunt, A477 The Excelsior Sport; or, The Washington Spotter, 499 Single Sight, the One-Eyed Sport. 502 Branded Ben, the Night Ferret. 612 Dodger Dick, the Wharf-Spy Detective. 521 Dodger Dick’s Best Dodge. 528 Fox and Falcon, the Bowery Shadows. 588 Dodger Dick, the Dock Ferret. 548 Dodger Dick’s Double; or, The Rival Boy Detectives, LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. 546 Captain Cactua, the Chaparral Cock. By Lieut. A. K. Sims, 547 Sandy Andys or, A Good Man Down. By P. 8. Warne, 548 Mart, the Night Express Detective. By J.C. Cowdrick. 549 Deadwood Dick on His Mettle. By E. L. Wheeler, 550 Ladste’s Legacy; or. The Avenging Son, By Col. Prentisg ngranam. 551 Nick Nettle, the Boy Shadow. By Jo Pierce, 552 Ariel, the Athlete. By David Druid. 558 podger Dick’s Desperate Case. By T, C. Harbaugh, 554 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Gotham. By E. L. Wheeler. 555 The Creole Corsair. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 556 Lariat Lil; or. The Cast fora Life. By Philip 8. Warne, 557 Broadway Billy’s Death Racket. By J. C. Cowdrisk. 558 The Sure-Shot Pards. By Arthur C. Grisson, 559 Harlem Jack, the Office Boy Detective, By Jo Pierce. 560 Pawnee BIIIL, the Prairie Shadower. By Col. P. Ingraham, 561 Deadwood Dick In Boston. By Edward L, Wheeler. 562 Blundering Basil, the Hermit Boy Trapper. By O11 Coomea 568 Dodger Dick, the Vidocq. By T. C, Har augh. Ready May 8.” red 564 Powder Phil, the Boy Miner, By John W, Osbon. Ready May 15, 565 Kent Kingdon, the Card King. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Ready May 22. 566 The Secret Service Boy Detective. By Charles Morria, ady May 29. . 567 Deadwood Dick, Jr., In Philadelphia, By E4ward 6, Wheeler, Ready June 5. A New Issue Every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all newsdeniers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York, 8 iis 6 my ae eis a al ee