Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 37) (1878 04 09)
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| (ml 1) |e x Scccececceececeeeee Sh scm in 1878, uw & ‘BEADLE AND ADAMS. Vol. I II. — -» ae The Hidden Lodge; The Little Hater of the Adirondacks BY T. C. HARBAUGH, AUTHOR OF “NICK O’ THE NIGHT,” ETC. CHAPTER I. FALLING THROUGH A GHOST. “Lost! Thar’s no denyin’ the predicament now. Hyar’s the log what I fell over awhile back, an’ by hokey, hyar’s the powder-horn what I Tiegh ht I lost on the banks of that black river! We nm goin’ round an’ round like a top. Kin ye see anything, Simon?” Nuthin’; not even a star.” ‘That’s encouragin’! The old moss sign fools me hyar. This must be the devil's own land, an’ ef I live to see daylight one man will make tracks for civilization. Hear that roarin’ water! It’s the Ausable, It hollers like a pack of wolves let loose by one of the imps of these ter- rible woods,” ° » “What are we goin’ to do?’ “ Stay hyar till day lets a little light upon this sub- ject: ” was the reply. ‘Ef we'd move ag’in, wouldn’t we go round an’ round an’ bring up ag’in’ this big black log every time? Thank God thar’s no moose brush hyar to zip a fellar with its wet leaves an’ make one Simon, we’ve been fools, confounded fools! Don’t ye see that he sent us here to get lost and die some- whar in this devil- land? Let me out o’ this, an’ iu go back. By the jumpin’ jingo, I'll go back an’ take every cent from him or send him to the gallows!” ‘Don’t carry on that way, Tarsus. We hevn’t been hyar lon enough to get the hang of things. We'll strike the trail soon, an’ eee t ile. I’m goin’ to Didn't come hyar to give ie matter up so peel In the gloom of an Adiron- dack forest stood the two men between whom the fore- going conversation passed, one March night in the early part of the present century. They were rough charac- ters, as their words indi- cated, and were in no en- viable frame of mind, for, despite their famous wood- craft, they had become be- wildered, and were forced to conclude, which they ae with many curses, that they were lost. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW ¥ Lae I ate The men were veritable Their gar- ments, draggled at the songre damp else- where, for a drizzling rain had been falling for several hours, chile them to the bones, and the cold wind that swept through the wet boughs of hemlock and pine made their teeth chatter. It was near ten o’clock when, for the second time, the man called Tarsus—Tarsus Night- well was his name—stumbled over the half- decayed log. The second accident confirmed his unwelcome | pe meee » they were trav- eling in that be circle which is so ter- rible to the won chil of the wood. The camp might be far away, over leagues of wet woollen and miles of mountains, or my ws | quite near in its tenantless security, well stock with venison and fowl which t e yar of the two lost giants craved. They did not know where it was. The roar of waters which came chrough the impenetrable gloom to their ears was the dash- THE LITTLE HUNTER DESCENDS TO THE HIDDEN LO : je +~+~=0 BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, 5 Cents. ing of the Ausable as it rushed through one of those awful gorges which to-day is the delight and wonder of the hunter and the tourist. During their circumnavigation of a certain cen- ter of forest land, Tarsus Nightwell and his companion had not passed beyond the sound of peter river. velar og of As 9 ba ha roar was not so distinct; bu upon their ears, and made them shudder. di To them—strong men and rough as they were—the the “Adin of passing a night in the heart of the Adirondack country was stattsito : nigabenes. by the truth = e twain by the old midnight, but with the trail to camp in hg minds, and they would have laughed at the Au- sable, and told stories with zest about the pineries of Maine. Lose a brave man in a strange forest at ni we and his heart will w still at the sounds assail his ear, or at Re a 9 that throng his Twice during the tramp of the wildering circle, Ni “sf well had tried to build a but the winds murdered his little blaze before it had time to die among the damp burrs and damper leaves. “T wish he was hyar, ‘pon my word I do,” wled Tarsus Nightwell. ‘ Thar’s no gal hid in these woods, and the Injuns are mighty scarce, too, It’s a wild-goose chase, an’ he knowed it would be sich when he sent us off. Simon, thar’s some- thin’ mighty deceitful in man.’ But the man called Simon did not respond. He was feeling the trunk of a tree— running his hand over it as ae hunting for something of This was “Yer ight, Tarsus,” he said, rising with a sigh of chagrin. The bark, the old moss sign, ar’ ag’in’ us. Thar’s no north side to these trees.” Pro nae. & a Tone. growled Nightwe me ~ an’ try it, in other tell which way was hich by the blowin’ of the wind; but now tell if ye dare!” “T tried that twenty times ey This: is an awful coun Everything. con- trary hyar. Why seve the needle would stand cops in on end an’ pint to rah s » 9 ‘‘Ef thar is one over these infernal woods.” After awhile the lost giants determined to push toward the river, which, from the sound of its cav~ ernous dashings, might be five or six miles distant. They wanted to break the
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2 horror of * cixele sp oveling pass over’ its boundaries and dissipate the spell and supersti- tion which ‘sat like sheeted™specters in their hearts. i : They started forward, refreshed by the aus Night: eit’ in advance. The teailed at their sides, and kept their their long” crs Nog yi to catch the slightest suspicious 5 1G, \e Sere ge Bcd ad wate a Hanes The journey through the nocturnal - forest ws aecessarily slow. -li,led the ower pieh hils and through rocky gorges, en t of h naught but their experienced wooderaft brought them without broken limbs = ~® : The sound ofthe Ausable ‘more distin and it at last became evident that the spell o bewilderment had been ens ot They.were in a\country where the hemlocks were yo a.good place for the shy, deer, and theirenemy, the ravenous wolf. | Vt li It was’ in this place that Nightwell, -com- muning with his superstitious thoughts, started when Simon’s hand fell upon his shoulder, and pressed, his wet garments upon his skin. The giant began asentence of expletives which his companion quickly broke. OB! Stop an’ listen! By the holy stars we're followed! Followed! and in that wild land of forest and stream? , Trailed! and at the dead of Biebh ane lost in the woodland of mystery and death? Tarsus Nightwell could not speak. +S he The sound of the Ausable seemed to die out in an instant, and the stillness of the grave to him swooped at gf down like a spectral eagle, * Followed it, is,” repeated Simon, .“‘Can’t yo hear, Tarsus? Thar’!” ‘Tae superstitious. hunter. did hear.a footstep among the young leaves which their own feet had lately passed, ‘ ( {b sounded like the tread of some animal trot- ting leisurely along, like a tired dog on the scent i ay A Wien. he found his tongue he cocked his rifle and said: ‘A wolf, mayhap, Simon, It’s got the trot of that beast.” Tap: ‘But it’s no wolf! Dve been listenin’ to it fur miles, When we stop it stops. Thar! ye can’t hear it now.” ‘* What do ye think it is?” If Simon seen his companion’s face he would have started back witha cry of horror. It was hideous in its ghastliness, for Tarsus Nightwell had been thinking how terrible it would be to be followed by some vengeful enemy in that land of terrors. *‘ What do I think it is?” said Simon Oldfoot. “Tt isn’t a wolf, that’s sartin; nora bear. It’s ” **T don’t know, because I can’t see ’im,” * Now let’s go on ag’in till I kin get the hang of the step,” said Nightwell. “Til take the rear, . Now push on.” The journey was resumed, with Simon in the van. Tarsus Nightwell kept his ears strained to eatch any sounds that might follow them. He heard the footstep which had attracted Simon. It followed them in that peculiar dog- tyot of the Indian; it was monotonous, never var is nor stopping, save when the giants stopped to listen. It worked Tarsus Nightwell into a passion of madness. He drew his knife, and crouched in the path. Simon, not missing him for the roar of the Ausable, went on. — Panther-like, the giant waited for the mys- terious trailer, It continued to approach, and in the very path which the hunters had made in the leaves. Nightwell saw it not, but marked its a roach by the footsteps. Slowly he drew the ong knife back and held his breath. : The. giant saw for a moment, and then, throw- ing his bod , tiger-like, forward, struck with all his migh ; ; x& But nothing op his knife, and the hunt- er went headlong across the trail to fall into a ‘hat worthy heard the call and halted, for the first time to discover that Nightwell was not at his heels. Pe jumpin’ jingo! the fool went back to fight it! fe eaid. ‘‘He’s runnin’ as if the old Zach war at his heels.” Like a wild deer the giant was pushing Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. —— through the Adirondack woods, breaking the / young bushes. down, and startling more than one animal from its covert. He would have rushed past Simon, if that in- | givigual had not checked him with his great and. “You'd run s into the Ausable!” Simon said, harshly. ‘‘ Thar isn’t a sleepin’ thing in these woods now—my head on thet! “What hev ye seen?” . . “Don’t ask me, Simon; it war nothin’ thet | hes blood. I struck with all my might, an’;by | the holy stars! I fell right through it! Come, | Simon, let’s git out of this devil-land. It wara | Seo gs an’ cold as the air—fur my blood froze as I went be it.” Tarsus Nightwell, the giant, was the incarna- tion of fright, and Simon Oldfoot caught the disease. He felt the chill of terror in his heart, and | as he lisitened, not to the natural unterrify- | ing roar of the river, but to the sepulchral drip, drip of the water through the trees, he be- | came incapable of flight. And, added to other sounds, came that awful trot of the mysterious trailer. Ghost it certainly was, for Tarsus Nightwell | had fallen headlong through it! ~ CHAPTER II. PINEY PAUL AND NOKOMIS. Nor trotting; but walking rapidly through the Adirondack woods was the “‘ ghost ” which had | frightened the two men, who would have attack- | ed an entire Indian village or stood their ground against a pack of mountain wolves. Of course it was not a specter, but a person composed, like the giants, of flesh, blood, bone and sinew! The easy swinging motion of the body and | the ‘elastic step were the causes of that gait, so | like the well known dog-trot, It was the figure of a boy that glided shadow- like under the rain-burdened branches of the | trees—a boy clad in wild and fantastic garb of | buck-skin, with a cap of fur, and moccasins of | elegant Libgienre articles of furniture filled the subterranean abode. A couch of skins directly beneath the drawing of rural peace and ee, was the only ob- ject that suggested repose. Besides several guns and a half-concealed provision chest, it was the only thing there. ; © boy at once seemed at home in this strange place. Healmost tossed his gun into one corner, and pang his cap, pine plume and all, upon the cou ‘* Piney Paul is at home!” he said, in a rich voice, and a tone of undisguised joy. “ His lodge is undisturbed, ha! ha! They’ find it not; the guard keeps ward and watch over it,” and he lanced at the grinning face overh “The ong trail begins now. They are here from the city to the south, and others will come. The
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‘The Hidden | Lodge. Where is the last chief of the mountain Upas?”’ In answer to the question there was the-short growl of a wolf-dog. Piney Paul turned quickly at the sound, and confronted a strongly-built Indian naked to the waist. He wore no plume, but his hair was long and lay on his massive shoulders. Between his legs a vicious-looking dog was showing his teeth, as he snarled at the boy. ‘* Nokomis!” cried Piney Paul, starting to- ward the Indian; ‘they are here! He has sent them from the city to find and to slay!” ‘‘Nokomis saw them in the forest!” was the reply. ‘‘He came to tell the pine hunter that the not trail together.” The oy started at the Upas’s words, and his eyes flashed. “T know his gold will be far-reaching. .It will, by foul means, buy the Indian over to him; but it cannot buy Nokomis, the last of his race!” ’ For a moment the Indian was silent... The workings of his countenance told that the outh’s speech had affected: him. A mental »attle between good and evil was going on in his mind. . r > t ‘‘Nokomis. has said!” he said firmly, avoid- ing the boy’s a ‘His gold corrupted even you, then!” Piney Paul cried, drawing his e to its full hight, as, with flashing eyes, he started for- ward until he found himself right before the red-skin. ‘‘ Hear me; Nokomis, the last of his race, and a traitor for the white man’s gold! They may trail, and he may trail, but I swear that you shall never find. . I will stand between. his accursed money and the hidden lodge. The trails of these mountains shall yet be sprinkled with blood! You have sold yourself. I drive you from my lodge as I would drive the dog which would s my breakfast. )I will wa you, mean Indian traitor! Not a word out of, our lying mouth! Go! dog and all! But first, ook up and see the evil spirit that smiles upon the league you have formed with the devils of city and say ge 5 or he youth’s r poi over the Indian's eyes followed it. For one brief moment he looked up. In that short s of time his eyes took in the t devilish face and Wings that covered the ceiling, and, with a shriek of terror, he turned on heel and fled from the cavern. ‘Fool was I to trust that Indian!” Pine Paul said. ‘‘He has sold himself to Cec Crane’s schemes, and my cave secret will fol- low him. But I willstand alone. By the God who loves the flower of the hidden lodge! I will baffle them. I was driven to these soli- tudes, and I will show them that there is a tiger in the fastnesses of this devil-land more cun- ning and relentless than the terror of the jungles. Didn’t I know that they would come some day to hunt for the hidden lodge? Will he come himself? No! he dare not invade these mountains where lurks for him the only Reon who wants his blood. Stay back, Cecil Crane! don’t come here !” CHAPTER III. THE INTERRUPTED CONFERENCE. ‘‘THAR’s not the sign of a boat hereabouts, an’ we've skarted the whole island. Nokomis an’ Red Loon will not stay away much longer. What d’ye say to landin’ hyar, anyhow?” ‘‘ Yes, land here, Tarsus. We have not been observed, I am sure.” " ‘‘Obsarved? of course not. It war quite dark when we left the shore, an’ the risin’ moon will not betray us now. This island is a place of my own pickin’, Mr. Crane. Simon hyar hadn’t a word to say in the matter. They call it Deer Island—the Injuns do—but they don’t know why. Nokomis, who knows every foot of the surface, says he never see’d a deer hyar. (Guess ey call it that because a deer never got yar. ; The man who smiled mig at the hunter’s last remark was a person of two and thirty, with snaky eyes, and a cold, money-cunning face. He was fashionably dressed to be a ha- bitue of the Adirondacks; there were rings of much value on his white hands, and a diamond in on his bosom. He sat in the stern of a long canoe, which, be- sides himself, carried the two hunters, Tarsus Nightwell and Simon Oldfoot. efore the craft loomed the form of an island roughened with trees and deep indentations of coast—one of the pi ue apote of land that beautify the watery of Tupper. 3 soon passed leape ashore. “They were to meet us at a certain place, I suppose,” the cityfied man said, half questioning- Vic Of course,” answered Simon. ‘‘ We’ve been hyar afore an’ kin find the place. Wonderful country, this.” ‘“‘ Nature is wild here,” was the reply. ‘¢ An’ the people, too!” : ‘“‘The Indians, you mean?” ‘‘Everybody! Bless you, Mr. Crane, if you’d seen what Tarsus an’ me hev seen since we’ve come into this country, you ‘wouldn’t be hyar or to meet two red-skins on Deer Island.” ‘Perhaps not; but I do not intend turning back until my work is accomplished,” the city man said with firmness. ‘‘I may be sree, life, but I will go on. _ There is no turning ‘4 till my work is done, I care not what obstacles lie in my way. I came here for business!” There was no reply; but the two giants ex- changed looks that were significant. The boat was moored to the body of a tree which the violence of the mountain gales had hurled into the water, and the trio pushed into the interior of the island. ‘““They’re thar,” said Nightwell, suddenl throwing his voice over his shoulder at his fol- lowers, and a minute later five dark human fig- ures stood amid the shadows that nestled on the center of the island. “This is our master!” said Nightwell to the two Indian figures, waving his hand as he spoke toward Cecil Crane. ‘‘ This is the white man with the gold. He will tell our red brethren what he wants. Nokomis and Red Loon must know that he never: liés!” Without waiting for. Nightwell to finish the introductory remar il Crane extended his hands, which were en by the stranger with expressive ‘‘ ughs” and “ good brothers. “TI came from the great city to see you,” Cecil Crane said, as the Indians drew their fi s to majestic hight, and with arms fold upon brawny re for him to _ * Long ago some evil: hand stole a white child from the arms of its mother, and it was carried to this country. Somewhere that child is still hidden, watched by the person who stole it. That was seventeen years We have beard that she has been seen in these mountains and we have hunted for her; but all trails have ended sud- denly, as if the child had stepped into the water of this lake.. I came to tell my red brethren that if they find the trail and bring the white child to me, I will load them down with gold, and with fine from the t city of my pores My friends are here. They are skillful unters; they will trail with Red Loon and No- komis.” Cecil. Crane finished, and stepping back, awaited a reply. The Indian called Red Loon, a lithe fellow, bas possessed of much strength, broke the si- ence. ** Red Loon will trail the child-stealer for his ‘me brother!” he said. ‘‘ He must be well paid, or does not the chief take his life in his hands? There is one who will ‘follow Red Loon. He will tear the white child from the Indian’s arms and send a bullet to his heart. The canoe boy is a tiger.” Cecil Crane looked at his white companion. ** Whom does he mean?” he asked. “Pll tell ye arter ’while. Don’t let the boy bother A We're five; he’s one. Odds enough, on, z ‘Odds enough, Mr. Crane,” said Oldfoot. Tell Red Loon that. you'll give him all he wants.” The last sentence, couched in a whisper, fell me the white man’s ears alone, and he assured the caviling Indian that his trail should be plentifully sprinkled with gold coin. The Indian’s eyes reedily. It is enough!” said Red Loon. “We will trail the man with the white girl. The woods and rivers of this land are as open ground to Red 1oe8 and Nokomis. Will my white brother go bac ‘No! said Cecil Crane, quickly. ‘‘ Without the gil I will never return.’ ifn poelpetes Seed dep a thunder at the feet of the five the thrilling cations not have startled them less. : The voice came from the impenetrable gloom of the pine shadows, and every face was instant- ly turned toward them. Cecil Crane’s was white; a nameless terror had taken possession of it. “Lead back your tools and get yourself from this domain!” cried the same stern voice trom the shadows. ‘‘ The 1 whom you seek shall never fall into your ds. Between her and you stand death in more forms than one. It is decreed in heaven that your gold shall never drag her from the hidden lodge, Leave this country, Cecil Crane!” The man to whom these words were address- ed listened like a crifninal at the bar fa’ his death sentence, and he staggered against Sin.n Oldfoot with a sound— -curse, half-cry. “Tt’s a lie!” he cried, recovering himseié im- pulsively and darting forward. ‘I care not if all the devils of these solitudes 1 eagainss me. No voicecan drive me hence.- Tarsus, Si- mon, what are you doing? You know this island. Follow the villain and bring him to me!’ But the giants did not move, and the Incians were motionless, too. “Foller a shadder or a ghost?’ said Night- well, with the old leer of fright in his eyes which a fortnight previous had glittered there. “We'll hunt the fur ye, an’ all that; but we wouldn’t foller the thing what spoke fur ali the gold in yer chests.” “Pish!” flashed Crane, derisively, and with anger. ‘‘To perdition with your ghosts! Red Loon and Nokomis, are you, too, afraid? Yow know this land. Follow the liar out there im the gloom. Let him not escape. Here! my riches for his accursed scalp!” Cecil Crane tore the gold chain from his neck, tached to it into Red Loon’s hand. ‘*Red Loon is brave!” said the Indian, as he thrust the costly gift aside. ‘‘He will huxt the pale girl; but he stands here like a tali pine when the spirit s ” i ** Cow a the see rt renee _ moi) rom its or to) the lividness rage. ‘‘Tam not aah face the liar. AH the imps of this imp-land cannot frighten me.” With a suddenness that no one ‘could meet, he tore the rifle from Nightwell’s gripe and bound- ed forward. But the next instant a hand seized his collar, and lifted him bodily from the ground. . It was the hand of Simon Oldfoot. * You're ,” saidthe giant. ‘‘ We'll sar- cumvent that feller out thar some timé or: oth- er. The advantage is all-his’n now. We knows our business.” Cecil Crane was forced to listen, firmly held | as he was in the vise-like of Oldfoot. “The trail to the hidden lodge will be bloody!” came the voice from the darimess. ‘The crimes of the past shall be avenged. ‘The eagles of the Adirondacks and the wolves will at the bones of Cecil Crane and his fol- owers.” Simon Oldfoot released his employer and saw him brace his courage up. ) “Pll prove it all a lie!” he cried: “I am not afraid of you! The eagles and the wolves shall behold your carcass, and the coyotes shall quar- rel over it. Iam here, and here I stay until I accomplish my purpose! Beware, sir boaster! I have gold enough to hire every Indian in these fastnesses to all pou. I will make each one a blood-hound.” The only answer wasa wild, derisive laugh, which seemed to set the leaves in motion as it rippled through them. CHAPTER IV. THE SHADES OF DEATH. HatF an hour later the island on the bosom of Lake ie sara then by an Indian name. as difficult of pronunciation as the cognomen of Maine’s rivers—was deserted by humanity. The moon came up slowly and bathed the sleeping water and the tips of the stately pines in - “mee of nen? light. the cha wo ts were di ing in OWS seve Stig e Phey contained to disturb the listening ear of nature. The figure that occupied the middle of the barque was boyish in proportions. It was Piney Paul’s. . ahi He guided the boat toward a dark island-like jena Stra might have been visible tc keen eyes Deer Ssland. It. lay some distance north of the place of the interrupted conference, and was not so large as it, by several acres. When the boat touched the most adventure— some shadows of the trees. the boy lifted the
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+: bugle to his lips and blew a blast that made the distant mountains with delightful echoes. He blew but once, when the yo fell at his eee are S e edge of the shade. For several moments there was no , and the boy, manifesting fretful impatience, was lifting the bugle again, when a sound, like the plunge of some animal into the water, caused him to desist. ‘ ‘‘Tam heard!” he said with satisfaction, as he bent forward to catch sigut of the object that was approaching thro e water. Presently the ri ao sent forth by the swim- mer eddied to his boat, and then a dark shaggy head was lifted from the lake, and two paws, drenched, but large and powerful, rested on the gunwale. Two paws, not hands, for the swimmer was a monster yo **So you heard me, Death?’ the boy said, pat- ting the dog ren eg a the head. | ‘‘ How is words fell from Piney Paul’s li he thrust a curi between the ““T don’t know whether I am d right in trusting m,” the bre watchi the dog’s head as it moved toward the island. ‘I am match enough’for Cecil Crane and his hire- lings. But the old hermit knows i about my life hunt; and without that know i Biows -' fingers at the foes of the secret, snap ‘mM at the foes o Adirondacks.” ? A few minutes after the dog’s departure, a singular cry came from the shadows of the island, and the canoe instantly .shot forward again. inging from the barque the alighted on tert firma and started into the interie of the A few steps sufficed to bring him to a stran; habitation built of are aes It was y large enough to comfortably accommodate a single PF ging however few his wants, and re- sembled the lair-like abode of some barbarian. This habitation was revealed by a fire that blazed at the hovel-like door, and showed the —_ who stood there waiting to receive his itor. In appearance the ogre of the island tallied omar with his surroundings. He was old, mand dwarfish. His skin looked like burned parchment, or the skin of a mummy, lifeless, dark and shriveled. Two little eyes literally burned in his head, and the lips, when abs rae he two rows of wolfish-like fangs. clad, with powerful chest hideously tattooed as if to frighten the timid, the ogre of the island confronted Piney Paul. Place two bat-like at his shoulders, and the original of the ogreish portrait in the cave bse get SS) beside this imp of the Adirondacks was the dog which had answered Piney Paul’s signal—a brute of unusual proportions, ferocious in aspect; a Nero of his species. The be of the ogre danced like serpent orbs when they fell upon the boy advancing fear- lessly into the lig’ t of the fire. “T am here!” Piney Paul said, halting at a respectful distance from the fiend of the island. ‘“‘ You have promised to tellme to-night. There are bad men on the trail. One man’s gold has The ogre’s eyes flashed with showin that into his barbarous heart the love of gold had penetrated. He came ‘forward stealthily like the panther, with his eyes fixed beast-like upon the boy. **I don’t like those eyes; they may mean mis- chief!” thought Piney Paul, involuntarily re- treati —— “Tell me, toc,” he said. ‘‘ Be as gapd as a nen is the lost lodge of’ the The ogre did not ly. His fingers played nervously on the short lub which he hel in his ht hand, coma in “There!” cried e . “You are near If you will break your word, Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ; Iswear that you will never know where the mad Engli hid his gold and jewels. Never, so help me angels!” The boy was aro ; his eyes flashed with indignation and anger, and he raised the rifle menacingly. But ten feet sey Bet nat — baw ry the two savages—the is tigerish dog. He was a goodly Sistapce from the boat, and away from the fire the path was beset with many unseen obstacles. ‘*You have lied!” he flung at the Indian. “ Again and again I have come here but to be put off. I believe you do not know anyeng about the hidden girl. If youdo, why do you repeatedly break your oath-bound promise / I will never come here again.” . The dwarf, almost crouching at the boy’s very feet, replied with a la’ devilish in sound, and dog d his teeth. “The solitary boy disbelieves Ocotoc,” he said, es See eee ee ish tone. ‘‘He would not tell him where the stove op me if Ocotoc showed him the trail e girl. ‘Try me!” cried Piney Paul, eagerly. ‘“ if you dare!” - A Bi pe tell Ocotoe first, and the trail will be m ‘*No,” said the boy. ‘‘I was to give my se- cret for yours—I was to have yours first—that was the 7 The Indian — his fangs and looked at the dog, who caught his glance and then fastened hig ¢yes upon the boy. so striking the that Piney Paul uttered an exclamation of nishment and started back. The new-comer upon the scene was an Indian irl, tall, beautiful and symmetrical of limb. ere was grace in her movements, and but for the mad i of her deep-set eyes of dark- yo might have been taken for the angel of the isle. The eyes of the astonished became riveted upon the enchan They did not return to Ocotoc and Death, until his ve life hung by a thread as slender as the spider's spinning. Pelosee, as she was called, came forw straight toward Piney Paul, watched by the ogre and his dog. Behold the lost girl!” said Ocotoc, suddenly ete Gor hand toward the siren. ‘She stands before the mountain boy. Ocotoc’s secret lies at his feet. Now, where is the English- man’s ld?’ is an In The forest girl who had halted ‘before Piney Paul came forward _— The boy retreated, for she seemed transformed into a veritable tigress. ‘** Now!” cried Ocotoc, springin pees not. ol ym Death te) warn y the ogre’s si Pine Paul's “hasty preparations for de ense wens quickly dashed e. omy mee the maiden and the dog sprung upon He ed with the latter, and retreatin ——. to ke ; 4 6, erect. ‘He eep the sharp teeth from his throat. t was a combat that seemed capable of but one result. The dog, held by the boy, whose estes bee appeared prodigious, tried to get at his throat, while the red tigress, club in hand, tried to beat him into insensibility. But her task was not an easy one, for the combatants, tripped un- expected! , Were on the ground, and a blow aimed at Piney Paul et brain the dog. All at once toc with a cry. called the girl off, and the two watched the fight on the ground. Tt was now a test of strength, for without weapons of any kind at his command—his rifle having been wrenched from his ‘by Pelo- see at the commencement of the a’ —the boy was forced to combat with the arms which na- ture had given him. Fretting like a wild animal, eager to ici- oe in the battle, the.island girl was, with dif- culty, restrained by Ocotoc. Her eyes flashed fire; her hands clutched nervously at her side, — heaved with the excitement of The two antagonists were almost equally matched. The dog Death, erful as he was, pow found a foe worthy of his metal in the little her- mit of the ‘Adirondacks. der oa With one hand at the monster’s shaggy throat and the other striking furious blows at his eyes, Piney Paul fought with the courage of a Turk. The dog began to succumb at last. The gripe on his throat tightened like a vise. At length Piney Paul, with a sudden effort, threw him off and sprung to his feet. His victory was greeted with cries of e, and he suddenly found himself confronted by Ocotoc and the utiful tigress, Pelosee. The dog, placed hors du combat, was lying at the ogre’s feet, rolling his eyes and perc rd for breath. The choking and the blows in the side had well-nigh finished him. Piney Paul was desperate! With a wild exclamation of defiance, he sprung for his rifle, which, as he touched it, was snatched up by Pelosee.’ But the boy with a quick movement wrenched it from her grasp and hurled it above his head. 3 The mad siren did not retreat from the threatened blow. She sprung ree him with the bound of the jungle king, uttering a half- brutish cry, and the mountain boy struck with all his might. But a stout pine limb arrested the blow, which otherwise would have crushed the vixen’s skull, and the rifle, shivered at the lock, fell from his hands! Piney Paul uttered a of horror, and before he aol rat f in the arms iantess. ag um an er e 8 ears like the knell of doom, 4 CHAPTER V. THE PIT OF WOLVES. Tue situation of the Adirondack hermit was now critical in the extreme. Weakened by his | struggle with Death the dog, he was as a ild in the sinewy arms of Pelosee. The witch of the island held him out at arms’ length until Ocotoc had glutted his curiosity upon him. Piney Paul did not resist; he looked into the eyes of captor and saw no gleam of mercy there. If Pelosee was Ocotoc’s c she had the nature of her sire. ‘Will the mountain boy tell where the En- glishman’s yellow rocks are now?” cried the satyr, coming forward with that avaricious yearning of the miser shooting from his snak ee ‘*He is a caught bird, and Pelosee wi bloody the feathers on his throat if he tells not.” The threat found confirmation in the eyes of the witch. The twain understood one another perfectly. “Do you think I would tell you, when you would say I lied, and kill me anyhow?” the lit- tle- hermit said to the Indian. ‘I am not the fool for whom you take me—not by a long shot! Stars and rs! I don’t give secrets away. Where is the lost white girl#—where is the hid- Gamtagyee Tell me that, and then ask about the go The boy seemed to forget that he was in the power of the spirits of the island. The ries. trail of his life rose paramount to death in that perilous hour. He thought onl of discovering that secret which the wild Adi- rondacks kept studiously hidden somewhere in their F poor recesses—a secret for which he had uried himself from civilization, trailing the In- dian, the wolf, and the bear, with the hope of solving it, and righting a monstrous wrong. For a brief moment Ocotoe'did not reply to the boy’s demand, which, considering his situation, smacked strongly of the ludicrous. Piney Paul saw the dry skin darken, and the wrinkles of the brow contract. A thunder-cloud seemed to lower itself upon the Indian’s face; the flashing of his eyes were the arrows of light- . ee constantly cleaved the gloom. ‘There is a place where the mountain wild- cat will tell!” he said mysteriously and with rancor. ‘‘ Ocotoc not there, for his limbs are weak, and he might fall. Pelosee will take the boy thither, and he shall tell her where the gold is or—bve left alone!” y The wo ‘* be left alone” seemed indicative of some terrible doom. Pelosee started forward in the direction indi- cated by the Indian’s finger, and Piney Paul found himself borne from the spot by his cap- r. “Tf I live to leave this infernal island alive, race pay for this night’s work!” he cried over shoulder at the dwarf, whose look told how his heart was beating with fiendish “Snakes and spirits! I want to live just to treat you as you deserve. There'll soon be no Ocotoc, if I get out o’ this!” The of a fiend f him, and Piney Pant edited hie tee
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The Hidden Lodge. Though his feet touched the ground he took but few steps in the natural gait. One of Pelo- see’s hands griped his arm like a shackle, and the a. seemed to encircle the very bone it- self. e could not have broken from that fetter of flesh, any more than he could have torn him- self from the rack of Spanish torture. Pelosee was not the only guard,'for there trot- ted at his heels the dog, late meee, somewhat recovered, and ready to rend him to pieces at the bidding of the island witch. After awhile the party began to ascend the side of an acclivity. Pelosee pushed her way through the small brush that fringed the foot of the rise, and entered the line of trees. Piney Paul looked up and saw the moonlight far above him. He was ages by the sight, for a moment; but when he recollected that many of the isl- ands of the Adirondack lakes contained single rosy of startling hight, he ceased to wonder. eer Island boasted of several an ae though vations which were visible from a tance. Why should not the ogre’s lan much smaller, contain at least one such? No words were exchanged until Pelosee paused as if to make sure of her ings. “The Indian girl is lost,” ey Paul said, noting her perplexed cast of countenance. ‘She lives on the island. Nobody ought to get lost at home!’ ‘*Pelosee is not lost,” was the reply. ‘‘ The rain has fallen on the narrow path. Pelosee and Ocotoc do not come up here often!” The Indian girl had halted in the moonlight, and Piney Paul took a good look at her features, When she had first lea: from the piney hut at Ocotoe’s command, she ap a vision of beauty, and the bo in noted that his first glance had not deceiv: The face was oval and faultless to the minu- test particular. The dark hair of the Indian maiden belon to Pelosee in all its loveliness and wealth. It fell undressed to her glossy shoulders, and, falling over them, increased the romance of her appearance. Her dress, a beaded sacque, reaching to the knees, was a very mar- vel of backw ingenuity, and the leggings of dressed buck-skin ended at the top of handsome moccasins. While Piney Paul was engaged in studying his captor, she moved on again, and the ascent of the mountain became somewhat tiresome. But Pelosee still clutched the boy’s arm, and helped him over the uneven ground with much apparent ease. ‘Ts that man down there your father?” Piney Paul suddenly said, looking up into the girl’s face. ‘‘It doesn’t ap to me that he can be. You’re downrig t good-looking, and live in the wrong company. By the great bear! I would say that you were born a long way from that little old devil below us.” ‘“Hush!” cried Pelosee, her gripe tightening till the little hermit bit his lips in pain. ‘‘ Pe- losee wasn’t born at all. She came in a storm to the island, and Ocotoc is the child of the Great Spirit. 4 “Gimminy and crickets!” cried Piney Paul. ‘‘ ’d rather be born right than come to such a home in a storm, leastwise in the kind o’ storms that sometimes thunder through these moun- tains. So Ocotoc is one of God’s children, eh? I expect I’m one of the few people on earth who don’t believe that. But it was a pretty storm what fetched as here, Pelosee—a little moun- tain shower when the sun was shining.” The Indian witch did not reply to the boy’s ae wpe BE but gave him a look of more feeling than she had yet bestowed, and kept on. “Do you know an a the hidden girl?” y Paul ed. ‘Tell me, Pelosee, and I will never forget you.” The answer was a rude jerk. “The mountain boy will soon forget Pelo- see,” were the accompan words. ‘She knows where the whi ower grows in the lost lodge; but her lips are shut.” The boy darted her a scrutinizing look. There yes honesty in her demeanor, candor in her mn e. _ “Shut, are they?” he cried, stopping and forc- ing her to pause. ‘‘Won’t gold open them? Tell me, Pelosee, and all the gold of the Eng- lishman shall be yours. Tell me and let me and I'll load you down with the yellow dirt.” ‘“No! Pelosee dgn’t want the yellow dirt. But he will tell her where it is before she lets him go.” ; "Without you telling me about the hidden ‘The trio were going up the side of the moun- tain in the moonlight. Piney Paul noticed that the air got rarer as they advanced, and that the mountain sides were becoming rocky and rough, with chasms here and there, and holes like volcanic craters. He had clambered to the top of Whiteface, and from thence surveyed the rough ponderape of the Adirondacks; but he believed that he was ascending a peak which, if not so elevated, was grander than that king of mountains. at once Pelosee stopped and spoke to etne’ dl if understanding b e dog, as unde ing her, set up a peculiar barking, which was immediately an- swered by the distinct howls of wolves which seemed to emanate from the bowels of the earth, but at a point still above them. “Wolves by hokey!” the mountain hermit involuntarily exclaimed. ‘‘ They don’t get this far up on the mainland mountains.” ‘““They stay here!” Pelosee answered, with mysterious significance. ‘‘The little wood-cat will see.” A few steps further on brought the trio to one of the numerous hollows or basins which we have casually mentioned. It was almost square, and seemed some dark cellar formed by the hands of mountain imps. From its depths came a series of wolfish howls that rivalled Bedlam. Piney Paul heard the ravenous animals fight- ing each other, and caught glimpses of brute fi in furious combat. he moonlight fell upon one of the walls of the basin, and its silver, glancing therefrom, but vaguely revealed the occupants of the natural cage. cy Ocotoc caught the wild dogs when the snow covered them in the mountains,” Pelosee said, suddenly answering pe Paul’s mental ques- tion of ‘‘ how came the wolves there?” ‘‘ Pelosee feeds them when she likes; but for three nights they have not tasted meat.” Did the boy shudder? If he did not, nothing could appall him! “*T guess I see throngh the matter,” he sai looking up into the girl’s face, now calm an not stern. ‘‘’m to go down among them if I don’t tell you about the gold.” Ne ‘Thus says Ocotoc, the child of the Great irit. MS Or somebody else’s devil!’ said Piney Paul madly. ‘See here, Pelosee, what have you go’ againstme? Must you kill because he says ‘kill? Gimminy and crickets! you might want help somewhere some o’ these days. Besides, the white girl is poor; she is hunted by bad men; she is your sister, Pelosee, and mine, too.” The girl’s eyes softened and fell upon the mountain boy. ‘* Pelosee no sister,” she said. ‘The mountain cat wants to make her his squaw.” “You're getting jealous. It’s all out o’ place here. Pelosee, there is a land far from this island where there is an empty lodge. We would be happy there. No Ocotoc, no little hut of pine boughs.” e girl was silent. “‘T would come back,” said the boy, continu- ing quickly. ‘‘Go and tell Ocotoc that I was thrown to the wolves. He will believe.” ** But the dog would say that Pelosee comes a a forked tongue,” said the Indian, hes- i g. Piney Paul looked at his old enemy, the dog. The ani was lying on the ground with his head over the rim of the basin, snarling at his der brethren, the wolves. “He will never tell!” the boy cried. ‘ You - «: Ocotoc that he fell in trying to bite me. ere The next moment_there was a loud cry of canine terror, and Death went headlong into the pit, sent to his doom by the young imp’s foot. Pelosee uttered an exclamation of horror, and fin rong found hi lifted from the groun “The Mountain Cat must follow the dog! But he shall have a knife to fight the wolves with. Pelosee was going to let him hunt the hidden girl; but_now—now he must go down to the wolves—down to the mad mountain dogs!” Piney Paul caught the glitter of a knife as it was thrust into his belt, and the next instant he was pushed over the edge of the basin. * For one moment, awful and brief, Pelosee held him in Fc a8 ere he fell down—down among the wolves over the quivering body of the dog Death! . » CHAPTER VI. : THE MUTINY. : DAYLIGHT, when it broke, found Cecil Crane and his followers pushing through a rough forest of pine and hemlock, > The was guided by Red Loon, in whose tracks Nokomis the Upas trod with the noiseless tread of the panther. . By and by the guide turned abruptly aside, and the ascent of a mountain began. Slowly up the steep sides the toiled, and when the peak been a view, un- anand in grandeur, burst upon their vision. e Adirondack country, in its primitive wild- ness, lay around them, its sheets of land-locked waters, its immense forests and towering elevi- tions. While the scene called forth exclamations of surprise and wonder from the whites, the two Indians did not appear in the least affected. To them the sight was commonplace; they had wit- nessed it so often that no wonder clung to it. ‘“‘Somewhere yonder is the hidden lodge,” Red Loon said, with a rep Sys of his scar- let hand, as he turned to il Grane. ‘‘ The ils are long; they are dark; they lead to death!” A slight pallor overspread the hunter’s face. “‘T am pre for anything!” he said with an effort. ‘Do not seek to discourage me with an enumeration of the difficulties that will beset us. Let us put a truce to such things and plunge into the work at once.” ‘The Indians exchanged glances, and Nokomis nodded. “Come!” he said, turning to Crane. ‘GThere is something for the white man to see.” The tone in which the chief uttered his words, and the look that accompanied them, startled Tarsus Nightwell. ‘‘Hold on, thar!” he cried, seizing the Upas as he was about to turn away. ‘‘I don’t want to see everything in these infernal mountains. I didn’t come hyar to hunt up every ghost-hole; but to find the lost gal. e me! if Igoa step, fur I know that aad tse to show up something awful. Take Mr. e with ye. kin hunt tter if I don’t see sartin things, per- _ ne turned upon the giant with a look of mingled scorn and rage. : ‘*T didn’t think you were so superstitious!” he said, scarcely able to bridle his ire. ‘‘Getout cf that or we will never find our prey.” ; ‘* See hyar, Mr. Crane, I’m a man, Iam!” wes the retort. ‘‘By the jumpin’ jingo! I'll doas I please; go whar I want to, an’ stop when an’ whar | see fit. You'll wish yerself back in the city afore you’re a week in this devil-land. Me an’ Simon arn’t afeard of all the wolves an’ Injuns in creation, but when you buck us ag’in’ spooks an’ sich things, by the holy stars! we Th ae yee tee Lenneil | e unter turned abru away. “Lead on, Nokomis. J will. look ab an thing;” and, with a look of almost fiendis scorn said to his white tools: ‘‘Stay here if you are afraid.” With lowering looks and incoherent curses, which boded ill for the pene. were the re- torts. The two giants remained standing in their tracks, while the Indians led Cecil Crane around a ledge of whitened rocks made ghastly by the presence of some lifeless lichens, and dis- — a They’re cowards at heart!” muttered the white man. “I heartily wish they would de- sert me. My red friends are not such fools.” Nokomis leading the se erntueliy veered to the left as if encircling peak. The rocks now huge and bare rose about them, mighty canvasses of stone for the hand of nature’s artists. All at once the Upas halted and turned upon the white. ‘Our white brother is ing!” he said. ‘He can read the signs in the sky and tellabout the rain and the sun. Can he read that?” Cecil Crane saw the Indian pointing to a large rock upon whose side_the rays of the morning sun were beating. It seemed ablaze with burnished gold; but a second look reveal- ed some rude lettering thereon, and, eager to see, Cecil Crane stepped aside to obtain a proper view. = e rock towered for thirty feet above him, and there upon its bleached surface was the fol- lowing sentence: ; *‘ Death awaits Cecil Crane in the land of the hidden lodge!” The Indians watched the worki of the white man’s countenance as he © words sculptured in the rock. It became white as the snows that crowned the crest of Whiteface, and he started back with quivering li ar . ““ Who did it?’ he cried, pointing to the rock. “Ask the Manitou!” was the reply. ‘Red Loon and Nokomis do not know,”
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Cecil Crane stared at the warning, reading it in and again. : ““Tt is everywhere!” said Nokomis. ‘‘ Does the white man know what it means?” “Ves! but it is a lie!” cried Cecil Crane. “ What if I left this land to-day?” 7 “Does the strange marks say that the white man is hunted?’ ioned Loon curiously. ‘It makes no difference what they say!” was the tart reply. “I say hme come and that is enough. Let us go back, if this is all you had to show me.” “Tt is allnow. But the white man will see more by ’m by!” The y now setout upon their return, and in a short time rejoined the two giants who awaited them. “* Wal, what did the red-skins show ye?” asked Nightwell. “Something of no moment,” was the reply. “IT should think not, jedgin’ from yer Why, it looks like an iceberg or some sich thing. Simon and me’s been thinkin’. Look hyar, Mr. Crane, we hevn’t got one dollar yet fur all our ’ in this kentry. Hadn’t you ee up a little?” il Crane, in no humor, flashed at the —— like a heap of ignited powder. Tarsus Nightwell bad applied fire to his ire. “You know the bargain!” he cried. ‘“‘ You need no money se te ger wan t to leave my em you can of you. ENO. sech talk as that or thar’ll be a row in camp. the — jingo we mean business! It looks like death to stay with you. We didn’t know this when we came hyar—did we, Simon 7 “Not by a long shot!” growled the second mautineer. For a moment the white men glared into each other’s eyes. Within the last few hours Cecil Crane had witnessed enough to render him a desperate man. He was desperate. “Say it quick!” blurted Tarsus Nightwell. **Ts it to be money or separation?” The ¢iant looked at the knife that stuck in his heavy icathern belt, but quick and brief as the lance was, Cecil Crane caught it. In an instant he took the rifle from Red Loon’s hands, and Nightwell, as he started back with a curse, found the muzzle of the cocked weapon at his breast. Simon Oldfoot stared at the thrilling tableau. “ Which will you do now—follow me hence- forth without grumbling or die where you | stand?’ cried Cecil Crane. “What's the use of puttin’ the question in chat way?” said the giant, whose face was white. ‘You’ve got the upper hand, Mr. Crane; but, by the holy stars, if [hed you whar you hev me thar’d be somebody shot. I don’t ~vant to go out just yet, nor in this way, so well trump - matters in different me tr “Youre getting sensible now,” said Crane, ing the rifle at Nightwell’s breast. ‘‘ Down! Be and swear to follow me—no, to carry out your | h | boy’s lips, when there came a sharp sound, the ell upon their | part of the ment! Both of P down!” The men did not hesitate, but knees, and took the solemn oath which fell from Cecil Crane’s lips. The rifle was then returned to Red Loon, and | of the ~without another word the party began to de- | | to scend. ace, "| Beadle’s HalfDime Library. turn from Death to the rich morsel of brave i which she had dropped into their en. The youth alighted sooner than he had hoped to, and fortunately on a spot unoccupied by the wolves, who, at the further side of the pit, were rending the unfortunate island-dog. He drew his knife and awaited the merciless onslaught which he believed would soon follow. But in this he was disappointed. The gaunt animals, six in number, seemed de- termined to finish Death, the dog, before paying their respects to the new-comer, and the moun- tain boy, hugging the blood- ttered wall of the cavern, held his knife ready for the combat. It soon became evident that the animals were not aware of his presence, for he had dropped noiselessly into the shadows of their rocky cage, while they were mwarerrme | for the dog’s flesh. But this ignorance could not be expected to con- tinue long. Was there no retreat? Piney Paul looked up and saw the glitter of the stars; he saw the moonlight lying like silver upon the rim of the basin. But no friendly rope hung over his head, and no voice bade him stand firm until safety came. Safety! from whence would it come to the boy in the pit of wolves? He saw the battle end over the last bone. He heard new growls of wolfish rage and blood- thirstiness, and saw mad eyés turn suddenly upon him. He was discovered, and the fight for life—the forlorn fight as it terribly seemed—was about to n! e ran his left hand over the walls about and above him, with the hope that niches or steps might be found in the yielding rocks. Nor was the search fruitless, for bis hands touched a shelf in the rock above, and the next moment he stood above the stony projection. But this good fortune promised little hope, his feet but five feet from the floor; but with the d ration engendered by despair, Piney Paul fell to work on the wall with b his knife. The rock yielded, like half-baked clay, and he drew himself up higher. Now the wolves were at him; they sprung up and scraped the soles of his moccasins, while he held his breath and toiled for life. Glancing down, he saw the eagerness of the bloodthirsty animals. They were contending with them- selves for the right to leap at the escaping boy. Holding with his left hand and feet to the niches, he toiled with his right asa human never toiled before. He saw the stars far above, and the moonlight around the basin’s rim seemed as far off as ever. ** Just let me out 0’ this!” he cried, as if appeal- ing to the glittering orbs of night. ‘ Just let me get out o’ this death-hole, an’ the she-devil who put me here will know-that I can punish. They are on the trail now, and I am here with six wolves ready to tear me limb from limb. Snakes and witches! if I had a ladder!” The last word had scarcely left the brave snapping of steel, and the shining knife, broken at the handle, fell at the feet of the wolves! Piney Paul was yet several feet from the rim in, and his last avenue of escape now suddenly had closed to him, and life seemed only be measured by the limits of bodily endur- Cecil Crane had quelled a serious mutiny, but | ance. he had forced an oath upon two of the greatest bonds upon earth. | tion, for their loud howls hac The wolves seemed to ser genes the situa- ceased, and they he foot of the mountain was reached at a | were spneng, up at the mountain boy clinging to place quite ascent. The forest was disfigured by a rough undergrowth of hemlock which impeded loco- xaotion, and progress was necessarily slow. Muttering to himself, Tarsus Nightwell walked iéhind his forest companion. Now and then he laid his hand on thevhilt of his knife, and once he tried to push Simon aside. Gut Oldfoot refused to obey, and shook his head when he saw the knife leap from the leathern “elt. “Not now, Tarsus!” he whispered, and the « iant put the blade away, and doggedly resumed the journey. Cecil Crane was walking over a smoldering voleang; but gold could keep the fires in abey- emuce, ~ “ PINEY PAUL AND THE WOLVES. . Pr.osex, the island witch,bounded down the r2xountain side, after dropping Piney Paul into the pit of wolves. ra. She did not stay to see the rayenous beasts distant from the beginning of the | the rock w: ‘‘How long can I hang here?’ Piney Paul asked himself. ‘‘I might g¢ for six hours if I was fresh; but I’ve worked hard to get here, and that’s against me. But I'll hang till I drop —that’s as certain as they are watching me down there.” He felt the body succumbing to the intense strain endured for an hour or more with great fortitude. His arms grew heavy and painful from wrist to shoulder, and a numbness attacked his hands. Piney Paul looked up imploringly to heaven. He saw the dancing firmament, then the form of some overshadowing ogre seemed to darken the nfouth of the pit, and a great arm came down after him. He shrunk involuntarily from the vision, a loud shriek pealed from his throat, and his fingers left the rocky wall. he wolves sprung to their feet and rushed forward; but the boy did not fall. On the contrary, he was lifted from the basin by the hand which had appeared to him as the claw of some demon, ' He lay white and motionless on the rocks at the edge of the wolves’ den, and a human figure bent over him. It was Pelcsee! CHAPTER VIII. THE LONG SOUGHT TRAIL. Ir was not for the purpose of snatching Piney Paul from the horrors of the basin that Pelosee had returned. Having dropped her victim among the raven- ous animals she fled down the mountain side, nor paused until she found herself amid the un- dergrowth at the base. Then fear and terror took sudden possession of her heart. She was returning to Ocotoc with- out the dog Death! For years the animal had guarded the island home; he and the imp occupied the same cot; they were inseparable! What punishment would be visited upon her for the animal’s death, Pelosee did net know. But the thought of incurring Ocotoe’s blind fury made her halt in the woods and hesitate. She would not face the ogre. Better flight from the island, or death, than that ordeal. Pelosse turned and went back with the deter- mination of casting herself Into the and sharing the fate of Piney Paul and Death. She reached the horrid den in time to see the brave boy reeling into insensibility, and about to give up the struggle which, for two terrible hours, he had carried on with such fortitude. At sight of him a new desire—an eager reso- lution—flashed into her heart. She would not die! She would fly the island, and that with the boy whom she had lately doomed. F Then her hand fell upon Piney Paul, and with her Amazonian strength she drew him out of the jaws of death and laid him down at the rim of the pit! He lay like one dead in the weird moonlight that lay upon the crest of the mountain. is face was ashy, and his hands were torn by the rough edges of the niches. But he was not dead; Pelosee saw that the boy, exhausted by his long endurance, had fainted. She did not try to revive him there, but lifted him as he was and went down the mountain. Behind her the wolves were howling and gnashing their teeth in rage and disappointment. The first streaks of dawn were penetrating the forest when the witch reached the low land with her still unconscious burden. Her face was hot and there was. triumph in her eye. Once at the foot of the mountain, Pelosee dis- covered the path which led to the island hut, and set off through the pines in an almost oppo- site direction. A short journey brought her to the waters of the lake, and, singular to say, to the very spot where the boat of the mountain boy was moored. he Indian witch waded into the clear, cold water, and deposited her burden on the bottom of the craft, which she then loosened and took possession of herself. A moment later the little craft was skimming over the water like a swal- low, the ripples, tipped with gold by the morn- ing sun, dancing about the stern. elosee plied the paddles with accomplished dexterity, which ——_* roved that she was no novice in their use. en she was not looking at the dark land which lay ahead, her eyes rested upon the boy. There was much of native gentleness in the glance. The old flash of fire had left the siren’s eyes. She loved Piney Paul The mainland gradually ‘ew distinct in its varied shapes and shades. é trees stood out in bold individuality, and the mountains, at first so distant, appeared very near. Piney Paul did not open his eyes until Pelosee with vigorous strokes was darting toward a lit- tle cove above which rose a mass of gray rocks! At first he did not comprehend the situation, but when he saw the face above—when he re- membered the dark hand which crept over the edge of the pit in that awful moment—he knew that he was rescued. 3 His stare was met by a smile that illumined Pelosee’s face, and releasing one of the paddles her hand passed gently over his forehead. “Good! The mountain boy’s head is not hot!” she said, with manifest joy. ‘The wolves will neyer get him now.” “But where are we going?’ asked Paul. “Gimminy crickets! This beats my time all- holler. Say, is this my boat?’ : The girl nodded. _ “Snakes and witches, what does it all mean, anyhow?» Why, we’re nigh the mainland, Over * q!
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there is Eagle Nest, standing up like a giant! We've got around Deer Island where I met the hunters last night. You didn’t back to the old man. Afraid to go without dog, eh?” “Pelosee couldn’t stand before Ocotoe and say that the big dog was dead,” was the reply. ‘He’d fume, I guess, over such a catastro- he,” smiled Piney Paul. ‘‘I did the work, and fancy that that kick o’ mine got me into the hole, didn’t it, Pelosee?” “Pelosee like big dog, and when the Moun- tain Cat threw him down to the wolves, arrows of madness, hot as fire, shot into her heart.” “And the Old Harry danced in your eyes,” said the boy. ‘But it’s all over now. You came back and saved me. That is I owe ou a life, Pelosee, and you will not find Piney Paul ungrateful. ‘Where are we ing? That’s the question that puzzles me, besides, I’m sort o’ hungry.” ‘“ Where would the mountain boy like to go?” asked Pelosee, with a curious expression of countenance, Piney Paul started at the interrogative. “ There’s one place above allothers, not just now excepting ise,” he with r- ness. ‘ Pel you know where it is. You told me last night that you did. Thither would Igo. Where is the lost lodge?’ ‘The little hermit of the Adirondacks watched her with great anxiety and impatience; he ao his breath and heard the beating of his own eart. But Pelosee’s eyes wandered from his face, and the paddles rested in the limpid water. “* Where, Pelosee, oh where is it?’ cried Piney Paul, unable to restrain his —— “Tt ig where the white-faces will never find it if Pelosee does not tell,” she said. ** But Fe will tell Yes, you are going to tell me t I may keep her from the hounds that seek her for her blood, ” “ And the mountain boy would forget Pelosee, ~ and go and live with the lost girl?” The island witch was jealous, “But I will never forget you! Why, your hand lifted me from the mouths of the wolves and I would be a dog if Idid not love my red sister for this. Pelosee, I have spent five years of mv life amon — mountains hunting for the lost lodge. It is lost to me yet. m trails have ended suddenly like the path on tho brink of a precipice. But you know where the hidden wigwam is. Will you not tell me, and together we will go to it?” ‘elosee’s eyes flashed with deligh “ Will the white hunter go with Pelosde?’ she ried, ; 2 Fes!” was the answer. _* put an end to my long trails. I will follow you to the lost lodge. The boat touched the bank as Piney Paul uttered the last words and the occupants de- barked. ‘Sink the boat!” said Pelosee, and the craft was sent below the surface, there to remain until needed again. 4 A minute later the pair were pushing through the forest. *« Pelosee,” said the boy, suddenly touching his de’s arm causing her to hat. ‘We are traveling without arms of any kind. The lost home is far away, perhaps.” “Tt is far away,” was the echo. “My home is near,” he said. ‘‘There are weapons there, and food, too; Pelosee.” The girl hesitated and cast her eyes at the sun. “We can go to the mountain boy’s lodge,” she said, ‘‘but we must not stay long. There are others on the trail. “Yes, and we must outwit them. Now at last, Cecil Crane, I am on the right trail!” The halt and consultation resu ted in a change of course, and after several hours of uninterrup- ted journeying, Pelosee for the first time entered Piney Paul’s hidden home. In the light of a cheerful fire the two new friends discussed a meal, and after a brief rest the cave was left behind. Piney Paul was eager to step upon the long- sought trail. He resolved to follow the Indian girl and to obey her implicitly. Once more he was threading the damp rocks washed by the stream that thundered by his cave-home. The cliffs towered for many féet above: them, but he was leading Pelosee to the woods above by a chasm stairway which to-day is the wonder and delight of tourists. All at once Pelosee uttered an eiaculation that startled Piney Paul. He turned as her hand fell tipon his arm, and beheld her pointing over- head. ; He looked up. The gorge was not wide, and The Hidden Lodge. they were midway between the foaming water and the top of the cliffs. A glance told Piney Paul that the place was not unknown to him, for upon several occasions he had crossed the chasm on the tree which some furious storm had converted into a Sry The bri was there spanning the wild Adi- rondack river at that giddy hight; but it was swaying beneath the weight of a human figure. Piney Paul and his guide kept their eyes riveted upon the form which, approaching from the left bank of the river, ually came into view, ae with that caution which the hour demanded. It was the fi of an Indian, and as he reached the middle of the log, with steady tread, Piney Paul whispered to Pelosee: ** Nokomis!” ‘One red man has crossed!” was the answer. A a Red Loon!” — me nator 6 ‘ e@ Upas crossed the gerous bridge in safety, and then the figure of a white men ap- peared thereon. He was followed by another — - a a Hs “* Now for the test villain of the ” Piney Paul grate theoughs clenched teeth with his eyes still fixed on the frail bridge. ‘“ I don’t like to wish any bad things, but I wouldn’t try to save him if I saw the bridge giving way be- — ~ I wish it — ” figure was on the tree, crossing slow] and with evident trepidation. & * Cecil Crane, I'll end your trail here. You shall not live to baffle me at the very threshold of success,” Piney Paul’s eyes were sparkling like coals. The sight of the white man on the log goaded him to uncontrollable madness. Qnick as a flash he raised his rifle, and the click, click of the lock, as the flint flew back startled Pelosee. She saw the weapon snes caught the flash of the hermit’s orbs as they covered the doomed man, and then thrust the rifle downward with her sinewy arm! ** No!” she cried, “not now. The pale-face is on his last trail. His grave must not be the waters.” The boy darted a maddened look at the girl. But she firmly held the rifle down. “Look up!” she said, “The mountain boy can shoot now.” Piney Paul looked uj). The log wits swinging over the chasm; but Cecil rane had disappeared. “Tt may be all right,” said the little hermit; “but it looked like a sin to let_that villain es- cape. He may be on the trail that leads to the hidden 1 , even now.” Pelosee did not reply. That scene, accom ied by bitter regrets, was to return to her oughts before many days. CHAPTER IX. THE BROKEN INTERVIEW. Far in the wild Adirondack ion ms te Litt 4 in by mountains whose creste selves toward the clouds, a placid sheet of water w seems to sleep continually on the bosom of nature At the time of which we write—the beginning of the present. century—the adventurous white man had not disturbed its repose, and the. wild- ness that encompassed it seemed entirely un- broken by humanity. It was not a large lake, but large enough, withal, to boast of a wooded island, which, like an emerald in dark blue setting, lay in the center. Tall pines, clad in the iar foliage that add to the ess of the trees, stood like guardians at the water’s edge, and at the proper season dropped their resinous cones into e lake. The roaming savage in his trails had glanced at the little island and on. The prowli panther had swum to it on more than one cm atory excursion, and had returned to the main- land with h maw, fomno game offered itself to his appetite. But the island was inhabited. One night several days after the occurrence of the arene pocarcee in the last. chapter, the ps ea of a young girl appeared at the water’s ge and Case g a little boat which had been concealed beneath the surface. There was in the movements of the girl- ish figure, which was tastefully clad in comfor- tably fitting forest garb. But the face was white ; the long golden hair which fell upon the well-rounded shoulders and rested lightly there contrasted well with the mild blue e that glowed beneath long silken lashes, e hair was not confined, and its only ornament was a tiny arrow tipped with bright feathers; the mid- dle of the shart was concealed by the flowin tresses, while the shining barb and beautif feathers conspicuously showed their salient points. The island beauty was not armed, as if no danger lurked around; and after bailing the boat, an operation which was quickly performed by dextrously tipping it, she ste into the eraft and pulled for the mainland. A few strokes served to bring the boat to the shore, and she left it and for a moment stood ~ ghemeey in the silvery moonlight which flooded the spot. Tt was evident that the girl was keeping an appointed meeting, for her actions denoted this. ut who could the lover be, in that wild, unfre- quented chamber of nature? We shall see. Shortly after the landing there came a sound from the shadows of the woods that brought a leased smile to the girl’s face. She did not fly, hough the step was cautious and full of stealth, but re a with her beans upon the figure slowly appearing among the pines. At last she was joined by a poreoe to whom she held out her white hands, and her name, gently spoken by the néw-comer, had a mu- sical sound. “Little Arrow is here. The Red Eagle knew that she would meet him and keep her word.” The speaker was a veritable Indian Apollo. He had not passed his eighteenth year; his form was symmetrical, his clothes close-fitting, and, after the backwoods manner, fashionable; his lock oiled, like the hair of the dandy. In face he was, for one of his race, remarkably peor; be oxen oro, laums lusts Sd of e on, and the the ornamented rifle which he trailed at his side was womanish in its creation. That a a were lovers, notwithstanding ~ the con ig hue of skin, was evident. The attitude in the moonlight, the Ma into each other's eyes, the meeting, told ‘ **T will never turn back when I can mee you the white girl said, looking up into the dian’s face. ‘“ What have you been doing away sO long?” mmuning with herself; but the wily ears of e yo co th Rive! > he exclaimed, holding up his left hand with the fingers outspread. Tee a moma she wes ag asa her peer bef i ively, upon her m, and when = lidted it it ar. to say: ' “What else has Rea Eagle seen? We will not think of the five hunters. They will. not find Little Arrow and her father.” The Indian’s countenance was troubled. He was ill at. ease, and the words of the girl failed to reassure him. “This did Red le find in the forest!” he- said, as his hand gli ed beneath the folds of his hunting-jacket. ‘‘ By the falls where the rocks. are sharper knives it lay, as if the rocks had pulled it from the foot.” The speaker held up to the girl a moccasin beaded curiously from. heel to toe, and orna- mented by fringe, which had met with rough usage in the wood. Little Arrow greeted the ty aa with an ex-" clamation of wonder, and, it. from Red Eagle’s hand, held it up in the moonlight and admired it. ** Whose can it be?’ she asked, with a ce at the Indian, ‘‘ Was it worn to the 8, or did the waters carry it to the place?’ “Where Red —— found it, there it was lost,” was the reply. ‘‘There were tracks along the river. Little Arrow, the woods are full of strange people. They are, not on the = for any good. They will be here by and “No, no!” cried the girl, shuddering, and hee fame mm ale, ‘Do not say that they will the + the island, Red Eagle. We are happy But it is not. Little Arrow’s home,” ¢ Indian said. ‘She was not born there, tak away to the south where the mks aanart great lodges of the
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Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. **How do you know this? Who has been talk- to le in the forest?” ‘No one has talked to him. His heart sa that Little Arrow came from the south. Her face is white. The skin of panann is red.” “But I don’t know anything about my girl- hood,” was the reply. ‘‘I have always lived here, and with Pa on the pretty island, No, Red Eagle, 1am not from the great cities to the south. I was born here, but why my face is white I do not know. Patagan rf per- haps, but I never bothered him about it. am happy _ here.” he Indian seemed baffled on the very thresh- old of success. The words of the girl non- plused him for a moment. “Then the white men should go back and make Red Eagle happy, too,” he said. ‘‘ While they are here he cannot smile when the birds ie They hunt Little Arrow. He is sure of ‘*But why?” and the girl started. ‘‘ Who told them that I am here. No, they hunt the one who dropped her moccasin by the river; they do not trail me.” le’s eyes glistened. “Red le had not thought of that,” he said. ‘True, how did they know—if they do know—that Little Arrow is here? They will find the Cy With one moccasin, and then they will The white girl smiled, and saw triumph in - her lover’s eyes. They seemed to have solved the mys of the rs’ presence in the Ailrondask woods But the hag of congratulation was brief, indeed, for the sounds of footsteps and voices fell suddenly upon theirears. Red le turned to the woods and with flashing eyes listened for a moment, like a tiger brought to bay. “Back to the islan ” he whispered to his companion. ‘‘The panthers from the south are i the woods; they must not find the white bird ere. Little Arrow did not wait, but stepped into the canoe and pushed from the shore. The shadows of the island pines stretched their gr ue arms far into the lake, and once among them the boat came to a halt, and Little Arrow turned her face toward the shore. Red Eagle stood in the light until he saw the boat glide into the gloom, when he i a stout pine bough and dextrously lifted his figure up into the dense oe The young red-skin scarcely time to en- sconce himself in the tree when five persons reached the water’s 5 He looked down through the pines and counted five men—three whites and two Indians, “‘ Well, here we are, and nothing yet,” said one of the whites, in evident bad-humor. “ But there’s an island that doesn’t look big ae to hold a wigwam. Is this the end of this ong trailing, Loon? I have trusted you an Nokomis. By the distant gods! if you trifle with me, you shall be paid, not in gold, but in the coin which trifling or treachery merits.” “Tell the white man that Loon_is not fooling him,” said the chief, in the Mohican tongue, to Nokomis. ‘Tell him that the lost lodge is very near—that the white girl will soon be his if he keeps his tongue still and don’t make Red Loon mad.” These words were intelligible to the occupant of the tree; they made him start. Nokomis turned u the white man. “*None of your Indian lingo!” cried Cecil Crane, before the last Upas could deliver Red Loon’s message. ‘‘ Why can’t you two talk like — people? What did Loon say, any- ow ‘‘He said that he fools not the white man— that the girl is near.” “Then why doesn’t he lead us to the 1 ?” was the retort. ‘I’m in the very heart of devil-land. I'm getting tired of are my men. He glanced as he uttered the last sentence at the two whites, who, standing side by side like statues, had not spoken. : ‘Tired, you say?’. growled one of them, now. “Tt’s got to stop soon, Mr. Crane! We've fol- lered the Injuns about long enough, and we'll shift for ourselves pretty soon.” The Indians did not reply; they were bending toward the shore as if examining it. : ‘* See!” cried Red Loon, rising suddenly, and pointing with pride to the ground, as he looked t Cecil Chane. ‘Whose feet makes the little tracks? Will the white man say now that the Indians guide him falsely?” Eager to inspect the signs, the pt wanes stooped. His example was followed by the two — as white men, while Red Loon was ery ne i companion’s attention to the shadow of theisland pines. : Look, Nokomis! It is blacker than the shadows,” he was sa . Weare at the end of the trail; the hidden lodge is there!” The chief’s hand was outstretched, and the Upas, bending eagerly forward, with the flash of triumph and ganar in his little — was trying to caeee out the dark object on the water. ‘Tt moves,” said Red Loon. “What moves, Injun?’ cried Tarsus Night- well, rising at the sound of the chief’s voice. Red Loon did not reply, but relapsed into sul- lenness. “No foolin’, hyar!” was Nightwell’s threaten- ing retort to Loon’s changed mood. ‘ You saw somethin’, by Jehosaphat! You did, out thar on the water. Look, Simon! kin you see it? The Injuns are hatching up somethin’ of their own.” At the giant’s words and threatening de- meanor, Red Loon stepped back and drew his tomahawk, “Oh, is that yer e?” cried Nightwell, springing forward. ‘ Thar’s no Injun in these woods what kin browbeat me, ou two are infernal liars! You saw somethin’ out thar— somethin’ what you want to keep to yerselves!” The representative of the noble Mohican tribe did not shrink back, His eyes glared angrily at the giant, and a collision was inevitable. Cecil Crane saw the situation of affairs at a lance, and quick as thought he planted himself tween the contending races, The next moment there was the sharp report of a rifle, and Red Loon staggered back and sunk upon his knees at the edge of the water! w white, and Nokomis stood gazing. upward as if expecting his doom from the dep F é stars, But the voice startled another person. While the echoes still filled the forest, there came the horrified shriek of a human being from among the pine bou and a heavy body descended and drop among the astonished With exclamations of terror the four started back, while the wraith bounded up, and with a disappeared in the forest. mf was the Red Eagle! CHAPTER X. PELOSEE AGAIN. SIMULTANEOUSLY with the shot that dropped the crested Mohican at the edge of the lake, the boat in the pinery shadows shot suddenly toward the island, It darted through the waters like an arrow, and soon disap Little Arrow’s face was a strange admixture of fear and anxiety. “‘ They do not want the girl with the one moc- casin,” she said, glancing at the beautiful shoe that lay at her feet. ‘ ey come for me; they want to take me from Patagan, and to tear Red my away.” the white girl spoke, there came the dip of oars from the left, and she beheld a canoe glid- ing silently and swiftly through the moonlight toward her. Its approach had been noiseless and certain, and Little Arrow, when she saw it, uttered a ery of alarm, for it was quite near. “Bho saw the single figure that bent to the pad- dies, saw that the person was one of her own sex, and, instead of being reassured, took new {t was in vain that the frightened girl threw all her strength into the task of propelling the canoe; the new craft gained rapidly upon her, and at last she saw the futility of an attempt to escape. The pursuing; boat shot swiftly alongside, and its occupant leaned over and clutched Little Ar- row’s right arm! “White girl must stop!” cried the pursuer, sternly, as Little Arrow drop the paddles and looked into her face. ‘‘Pelosee is strong per to hold her if she tries the paddles ttle Arrow saw the flashing eyes that seemed to burn her face; she noticed the fantastic dress of her captor, and saw ata glance that Pelosee was a ver antess. The white maiden submitted. For many moments the ogre’s child looked curiously into the face of her captive. It was white and very beautiful. It was the face of of the, a girl, and, in its girlish innocence, spiritually i: t seemed the hawk looking at the dove in its ons. ‘*‘ Where is the lodge?” asked Pelosee, suddenly. Little w sent a glance fullof fear toward the island, which now lay between them and the scene of the love amas “Ts it there?’ asked the island witch, noting the rapid glance. ‘‘ Pelosee knew it was near the big cave. Is it yonder, white girl?” pt y do you want to know?” said Little Ar- row. ‘Are bere the owner of this?” She was holding the moccasin up to Pelosee. ‘It is mine!” was the cry that greeted the shoe. “ Pelosee lost it with the mountain boy at the loud water.” . ‘‘The mountain boy?’ echoed the white cap- tive. ‘‘ Red Eagle found it at the waterfall.” The moccasin was snatched from. Little Ar- row’s hand and flung upon the bottom of Pelo- see’s canoe. i Y “Come!” said the giantess. ‘ White girl must go with Pelosee.” f But the captive shrunk back shuddering. The Indian girl’s ipe tightened on her arm. ** Must go!’ ok aa eyes flashed madly. ‘The mountain boy has white girl.” Little Arrow could not resist; she was power- less in the hands of Ocotoc’s princess. Before she could remonstrate, she was lifted bodily from the boat and placed before the In- dian girl, whose terrible eyes almost made her cower at her feet. She believed that she had fallen into the clutches of a demoness! Pelosee left the little boat where she had re- lieved it of its occupant, and seizing the paddles of her own, put about and started for the main- land, which was now cast in shadow by the de- scent of the moon. : : Not a word fell from the lips of either girl as the boat glided swiftly through the water. _ Little w sat before her hee pol porecing from head to foot with an indefinable dre that sent a chill to her heart, The feeling was new toher, Up to that eventful night, her life had flowed uninterrupted in a gentle stream. She had known no foe; saw the exhibition of no passion save the gentlest one, and believed the world as good as her own sweet self. On the other hand, Pelosee was controlled by different feelings. Her eyes were full of tri- umph and revenge; her breast heaved with one of the storms of her wild life. The crouching girl at her feet seemed the victim of some sac- rifice which she, a proud, red priestess, was guiding to the altar of death. She feasted her flashing eyes upon the dove- like beauty of her ey as the canoe swept toward the shore, Her arms rapidly lessened ae boot aS +. reed weed ooked up she saw the trees, like gigantic ghosts, towieling: before her. + Pelosee ran the boat against the bank which yielded, and the craft re ed firmly wedged there—moored without the aid of a rope. Then the island witch rose and motioned her captive to follow her, which she did, and the two stepped upon the bank. : Little Arrow cast an anxious glance toward the island, now hidden somewhere among the shadows that covered the lake, and felt see’s hand on her arm again. ‘“*To the white hunter now!” said the Indian. “ But, ry, Does the white girl love the little mountain boy?’ The white maiden looked up strangely into Pelosee’s face. “What mountain boy?” she said. ‘ Little pa knows no yoing man but the Red Ea- e. © May she will not love the young cat of the es ‘* She loves Red Eagle.” Pelosee uttered a cry of joy. She lifted her captive from her ground, and held her out at arm’s length in an outburst of admiration, as the child holds her doll. _ **Pelosee and Little Arrow will be sisters!” she cried. ‘But if she smiles upon the Moun- tain Cat, then to her heart reddens the knife of Ocotoc’s child.” Little Arrow shuddered at the shining blade which flashed in her face. “Pelosee need not fear. Red Eagle is my warrior.” Was that a step that startled the two girls? They heard the sound like the snapping of a twig, and instinctively turned toward it. The next instant, with a cry of joy, Little Arrow wrenched herself from Pelosee’s praep, and sprung toward a crouching that hugged the trunk of a pine several fee unted long for the 'elo- away.
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, The Hidden Lodge. know me, Where is the slayer? I wish he were here now.” The last sentence, spoken with the defiance of a As she left the witch’s side, the figure at the tree rose and ey her on an arm hastily flung out, and Pelosee found herself almost hurled to the ground. desperate man, was echoing over the sleeping ith a cry of —_ the scarlet captor regained | water, when several pine cones dropped at the her feet, and bounded forward again; but the | feet of the speaker, and the next moment a meen who held Little Arrow so securely, pushed er back once more. The giantess had found her match in strength. Three times the maddened Indian threw her- self upon her savage-like an mist, forthe pur- pose of ————- captive; but by a dextrous movement on rt, her knife was knocked from her grasp an sent spinning into the depths of the lake. At last the unknown assumed the offensive, and thrust Pelosee to the water’s edge. She saw him then, an athletic young Indian, and his eyes seemed to emit sparks of fire, Strength was his passion. He forced her feet into the water, and then flung her over the boat headlong into the lake! Having performed this feat, he turned to Lit- tle Arrow with a laugh of victory, and the two darted into the forest. After a moment’s submersion Pelosee came to the surface and seized the canoe by the aid of which she speedil eee the shore. But her foe aad 1 the late captive were gone. The only thing that gree her was a knife that lay on the ground, She picked it up and springing to a tree buried it deep in the ous wood. ‘* The white girl shall not be Pelosee’s sister,” she said, madly. ‘‘ The five hunters and the lit- tle Mountain Cat shall not find her. Pelosee will trail her and her red brave, and thus she will drive the knife to their hearts!” She tried to the blade from the tree, but tale auuper'eke Gneeged r anger it and flung the han- dle into the water. iaak “Tt is well!” she cried. ‘ When the knife is in her heart Pelosee will break it!” That night, upon the shore of the mountain- locked lake, another obstacle—the revenge of a baffled woman—was flung upon the trail of Piney Paul, the young hermit. figure with human outlines fell from the tree. “IT am here, Cecil Crane!” cried the new- comer, as the giants and Nokomis started from the apparition, leaving their master to confront it alone. ‘‘We were destined to meet in these fastnesses, and by the holy stars! we might as well meet here!” Unable to , Cecil Crane gazed at the boyish fi hat stood before him with the arin full upon the pi es and close- fitting fringed garb of buck-skin. mm I am here! t have you got to say about Then the man found his tongue. “T want you to quit follo me with your accursed threatenings!” he cried, his evil eyes Pm eres Bhd the boy, who was none other than ~s tenings?’ was the echo, and the boy’s glance went to the Mohican lying motionless and death-like now at the water. “Is that the result of threats?” he cried, triumphantly. ** Does that dead red-skin say that I do not mean what I have said? Didn’t you hear your doom on the island, Cecil Crane? Witches and snakes! You will soon be convinced that I do not lie.” The girl-hunter did not reply until his glance had sought his companions, whose figures were not to be seen. Was he alone with the trailer—the person who egw > his blood because he sought the hid- en lodge “We are not alone,” said Piney Paul, inter- preting his rapid glance. ‘‘ Your followers are not far away. or om. Cecil Crane. I am here to listen ond to tell you something.” “*T don’t know you,” the man said. ‘“ I have not much to say. I want no dealings with you. Keep away from me—that is all I ask.” ** All?” and the boy smiled. ‘“‘Iam sure you are very liberal! 8S and garters! Iam much obliged to you. I will obey when I deem obedi- ence the aeepee thing to do. You don’t know me? Well, lam not surprised that you have forgotten me, as we never met but once, and then the encounter was not a pleasant one for me. I know your mission to these solitudes as well as you know it yourself. You shall fail!” ‘“*Curse you!” cried Cecil Crane, striding for- ward; but arifle was suddenly lifted before him. ‘ We'll end the matter here—yes, here! where your cowardly bullet killed my red friend.’ But the maddened man was suddenly halted x S bas muzzle of the rifle which was thrust into stars I'll let the trifling here. I CHAPTER XI. A FRIEND IN NEED, TxE shooting of the Red Loon, so unexpected and mysterious, threw consternation into the ranks of Cecil Crane’s party, as we have seen. The dro) of Red le from the pines and his ope Hight into the forest still further startled th and did not recover until the oang Toten had isa At the ed, , with his feath- ered scalp-lock a the water, lay the prostra red-man, e wild rolling of his eyes told his companions that life still remained ace. “Stand! or by the livi No and now and then a convulsive movemen moonlight through you! didn’t come for that. % ary Bel arm coe jake. od Tarsus Night- “ Nor I, ame agree on that score. Who are r t come from ou, anyhow well, the to break the silence. ‘‘ Thar was me ne wip will not let you find the lost lodge,” se Gant = S ulerainoenhan WGeoil Grass drew back. There seemed pro- come “The slayer has fled,” said Cecil Crane. vests eee ee and visage before “Did you not see him fly into the forest?” “That war not the killer!” retorted the giant. ‘** Cecil Crane, the imp what fell from the pines and then darted inter the woods war an Injun. I see’d enough of him to know, an’ he never shot them words at you—never!” Cecil Crane gave the speaker a frightened ook. “Tt war the same voice what struck you so forcibly on Deer Island!” continued Nightwell. “ Was that an Injun? Go an’ look at Red Loon, go an’ see if the old feller has anything to Piney Paul stood before him with no thought of retreat. All at once there was a sound that startled the antagonists on the shore of thelake. It was the twang of a bow-string, and it came from the canal — which Cecil Crane’s companions had u it came a loud from per Paul, dropping the rifle he slaggered bac with a bar and feathered sticking eruugh his arm! Cecil Crane upon him with an excla- mation of and triumph, and before the boy could draw the knife hidden beneath his buck-skin jacket, he held him by the throat and — him helplessly back. ‘*“ When you follow me again it will not be in the flesh!” the man hissed. “I care not to know who you are now; no one will seek toknow when I am through with you. Here he is, my good fellows; the arrow went clear throu h hie arm. Ss omis try to wing the eagle, or to kill His last words were spoken to the three fig- ures which had followed the shaft from es wood. Nokomis, the Upas, held a bow in his red hands, and his eyes rested upon Piney Paul with much malignance, “No you don’t, Tarsus!” said Cecil Crane, pushing the giant’s hand from his arm. ‘ The captive is mine, and I’m going to put an end to . Perr. Crane moved toward the stricken chief, who recognized him as he knelt at his side. ‘Does Red Loon know who shot him?’ the white man asked. The Indian ground his teeth. “Tt wasn’t Ocotoc!” he said, between his ir on “Tt was the Mountain Cat who is on the white man’s trail.” ou so?” cried Nightwell, who had ht Red toax's words. “It war the boy—the fnjuns call him the Mountain Cat, I guess. Cecil Crane looked up nonplused. “Mountain Cat, or not, I am not afraid of him,” he said. ‘You'd better be, ’'m thinkin’,” was the re- “And why? Did I come to this accursed re gion to be beaten back without the object of my search? No! Tarsus Nightwell, you do not never leave this country,” 9 his infernal trailing. The race between us for the hidden 1 ends here, so far as he is con- cerned! Tie him there, Simon. No! take the rope away, I will attend to him without having him bound.” When Cecil Crane released his , the youth would have fallen exhausted the ground; but the hand was transferred to his arm and he was firmly held. He suddenly jerked Piney Paul upright, and flung him against a pine, ho him the while. Then he caught the shaft, which had en- tirely through the arm, and gave it a wrench. But the arrow, i of co out, snapped with a click, and left the barb in the boy’s flesh! ere was no cry of pain at this exhibition of brutality. Piney Paul’s eyes glared — at his tormentor; but his lips, white and clenched, did not essay a word. ‘* Hold him a moment, Nokomis!” said the vil- lain, suddenly, as he turned upon the Indian, and thrust the boy toward him. The next moment Piney Paul wasin the hands of his red betrayer. “Now we'll finish the work!” said Cecil Crane as he picked up the boy’s rifle. ‘ We'll get rid of one imp who might do us an amount of injury. Hold him out, now, Nokomis. I won’t touch you. One blow will finish the wild-cat.” The spectators saw the rifle lifted above Cecil Crane’s head, as he forward, his eyes glaring at the mountain boy. a t ar’ ye goin’ to do?” cried Simon Old- foot. ‘* Ye ar’n’t goin’ to hit ’im with the gun, ” yer” Fast exactly what I’m going to do!” was the reply. ‘“S back or there'll be brains and blood on your clothes!” ' The giants looked at each other, and then lanced at the executioner. There was no mercy fa his eyes. They shotmurder from their depths. Piney Paul looked at the uplifted rifle without amove. Then he glanced at Nokomis and saw Nokomis forgotten?” These wo though heard by Cecil Crane, cae = ith the sudd f thought, okomis, wi e@ suddenness o jerked the boy from beneath the uplifted weap- on, and thrust his own scarlet body beneath it. ‘ Phe boy belongs to Nokomis! His arrow is in his arm!” gent. Crane uttered an oath and dropped the ** Yours by the law of the woods, I pose ; but will not Nokomis sell the boy?” — Nokomis did not reply. “Tf he is yours, you will sell!” continued Crane. ‘Come, we will play fair. Perhaps he is yours. It is your arrow in his arm; that we all admit. He is against me; he is a snake in my path, but see! he would not spare Red Loon. Nokomis's brother. Has the Indian no hate? Does he not avenge the blood of Red Loon?” Mobicen pi Bo pea tone the Upas till ean, an e they all fell but oak Why should he strike the Mountain Cat for his shot? Some day Red Loon and Nokomis would have fought.” il Crane looked baffled. ‘You Indians are all alike, I guess,” he grat- woe are you going to do with the little e The reply did not come in words. Nokomis released Piney Paul, who stepped from his side. “Go!” was the whispered command from the Indian’s lips. ‘‘ Nokomis has not forgotten the wine bo sh | titud @ boy shot the Upas alook full of gra e, and then glanced at the: whites, “Do you set him free?” roared Cecil Crane. “Dog of an Indian! I will not submit. By the stars of heaven! I, at least, will assert my right to punish the person who seeks my life. Stand aside!” Piney Paul, anticipating this outburst of wrath, did ms Re He saw the Upas plant himself firmly between him and Cecil and held breath. The girl-hunter darted at him, but he was sudde: ht by the red athlete and iifted bodily from id. The next instant the white man was flung into the lake! aa of rage broke from the throats of the giants. *That’s too much!” cried Tarsus Nightwell. “ Simon, the Injun’s too forward in the matter. Give him the upper hand, an’ away we go!” The speaker sprung forward; but Nokomis, stirring not, met ag R ‘“* Without Nokomis, the ig white men will i e said, ‘ Would .
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10 Beadels’ Half-Dime Library. they kill him, and become food for the vultures and the wolves?” The giant halted. “Tt’s no use, Simon,” he said; ‘‘the Injun the truth.” But Simon Oldfoot did not answer; he was assisting Cecil Crane from the water. CHAPTER XII. . THE BLOOD ON THE KNIFE. Piney Pav. did not wait to note the result of the Indian’s quarrel with his employer, but quitted the scene and bounded through the for- est. The events of the last hour had been so start- ling as to incredible. Concealed in the both, for did not the wigwam girl go. with the Indian when Pelosee was taking her to the Mountain Cat?” “No! you did not come up with them and kill Cicely?’ cried Piney Paul, jumping at the con- clusion of the girl’s narration. ‘* Does the white boy see the blood on Pelosee’s knife?” was the reply. ‘‘ Does he see the tear in her sleeve and the loss of her fringe? And see the moccasin which Pelosee lost by the water- fall. The hidden rose had it; but it is on Pelo- see’s foot in.” There was the triumph of a maddened witch in the red girl’s look and, tone. It made Piney Paul start 5 a8 sea ge rng like a suffo- cating man. He ved that he stood before , he witnessed the meeting of Red Eagle | the slayer of Me the long-lost girl; he saw e aa the white girl of the island, and every word of theirs had fallen upon his ears. The sight of Little Arrow had opened a new revelation to him. The hidden lodge sought so the victory of murder in Pelosee’s eyes. ; “Did ae do ~ in your pes he cri springi orward impulsively. ‘‘ Did you sh the blood. of the lost girl? IF Sin did, by the long was not a myth; he felt that he had looked | heavens, I have no right to spare you, though upon its occupant in the pene of the fair white | you saved ef life!” girl, whose boat had gli to the shadows that ung around the distant island. P had not guided him wrongly. Her a e of the lost wigwam had not i With such thoughts as these the Adirondack boy hurried thro born shaft still in save the knife concealed in his bosom; his rifle a the scene of the late rencontre. it was who frightened the young Red | and there is blood on your knife. le from the pine, for he discharged rifle ae the chief’s = der, at Red Loon, and, un- til that moment unaware of his Mohican youth started only to perch to the ground. Piney Paul at last reached the spot where he from his ved | struck man The witch hed demoniacally, and with her ight hand held him off at arm’s le ‘It wasa mad fight!’ she cri * Pelosee times. But he lies in the forest and the wolves will come upon him before it is light. He stood between Ocotoc’s child and the h the woods with the stub- | flower of the lost lodge. See the tear in Pelosee’s is flesh. He had no weapon sleeve! He did that.” “But who did it?’ cried Piney Paul. ‘You have followed Cicely with death in your h i o more 0 girl-witch! Gimminy crickets! I can’t this. stand this suspense. Don’t hold me so tight. resence, the Wh an arrow in that arm, Who did you ki “The king of the forest! Pelosee was not afraid to meet him. The bear is dead on the had left Pelosee a few hours before. But he | white flower’s trail!” found it deserted, and nettled by the red girl’s absence, he drew some venison from the re- cesses of a pine tree, and began to satisfy his unger. “Tt was a narrow shave,” he said. ‘‘That Indian has got a few sparks of gratitude in his heart, and I will try to remember it. The hid- den eee is not far away. I saw Cicely to- night. She is the hidden girl. the boat on the lake when I shot him. Perha he would have told them. But he will not now. Thunder and witches! didn’t that Indian boy drop when he saw me in the tree! 1 wish he hadn’ him,” Psneath the boughs of the pine the boy con- tinued to discuss the jerked venison as he com- muned with his thoughts. But all at once there came the whirring sound of a missile flying through the air, and a knife was buried in the tree against whi “A bear!” cried Piney Paul, “Thank God! it wea b Spear? the repl 1’ ; i !” was re and the girl’s eyes flashed anew. “If ap Ah not stopped elosee, it would have been the rose.” Piney Paul drew a breath of relief; but his eyes flashed madly as he cried: ‘You have saved my life. I owe you much; The Indian saw | but you must not touch her. I will kill the per- son who harms her, though it be even you.”. Pelosee’s reply was a scornful and derisive ——. ‘*T mean business!” said the boy. ‘‘ Try it on, t dropped, for I wanted to make use of ; if you think I don’t!” ~~ CHAPTER XiIl. THE RED WITCH’S DESERTION. ‘*Arrarrs would wear a different aspect if ch he stood | you hadn’t pushed my gun down when I had gnawing the venison. il Crane covered on the log,” continued S forward with a glance at the ay aay erg 4 Paul, sorely nettled by Pelosee’s laugh. quivering there, Piney Paul stood face to face But I guess I won’t make tts R uarrel- ing with you. I’m in poor plight ‘ollow the ire patios ts of the Indian girl in e ents of the Indian girl were drag- gled and soiled. The sleeve of her jacket was ripped from shoulder to elbow, and displa the naked arm; and she was otherwise in a for- lorn condition. But her eyes flashed like the orbs of the tri- umphant mountain cat when after along fight it stands over the body of its antagonist. Her trail now, and contend with the foes who will faceme. No gun—nothing but a knife! Where's your rifle?” ‘* Broken where the bear lies dead!” was the repl . “And where is the Mountain Cat’s gun?” : ere I met the five traitors and shot Red Loon. They've got it now, and will try tomake use of it. Have you ever been in these parts visage startled the boy, and his first word was | before?” an exclamation called forth by it. ““What has happened?” he cried, grasping her arm. ‘ You have grappled with some enemy! Tell me, Pelosee, all a / the spot where you were to wait for me. The boat is gone! Did you take it?” There was no reply, but Pelosee sprung to the trée, and with a lay of strength drew the deeply-buried knife from the wood. “Once, but it was long ago. Ocotoc and Pelosee came here where Patagan and the white rose lived on the island. She was a little girl bout it, and why you left | then just so high,” illustrating with her hand, “and she looked like a wild flower just bursting from its bud.” “*)°” “That was lon ago, sure enough,” said Piney Paul. ‘‘We don’t want anything to do wi Patagan. If he finds that Cicely is missing— én she seized our hero’s arm and drew him | that she has run off with that hot-headed youn to a ¢ upon which the starlight uninterrupt- | Red Eagle—he will leave his island and we wi edly fell. ‘ have a new enemy. The girl is somewhere in See!” she cried; fiendishly, thrusting the | the woods. I know now that she still lives; my looking into her triumphant face. who did you meet in the forest?”. “‘ Pelosee saw the flower of the hidden lodge,” “Tt is red! red! Let | trail is drawing to an end.” “Yes,” the red witch said pointing to the “Only one life taken thus far,” was the re- ply. _ ‘*Two—three!” said Pelosee. “ Three?” “'The Red Loon, the bear, and the dog!” “T don’t count the animals,” Piney Paul said, was the answer, which further startled Piney | with asmile, but when he recollected the cir- Paul and whitened his face. in her boat and caught her. young Indian tore her from Pelosee and hurled Ocotoe’s child into the lake. He was little but | Eagle and the girl w “She followed her | cumstances that surrounded Death’s taking off a Ha! ha! Buta | shudder went to his heart “Tt will soon be light, and the trail of Red ili be plain. Does the boy stronger than Pelosee. They fled together; but |. want to follow?” Peloseg followed swearing to have the blood of I “Certainly I do! Witches and serpents! want no grass to grow under my feet from this time to the end. Where can we strike the trail?’ “Where the bear lies.” The twain, united again, left the spot, and oe es bear lying pe ae battle quite . e evidences of a struggle between Pelosee and the brute were plentiful and terribly estive. The island witch had sought rather avoided a combat with bru- in. Proud of her strength she had called him a coward, and taunted him after the usual Indian manner. H and ferocious, the king of the Adirondack*woods did not fly, but advanc- ed boldly to meet his antagonist. In vain he tried to inclose Pelosse in the fatal embrace; but the knife came into play, and, after a hard struggle, bruin yielded, and Pelo- see staggered fainting from the fight. At the halt made at the careass the girl de- scribed in graphic 1 the battle to Piney Paul, and picked up the discarded rifle with the remark that, after the blow that rendered it usel she had cast it aside. The boy took the weapon and eyed it for a moment. The acy barrel clung feebly to the stock, but he saw that it was not unfit for fu- ture service. Several good sirews could re- store the weapon, and render it useful on the new trail. “See!” he cried, as his face lit up with hope. “A good sinew, girl, and your rifle may yet ring out upon the trail. There’s life in the gun yet. Gimminy! this is luck!” Pelosee produced a strong cord made from twisted sinews, and, seating himself upon the carcass of the bear, Piney Paul mended the se 5 — “There!” he said at last, holding the gun up to the girl. ‘‘ Who shall carry it—you or I?” “The Mountain Cat mended it and he shall carry it,” was the reply. Leaving the huge animal on the field of his last battle, Piney Paul resumed the trail with a light heart. Itwas quite plain to his practiced eye, and Pelosee followed it with the flash of a in her eyes, he day broke over the rim of the hidden horizon, and the long arrows of light penetrated the forest. They revealed the trailers and their surroundings; the rough ground over which the track of Red Eagle and his protegee led; the sky-seeking pines and the furzy undergrowth. lt was a prospect decidedly uninviting and | gloomy, Tt so6n bécame evident that the young Mo- hican was not going to return Little Arrow to the island. Piney Paul could tear her from Patagan with comparative ease; but as it was, loose in the forest and with a determination to urpose. The long day—long in many respects to Pine S th the trail still before them, and stretching on into the seemingly in- terminable forest. Red Eagle seemed to be flying to some place beyond the Adirondacks. ‘Stop!” said Paul, pausing, and laying his hand on the arm of the eager Pelosee. ‘““We must stop till morning here. The shadows are long and the forest will be dark. Pelosee, Red Eagle is xorg as if all the imps on earth were reaching for his scalp-lock.” The girl turned upon Piney Paul a displeased countenance. — ‘* Pelosee will not rest her feet here!” she said, inting toward the gloom that gathered ahead. ‘* Why, it’s nonsense! I’ll be hanged if it isn’t. You can’t see anything out there, if your eyes are extra good. They must rest sometimes; they will not run always.” ne ae we trail, they rest, and while we rest ° ey fly.” There's something in that, I admit,” the boy said. “Do you hear the river?” Pelosee nodded. “Tt is the orang water,” she said. ‘“‘ The Red Eagle and his girl cannot cross.” ‘ “But they can follow the stream. We stop ere.” Piney Paul saw the futility of attempting to trail in the dark forests of the Adirondacks. He determined to wait till day. Rest was needed by nature; it would refresh him. But Pelosee would not listen. She turned a deaf ear to the boy’s judgment, and started stub- bornly forward. “You will leave me?’ he said. “ Pelosee’s eyes are like the owl’s. ‘The forest trails are hers.” “‘Tt’s no use to reason with you, I guess,” Piney Paul answered. ‘ You can go! But, stay one moment. What if you find them?” —
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“ Pelosee will tell the Mountain Cat; but not now. “You mean mischief. The very old Harry has got into you. Youaremad at Cicely. What will you do? Tell me.” He laid his hand menacingly on the rifle, which stood against a tree. There was no reply, for Pelosee sprung away, and fled like o taree fawn through the forest. Her ppeared in the twinkling of an eye, and the bo: found himself alone in a por- tion of the Adirondack region which he had never before visited. His search for Cicely had never extended so far to the north. The ground about him was truly a terra incognita, and it might prove a land of death. He knew of but one man familiar with the trails of the northern mountains, and that man was Nokomis. To the last Upas the fastnesses of the Adirondacks were what a well studied map is to the school- boy. Hunted everywhere by the ancient enemies of his race, Nokomis had familiarized himself with the forest trails. He knew the various caves; the hiding-places that offered themselves under the cataracts, the dens of the wolves, and the lairs of the panthers. 4 But he had allied himself to Cecil Crane’s party, though, as we have seen, he saved the cave-boy from that villain’s uplifted rifle. He undoubtedly acted as their guide, and Piney Paul must expect no assistance from that uarter q . The mountain boy did not despair when he found himself deserted by that strange. admix- ture of love, jealousy, and revenge, Pelosse! “I’m alone now, and in a strange land; but there’s no turning back!” he cried. ‘‘ Cicely is somewhere ahead, and everybody in these woods lifts hands against me. and pan- thers! it’s a bad condition of affairs; but Pll make it look better. I will, sure as shooting!” He did ‘not follow the deserting witch. e shadows had already hidden her form; he ceased to hear her feet crushing the pine cones. “To the river, better perhaps,” he said. ‘‘T'll o on to the stream. It isn’t far away, and I'll that far advanced when daylight comes.” He thus abandoned his intention of halting at the chosen spot, but started forward in, and soon stood upon the bank of a river whose wa- ters, unseen in the night, filled his ears with the sound of their ing. “Til take the old bed to-night,” he said, with a smile, as he drew himself up into the re- cesses of a pine. “ By and by, I'll get out 0’ this country—that is if I get Cicely—and quit sleeping in the trees.” A moment served to ensconce the youth in the friendly pine, and he was adjusting his head to the uncomfortable fork that offered its ser- vices as a pillow, when a voice came up from below. ‘*What’s that?’ ejaculated Piney Paul, leav- ing his perch and dropping to the ground. ‘Somebody is ahead of me. It wasn’t Pelo- see’s voice. Was it Red Eagle's?” Far below him the river flowed through the bottom of a gorge, at the top of which he knelt, et for a repetition of the sound. Below, the blackness of starry night hid ev- erything from his sight. He could not see the rocks upon which he knelt. Rifle in hand, he listened until the same voice came up through the mist and the gloom. “‘T’'m hanging to the rocks! God, T imon—save me! You will not let me die here. Where is Nokomis? Help! villains! friends! Where, in the name of Tar- tarus, are you?” me “Thunder = it is Cecil Crane!” cried Piney Paul. ‘‘ Will they answer him?” But no reply came to the appeal of the un- seen man. ‘* Tarsus, have you left me?’ came the agon- izing voice again. ‘I can’t hold out much longer. My hands are slipping even now. All my gold for life and safety! God curse the a the traitors—who will leave me to perish ere!” Piney Paul leaned over the precipice. “Hold out a minute!” he cried to the unseen man—his inveterate enemy. “TIT can, perhaps,” was the onse. “ But you must not save me. You are Piney Paul.” “That’s so, Cecil Crane; but I never went back on any man when I found him crying for life. Hold to the rocks. I’m coming down!” With the bravery that seemed foolhardiness, Piney Paul swung himself over the edge of the rugged precipice and began to let himself down to the man who had pleaded so earnestly for life and safety. He was upon unknown ground. The earth, For the love of The Hidden Lodge. loosened by his ‘adventuresome feet, went rat- tling down into the abyss, and lost itself in the rushing river. FF pen ui ae Gade an paeee - periled man. ut, oh, God, your speed doesn match the snail’s. Do yout I can hold here, mo: ‘* And do you think I’m going to let all hold go and come down to you like a cannon ?” was the tart response. ‘‘ You wouldn’t find me so accommodating if I caught you up ina pine, Cecil Crane.” The descent-continued, and the boy found him- self at the foot of the cliff, and not far from the t from whence the voice had proceeded. But he did not call to Cecil Crane for his exact position. He heard another voice. ‘* Ye’ll rouse the very wildcats by yer holler- in’,” said the rough and unseen er, “Tm comin’ as fast as Ikin. One shin is knocked foots jp a for at gg dy now. Whar are wen ne? an’ warn e speakin’ to some awhile back?” . 4 “Right here I am!” came the response. ‘‘Take my arm and pull me out. There! God! another minute and [ would have been gone. Speakin, to somebody, Tarsus? Yes! Call Nokomis an Simon down here. That infernal boy is here- abouts. He was coming down tofinish me. No! don’t call Nokomis; but find the little devil aon Tarsus, and we'll finish him. He’s very close! “‘ But it is dark and dangerous!” was the re- sponse. ‘‘He couldn’t have been ten feet away when 7 gpae. Look! what is that against that roc Cecil Crane pointed toward the only rock visible by its white surface in the gorge. Tarsus Nightwell, with a cry of “* brat, by hokey !” started forward. But a wildshout rung in his ears, and the dark figure inst the rock sprung past him and pushed il Crane over the slippery stones. With a loud the ungrateful wretch dis- appeared ‘beneath e dashing waters! ‘That’s what a fellow gets for repudiating a turn?’ cried Piney Paul’s voice, “ Fi im out, Tarsus Nightwell, for his time hasn’t come yet!” oe CHAPTER XIV. THE HUNTERS OF NOKOMIS, Wir a hurried glance at the form struggling in the whitened water, that dashed over the rocks, Tarsus Nightwell sprung forward and flung himself upon Piney Paul. _The boy, unable to fly, for the shore behind him seemed literally cut off by the waves, met the giant with great bravery. The rifle, which had in many places assisted him in his descent, was quickly uplifted, and with all his might he struck at his antagonist. But the giant’s arm warded off the stroke, and the next moment the enemies had clenched. Physically, Tarsus Nightwell was the master, but his size made his movements slow and un- wieldy, while the boy, used to mountain life, had acquired the agility of the cougar. e wrestled with the giant over the slippery rocks; now, by his tactics, forcing him itd and irritating him to no little degree. It was in vain that Nightwell tried to use his knife, with which he would have speedily ended the strug- gle; but he was kept busy attending to the han t tugged at his throat. The lion had found no mean foe in the wily panther, and at last he slipped and fell back- ward upon the rocks. Stunned wae fall, Nightwell’s gripe loosened and Piney Paul slid away, not a little bruised by the great hands of the man who lay s0 still at the edge of the leaping water. “‘Creeks and crashes! I believe he’s dead!” the boy exclaimed, looking at the giant. ‘ Well, the world is better off, perhaps, and I have one enemy less. Now, out o’ this, Piney Paul, or there'll be two more to grapple with.’ The last words had scarcely fallen from the youth’s lips, when a plash in the water that shut off the shore along the cliff, made him turn ag h and he saw half a dozen dark figures at isside. . “Indians, by crickets!” he cried, starting from the new foe and lifting his rifle. ‘‘ Out of the fryingpan into the fire!” a “Stay!” cried a stern, strong voice, and the bow-string sent an arrow past his head, to be broken against the wall of rock. ‘The trail of Nokomis is here. The pale-faces are with him.” Piney Paul’s reply was freighted with death, 11 for the flash of his rifle lit up the gorge fora moment, and a loud announced that the ball had performed its fatal mission. Then the spot resounded with loud cries, and a shower of arrows fell around the flying boy. He hastened down the stream as fast as the roc permitted. The hunters of Nokomis were close upon him, now and then sending a shaft forward with the hope of arresting the ight of the foe. Where's the 1 t brought me down?” muttered Piney Paul. ‘If I could find that, there'd be a chance to get above these red-skins. ye here med: ae life!” = ai e sto ; an wing the upon his back, like an Alpine hunter, drew Taeed above the rocks by means of heavy vines, through which a short time before he had toilsomely de- scended to rescue his enemy, Cecil Crane. The ascent was extra hazardous, for the vines, loosened in their rocky soil by his descent, might refuse to carry him upward to the woods above. But better the hazard than to fall into the a of the savages. Pring a e pursuing Indians passed ynder , an soon <tc bootless to their brethren. He heard their cries of anger over the victim of his rifle; but no sounds announced the discovery ef either em or Cecil Crane. Piney Paul toiled upward through the vines, which, growing in profusion there, afforded him a hiding place as well as the means of escape. rge sounds that could not mislead the fugitive. ‘* They’re going to stay till it is light,” he said; ‘‘ and it will be light all along these rocks before I can get to the top, These old vines will have to hide me.” He stopped and looked up at the tall pines that crowned the edge of the gorge and seemed to lose themselves among the depths of the stars; then down to the waters, becoming visible in the increasing light. Like a globe of fire the t round moon crept out of the cataracts, as it were, and sent its beams into the ravine, re- vealing rocks, vines and all. Piney Paul the vines and thrust his body into their density. The hunters were a}- most directly below him; they were coming tet He gorge, evidently seeking him in the new light. "Tin ¢ the woot said an Indian, as the Se a ee ie tsi ai paie e og, is up among the ; the pale- face fsa no further down, for see, the water would be about him. There is no trail, He has crept up the vines.” The Indian’s words thrust the perils of a new danger upon Piney Paul. The band were going to ascend to the forest above them by the vines in which he had taken refuge. They evidently were foes of the Upas chief, out on his trail. Never did itive hide closer or squeeze his body into er space than Piney Paul at that moment of terror. He felt the vines shake with the weight of the first red-skin. Skillfully the red-skin made his way upward over the vines and nearer and nearer to the boy. Piney Paul noted his progress by the shakin and swaying of the vine; but the Indian pass the young red-slayer to the right, though so near that he could have been struck with a knife. Once upon the cliff, the Indian told his com- panions that the vines were safe for scaling oa? og and the ascent of the others began. e moon came up and saw the dark, cat-like figures crawling up the sides of the Forge. One by one they passed by Piney Paul’s place of concealment, until the last, one—the eighteenth —had left him undisturbed. : “Bighteen,” he murmured, with a_ smile. “ Nokomis must fight shy of them if he wants to keep his long hair out 0’ their belts. They’ll look for me in the woods above, and they'll find me, too, I reckon.” His last sentence was almost cut short by sounds that thrilled him to the marrow, and caused a hue of deathly pallor to come to his face. These sounds were the blows of a toma- hawk, sy. Sg and effective, that sent a quiver through the network of vines, ‘“ Witches and snakes! here’s a new go,” ejac- ulated the boy. “The confounded _red-skin is cutting the parent vine away, and I'll have to go down with it when it falls.” He did not look up to see the half-naked figure which leant over the cliff, and, hatchet in hand, was cutting the vine in twain. Such curiosity would have his body and placed him in the hands of his foes. | As Cortez burned his ships to prevent retreat,
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Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ‘so the hunters of Nokomis were cutting the vines away. The Indian labored manfully at his task, and the main stem was cutaway. Paul grasped the strong tendrils in his embrace, and awaited the descent. He knew that his own weight was enough to force the living net downward. Not long, and the mass shivered and loosened itself from the rocks; then — way entirely, . witha tearing noise, and plunged downward, carrying Piney Paul with it. CHAPTER XV. THE WITCH’S KNIFE. Nor far from the scene of the thrilling inci dents just narrated, and listening to the blows of the hatchet, stood two persons. d in hand they stood in the shadows of the cliffs and the tr and the light of the rising moon fell at their feet, but did not expose their One of the listeners was an Indian athlete, youthful, and naked to the waist, for the frag- ments of a hunting-frock, that clung to his broad shoulders, could not be called clothing. His companion was a — white girl, beautiful but pale, and she listened, with clenched lips, to the rin blows. Red e and Little Arrow! The latter looked fatigued; the forced flight from the little lake had told heavily upon her, but the endurance of the Indian did not seem im- — in the least. Despite the journey, he ooked fresh and eager. They heard the crashing of the mass of vines, as it fell down the cliff, —— Piney Paul in its embrace, and the sound, loud and startling, made them exchange looks of wonder. ‘‘The red-men cut the heavy vines away!” the young savage said. ‘They are the hunters of Nokomis; they do not mean to go back.” ‘* We must not meet them!” said Little Arrow. “No!” was the response, ‘ le has no friends in that tribe, ange he is one of its braves. They do not trail ; but they would not turn away to save his scalp.” The white girl did not reply, and for some moments the red brave kept his lips sealed. “Red ie knows not where to go,” he said, in a puzzled manner, ‘To the south lies the t city of the Yengees, to the north the omes of the E en. In either place the whites would fall in love with Little Arrow, and take her from the chief, Better back to Patagan.” , The gave him an anxious look. ; ‘* But the hunters are between us!” she said. Red Eagle drew his tomahawk. “T am not . eT ware cried. ‘The bor est is as my lodge— ow every part of it. Back to the island! if the trail swarms with hunters! Red le will face the old man and tell him that he loves Little Arrow—that he fled with her, but to save her!” Little Arrow, or Cicely, the lost girl, crept trustingly to the young red-skin’s side. ‘‘T will follow!” she said, courageously. ‘* Not to the Americans, nor to the English; but bate Patagant”™ d "Red Eagle, closing his o Pa’ e, c lips firmly upon the last word. The flight of the twain from Pelosee had end- ed; they resolved to return to the island and there—where they believed they would be safe —live out the love of their lives. But there were foes between them and the hid- den lodge; there were to be bloody leaves before Cicely’s feet could press the island soil again. Tramp! tramp! ugh the forest came the sounds of feet, that startled the lovers, and Red Eagle drew the girl further back into the sha- dows. “The hunters of Nokomis!” he w red. “The Brown Like Gradually they = pehiogy sight, and the ut the danger had not passed. There suddenly a) in the wake of the hunters a figure which at first resembled the oe pond though it was larger than that beast’s. core over the fresh ti like the experi- enced hunter; but rose a few feet from the fugitives. hy? They go down the river!” said the voice of the er. ‘‘ Do they follow the white girl and her red lover, or are they the Indians who hunt the Upas?” Cicely heard the voice and started from its sound. At the same time she recognized the speaker, and a glance at Red Eagle told her that he, too, had made the same discovery. Standing in the edge of the moonlight, erect and So the person whose dark eyes the girl to encounter—Pelosee! The witch was still on her trail, and the countenance revealed by the moon, ther with the sto. Seemed that glistened in her d, caused the white girl to hope fervently that they might never meet again. Noiselessly the — Red Eagle dropped his companion’s arm. She looked up rised at the action and saw the Indian y to throw himself upon the huntress, He held a knife in his hand and his eyes flashed the mad passions of his heart upon the witch. Cicely did not restrain him. He darted for- ward with a cougar-like —s before she could have lifted a hand for that purpose. The distance had not been miscalculated, for, with a startling cry, Pelosee fell back beneath the force of the plunge. She staggered toward the water shimmering in the weird > with the hand of the young Red Eagle at her throat. But she strug- led while being forced back, and at last brought er prodigious strength into full play. But the Mohican was no mean antagonist. A belief that Pelosee sought the life of Cicely nerved him to d ration, and he resolved that her trail should end on the banks of the Crazy river. An anxious spectator of the combat, the white girl stood in the shadows with her eyes fastened —_ the figures that struggled in the moon- e. She started forward when Pelosee forced Red Eagle back ar a momentary advantage; but when the youth dextrdéusly turned the tables, she would stop and oar for his final success. In one of her spells of eagerness she e her © sandy 3 to the quick eyes of Pelosee, and a wild cry fell from the witch’s lips. The sight of her victim seemed to lend her ad- ditional strength, and she turned to Red Eagle, nting for breath, with the fury of the tigress. tout as the young brave was, he could not re- sist the new simoom of successfully. He wrenched himself from Pelosee and flung his body between her rage and Cicely. He planted himself firmly there with drawn ife and waited the attack. It was not delayed. | With an exclamation of rage the savage prin- cess sprung forward; but the Mohican met the shock with the old bravery of his famous tribe. He struck for the heart that beat beneath Pe- losee’s vest, and blood stained his blade, but it was the blood of her right arm. The next instant he was flung aside, and the Island Witch cleared the distance between him and Cicely with a single bound. ben starting with a shriek of terror essayed to fly, for she saw that Red Eagle did not i from the ground, but the huntress was upon her. “The white girl fled from Pelosee, but she could not escape!” was the exulting cry. ‘‘ She shall go now to the Mountain Cat, and before his eyes Pelosee will take her life.” Cicely heard all with a white face, and her glance wandered to the yo Mohican. “The knife was in Pelosee’s hand when she struck!” the witch said, noticing the inquiring glance. ‘“ The bytmieh bt see him.” led Cice She carried rather ly to the spot where in the bation “pi lay the Hchican—the brave and chivalrous Eagle—with his scal lock on the ground, and his face paler than the natural hue. ‘*He has gone to Watchemenetoc!” said Pe- losee, savagely. ; ‘No! no!” cried the girl in fixed, and re - y The Red le “The young Red Eagle will soon be on the never-ending trail,” came the reply from the rostrate Intian, in tones that startled the lis- mers. “‘The knife of the witch found his life lodge. Little Arrow will live for the young white hunter now. He hunts her to take her to the home from which Patagan stole her long 0. Cicely started. “IT have always been Patagan’s child!” she cried, The dying Indian slowly shook his head. “‘No! The lost lodge ‘is to the south. The Red Eagle would have kept Little Arrow here to love him. But his tongue is not forked now. He knows why the white men are in the forest. . The boy would take her back to the lodge; the man would drive the knife to her heart!” The death rattle followed hard and ominously upon the last words, and astream of blood gush- from the wound in the side, There was amoment of silence, which Pelosee in her madness did not attempt to break. All at once Red Eagle tried to rise, but his ex- hausted strength (8 beeen and he fell back against the foot of a pine, and died there with eyes fixed on Cicely! ‘The long trail!” sad Pelosee, Mgr | signi- ficantly at the young chief. ‘‘Come, we must 0. :: “Go? Whither?’ Cicely rose and faced the scarlet witch. ‘‘ Whither are we going?’ she demanded. ‘*To the mountain boy!” was the reply. “T am ready now. He wants to take me back to the long-lost home. Red Eagle said so before he died.’ For a moment Pelosee did not reply. She held Cicely at arm’s length, and gazed strangely into her white face. ; “Yes! yes!” she said, fiendishly. ‘The little Mountain Cat would take the white girl to the lost wigwam, and would make love to her there. But the knife shines between her and that wig- wam. It is Pelosee who talks thus to the pale flower!” Cicely could not misinterpret the light that gleamed in the red girl’s eyes. It was jealousy tinctured with its almost in- separable com on—revenge. ~ ‘You would not kill me, Pelosee?”’ she said, laying her hand on the jealous one’s arm. ‘‘ We should be sisters—not enemies!” The reply came eee and full of bitterness. ‘*The Mountain Cat belongs to Pelosee! She saved him from the wolves.” Cicely did not reply; but wished herself far from the presence of the forest vixen. ‘Pelosee knows where the boy is!” the red girl said. suddenly. ‘‘The vines went down with him when the Brown Ptarmigan cut them away. The captive looked up into the speaker’s face, at a loss to understand her. A. moment later the twain were hastening from the spot. CHAPTER XVI. OUT FROM THE VINES. THE loosened vines, gathering into a mass al- most spherical in form, dashed down the pre- cipice and struck the rocks far below. ere it lay like agreat ball partly unraveled and out of shape, washed by the water as it poured over the rocky bed of the gorge. For several minutes there were no si of life about the mass, but at last a si me therefrom, and looked up. “There was too much stuff around me!” said Piney Paul, smiling at his ludicrous situation. ‘‘Big fishes! I thought I would never ‘ Over and over it went, until plump! sp ! right into the water. Now I’m for getting out o’ this. Nobody about, I guess.” With no little difficulty the Adirondack boy left the mass and found himself on shore. Above him towered the cliff down whose sheer sides he had descended with the speed of a falling bomb, The top was deserted save by the stately pines whose overhanging branches he could see. He did not desert the a directly, but exam- ined his surroundings with much care. Thanks to ge hap epee of vines he had es- caped without bodily injury, and, with rifle and fe, he felt tolerably safe. “‘ There’s no use in stopping here when I’ve no business in the place. Nomore vines hereabouts to take me up to the trees, and there isn’t . man in these who can scale the rocks. wonder if this gorge doesn’t end somewhere? I'll try it at any rate.” He down the ravine for the purpose of finding a stairway to the pines overhead. The place where he had encountered Ceci] Crane and Nightwell was left behind, and, like a specter, he hurried on, hugging the cliffs and avoiding the water as much as possible. ° At no place the mountain river might have been called a pretentious stream. Its bound- aries were confined by the walls of the chasm, and above in numerous places trees bridged the opening. Piney Paul at last discovered that the stream grew —— he prea, and he oa un- expecta rom the gorge upon a comparative- ly level shore. rife - “Nature got tired of making rocks and quit here,” he said, concerning the change. “ Now
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The Hidden Lodge. if I knew what become of Cecil Crane and Cice- ly, why I'd feel better. But_the scamp is clean gone this time, I guess, for I pushed him into the river, and he was weak as acat before. It was a mean trick. I was trying to save him when he told that giant to seize me and hold me still till he could cut my throat. If he didn’t say oy that, he meant if anyhow.” ‘Let me see,” continued the boy, after a mo- ment’s pause. ‘‘ Nokomis is hunted; the In- dians want him. I am hunted; so are Cicely and the young red-skin. Pelosee is a hunter, too—bless me! if we all ar’n’t hunting one an- other. eae are getting so mixed up that I can’t tell t’other from which.” He would have started forward if a dark ob- ject lying in the moonshine to his left had not attracted c attention. Spas A ck step, accompani y ti recau- tionary click of the rifle-lock, brought him to the corpse of the Red le. “Here’s a go!” Piney Paul said. ‘“‘Got your end here, I see, boy. ks and crashes! I'd like to know who did this! If the girl was here, the person who fixed the Indian took her off. That looks plain as sunshine to a fellow. They had a tussle of it, I see;” he was stooping over the ground where Pelosee and the brave had fought. “There’s the print of a foot bigger than Red Eagle’s, but his has tramped it. I could find that mark alone—if—here it is!” He looked at the footprint in the yielding earth for a moment, and then started up. “The witch was here!” he cried. ‘She killed the boy Indian, and, what is worst of all, she’s cartes Cicely away. Now the fear—the trou- ee ao Why did she leave me in the for- est? Her eyes looked like coals, and she means to kill Cicely Draeme.” Piney Paul shuddered to think of the lost girl in the clutches of the jealous Pelosee. por tom iy not how long the twain had been together. ; Eagle was cold, and the rigidness of death was in his limbs. “Back it is!” the boy said, discovering the trail of the witch and her captive. ‘ They’ve one back toward the gorge. t them keepin fhe moonlight, and I can track them.” But the orb of night soon set and left the forest in the shade, The t was drawing to a close and the darkness that precedes the long y streaks of dawn lay about the ceaseless hunter. He stopped, resolved to await the child of the morning. : The only sounds that oppressed his ear were the long cry of the mountain wolf, and the rush of the waters through the gorge. Giving himself over to reflection, Piney Paul sunk at the foot of a pine, wearied but not dis- heartened. - The night crept from before the advancing day and with the first arrows of light, the moun- tain boy cast his eyes across the stream. Voices had already prepared him for the sight that met his gaze; but it drove him quick- Pete the tree against which he had rested Upon the opposite bank not a hundred feet away stood the hunters of Nokomis, the stealthy eighteen, They formed a circle about a scarlet re, which, standing erect and in a defiant at- titude, was easily recognizable as Nokomis, the last of his race! The victim had been caged; the tiger was in the power of the hunters, and they would not “Caught at last!” ejaculated Piney Paul. ‘I know re left me and sold yourself to Cecil Crane for his gold; but you did me a good turn the other day, and I’m going to pay you back.” But the Upas was not alone amid the hunters. Near him, but not in the center of the ring, stood Simon Oldfoot, a captive also, ‘“‘T don’t care that for you!” the boy continued, snapping his fingers as he looked at the white man. ‘You tany better than the man who hired you to come here. But I will get Noko- mis out 0’ his fix.” The Indians seemed on the point of sacrificing the man who had eluded the vengeance of their tribe so long, There was no escape while every "Tee wel See rif d looked al ey Paul raised his rifle and loo 0 the barrel, a “The fellow who cut the vines down is there!” hemurmured. ‘He seems to stand on one foot; but he won’t need any feet if the rifle doesn’t miss. Good-by, Mr. igan. You’ve cut your last vine off, I reckon.” A moment’s silence followed the boy’s words, and then came the crack of the rifle, It was a death-shot, for the Brown Ptarmigan went backward with a loud cry, and fell at the feet of the hunted Upas. “Run, Nokomis! run/” shouted Piney Paul, showing himself. ‘Get up and dust, now or never!’ Nokomis did not hear the last words of advice, but, like a startled deer, he dashed through the ranks of his hunters, and fled like an arrow. Simon Oldfoot followed the exile’s example; but with r success. Heran with sorry judg. ran Ae suddenly found himself at the edge of the cliff! There he stopped, and shrunk from the chasm. “You ran the wrong way, Simon!” cried Piney Paul. ‘Go back and die like a man!” A cry of burst from the giant’s throat. He turned and found the Mohicans upon him. With uplifted hatchets they closed about him, and then and there the career of a hireling was brought to a close. Meanwhile Nokomis had disappeared, with six pursuers at his heels. “They might as well try to catch a streak o’ daylight!” said Piney Paul. ‘‘One good turn deserves another always. We're square now, Nokomis!” The name of the flying chief was still quiver- Pa the speaker’s lips, when a shower of arrows fell around him. “Too far for good work!” he cried, smiling at the barbed shafts. ‘‘ Now it’s my turn.” ef. stepped boldly into view with reloaded e. The Indians divined his intention, and started back; but one of their number stopped, and dropped dead across the tomahawked corpse of Simon Oldfoot! CHAPTER XVI. A SHORT-LIVED TRIUMPH. THROUGH a forest that stretched far and dark from the base of a mountain, crept, rather than walked, a white man, whose face was haggard, but cruel in its expression. His soiled garments had been torn by rocks and briers, and he seem- eda fugitive flying from a posse of inveterate otha he rifle, h t necessary weapon, the rifle, he did not possess; but in his hand he carried a long cudgel, which he'trailed at his side. He was no expe- rienced trailer, for every now and then the pine cones were crushed by his feet, and he started at the st sounds thus made. It was il Crane, the hunter from the t city between the two rivers. He was alone, traversing the Adirondack woods, not fiyi from the hun but himself a determin hunter still, and at that moment on the trail. Several weeks of misfortunes and vicissitudes had since he entered the wil ge region wy a ae te hire- ings, the two giants, progr in their search for long-lost Cicely Draeme. He had found them full of fears engendered by the wildness of the country, and the adventure de- scribed in our initial chapter. He discovered that he had mutinous men to control; but he had purchased their fealty, from time to time, by lavish promises of gol He was nowalone. Tarsus Nightwell had not been seen since that night when Pinéy Paul fought him on the banks of the Crazy river, and, at the same time, Nokomis and Simon Old- foot had disappeared. As for himself, the bet ig had per ey aap carrying him at ter- rible speed down the gorge, and, at last, by some singular freak, Neowtoe wah half dead upon the rocky shore to recover in the night, and to prosecute alone for another week the search for Cicely. What motive controlled Ceci! Crane’s evil yr Why did he leave a luxurious home. in ew York city to lose himself to civilization among the wild grandeur of the Adirondacks, that he might unearth the hidden abode of the Eagle’s white love? From his lips shall presently fall the story of his avariciousness, and the fair being whom he has hunted so long and revengefully shall hear it for the first time. The shadows lengthened about Cecil Crane as he slowly pursued his way. They at last be- came as one great pall oversp: ing his sur- roundings, and creeping darkly up the moun- “Yonder at last!” he said, halting suddenly. as the glimmer of a fire greeted his vision. ‘ I thought I must be near the spot where I saw the Indian girl yesterday. If the other is only there, how lucky I will call myself. Caution! now, that’s the word. I’ve been with the In- dians enough to have learned something about the woods f 13 The light increased in size and intensity as the man advanced, and at last a long crawl through the dense woods brought him to a spot from bib =n the occupants of the little camp were visible. Cecil Crane could scarcely believe the evi- dence of sight. Seated on a log, and in the light of the fire, was a fair young white girl, whose garments re- vealed a story of forest life, and of long absence from the homes of her race. She was very beautiful to the solitary watcher; her golden hair fell to her shoulders in long a folds, and she was running her white fingers through it in a manner whic er thoughts to be far away. The eyes of the man flashed madly like those of the tiger, as well they might, for the end of the long trail seemed reached at last. Cicely Draeme sat before him! He knew it was she though sixteen years had passed since he had last gased upon her face. e stories brought mysteriously from the heart of the Adirondacks were not the idle inventions of the myth-loving proclaimed Indians. The ae ee fairy of the moun- tains was a ity. She was even now before Cecil Crane Not far away, preparing a mountain grouse for the palate, sat the other tenant of the camp —a large Indian girl, whose was in the task to which she had assigned herself. The e was the rifle The wood- For several minutes the white hunter fastened his eyes on the girl who occupied the log, almost completely ignoring the presence of her red com- on. He hunted Cicely, not Pelosee; he wanted the white girl, but if the red one inter- fered, why, he would not hesitate to drive a knife to her heart. When he left the tree behind which he had secreted himself to view the camp, it was to in- au te a crawl which would have been credit- able toa Mohican brave. His movements de- scribed a half-circle with an objective point, "Tike the expen mt apeets hing the feeding bird e the se a e in Cecil Crane, bringing the caution of rovet : and his forest cunning into play, neared the o ject of his long hunt. Cicely was watching Pelosee roasting the a sound that betrayed use, and did not ca e spoiler’s approach. last il Crane crouched and hugged the und. He was in the girl's shadow, thrown y the fire. She was a k silhouette in the ruddy light. _The slender fingers still toyed with the luxu- riant golden locks, when, with a half-wolfish cry which he could not suppress, the eager crawler sprung forward and seized his rey ! Lifted from the log by Cecil Crane, the white girl uttered a shriek, which caused Pelosee to turn from her culinary operation and spring erect. The island witch took in the situation of af- fairs at a Fens, and started forward upon the impulse of the moment. But the hunter, jerk- ing the knife from between his teeth, held it so menacingly near Cicely’s heart that she stopped pai re and looked on. “‘Stand where you are, red witch!” Cecil Crane cried to the astounded Pelosee, ‘I’ve been pose | a long time for this child, and now that I have her, I am not going to give her up tamely. Go back and finish your bird. I want no intermeddling. Girl,” to Cicely, “‘ you don’t know me?” “No,” was the reply. ‘But I knew you were hunting for me, y am I hunted like a wolf? You know, and will you not tell me?” Cecil Crane was puzzled by the look of intense curiosity that fill Cicely’s eyes. “Yes, I will tell you!” he answered, with a lance at Pelosee. ‘‘My name is Cecil Crane. ever heard it in these parts, I guess, unless the devilish boy shot it into your ears!” “The mountain yr never told me anything.” “‘ Which is deuced fortunate for your peace of mind!” was the reply. “ Along time ago a man died in New York, and left a deal of perty to a little gi 1 just out of er cradle. She was not his child, she was near to him, nevertheless. He said in his will that if, at the agn o fifteen, that heir was in the city to the estate, it should his brother’s son, Ha! don’t ter, girl? or am see into the mat- tte in riddles to you be- talking in cause you have lived so long am these mountains?” is his Cicely did notreply. Her countenance, full of
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anxiety and interest, told Cecil Crane that his words were not enigmas to her. “ Well, the girl did not appear when she be- came fifteen, and the nephew came into posses- sion of the estate which to-day is a vast one even in that rich city. Do you want to know why she never appeared? Shortly after the opening of the will, an Indian was seen prowling around her home some twenty miles from. the city, and one night both he and the child disappeared. The years passed away and the little girl became lost to the memory of the few who knew her. But at last strange stories came to the cities about a white person among these mountains—a girl who lived with an old Indian. The tales sounded like myths, but I believed them, I came here to prove them, and I know now that | ou are the girl who was carried away by the ndian, . You cannot recollect_that far bac ?” “No!” was the answer. “I thought I had always lived with Patagan.” “Ts that his name?” said Cecil Crane, anxious- Wy. “He who stole you called himself Ocotoc,. 6 was an ogreish-looking fellow.” ‘** Patagan often. talks of Ocotoc,” Cicely said. **T wish I could lay my hand; on the imp! Crane said -hoarsely and..with rising passion.” ‘* He lied! lied basely! He said that you were dead, and yet I dare say he brought you here and sold you to Patagan.” ‘ “But what are you going to do?’ asked Cicely seriously. “That is getting at the matter!” flashed Ce- cil Crane. ‘‘ What do you think [ came here for? Tam the nephew of the old man who willed you all his money. Someday or other. you would. be found by that meddling boy, and turn up suddenly in New York, There was another clans in that will that I haven’t mentioned. Well, never mind! it wouldn’t help you to know it.. Don’t you see what I'm driving at? You are in my way, curse you! You can make me a beggar—so confoundedly poor that the richest ople in the city would quarrel for the first ick at, me. This is plain talking, Cicely Draeme; you can’t. misunderstand mel’ Misunderstand him when bis eyes fairly danced in the fire that seemed to consume them, ‘‘ Tt cost me many thousands to get here!” he continued; ‘‘ but the reward pays richly for the expenditure and my toils. needn’t keep m inteations back. I’m going’ to drive this knife clear through your heart. That’s what I came here for!” — %. Cicely uttered a cry of horror and strove to break from the hunter’s grasp; but he held her we with his left hand. “When did the red trollop leave?” he cried, suddenly, noticing that Pelosee had mysteri- ously and without noise disappeared. The spit, burned half in twain, was ready to let the grouse drop into the fire, but the Indian girl was not near to prevent the threatened ca- tastrophe. “T was a fool to let her get away!” Cecil said, again le. ‘*Was Iso wrapped ing the rifle at my breast now. Curse my an empty-headed folly!” For a moment he remained undecided how t6 act; but he covered his breast io with his captive and retreated from the firelight. ‘It would be dangerous to lift the knife here!” he said in a low tone, which reached the girl’s ears. ‘But in the woods I'll make my property secure, and then the others who want you can have you!” The forest seemed to swallow Cecil Crane and his prisoner in its gloom. The grouse fell into the fire, and began to burn there. Deeper into the woods the hunter went with vengeance in his eyes, and his hand on his knife. mr Sei resisting no longer, did not utter a word, All at once there came a startling cry from the shaded depths, and then the sound of some one running deeper into the gloom. The ery was not a bang ; the very echoes taken up on every side by the tone, seem to tell the story of some deed of blood, and ghastly crime. Suddenly the feet of the unseen runner neared the fire. Like an antelope the unknown bound- ed forward and all at once came into the up in my talk as to ye! foolish? She may be more th light. St was Cecil Crane, and alone! There were footsteps behind him, and_ he caught sight of a female figure, clad in a fan- tastic Indian dress, and hastening forward. All this in the moment of his halt in the fire- light, as if to recover strength for a resumption of the flight. “T did it!” he cried, defiantly, and with a fiendish laugh. ‘Now let the demoness catch Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. me if she can. All the imps in these old moun- tains have failed to baffle me!” With a wild bound he started forward again and bis foot was crossing the line of light when the crack of a rifle echoed shrilly and clear in the forest aisles. The last word of his triumphant sentence ceased to quiver his lips, for a cry so often the ee of death drove it hence, and he fell ackward to the very edge of the forest fire! **T told him the vultures and wolves should quarrel over his carcass!” cried a voice, and the next moment Piney Paul bounded into the lighted arena. e turned quickly to greet the springing form of Pelosee, but stopped with a strange cry, and, starting back, gazed with horror at the burden that hung from the witch’s arms. ““My God! is this the end of the trail?’ he cried, as Pelosee came forward. ‘‘ Tell me that Cicely is not dead. If she is, I wish Cecil Crane had a thousand lives, that I might take them every one!” Pelosee did not reply; but laid Cicely, or Lit- tle Arrow, at Piney Paul’s feet, and then looked up with the unmistakable triumph of jealousy in her sparkling eyes! CHAPTER XVIII. THE END OF THE TRATL, WHEN Piney Paul darted forward, it was to lift Cicely from the ground, and to look into her expressionless face. Dead it is!” he.cried, glancing at Pelosee who waited impatiently for a confirmation of her hopes. “Who did this, girl—you or Cecil Crane? ‘‘T, sir!” came the unexpected reply from the white man, who had aehally raised, his body from the ground. ‘“ Dead, the brat is, you say, Piney Paul? Look again and tell me truly!” Cicely dropped fromsthe boy’s embrace, and with a revengeful cry he turned upon Cecil Crane. But his hand was not lifted inst his pale- faced foe, for the villain fell k c —— ‘‘Dead! dead! thank heaven! they can’t take it from Blanche!” The mountain boy stopped, for Pelosee’s arm was between him and his foe. “The long trail—see!” she said. ‘‘ He lies as still as Pelosee’s bear in the forest!” Sure enough, Cécil Crane was lying motionless at the fire, and a glance served to show Piney Paul that he was dead! “Come!” he said to the witch, as_he took up Cciely’s body in his arms again. ‘‘ We will see the cave now. All my trails have ended!” He turned away, followed by the scarlet girl, and the figures passed from the firelight. “ How long ago was it, Paul?” “Did he not tell you that night?” “Yes; but I want to hear it from your lips. Pelosee is not here now.” “She left the cave last night, so do not let her bother your thoughts. It was fifteen years ago or more. I do not recollect the matter; but when I grew up they told me all about you. They said that Cecil Crane was at the bottom of the trickery, and when word came from these mountains that a white girl, guarded by an old Indian, dwelt smons them, I came hither to find ou. i need not te you that Cecil Crane came, 0, for he believed that you were his cousin, the person who could take all his ill-gotten wealth away, and bring upon his head the obloquy which he deserved, We hunted and fought one anotherfor you. I know now why Ocotoc knew of you, for at Cecil Crane’s instigation he car- ried you from home and gave you to Patagan. That night I thought you were dead; but how glad I was to discover that the knife had pierced your arm, and not your heart.” “And we will go to the city now?” ‘“When I have seen Ocotoc and heard from his lips the story of Cecil Crane’s villainy.” “What! Will you venture upon that dread- ful island again? “Yes. Would you not like to see old Pata- gan once more?” “He was very kind to me,” was the POY » ‘“He would give me up to you, and tell me follow you back to the houses of my people.” It was in the pictured cave ence described to the reader that the foregoing conversatior took place. Cicely reclined on a couch of skins over which the mellow light of a pine fire fell, and seated beside her was Piney Paul listening with manifest joy to the words that fell from her lips. jGecil Crane had misdirected his last blow in the shadow of the Adirondack woods. Startled by the approach of Pelosee he had aimed a blow at Cicely’s heart, but the blade penetrated her arm, thus saving her life, And he had paid for all his villainy and heart- less scheming! For several days the white girl had lain on the couch watched unceasingly by Piney Paul, who resolved that he would not leave if, side until he had placed her in possession of her rights in New York. Pelosee had followed him to the cave. The Indian girl noticed with nosign of joy.Cicely’s return to consciousness and health, ‘Her eyes fell evilly upon the zealous watcher by the couch, and more'than once the boy caught her casting angry glances at Cicely. : He felt that the witch still required watching —that the dangers of the forest were not yet passed, 3ut let us return to the youthful twain in the cave. : They were its sole occupants, and their con- *versation for a long time was not interrupted. All at once, a cry that caused the ete leap to his feet came into the cavern. It seemed to come from a throat not far away, and_ beneath the rocky roof of the corridor leading from. the water side. It wasacry of mingled pain and defiance! Bounding toward the chamber, rifle in hand, Piney Paul was suddenly confronted by a hide- ous human which he with difficulty recognized ae? ml t which the last U e terrible aspect which the last re- sented had been created by the reise, re His lan spesede teen inte ¥ Rag hicar and $ y, re ve mes, was enough to mire the back! a A wild cry pooled rom the Indian’s, throat when his eyes fell upon the mountain boy, and brandishing the. tomahawk which he griped in his right hand, he turned to the opening with the desperation of a tiger brought to bay by re- lentless pursuers. The next minute Piney Paul was at. his side. “They caught Nokomis in, the woods!” the hunted Indian said. ‘‘ They tied him to a pine and piled sticks around him, Then they sho arrows into his arms and legs and burned his long hair away. But Nokomis lifted his voice to the Great Spirit for strength, and it came; it went through his body hot and swift. He broke the sinews and kicked the fire py ey but it is in his limbs yet... He fled and the ollow- ed. Nokomis broke the arrows off in his body, and the kept him back.,, Mountain Cat, they are here. ist! they can trail Nokomis by his blood and the scent of his burned limbs. Go back and dy with the flower of the lost lodge.” “No!” said Piney Paul, determinedly. ‘‘I will defend her here!” There were unmistakable si of the. a proach of Nokomis’s hunters. ey track- ed the last. Upas to the pictured cave, and were entering it, eager to the work begun in the forest. The corridor that led to the water made a gradual ae from the spot where the defend- ers stood. It was narrow, high and dark, and was illy revealed by the light of the fire. The hunters were in the corridor; they were creeping cautiously forward like panthers upon their prey. To them-the location of the cave was unknown; but they — to find Noko- mis soon and finish him. This was their ambi- tion. For several minutes the two defenders listened to the sounds that betrayed the presence of the Mohicans. ; Piney Paul glided to the fire and took there- from a flaming brand. “‘T'l] open the ball!” he said to the chief. Nokomis took the torch and threw it sudden] and with a shout down the corridor, It aligh ed with precision amid the group of consultin braves who were thus revealed, and the ne instant the report of Piney Paul’s rifle was fol- lowed by a death-cry! The torch was quickly seized by the Mohicans and dashed again and again against the wall of the corridor until it was extinguished. But by this time the rifle had been reloaded, and a second ball went crashing through the brain of another red hunter! f ‘*Now Nokomis meets the Mohican wolves!” cried the scorched red-skin, and before Piney Paul could restrain him, he darted into the pas- sage witha yell that would have been creditable to the Prince of Tophet. “The fellow’s mad!” cried the boy. |“ Gim- minny and crickets! there’ll be some tough work now!” The “ tough work” began even while he was speaking, for the wild cries of combat and the
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——— ridor listening to the conflict which he could not | see. He knew that the Indian hunters had closed in upon the Upas like wolves upon the weakened quarry, for there were no mad blows | now, only the noise of the death-grapple of giants. . The struggle ceased s0 emcpay that Piney Paul started and sprung to the fire for a torch. With one in-his hand he returned to’ the spot and flung it, blazing wildly, down the passage. It revealed no men strugeling for the mastery ; but instead an object which bore asemblance to ee human form was creeping slowly toward im. i {t came on until the glitter of the deep-set eyes told the boy that it was the Upas: With a great effort he dragged ‘himself from the opening and uttered a cry of triumph as he cast something, grotesque in its hideousness, at the boy’s feet, ; ‘‘Scalps! by the holy stars!” cried Piney Paul, recognizing the trophies. “And you came out best at last, Nokomis?” » __ There was no reply, but the smile told the boy that his words were unde Nokomis flung his bloody knife upon the heap; then, actuated by some horrid -impulse, crept forward, and picking up the blade, drove it re- vengefully through the scalps, effectually pin- ning them to the ground! It was the last act of his life, for with his hand still clutching the knife as if he would hold the scalps down, he gave one gasp and fell over on his side. Nokomis, the hunted, was dead; but he lay in oie upon the twelve scalps of his inveterate railers! ‘ “* Nokomis, you were brave,” said Piney Paul, _ “but you left’me for Cecil Crane’s gold. P’raps ou wouldn’t be here if you had stuck,.to me, ut it’s too late now. I'll leave you here to guard this place.” The boy turned back to Cicely, who had, with much anxiety and interest, awaited the end of the battle. There was an eagerness in her face which in- stantly attracted the boy’s attention. ‘“‘ Paul,” she said, in ‘a whisper, ‘‘ there is a person in yon shadow. Twice I have caught a movement there. I am not feverish now. I have been awake all the time.” The boy turned toward the dark spot indi- cated by the girl, and instantly stepped forward. But he had not advanced far before a figure stepped from the shadows, and with eyes and a knife stood before him. It was Pelosee! Piney Paul threw himself between the witch and Cicely, for the light in the eyes of the former and the presence of the knife betrayed her in- tention. ‘*No!” cried Piney Paul, meeting her look with defiance. ‘‘ Your jealousy has got the up- ye hand of you. I want no following now. f you offer to kill Cicely, [ll drive a bullet through you. I told you this once before. I will not tell you a Go back to Ocotoc, and tell him that the girl whom he stole long ago is oing back to her eee I was going to see pias but what he knows, I guess I know well enough!” Pelosee. did not reply; but stood undecided where she had halted. ‘‘ Look up and see the face of Watchemene- toc!” cried Piney Paul, ig toward the ceiling of the cavern. ‘He wants to see you touch the white al y The red witch looked up and uttered a wild ery of horror and fright. : The eyes of the pictured ogre seemed to scin- tillate with true fiendishness, and the bat-like wings appeared to move! With a cry, she started back; the knife dro d from her hands, and, aes over the ead body of Nokomis, she ! “Tts the last of her!” said Piney Paul, ‘She'll go back to Ocotoc, and perhaps fling herself among the wolves. Creeks and crashes! the old Harry must have held my hand when I made his picture up there!” . ing Safety at last seemed breaking over the head of Cicely D e. She held out her hand to Pine Paul, & said: ‘] feel that the trail is leading us out of the woods. The lodge of my white people does not seem far deh 6 It was not nt, though meaty miles stretch- ed their weary lengths between it and the cave. There was commotion in the fashionable so- 15 Blanche, the villain’s haughty wife, tried to laugh the twain’s pretensions down; but Paul, who stood in. her luxurious drawing-room brought his fist down upon the table and cried | with emphasis, while his eyes flashed fire: “Laughing proves nothing! crashes! the girl’s got to have her rights, and I’m going to see that she gets every shilling due | her. I mean business! The will gives your | wealth to her at this day. Say she is not Cicely | Draeme, and I'll tramp back there and bring old Qecotoe himself here. Ha! that hits the mark! Business is business! You must give up | all. This house suits Cicely and me. We want | to live here by and by.” The boy was the hero in the city, as he had been in the forest. He carried his point, and the wealth belong- ing to Cicely was restored to her. Ocotoe’s services were not yeopired beyond the confines of his island, and Pelosee, by re- turning suddenly, startled his ogreship. As for Patagan, he did mot seek Cicely; but made the best of her absence, and soon after- ward died. his last encounter with Piney Paul. Like Simon ness, a victim to the love of gold. Many years afterward a party. of men found the cli a wonderful cave among iffs of the Au- of a demon! But the cave was not tenanted, except by a lot of bones, which marked the last resting-place of Nokomis. I need not add that Piney Paul—Paul Bur- leigh, as his true name was—wedded the Little Arrow of the Adirondacks. The reader has an- ticipated this happy denouement. us the wild mountains lost their little hun- | ter, and Right, triumphing in the wilderness, | thrived in the city, to the delight of honest | people! THE END. THE NEW YORE Fireside Library. 1 Was Soe His‘Wire? Mrs. Ma 2 Fieerne From Love. By Harriet Irving..... 3 Dm He Love Her? Bartley T. Campbell.... 4 A Srrance Woman. By Rett Winwood 5 Napis, THE Russian Spy. F. Whittaker....... 6 Two Grris’ Lives. By Mrs. Mary R. 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BEADLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. Every one of them “Live” Stories by ** Live®? Authors. Each number a Complete Novel, at the extraordinary price of a HALF-DIME. DEADWOOD DICK. 1 Deadwood Dick, THE Prince or THE Roap; or, THe Biack RiwerR oF THE BLACK Huss. By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack; or, THE TRAPPER oF THE ENCHANTED Grounp. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr., author of “ Pacific Pete,” ete. 3 Kansas King; or, Tae Rep RIGHT Hanp, By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F, Cody). The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe; Tux Youna WANDER- ing Jew. By Oll Coomes. er; or, Lire IN 6 Bill Biddon, Tra ward §. Ellis, THE Nortuwest. By vs f The F Yankee; or, THE OCEAN Ovurcast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Seth Jones; or, THE CAPTIVES OF THE FRrontTIER, By Edward 8. Ellis. The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen, Nat Todd; or, THe Fate oF THE Sroux Captive. A Sequel to ‘ Bill Biddon, By Edward §. Ellis. 1 Trapper.”’ 1 1 The Two Detectives; or, THE Fortunes oF A Bowery Giri. By Albert W. Aiken, author of ‘“ The Spotter Detective,” etc. 12 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. 1 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes, author of “‘ Vagabond Joe,” etc. 1 Aladdin; or, THE WONDERFUL LAMP. 1 5 The Sea-Cat; or, THe WirTcH or Darren. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. ‘s. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.) 1 qT Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca- neer; or, THE FuGITIVE YAcurt. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom Spy or, THE Por or THE Prater. By Buffalo Bill. ROBINSON crusoE.—No. 16, 20 The Double Daggers; or, Dzap- woop Dick's DertaAnce. By Edward L. Wheeler, author of ‘‘ Deadwood Dick.”’ 21 Frontier Angel. A Romance of Kentucky Rangers’ Life. By Edward 8. Ellis, author of ‘Seth Jones,” etc. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, THE Boy Ropinson Crusoe. By Col. Juan Lewis. 2 Nick o’ the Night: or, Tuz Boy Spy or %6. By T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk: or, Tok MysTERy oF THE YELLOWSTONE. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham, author of “The Flying Yankee,” etc. 2 5 The Boy Captain: or, THE PrRaTE’s DavGcuTerR. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. By Edward L. Wheeler 27 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By Oll Coomes, De Buffalo Ben, the Prince of the Pistol: or, Deapwoop DICK IN Diseutse. By Edward L. Wheeler : 29 The Dumb Page; or, THE Docr’s Daventer. By Capt. Frederick, Whit- taker, author of ‘‘The Wild-Horse Hunters,” etc. Roaring Ralph Rockwood, Tux 30 RECKLESS Rasaee. By Harry St. George. | , AN AAA TAs >) \\ \ Ms WN : THE DOUBLE DAGGERS,—NO, 20, Keen-Knife, THE PRINCE OF THE Pratries, By Oll Coomes. 3 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian: or, Tae Girt Deap-Ssot, By Edward L. Wheeler, author of “ Deadwood Dick,” etc., etc. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THE RED PIRATES OF THE CaRIBBEES. By Samuel W. Pierce, author of ‘‘The Boy Detective,” etc., etc. 34 Oregon Sol; or, Nick WuHtFriEs’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. Ready 35 Wild Ivan, Tue Boy CLaupE DvuvaL; or, THe BrorHERHOop oF Deats. Dead- wood Dick Romance No. 4. By Edward L. Wheeler. Ready 36 3 Pf The Hidden Lodge; or, THE LITTLE HunTerR OF THE ADIRONDACKS. By_T. C. Harbaugh, author of ‘ Nick o’ the Night,” etc. Ready The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN OF THE ARENA. By Frank 8. Finn, Ready 38 Ned Wylde, Tux Boy Scovrt. Texas Jack. Ready April 16th. By A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. tADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. BUFFALO BEN,—NO, %.