Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 478) (1886 09 21)
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x : oe A * ae Nal Lallallallallallallallaly J} : CF 4 \ — i) e . | \\ i! By x a \ ie » ¥ | ‘ = WUE ROY Mo ® . ANS Son NIEERT EE VNU hed | pol bas 2 tt WWW WW WAV Ws AW VRAARAAY, ‘ ROK 4 = c \ ee ee ee ee ee 7 =Go fy Wea i! fh sad ATT Vm Lg: logit on q mE za |e iT iI i | ll | i i i La! I Sa & {\ y e ~All ANS mit ___Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyright, 1886, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, _____ September 21, 1886, $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, Vol, XIX, a Year. No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. No. 478. APACHE JACR’S WHITE. TRAIL “A Tale of the Land of Silence.” RY FREDERICK DEWEY, CHAPTER I. LOST IN THE DESERT, Ir was a hot day in one of the hottest regions ' of North America—that part lying between the two great rivers, Colorado and the Rio Grande that noon found a curious party at rest on the vast, barren plain known to roaming Indians and hunters as the “‘ Land of Silence.” And it was a land of silence, its endless quiet and monotony never varied save by an occasion- al flock of vultures winging far aloft. Nothing relieved the sterility and monotonous level of this vast expanse, save now and then a slight ‘‘THE DOG! THE TANGEMUND! KEEP HIM OFF!” APACHE JACK SHOUTED, AND SPRUNG IN FRONT OF THE OUTLAW RANGER, PEDRO AND DAY WERE BY HIS SIDE IN A MOMENT, WITH CLUBBED GUNS,
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elevation or mound, and these hillocks only .served to make the dreary level more apparent. So thought the travelers, as in the scanty shade their wagons afforded, they ate their noonday meal, gloomily and in silence, The mules were free toroam at will, but they did not leave the wagons, but eyed their masters’ water- vessels wistfully, waiting for their share, which, however scant, would serve to moisten their dust- inflamed throats, i The party was small, numbering about Re thirteen persons. Four of these were Mexicans; an old man, his daughter, and two attendants, men who had spent their lives in the senor’s ser- vice. ©@ They were escorted by the remainder; soldiers of the United States. Two of these were officers; a lieutenant and sergeant, The other seven were privates and attended to camp duties drove the wagons (of which there were five) anc | stood guard; for though in the ‘‘Land of Since, > strange as it may seem, guards were nee . The old man was Senor Martinez, owner of ‘the most extensive hacienda in northern Mexico. Full fifty years of age, he was as elastic and ‘buoyant as decades since, and he was now, in the wilderness, the real commander of the party. The danghter was a beautiful girl, just bud- ding into womanhood, the idol of her parent, and the divinity of the rough soldiers, who ‘would die for her. She was of medium hi ht, with clear complexion and magnificent hair falling in sable waves over her well-rounded shoulders, and confined at the crown with a clasp of amethyst. Her eyes were dark and wondrously beautiful in their ever-varying ex- pressions. Her dress was in keeping with her comely appearance. Her neat-fitting riding- habit was of expensive material but plain, and in excellent taste, its dark folds contrasting well with the pure white ofgher favorite pony. the envy of many a senorita, 0 plebeian was Senorita Isidore; in station and wealth she was high. The daughter of Senor Martinez, she inherited wealth and riches and of the greatest in Mexico. If Isidore Martinez was of rank and wealth, why was she hero in this burning wilderness, listening with anxious face to her father’s servant, Pedro Felipe, as he spoke words wh ch caused the senor’s face to cloud with vexation? ‘These are the words which caused Isidore’s un- easiness: ““You say, then, Pedro, it is useless to ad- vance?” ‘‘-Yes, senor. We have lost the way.” ‘‘ You have well searched the vicinity for the lost trail?” ‘* Yes, senor.” ‘* You took the return track to discover where Tt ended where we B ¥ we left it?” «© Senor, I found the trail. Jeft it. It was a blind trail,” ‘That wi will do, Pedro, officer.” } Pedro bowed and walked toward a distant ae wagon, and the senor was left to his own reflec- tions. They were uneasy ones, large experience and accustomed to painful situations, but of all dilemmas in which he had _ been placed, this was the worst. He had been ‘heavily plunged into debt, and ruin had lately stared him in the face. But at an opportune time for him, his bfother, the wealthy Don Carlos of California, had died, lJeaving his vast fortune solely to his brother. The hacienda had been heavily mortgaged, and in two months was to be sold under the ham- Bring the young He was a man of 2 7 -amer. In order to avert the calamity, he was obliged to go to San Diego, his brother’s late residence, and return before the mortgage expired. Four months was a short time for that journey, and here he was, stopped almost at the start; lost. Can you wonder now that he was uneasy and é # alarmed? } Lieutenant Craver approached, and saw the y discouraged expression of the senor’s face. He addressed him in a low tone: ‘You desired my presence, senor?” ‘The old man started at the voice, and an ex- pression of relief lightened his weary features. ** Ah! lieutenant.” — ** You appear troubied, senor.” ‘““T am troubled, sir. I wish to ask your ad- ~vice. He arose and took the young man’s arm, and earnestly talking, they wandered out on the hot, sandy plain, the officer smoking his cigarette. He was a handsome, self-reliant young man, tall and muscular, a. nad e His face was frank and open ee ng eS ee er i — ee ate) a and bronzed by the sun. His decided mouth and square chin expressed resolution, and his blue eyes shone with as yet untried fearless- ness, He was a model officer. So thought Isidore, and her judgment rarely failed in its opinion. Pedro and Benedento, smoking under their wagons, were alarmed at the expression of the senor’s face, and indulged in many surmises as to the cause. . Isidore also noticed it, and her woman’s heart longed to comfort him. She would when he re- turned, and Cra-— the officer had gone away. The sun left the meridian on its downward course; the soldiers dozed in the shade of the wagons; Isidore paced the parched plain re- gardless of the burning glare of the sun; the mules, lazily grouped, stolidly twitched their ears and dozed, and the two men out on the lain moved further away; all was quiet in the nd of Silence. Ono of the dozing men on shifting his position, suddenly shouted and started to his feet, with eyes distended and his whole being expressin terror. His cry aroused his companions an they sprung to their feet and gazed .at him as- tonished. He was wildly glaring around him as if in ex- pectation of seeing some horrible object. The soldiers examined the plain. Nothing was to be seen save the two men still out on the sands, They turned and questioned him. He was Sergeant Dare, a veteran of tried courage. e paid no attention to their questions, but sighed heavily, and pressing his hands together, stood as if stupefied. ‘“ What was it, sergeant?” asked private Hicks. Dare sighed heavily and walked slowly away. Mechanically filling his pipe, he returned to his seat, and smoked rapidly, with a frightened, nervous look in his eyes. To the men’s pressing inquiries he only shook hishead slowly. Aston- ished, they returned to the shade of the wagons, discussing his strangeactions. After many con- jectures, Day, a war-tried veteran, spoke for the st time. ‘* Boys, it don’t surprise me at all. I’ve kept my eyes open lately, and it’s my opinion we'll seo mighty strange things fore we git to Cali- rh ‘‘What do you mean, Day?” asked private Hicks. ; ‘‘ Boys,” and the veteran’s voice sunk to a whisper, “‘ this is the ‘ Land of Silence.’” He turned away and glanced at Dare. Slow- ly the sun sunk to the west; slowly the two forms out on the plain drew nearer; the camp was quiet, and Isidore was asleep in her wagon; but Sergeant Dare still sat with his face buried in his hands, and his empty are lay at bis feet. What was the matter with Sergeant Dare? The senor and Craver paced the sands all the hot afternoon, and returned weary and dis- heartened, though with a settled plan, It was this: to dispatch Pedro and Benedento to the Rio Grande for a guide, without which they should never have started. To do this would require a week at least. The senor groan- ed as he entered his wagon: ‘¢‘ Seven more precious days lying idle on this accursed plain.” A sudden commotion among the soldiers drew his attention, and he dismounted from the wag- onand looked about him, A man was coming at a gallop, afar out on the plain. All eyes earnestly regarded him as he steadily approach- ed, rising and falling with his horse, gradually becoming more distinct, Many questions arose as to who he was, and why he should be riding alone in this trackless wilderness. Was he an Indian? No. As he drew near they could see he wasa white man, though his face was deeply b onzed by wind and sun, As he approached he slackened bis pace and advanced ata fast walk, the horse panting heavi- vt rode silently by the group of soldiers, eying them sharply, and dismounted and ad- dressed the senor: ‘‘This is Senor Martinez, I believe,” and he cast a searching glance at him. The senor replied in the affirmative. ‘“*T am Captain Hart.” ‘‘ fndeed? I have heard of him often. wish to see me on business?” Hart replied that he was enroute to the Colo- rado, and had heard that the party was going in the same direction. As the Apaches were hos- tile and on the war-trail, he would beg leave to accompany the party. The senor cordially bade him welcome, and invited him to supper, which was then ready. glance at him. You While he is eating, let us Tangemund, the Desert Detective. EEE nnn —_ ——— eee ~. ej He was above the medium hight, lean and sinewy, with a dark complexion and piercing» sinister eye, which was never at rest, but.con- stantly glancing, as if in momentary suspicion. His cheek-bones were high, his nose aquiline, and the mouth straight, with thin, colorless lips. Emphatically he was not a handsome man, His clothing was of buckskin, and fitted tightly. He wore ashort, fancifully-decorated jacket and leg- gings, and a pair of heavy boots, on which were strapped a pair of huge steel spurs. His head was surmounted by a peaked sombrero, in the band of which a black feather nodded and waved, It was once the property of the black buzzard, and was a suspicious-looking plume. Across his back was slung a carbine, and his belt contained several pistols and a wicked- looking knife. These, with his horse, a power- ful black, complete the man. Altogether, his general air is suspicious, and many dark tales have been told of Captain Hart and his band of rangers and this story will show whether the man was misjudged. CHAPTER II. THE QUARREL. Nicut had come, and the camp-fires were blazing, the guards were posted, and the joke and song went round, There were three fires. One, the senor’s, sacred from intrusion by his daughter’s presence; the other two belong- ed to Craver and bis men, one being the pri- vate ‘retreat of the lieutenant and his sergeant while the other was a huge bonfire, around which clustered the soldiers and Pedro and Benedento. It is not with these latter fires we are inter- ested to-night, but in one by itself—the senor’s. Around this fire were three perscns holding a council—the senor, the lieutenant and the ranger captain, Isidore having retired to rest. Craver and the ranger were on opposite sides of the fire, each resolving within himself to hold no unnecessary communication with the other. From the first they had disliked each other— why, they could not tell. The senor was speak- ‘Then, captain, you propose to accompany us to San Diego?” ‘Only as far as the Colorado, senor.” ‘*-You are acquainted with the route?” *“ Perfectly, senor.” ‘¢Then we may push on at once. Lieutenant, we have a guide now,” joyfully spoke he, al) his despondency vanishing at once. e ranger stared. “* What! have you no guide?” “cc No!” And the senor related their dismay at losing the trail, of which the reader is already ac- quainted. A sudden gleam overspread Hart’s countenance, ‘The way is plain enough to me,” he said, apparently musing. Thesenor was overjoyed. Are there any landmarks?” inquired Craver, ‘“‘ Plenty!” ‘¢ What are they?” The ranger affected not to hear. peated the question. ““T know them, sir.” Hart vouchsafed no other reply. The lieutenant’s face flushed.’ ‘Tt were better, sir, that we knew them, in case of any accident happening to you.” Hart replied, insolently: “Well, if you are so nervous about accidents, here they are; twelve hours’ journey in a south- westerly course will bring you to the Skeleton ay Buttes, which continue ina chain nearly to the Colorado. All you have to do is to follow them.” ‘‘That’s a lie, Cap Hart!” growled a deep : voice behind him in the darkness, The ranger sprung to his feet and drew his re- volver. ‘‘Who tells me I lie?” he yelled, cocking the revolver. The lieutenant stirred the fire and it flamed brightly. y By the bright light the ranger could see his challenger. He was a man, a giant in propor- tions, quietly sighting along the barrel of a huge ae rifle which was aimed at the ranger’s head. ne, a ‘¢ Drop that revolver!” growled the stranger. ig “Who are you?” defiantly asked Hart. iy ae ‘Drop that revolver and sot down, or ye i may drop down.” : ae The stranger’s gray eyes snapped dangerous- . ly, heaps he steadily glanced across his ivory sights. : Hart sullenly obeyed, ‘The stranger lower his huge weapon and advanced to the fire — Craver re- e
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se He was a giant, dressed in the garb of a hunter, and a long tress of coal-black hair dangled from his rifle, } “ Apache Jack!” yelled Hart, springing to his feet in alarm. ; "Yes, Apache Jack!” reiterated tho new- comer. ‘* Yer seem narvous, Cap Hart.” “T thought you were dead and scalped, long ago.” “Nary time,” chuckled the giant, whom we shall call by name Apache Jack, , “What do you mean by telling me I lie?” asked tho ranger, with a glimmer of bravado, ‘‘Bekaso yer do!” Hart's hand moved slewly toward his belt, ‘ The quick eye of the scout noticed the move- ment, and his eves snapped. “ Jest draw it! Idare ye to! Ef ye ever so much as cock it, the buzzaras will be a-pecking ‘ye before twelve hours.” And his eyes glittered -. and his mouth and chin settled into an expres- gion of resolution. Hart slowly withdrew his hand from his belt. The senor, who had been astounded by the - sudden quarrel and mysterious appearance of the scout, now interposed. 7 “Who are you that Sppene so mysteriously, e and breed discord by insulting one of our party a r without provocation?” = 5 | ‘¢ Senor Martinez, ye kain’t insult thet feller,” 2 * The senor was astounded, ho was this : strange man that he knew every one? He con- ; Simed: i 3 % ** The captain is of our party, sir, and as its ] t leader, I have a right to demand why you pro- yoke him without cause.” ‘tT hed cause, senor.” , ‘*Then let me hear it, and if possible termi- . ; nate this unhappy wrangle.” ; “Wal, then, he war tryin’ to mislead ye.” 3 “You are a liar!” snarled Hart, his rage overcoming his judgment. The whole demeanor of Apache Jack changed in an instant, Like ery his rifle flew to his shoulder, and before Hart could draw his re- volver the rifle was staring him in the face with its yawning muzzle, ‘ “Take it back! take it back, ye coyote, or by Be the heavens I'll drop yer in yer tracks!” £ ‘ Hart hesitated. | ; “Tll give ye more than yedesarve. Ill count 2 six, andthen— One!” "ihe soldiers, drawn to the spot by the uproar, could see the finger press hard on the trigger } and they held their breath in suspense, alter- nately gazing at the combatants, z Craver sprung between them. © Hold!” he shouted. ‘‘ Don’t shoot! Sergeant Dare, draw the men in lino with muskets ready _ to fire.” “oat In a twinkling the veterans filed inte place. Jt was an exciting scene, The scout was en- deavoring to elude Craver and bring his weapon to bear on the defiant ranger. The senor stood by, astounded, Isidore was trembling between the Mexicans. Craver was trying to soothe the enraged scout, “ss wo!” There was an intense silence as the scout vounted. “Three!” And with the activity of a cat he sprung by the lieutenant, and the sights were again on the ranger. “Pour! Five!” ‘“ Stop!” screamed Hart, dropping on his knees. ve Sie The soldiers aimed their pieces at the two men. . ’ “a Ssi—!” ee ‘‘T knuckle! Oh, God! don’t fire!” ee : Tt was over. The soldiers brought their mus- ae kets to the shoulder, and the sergeant growled: Oe) | ‘** Order—arms!” een Down came the muskets. Apache Jack low- | + __ ered his rifle and turned toward Craver. | * Teftenint, you air a fine young man. But, eg 4 -—s“ by the Eternal! no man blocks my game. Ef See yo hadn't saved my life oncet, ye'd ha’ b’en a _ dead man now.’ Graver was astonished. When had he saved - Apache Jack’s life? He had never seen him before. He looked inquiringly at the scout. Apache Jack noticed his gaze. “Tl tell ye bimeby,” and ho sat down by the fire. , The excitement was over and the soldiers dis- persed, and the fire shed its light now on four persons; Apache Jack making the fourth, _”-'The ranger was earnestly whispering with the senor, whose faco was ominously dark. Isidore, who had been attracted by the confu- sion, returned to the wagon and peeped out. She could both hear and see Craver and the — 4 a wf Tangemund, the Desert F ine oT. ey eee & - ve De tae scout, who were talking by the fire, the scout never taking his eyes from Captain Hart. ‘* How do you know me? when did I save your life?” eagerly questioned Craver. pees Jack smiled, ‘Wal, { know every man in this kentry, and seein’ thar ain’t but a few, it ain't sech a hard matter ter bekime acquainted. D’ye remember when a man kim ter the fort, sick and miserable and ye ordered the doctor ter tek good keer of him ontil he rekivered? Wal, ’'m thet chap. Ef it hadn’t b’en fer yer orders, [ reckin Id ha’ gi’n out.” Craver recollected the cireumstance. He had not only ordered the surgeon to attend to the sick man, but had sent him delicacies from his own mess, of which the scout was not aware. ‘* What did you mean by saying Hart was trying to mislead us?” ‘* Wal, jest repeat what the skunk said.” ** He said, ‘twelve hours’ journey in a south- westerly course would bring us to Skeleton Buttes.’” ‘Thet’s a lie, and he knows it! Twenty-four hours’ ride ter the northwest will bring ye to the Buttes, and a year’s ride in any other direc- tion won’t take ye anywhars nigh ’em,” ‘** Are ye sure?” ws iy Jack glanced at him in pity. ‘* How long ye b’en in this kentry? ‘*‘ T came from Fort Leavenworth three months ago.” ‘*Thet’counts fer yer never hearing of Apache Jack. Why, boy, thar ain’t a rock or tree fer miles that I kain’t put my finger on in the black- est night ever made!” He sunk into abstraction, now and then gazing suspiciously at Hart, who was still holding an earnest conversation with the senor. He seemed intently thinking over something as he now and baa + paagge a low rg ae ‘ sidore, peeping through the wagon-cap. heard something that made her heart beat faster and her eyes sparkle, as the scout sudden- ly spoke: ‘Thar’s a feemale in the outfit, ain’t thar?” ‘* Yes, the senor’s daughter Isidore.” ‘Tsidore! a right purty name. And a right purty gal, too?” “She is the prettiest, best—” ** Soho!” and Apache Jack grinned. The young man blushed. “ That’s the way the land lays, then, Soho!” And Apache Jack grinned harder than ever. ' Isidore saw the young man’s embarrassment, and her heart beat fast. Her tender Mexican emotions had pictured the lieutenant as a hero, and she had many times blushed as she caught herself wondering whether he cared for her. And now asweet thrill succeeded the anxious doubt, and she crept to bed, blushing and smil- ing. Dear lieutenant! And then her woman’s caprices veered around and she pouted prettily. 6 had not come near her all that day. On the morrow she would show the lieutenant how little his absence af- fected her. Ugly lieutenant! Apache Jack continued to study, and at last he again spoke: ‘*Is thar any money in the outfit?” Craver did not know. He only knew the senor was wealthy. The scout bent over and whispered a few words in his ear. ; The young man started. “The villain!” he muttered, clinching his revolver tightly. ‘‘If he dares touch Isi- dore—” ‘* Hush!” cautioned ths scout. ‘‘Thar they kim. The senor and Hart returned closer to the fire and lighted their cigarettes. Craver and Apache Jack remained silent. Sergeant Dare, in making the rounds of tho camp that night, saw something which caused him to shudder and tremble from head to foot. When he returned to the fire, his companion saw he was alarmed and frightened, and he went about as one ina trance. This was the second time he had acted so unaccountably, and they looked inquiringly from one to another. ‘What is the matter with the sergeant?” _ A voice was heard out on the plain, calling him byname. Again and again it rung out in the darkness: ‘Sergeant Dare! Sergeant Dare!” John Day, the veteran, touched him gently. ‘“‘Sarge’nt, some one’s calling you,” He started violently and appeared unnerved, The voice called again: “Sergeant Dare!” : He arose and walked toward the voice, It was one of the sentinels—Hicks, He was > . i ie Fe * . 4 } re tective. nervously peering about him in the darkness, Ane ie and his face wore a terrified expression, od “Sergeant,” he huskily whispered, ‘‘I just . now saw the fearfulest—” The sergeant put his hand over the man’s dil mouth, and Hicks felt it tremble. +. ‘“*What was it?” he whispered, taking his R hand from Hicks’s mouth and placing both hands on his shoulders. Hicks whispered a single word in his ear. The sergeant turned as one bereft of his senses, and staggered away. Suddenly he turned. “Don’t tell a soul,” he whispered, and crept toward the fire, leaving the frightened sentinel alone with the rising moon and the torture of the thought of once again seeing that fearful object. Vhat is the matter with private Hicks and ‘ Sergeant Dare? CHAPTER III. THE DESERT RANGERS. Axpovut midnight one of the sentinels was star- tled at hearing a hoof-stroke behind him. He turned and sawa man enveloped ina heavy blanket, mounted on a large horse, beckoning to him, He advanced, and the horseman spoke; ‘*Hush! I am Captain Hart. I want to ride about twenty miles and back before dawn. You know I had a quarrel last night with Apache Jack about a certain matter in which I am now going to prove I am right.” He leaned over and dropped some money in the man’s hand. ‘* And you need say nothing about this,” He struck spurs to his horse and galloped away. The man stood still, peaenine “ as he a rapidly disa The incident passed so quickly that he scarcely heard Hart speak before he was swiftly receding. Evidently he did not like the looks of the affair, as he grum- bled ee ““T wish I had never entered this accursed country. Hoe took meso by surprise I didn’t know what I was doing when I let him by. ‘*Cuss him! He looked as black as a thunder~ cloud and twico as surly. I know him of old. He don’t mean any good eee re in the night so. The cunning coyote! bought my silence with his cursed money. Ill give it bac to-morrow, and tell the lieutenant.” e While he thus muttered, Hart was galloping es over the moonlit plain, cursing and vowing re- ¢ venge on Apache Jack. The coyotes sat on the sand-hills, keenly watching him; the gray mountain wolf, as he trotted boldly in the bright moonligat, eyed him with a gleaming eye and shining teeth and howled; but he noticed noth- : ing but a minute speck afar off in the dim al horizon. 3 The wolf again howled and followed in a gallop. Another joined him, More dusky forms added to the pack, and soon he was steadi- Yq ly pursued by a score. But he still noticed nothing but the speck, now grown to a blot, anc cursed Apache Jack, and galloped faster. ; He looked to his pistols. ‘‘ Perhaps I may ioe use them to-night,” he muttered. ‘‘The Apa- é ches are on the war-trail—hark!” “a He drew rein suddenly, curbing his horse back on his haunches as a low, mournful wail floated to his ears. He looked eagerly around, but he was alone in the moonlight. He turned to resume his gallop. ” Again that prolonged cry, dim, as from a distance, floated vaguely out in the weird night ¥ air. His eye fellon the wolves sitting on their te hams a short cistance in his rear. ‘ He drew a breath of relief, and then his face / and head sunk. ‘ ‘It was miles away, and not the howl of wolf either.” And he sat with drooping head, — a intently thinking. Half an hour passed anc a still he sat in his saddle, absorbed in thought, herp and muttering disjointedly. The wolves circled round and round, skulking and licking their chops, their gleaming eyes fastened on the quiet a ranger, , a Coyotes drew near, and at a safe distance y y eagerly watched the proceedings, sitting on — their tails, ' 7 A. prairie-owl wheeling above eyed them all; $% ranger and horse, wolves and coyotes, ae All this time something dark and massive _ be galloped toward the silent group in the moon- et light, steadily following the ranger’s trail. A few minutes pa'sed. The group had slight- ly changed in position, The ranger had fallen into a semi-stupor, the wolves were closer, and the coyotes had bravely drawn near. The owl, instead of wheeling, was still poised above the ranger, but not looking at him, : foros _. }
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7 + : ae ~ BST we me , = wii ~ Tangemund, the Desert Detective. Far from it. Something strange had drawn his attention back on the ranger’s trail, some- thing with red eyes and P " r Ma oa be cin ps never drawing rein, never looking up, butpon- | dering deeply. Suddenly Avalanche swerved, and the ranger, off his guard, was unseated and. fell to the ground. . Pik. A hoarse bay thundered out, and the ranger, _ \ “7 1
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Tangemund, the Desert De aby Pa eee ai ol Se Sige ws al ase ry a ward him. Another minute and he would be ‘torn to pieces, but he was used to emergencies. He whistled to his horse and fled toward him. The noble horse instantly responded, and as the a Tangemund sprung with a yell of triumphat his enemy, the ranger leaped into the saddle, bare- ly escaping, with a lacerated leg. Neither horse nor hound ;tarried a single in- stant Like a shaft from the bow away darted the ‘horse, plied with whip and spur, like a beagle after a hare the dog followed, with his sonorous bay filling the air. The pursuer was the swiftest of his race. But on the sandplains none could compare with the - Avalanche. Each animal was at his highest rate ; of speed, and as they tore along the horse stead- | ily left the tuneful bay in the wake, and Hart, ‘looking over his shoulder, saw with relief that the distance was increasing. Still onward sped the horse, and still doggedly followed the hound, but steadily losing ground, _ An hour passed on and the camp was at hand, Hart reined in and turning in his saddle, long ' and earnestly gazed bebind, The plain was de- sy _serted; but, far in the rear, coming untiringly . .on a steady trot was the Tangemund; with tail ( erect and head bent down he still scented on, . ‘surely and determinedly, and at intervals sound- ; , ed his ominous note, thrice as angry, ten times more resolute than ever before. - A half-hour passed. Hart was on the out- _ skirts of the camp, breathing his horse to dis- _ «arm suspicion. Day was faintly breaking in the east; and as the horizon radually grew grayer and grayer, a faint ean came from the west, round and melodious; the Avenger was on the track, stall coming. Sumething in that tuneful sound caused the ranger’s heart to sink like lead; and he rode in- c ‘to camp with a dim shadow hanging over him. ' "The prophecy of his remorseful lieutenant; the _ marrow escape two hours ago; that ominous ‘ ~ sound in the west, growing nearer, all seemed to ; whisper, ‘‘ the end is coming!” He passed into camp unchallenged but seen, Ie and by a pair of glittering eyes; and as he strip- Be his tired horse and lay down in his blankets, hi iy gS LS e ¢ ¥ § + » . rf . t~ Brrdy e same eyes took in every movement, Ever after, wherever he was; whatever he -was doing, those same eyes kept strict watch; eepless and vigilant they followed him always; littering and gleaming, waiting for the end to CHAPTER IV.. As xo ; 3 WHERE IS PEDRO? cn ey Ere the sun had risen the camp was astir. Sor First from out the wagons crept the scout and Craver. Then came the cry of the sergeant in “the absence of adrum sounding the reveille: i Sa 7 ~*Turn out! turn out!” MO CON At the sound the soldiers arose, some quickly, | «others slowly; loth to leave the comfortable - nests under the wagons. | — +One a young Irishman, Sonny Daly, only ‘f ; s 1 mt 4 4 hy be -grunted at the sound and turned like a seal on =the other side and continued his nasal melody. i, “ Come, turn out!” urged the sergeant, with a slight foot-incentive. ‘The eagle does not aN: _ “dinger at morn, but the rat seeks his hole at the ae. break of day.” F ___- The Irishman leaped to his feet, scared, over- -__-syhelmed at this burst of rhetoric from the stolid Gar were “J ‘se nt. é . “ Bae ‘ at!” he vociferated, inalarm; ‘say that again!’ he demanded, with the unbounded -_—-freedom of the wild camp which levels rank to the dust. Che: gan ‘‘T was only speaking figuratively,” pompous- » , | Ay replied the Ser genns | +” Ye can’t do that, fur ‘figures don’t lie!’” re- | storted the ready-witted Sonny, a + A burst of laughter greeted this sally. aM + That was a clincher, Sonny,” approvingly _ |/ =remarked a comrade. ; “ive » “That's what ye thought whin the squaw £ _-—s *pulled yer nose at the fort last fall,” was the __ equick rejoimder. ? __ The man disappeared amid taunts and jeers sat his inglorious defeat. } nae ‘* Sonny, you are as sharp as a terrier,” ad- _-‘miringly spoke the sergeant. ; “Anis it Sonny ye call me? Like son like If I'm a terrier, thin, be jabers! ye aro e 4 do: 7 . be feonia roars of lau be) Ths aman. oT oils floated out, savoring of cheer—‘‘ Grub "3 - ” _ - But all the merriment ceased as the welcome. 5 _ terror-stricken, saw the Tangemund flying to- Any one who has “ roughed it” on the plains can imagine the scuffle and rush that took place. The cook tore around like a madman outwit- ted, cursing the appetite of the soldiers. Who ever saw a good-natured camp-cook? Strive as he will, it is impossible to keep the lar- der well-stored, and the cry is, never ceasing, “* More, more!” Every day the cook in solitude wails the same complaint of ‘*‘ Work, work, work! and those wig fa are not to be satisfied.” reakfast was dispatched, the mules harness- ed, and ere the sun was two hours high the train was in motion. Isidore, on her prancing pony, galloped ahead. Comely in repose, she was doubly beautiful when excited, and Craver thought he had never seen aught so fair as she cantered lightly over the plain. She was a fearless rider, having been accus- tomed to the saddle from infancy, and her every motion showed her to be an accomplished eques- trian. She looked back and saw the lieutenant riding to join her. Her cheeks grew a trifle rosier and her heart pounded a little as he reined in by her side, She challenged him to race, He gladly as- sented and away they flew, the snow-white pony, though the inferior of Craver’s horse, a bit in advance. Half an hour they went along, chat- ting gayly until the lieutenant, on looking back, saw the train a mere speck far behind. His heart beat a trifle faster as he cried: ‘*Enough! I throw up the sponge.” She halted and turned quickly: ** The senor does what? ‘* Throw up the sponge,” he replied, gallantly. m A sweet look of perplexity clouded the fair row. ‘*T do not understand,” she said. Craver reddened like a peony. for using such langage. fess myself beaten.” ‘“* Ah!” and the cloud dispersed. ‘‘ Perhaps the senor has been beaten in some other way,” and she gave him an arch glance and smile that at once reduced him to a state of imbecility. ‘* Now you have puzzled me.” She noticed his embarrassed air and smiled to herself. ‘¢ Perhaps the pretty senorita at the fort un- derstands,” she smiled. ‘*Who? Rosarita?”’ The same.” ** A fig for Rosarita!” ‘‘Then perhaps some golden-haired, blue-eyed northern beauty is the favored one,” she per- sisted. ‘‘Some quiet little creature, too modest to race with a senor on the plains.” ‘* No!” and he plucked up courage. ‘‘ The one who has conquered me is dark-haired and beau- tiful, the best horsewoman in the South.” ‘*Really! I wonder who it can be?’ Her eyes fell, and to Craver it seemed she was deeply musing. His heart throbbed, ‘*Now or never,” he said to himself, then drew closer and leaned over toward her. ‘‘ Shall I tell you, Isidore?’ he murmured. Isidore! How the name thrilled ber, She was charmingly confused now and her face was scarlet, and her heart bounded violently. She murmured something, what, he could not tell. ‘** Tsidore,” and his face was close to hers now, ‘*it is yourself.” He paused short. She made noanswer, He went on, growing more hopeful and courageous at every step. ‘Oh, Isidore. Ever since I first saw you I have loved you. Sometimes when you were dis- tant and I thought you did not care for me, I thought I would die were you to love another. When I used to watch by your wagon at night I would have given worlds to have known you loved me. Will you tell me to-day, now, Isi- dore, my love?” She lifted her radiant eyes, swimming in tears of joy, and held out her trembling hand. He seized it and covered it with passionate kisses, then the whole strong undercurrent of tender- ness surged to the surface and he caught her passionately in his arms, As the warm winds from the tropics rush to the soothing breezes from the north, so her southern tenderness and hot, passionate emo- tions met his, , , One glad cry and she was in his arms, her lips glued to his, and their arms striving to draw the other closer, tighter. The horses involuntarily stopped and stood motionless while they over- whelmed each other with caresses, For several minutes they remained thus, then her maidenly modesty asserted itself and she w away, blusbing scarlet, ‘* Pardon mo I mean I yield and con- ; “ 1 ama ~~ - ¥ : Sow SN iif te 7s a eran “ 4 Le a . A x rk ja the! ae +g tective. ee oe He gazed, delighted at this proof of her inno- cence, and for a moment neither spoke. She looked up again and smiled, bringing the hot blood to his face again, and be wason the | eve of again embracing her when the horses sud- denly snorted and reared in affright. But that they were good riders that had been unseated. They looked up astounded. Not ten paces distant was a mounted Indian in war-paint black as ink, bestriding a black mustang. His feathers were black; bis scant, garb was of the same hue, and even his teet were stained sable. His horse was stained from head to foot, his very hoofs being darkened. He sat in his strange saddle, grim and motion- less, without moving a muscle. Craver sprung in front of Isidore, shielding her, and the two men confronted each other. A minute dragged by in silence. Isidore stepped side by side with her lover. Then Craver spoke: ‘** Who are you?” “The Night-Owl!” answered the savage im good Spanish. ** What do you want here?” ‘“‘{ have come to guard the pale-face squaw. She is in danger.” } ‘* Danger?” He stretched his sable arm and pointed over the plain: ‘* See!” he said. They followed the direction and saw a large animal with head bent to the ground trotting toward them. He was tawny, and of prodigious size. As they gazed, he raised his head aloft and pealed out a mournful, musical bay, then trotted on. He was on a scent. They eyed the savage askance, strangely ner- vous and apprehensive. He drew erect in his saddle and retreated a step; then turned and looked over his shoulder at the maiden. Two words he spoke, but the maiden*knew them well and of old. “ The Tangemund !” , He galloped away. The hound, now quite eee saw’them for the first time, and halted short. After gazing steadily for a moment, he again dropped his huge head and snuffed ong on & trot, now receding from them and following the trail of the savage. But he followed it meth and apparently with no defined object but his instinct. They watched the dark form of the savage as he sped swiftly away, erect in his saddle, never gazing behind. They watched the bloodhound as he followed, at intervals pealing out that wild plaintive cry. Still the horseman swiftly sped. on, rising and falling, gradually disappearing; still the hound followed, snuffing along; and a faint shadow of alarm came over them as they watched the strange pair; the savage, now a speck in the distance, and the hound still follow- ing, further away. A faint shout came from behind. It was the train now quite near, and without chm age s'owly turned and awaited its approach. It came slowly on, Apache Jack in advance, mounted on a mustang, and Hart and the senor next. Then came the wagons, with the musical tinkling of bells on the harness. They again looked over the plain. It was now deserted, The savage had disappeared, and the bloodhound had mysteriously vanished, Apache Jack rode up, and when within speak- ' ing distance, called Craver, and, the two rede to one side, The scout’s face was clouded and gloomy, and the lieutenant noticing, asked: ‘+ What is the matter?” ‘“‘T dunno.’ Everything is wrong. Thar’s that skunk Hart got on the blind side of the old man and is wheedling him inter some cussed doin that'll bring the outfit to no good. He made the senor believe that he was mistaken "bout the Skeleton Buttes, and the old feller thinks he’s best man on airth, Then thar’s Pedro gone away, no one knows whar.” “Gone away?” “He hain’t done nothing else. The other Greaser, Benny—something I dunno—” ‘* Benedento,” ““That’s it—Benny Denter. He gits up this mornin’ and find his pard has gone off. So like a cussed fool he thinks he’s off on a scout and never says anything about it until asked.” ‘““ Who asked him?” “T did, I see’d airly on the start he warn’t around, so Lasked his nard. What do ye think. . the blamed fool said?) He thought be’d gone on a scout, Such a scout!” and Apache Jack laughed scornfully, , , “Young feller,” he continued, ‘it’s my idee he’s took French leave,” Redes Foe
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Ds 6 ‘i Tangemund, the Desert Detective. ** What! deserted?” ‘“‘T don’t mean nuthin’ else, Ha! What's that?” he exclaimed, pointing over the plain. ‘*T can see nothing,” returned the officer. ‘Ye can’t? Jest squint along this finger!” Craver did as desired, but still saw nothing. Apache Jack glanced at him with something like contempt. ‘‘Them’s city eyes,” he muttered. ‘‘I?’m goin’ to see what it is.” Now Craver could perceive a minute speck afar off. “Hold!” he cried. Apache Jack halted. Craver hurriedly re- lated the meeting with the strange chief, sup- pressing nothing, but giving every minute de- tail, The scout stared and mused for several minutes. Craver watched him with a presenti- ment of evil. The scout spoke: ‘Do ye know what this ’ere kentry is called?” ‘¢ Yes; the Land of Silence.” “Exactly. And the Tangemund?” ** Yes,” replied the officer, perplexed as to his meaning. ‘* Wal, the two together make a mighty fierce team. Thar’s suthin’ wrong a-brewin’. Now I’m goin’ to scout after tbat black rascal, and i may not be back afore night, and mebbe not at all.. Meanwhile you keep a sharp watch on that ranger, and don’t take yer eye away from him. as mind what I say, and keep yer eyes peel- ed!’ He started away at a swift gallop. The lieu- tenant watched him a moment, then rode after the wagons, which had passed while they were talking, and joined Isidore. She welcomed him with a sweet smile. Hart was talking with the senor, and by his energetic gestures it was evident he was earnestly discussing some mat- ter. The soldiers were moody and silent, and Benedento ever and anon peered anxiously off in the distance. Still the train rumbled and jingled on. pache Jack turned the late events over in his mind, as he sped away on his mustang. Hewas troubled and anxious. What could the Tangemund be lurking about for?—that ani- mal the sure precursor of death and disaster. And the black chief so 1 eg coming, and going no one knew whither. ho was he? And where was Pedro Felipe? It was only too plain something was wrong. The hot sun blinked down through the grad- ually accumulating haze, the air felt strangely, and all was quiet in the Land of Silence. ~ But he still spurred on watching keenly for the reappearance of the speck in the distance, It did not appear. Five miles away. He was now speeding by thick clusters of prickly pear, which proved a source of annoyance to the feet of the mustang. Away in the distance small h llocks, broken and sandy, arose from the plain. He was not far from Skeleton Buttes. Ten miles away. Now the train was a mere dot in the purple distance, and he was in the hillock, dodging them right and left. Still no speck, nothing blotting the horizon. But he spurred on. Three miles away a tall mound rose abruptly. He resolved to reconnoiter this, and he trended toward it. Now he must be wary and cautious indeed, as the Apaches were on the war-trail, and they were very crafty and hold. But he still spurred on, “wi When withing 4 imiie of it he looked back. The train was no Jonger in sight. He was alone in the wilderness. He rode up to the mound but did not ascend it. He was too cunning and wary to do that, jut he skirted it, with his rifle ready for use. mething vague and indistinct cautioned him against mounting the hill, and he observed the aution, The mound was narrow and long, shaped like a plain fortification, and to a stranger it would seem to be the work of man. But not to him. Under its side he trotted, still guarding against a surprise, and at length reached a point or promontory extending into the plain for some distance, Now he must be careful, Behind that gloomy, specter-like point a score of Apaches might be gazing at him. He looked over the plain to be sure no enemies were watching him. Then he glanced at the summit. A vulture was perched on asand-crag, over- looking the plain. Again that vague uneasiness crept over him; and a firm foreboding arose with- in him that whatever it was, wherever it was fes- tering, whenever it was coming, trouble was at hand, and the vulture, pluming himself on the sand-crag, had, with his piercing eye, seen it nearing in the future, close at hand, ee oe. = eee, ——— NS He peered around the point. The plains beyond the hillside, were bare. He turned the corner. He rode at a trot around the hill. .A sound behind him drew his attention. There, erect and motionless as a corpse, was the coal-black savage on the sable steed, looking grimly at him, but never stirring. Apache Jack was thunderstruck. From whence had that specter-like formarisen? There was no cavity in the hill, no bush near, no shel- tering rovk. For a moment the scout was ac- tually alarmed. Then his nerve and habitual coolness came back, and in a twinkling the huge rifle was at his shoulder, bearing straight at the savage’s head. ‘Saint or devil, man or ghost, speak, or [ll put a hole through ye, by the Almighty, I will!” The savage, who was armed to the teeth, threw his rifle to the ground, but never spoke, Then he calmly dismounted and advanced grim- ly toward the sighting scout. He drew quite close, then the scout’s eyes snapped. ‘** Halt!” he commanded. The figure coolly threw down his remaining weapons, a knife, tomahawk and heavy war- club. But he never spoke, his face was grim and motionless, and he still kept on. Something told the scout not to fire, and he lowered his rifle as the form approached, and halted with unchanging countenance at an arm’s length from him, The two warriors regarded each other in si- lence for a moment, then the figure spoke; only two words, ‘ The scout stared in amaz*ment. The savage kent on ina guttural whisper, never moving a muscle. For fully five minutes he continued in a low tone as if fearful of the ears of the vulture. Then he stalked back, gathered his weapons and remounted his horse, Then, side by side in the blazing sun and the haze of the desert, in silence rode the two; out from the mound and into the plain; and all was quiet in the Land of Silence. Away in the distance moved the train, stretch- ing away, now at five hours from sunset, in sight of the Skeleton Buttes. Hart and Senor Mar- tinez were still earnestly talking and the senor’s face was smiling; he was evidently pleased. Craver and Isidore rode side by side, very close together; but in spite of this love for the fair girl by his side; in spite of her sweet smiles and loving, tender whispers, he never took his gaze from Captain Hart save to anxiously scan the distance; and Isidore was alarmed and perplex- Suddenly, afar off, appeared a minute blur. All eyes were at once turned toward it, and for half an hour they gazed keenly, Then as it be- came larger, they saw it was a horseman by the steady rise and fall. It was the scout. An hour efter he dashed in riding like the wind. Without stepping he rode at once to the lieutenant, and as the mustang panted and stamped, he cried aloud: ‘* Has Pedro come back?” He had not, he anaes darkly eyed the scout and asked: ‘ What have you seen?” | Apache Jack returned his gaze steadily, and the Lge ig eyes fell. : ” ave seen enough!” git Bt ts Pedro gh!” he muttered. ‘Where CHAPTER V. A MYSTERY. As the sun went down there were scattered, many miles apart, several groups on different errands, but all going toward the same place. One was out in the open plain, a band of thirty, glittering in feathers and war-paint, riding to- ward a chain of mounds in the south; Apaches. The second group was the halted train at the buttes. The third was a party of five, in high bats with black plumes, riding toward the north, also toward the train— Desert Rangers. Away in the west was a coal-black form arm- ed to the teeth, mounted on a sable steed, rid- ing east ; the lone savage. And afar in the east miles distant from him and far from hearing o the train, arose a deep, tuneful, swelling bay; and the Tangemund was on the death-trail, going west, The twilight thickened, and the outside group were nearer, Moving slower, advancing on the train. From the four parts of the compass they were coming, gradually closing in, each uncon- scious of the other’s presence. The bay was si- lent now, but in its stead was the pattering of swift-flying feet and the ominous sniff as the \ eee ——————— unerring avenger gallopedon. And miles away the coal-black rider, invisible in the darkness, reined in his steed near the train. For an hour he remained thus, when from afar east rose the bay of the bloodhound. Setting his lips in grim resolve he once more: pushed on, and in a few moments was silently gazing down upon the camp from a tall mound. He had not been long there when a peculiar whistle rung out afar on the plain, very faint and musical, He dismounted, and bidding his horse kneel, lay down beside him, listening keenly. Below him the camp lay silent, but not wholly asleep, four persons being awake. Two of these were the guards—Hicks and Day. The others were Apache Jack and Hart.. The scout lay quiet under Isidore’s wagon, inwardly chuckling, yet conscious of a lurking evil at hand, while Stor was swearing and con-- vulsively fingering his long knife-handle. His well-laid plan had been frustrated by the suspicious scout, and now, instead of being within easy reach of the bandits, the camp was: on a level plain, a hundred yards from the bluffs. But it would not have been so, had the scout been less versed in Indian lore, for with only ordinary caution he had strenuously op-~ posed the ranger’s attempts to persuade the senor to encamp between two mounds.. He had to reason strongly, however, for the old man had been so duped by the wily ranger that the scout stood low in bis esteem. But: reason and undeniable facts carried the day, being backed by the advice of the veterans, whose advice was given in the recollection of hard experience. In the midst. of the discussion, which was: warm and rather excited, Hicks stepped for- ward and, saluting the scout, said: “T’ve fou’t Injuns' a heap in my day, and I’ve Varnt that when a force isdown ina hollow they stand a mighty poor chaince. Any green- horn, and especially a. cussed Injun, kin creep out and shoot: plump inter us without fear- of their skins, Then what show would we hev? Not the smallest: ghost of one, We would be serrounded andi cut to pieces in a jiffy, heving,,. ye see, the disadvantage of being bunched up to-- gether, while the inimy is scattered. When a Se eee ‘wo- —_ a % ae ne ¥ _—_ ¢ . force is serrounded and bunched together, itg ~ don’t tek long to defeat’em. No, sir-ee! Al- — ways keep plenty of skedaddling room in yer rear in the Injun kentry, jest whar we he to- night. That’s all I’ve got to say.” he caution was too forcible to be disregard— ed, and in spite of Hart’s influence with the senor, he wavered, Apache Jack winked meaningly at Craver, who, taking the hint, whispered a word to Isi- dore. “Father,” said she, with her most winning smile, ‘do let us halt in the open plain. I am sure these brave men who have had so much: experience know the best. Besides, I am afraid. of those dark hills—they are so gloomy and si~ lent, Do please, papa.” The senor never eould deny his daughter her slightest wish. Smoothing Hart’s ruffled feath- ers as much as possible, he signified his compli- ance, and Hart fumed like a mad bull im dis; disappointment. Now he would have aq shel: tering hillsshadow in which to execute his vile, scheme. For once he was despondent for the moment, And 0 the train was halted, the mules were freed from the harness, and roamed and browsed! round their lariat-stakes, while supper was soom prepared. During the interval, Craver'and the scout minutely examined the mounds, which ex tended in a scattered chain toward the west, the hills at places quite far apart and small, while at others grouped and broken. The group near the camp was of the latter, consisting of sevem or eight hills equally separated by a narrow ma-- vine which divided them in half. The tallest clevation was in the center and’ slightly removed from the others, very steep. and narrow. The others were nearly all of the- same hight. Then for two miles there was level _ plain to the west, broken then by a similar: group. And soon. f j ‘Depend on it, young feller, thar’s mischief hatchin’,” declared the scout,.as they stood on the highest mound looking off over the plain. ‘“‘T kin feel it in my bones.” é ‘“‘ What are your reasons?” asked: Craver, with: all the attention of a thorough officer.. “They're as plain as the camp, yender. — Fu’stly, as old Parson Prosy used ter say every” — Sunday, ‘ Pedro’s gone, the old one only knows. — whar.’” ‘ “Yes, that is very strange—very strange!” the young man replied, musingly. ‘‘ His mys- fe * ( gee aa % es . ’ ’ [a 4 : f * y Wsi- > F Fx ; f 3 E | = | . - ; 5 &. 4 oe \ a ae : iia P A (i .% wae Us t cs * 7 a 7 D) y cy A, vie “a Ve? ik, a 1 A ~ Now * ae ; { re ? ‘+, 2a é % y
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terious disappearance is something I cannot ex- , a lain. It makes me feel a little apprehensive, oof he was a wary, clever man, and stanch to his master. He has been away now for nearly eighteen hours, and the Apaches are on the war- trail, Im afraid he is a lost man,” “That’s what I am thinkin’, too. Benedento said he started early ter do a little scoutin’, and the last he see’d of him was a black dot, miles off. Now, ’twixt you an’ me an’ the ground- hog, it takes a rignt sharp man ter dodge them ?Patchies. Whew! they're a cute set—foxes and grizzlies all over. I think he got spotted and chased, and likely enough overhauled. Ef he did, it’s good-by. I wish I ked hunt him up to- night, but I kain’t leave things in the fix they’re in now, sure,” “What fix!” earnestly demanded the young | man. ) ‘* Hold yer hosses, lieutenant—hold yer hosses till I git through. Secondly: Hart warn’t in * / camp last night at all—off on some devilish trip, Tl bet a coon-skin!” ‘““Was not in camp?” reiterated Craver, in ¢ ek _ surprise. ? ““That’s what I obsarved. Thirdly—” Craver interrupted him anxiously: “* How do you know he was not in camp?” **Hold yer hosses, young feller! I know it, J _ and that’s enough.” mA Craver saw that he wanted to keep the inci- i , - dent to himself, and though curious, forbore & iq further questions, Apache Jack went on: “Thirdly: thar’s a strange chap hangin’ : ; round out of reach, armed to his heels, and : black as the putty gal’s hair,” P ‘The Lone Chief!” exclaimed Craver. % “The same. Hoe means mischief, too, or he wouldn’t skulk about so. Then comes lastly, \ but not leastly, by a durned sight. The Tange- mund is prowlin’ around the train.” : As they stood on the summit, the sun was just ¥ y setting below the level horizon. Its last slant- i ing rays were yellow through the haze, and the sand lay hot and burning in the departing heat. ¢ - The camp was unusually quiet; the distant mounds looked weird and ghostly, and all was % quiet in the Land of Silence. They both felt the ack resumed, Ef I do say it, But when spirit influence, and as Apache ___ his voice sunk to a whisper, f , “*Young feller, Iam a man. $ thar’s none of the coward about me, . that stealthy, creepin’ beast comes about, I feel Sen like gittin’ away, fur as sure as he walks thar’s : adeéath’s-head with him. You heerd him howl ' to-day; sodid I. Young feller, you or me may b ‘ P) ; - never see that sun yonder again. Fur whar the é ee Tangemund bays, thar death is, and it comes | —~—S mighty sudden and onexpected. Let’s go; I : es lel don’t like ter talk about it, . ar” ler!” Come, young fel- ae yee As they slowly returned to the camp, the sun & ox ee | gave one last red wink and disappeared. : Be Streaks of gray began to float over the plain; f u the distant mounds looked ghostlier: afar away -. onthe mound where the scout met the savage, the same vulture still sat and brooded: trouble was brewing in the Land of Silence. “ eh ween ~ The groups have very materially altered their positions, The band of Indians are now ae (ie close at hand, creeping silently on to surprise the camp. The melodious bay came floating on the night air. ‘h The moon would rise in a little while. But the rangers? ; Se They still rode northerly, but now they had F) drawn rein and were approaching at a slow 1 gallop. v iY Baer the approaching abduction, ¢ Hart lay on his blanket and cursed. Now that ~ they were encamped on the plain the scheme Bits, « must be postponed fora time. The guards were a oe wary aha watchful, and even without the aid of Nath! moonlight, could easily distinguish objects on d |} the open plain. One of them, too, always by the eS SaaS 2 lieutenant’s order, stood by Isidore’s wagon. _ . «~‘To-night it was Day and he was as keen as a 4 ee At the slightest intimation of evi] he would discharge his musket and alarm the camp. I needed not much deliberation to prove the rashness of acting to-night, and with bitter a Captain Hart tossed and rolled from side side, But, what tormented lim the most was that ho Isidore loved Craver. In their slightest actions a it was only too apparent to him and he writhed ase oy under the thought For now in the silence of ‘night the truth forced itself upon him; he loved her. Although he had known her such a short time, he had, with his habitual passionate impet- uosity, fallen madly in Jove with her—madly because of the impossibility of his ever possess- ing her, os » They were drawing near the scene of | x 7 Sy" 4) He hated Craver as his successful rival; and, strange as it may seem, he hated her for loving him, Such men very often do; and their best love is first cousin to deadly hate. And this feeling gnawed him as he lay while others were sleeping, and his bold scheme now merged itself into one more daring and bad; he would kidnap the beautiful girl for herself—the ransom was nothing in comparison. He once-more planned and studied and pondered deeply, and only rest- ed when the time arrived for the giving of the oepal. e rose to his feet. It wanted about an hour to moonrise, The wagons showed faintly through the night air and the sleeping men breathed heavily. Only the guards were awake, and as they met at Isidore’s wagon on their rounds, the muffled ‘‘all’s well” came dimly to his ears. Craver’s efficiency had spoiled his plans, He u'tered a curse as he saw the sentinels were the two best men in camp—it showed him that foul play was suspected by Craver, He easily slipped by them and gained the shadow of the hills; then he stopped and listened. Every thing was still. @ ran on a Neg 7-3 up the side of the ascent, for he was a little late. He reached the top of the first mound, but never halted, slip- ing down its other side and ascending the other. fe was half-way up when a shadowy form brushed by him—the figure, faintly defined, of a man going in the same direction, 4 = stopped short in alarm and drew his cnife, Then he silently changed his position to pre- vent a sudden assault and listened and watched warily for some time. The figure had been visible only a second, yet he felt it was cognizant of his position and of his secret scheme, Thoughts, terrible and grim rushed through his brain, and again that overpowering sense of disaster and defeat sickened him. Things had been steadily working against him for the last day or two—he was unconsciously balked at every move. Was it the hand of destiny? “T am glad it was not the—that accursed bloodhound,” he estar gr mY muttered as he warily crept toward the tall mound, “ His fearful howling sickens me.” He crept on; he cautiously, and with drawn knife, felt his way up the last hill. He had nearly reached the summit when suddenly, clear- ly outlined against the starry sky, appeared the form of a tall savage, tufted and grim, perfectly motionless, For an instant only it remained thus, then it suddenly disappeared. He crouched low down in alarm, undecided how to act. He was dogged. But, some way must be devised for giving the signal—he must not remain quiet. The moon would soon rise. Already the eastern horizon wore a pale glow. His natural impetuosity took possession of Lim and mastered him, and drawing his knife to his shoulder he freed his blanket and rushed to the summit unguardedly. Though the night was dark, still when he stood outlined against the sky and waved his blanket, the rangers be- low could distinguish the signal. But in his hurry he did not reflect that any lurkers could also see it, but desperately waved it high over his head, Simultaneously he was grasped from behind and thrown violently to the ground, with his arms grasped in a vise-like gripe by powerful hands, owned by a shadowy form which bent over him holding him down. He durst not cry out—it would be his death- knell. So he struggled silently, using all his strength in endeavoring to free himself from his shadowy enemy. But in vain, Whoever he was, he was very powerful and active, and the ranger soon saw the utter use- lessness of wasting his strength when his antagonist had all the advantage, So he desisted and lay passive, thinking by that means to de- lude his adversary into loosening his grasp, then he would make a final effort, and endeavor to use his knife, which he still tightly clasped. But his adversary was not to be duped in that manner, and if anything his clutch was tighter than before. His broad knee was bent into the ranger’s chest and he moved his other leg so as to place it acress Hart’s forehead. The ranger was pinned fast. j Up to this time neither had spoken, but now the ranger, growing furious with confinement and pain, after a few epithets, growled: ‘* What the d—! do you mean?” The unseen vouchsafed no reply. ‘Who are you? Let me up!” \ The stranger replied in a Spanish-Indian dialect with which the ranger was familiar. *T am Night-Owl!—I will not.” Tangemund, the Desert Detective. | 7 “Thunder and blood! somewhere.” ‘* Have you ever heard that one yonder?” He stopped short and the ranger could hear him drop his breath as he listened. Afar out toward the glowing eastern horizon rose a tuneful bay, prolonged and loud. ‘*Do you know what that is? what it says?” demanded the stranger, fiercely, dropping his voice, The ranger surlily remained silent. ‘“‘Tuis the wail of the Tangemund! ‘death! ” He leaped off the ranger and bounded away with the speed of an antelope. Two leaps took him, in the dense darkness, safe from the ranger’s vengeance had he been disposed to yursue. But the memory of acertain deed of blood in which he had been engaged came to his mind. He had heard that same voice there. ** No; he would not pursue, but make his way back tocamp. Confound it! who was he any- how#—so strong and silent. A ghost! pshaw! no such things in the world. But it might have been the spirit of some mail-passenger, some ow or stock-herder— a! what was that? He stopped short in his pursuing thought and listened. Again that faint, far-distant sqund I’ve heard that voice It says came to his ears, wailing out its wild bay—the bloodhound. He started on a swift run toward camp, fear- ful in his guilty conscience of being overtaken at even that impossible distance. Such is the power of conscience. He ran steadily on, for— getting in his new alarm hislate foe. The moon was just peeping over the horizon when he stopped in the hill shadow to reconnoiter his. entrance, The pale light of the moon was slanting over the wagons, throwing the shadows into long and distinct relief, The sentinels were still on duty, though now Hicks stood motionless by the side of Isidore’s wagon, watching and protecting its lovely burden, while Day solemnly and warily stalked on his beat. Ashe arrived at the op- posite side of the camp from his companion, in accordance with the lieutenant’s order, he droned out a low, barely audible, ‘* All’s well,” Hart was waiting until his back was turned for a stealthy run to his abandoned bed, and he heard the speech. He spat like a cat. Sep *** All's wrong,’ you mean, you villain! Curse me if I wouldn’s like to cut his throat for mock- mg, tee ay’s back was turned. He crouched low, avoiding the moonlight, and ran swiftly up a long wagon shadow. Day turned sharply. “Halt! who goes there?” No answer. He ran his eye narrowly over the encampment, Nothing in sight. ‘*What’s up, Ben?” asked Hicks, in a low ne. i I saw the shadow of a running man just. now, ‘Ts that so? I thought I heard footsteps.” ‘* Shall we give the alarm?” ‘No; we'd better call the sergeant and search. There’s no need of waking up the whole outfit.” Day pulled the sergeant from under his wagon, and told the incident. The sergeant fumed a little at being aroused an hour before the patrol, and stoutly affirmed that Day was a baby. But he searched the camp thoroughly, while the two men watched the outskirts closely. Apache Jack still lay under a wagon, but he had dropped asleep. Suddenly he awoke to find a man bending over him. Immediately his in- stinct of evil asserted itself, and he sprung up and caught the prowler by the throat, bearing him to the ground violently. It was the sergeant. I sailant, and thinking it an attempt on his life, he roared for help. The scout recognized his voice, and as Day came rushing up with clubbed musket, yelled out just in time to stay his band: Hold yer hosses! Hold yer hosses! Hold ‘em! Day lo:vered his musket. the sergeant, looking very shame-faced. The sergeant arose very angry. ‘What do you mean by jumping out at aman that way? Come! out with it!” The scout’s reply was cut short by an unex~ pected occurrence, which caused astonishment, surprise, and then dismay to them, With aclatter and thud of hoofs, five mer dashed out from the hills into the plain. The moonlight was as bright as day for quite a dis~ tance, and they could see every object plainly. They were riding at a dead run, and were spure Cm. as Not recognizing his as- 2 The scout got off | : a ,
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m Tange und, the Desert Detective. ring violently, pressing their horses to greater speed. They were riding away from camp, and paid no attention to it. Thirty seconds dragged by, and they were quite a distance away. Suddenly, from the very spot of their appearance, six times their number of Indians dasved out, helter-skelter, in pursuit. They, too, rods at their highest speed, and * seemed bent upon overtaking the flying whites. And they rode clean by the camp also—never scarcely glancing at it. Their aim seemed to be to overtake the fore- most party, and they fairly flew after them. Suddenly one drew iu his mustang with 4 vio- Jent jerk, and when he had halted, fired. A yell from the foremost band greeted the shot, and a horse sprung away riderless. The savages yelled hideously and spurred on. They passed the spot where the victim fell, and his slayer paused for a moment over him; he then mounted and followed on; he had scalped the prostrate victim. For fully five-minutes did the four men watch this strange and sudden occurrence, when at last pursuer and pursued disappeared in the dim dis- tance, leaving the faint echoes of hideous yells behind on the night-air. Then the soldiers and the scout hurriedly alarmed the camp. Craver’s first thought was of Isidore, and he rushed, to the wagon in unnecessary haste. After feasting his 5 on her for a second in silence, he led her to the center of the camp where the majority were assembled. Here he left her, and detailing additional men as guards, went the rounds with them to see with his own eyes every wrder executed. While he was thus engaged, and the scout was ‘giving him some advice, he was startled at hear- ang a hoof-stroke behind him. Knowing no one to be mounted at that hour, be hastily turned with the scout. Not a dozen yards distant on his sable steed sat the black rider—the Lone Chief. Just as grim and 7 as ever, he sat motionless, staring steadily before him. Craver hurriedly lanced at Apache Jack, His brave, weather. eaten face wore a strange expression of alarm and deep anxiety. ‘Craver drew his revolver and leveled it at the rider's head. He never stirred. “Now by the Lord—” Just as his hand was pressing hard the trigger the scout knocked his arm up. (i lool!” he whispered, ‘*See what he’s do- in’! The lieutenant slowly lowered his arm and watched the apparition intently ashe slowly turned his horse half-way round. Then he raised his long black arm and slowly es to the morth, south, east and west. hen wheeling again he pointed to the hills, As they looxed they saw a wolf-hke animal trot down the slope of a mound and move swiftly out into the plain. He made directly toward the body of the slain bandit (for the flying party were the desert ran- eT's). -é pes Ho softly up to it he smelt it all over, then raised a ghostiy ery—soft and Jow, Grad- nally augmenting in force, his voice rose till the air fairly shook with his mournful bays and piercing howls. The scout shuddered—strong man as he'was. The lieutenant was also alarmed: for the low whisper that flew from mouth to mouth was _in two words—‘‘ The Tangemund.” . _ Every thing was done to guard against sur- -prise; men patrolled the camp minutely; but no more alarm came that night. The Lone Chief had disappeared as mysteriously and ‘suddenly as he came; but through the long qjuiet night the bloodhound wailed, and Hart trembled; for again the Tangemund was tri- umphing over the body of aranger. The morn- mg dawned and all was quiet in the Land of ence, CHAPTER VI, ISIDORE. - ‘Tar morning sun looked down upon a gloomy camp. The proceedings of the last day or two had a strong effect upon the superstitious sol- diers, and the rest were subdued and silent. The principal thing that produced this feel- ing was the absence of Pedro Felipe. He had been gone twenty-four hours now and no one could hope he was alive. The fierce hostility of the Apaches, their mysterious appearance the night before, and the certainty that they had discovered them, proved that they had drawn off only to strike at some more advan- tagoous time. . edro was an old plainsman—he was well . > versed in the science of Indian warfare for one whose whols life bad beeu spent among the wild cattle of the plains, Notwithstanding Apache Jack’s Cieparaping remarks, he was able to cope successfully with the savages—able to take care of himself, He was of a wily, sagacious race— he could sit for hours under a bush and never stir only to better his sight of his enemy. He could lie beneath a bowlder in a deep canyon for days if he only had pip » and food, watching and avoiding Indians, Flying from cunning pursuers, he could travel like a drome- dary and cover his trail at the same time—an invaluable quality. But nevertheless the party, more particularly the officer, scout, and the Mexicans, considered him as lost, and though resolved on making a search for him, felt it was of no avail. Faith- ful, wary Pedro would never have deserted his old master—tbat; was certain. And. if he had left voluntarily he would certainly have in- formed the senor, as had been his custom for years. So he must have left for no good, how- ever he went, whether kidnapped or killed. His horse, too, was absent, +o he must have ridden away—undoubtedly a prisoner. No more time than was absolutely necessary was spent in talking, but, as soon as breakfast was over it was decided that the scout should take the back track, accompanied by Benedento, fasten upon the trail, and if possible discover him or his body. But Benedento objected to going, and he was seconded by the scout. enedento was no coward—far from it; but he i nemo refused to go, and Apache Jack warmly agreed. He would give no reason for his strange resolu- tion though hotly pressed by Craver, who, bold as a lion himself, abhorred timidity in others. So —— Jack mounted his mustang and shook hands all round amid general good wishes and cautions, at which he only smiled scornfully. He was, like all old plainsmen, conceited. With Hart, however, he refused to shake hands, merely passing him with a quiet cynical twist of his upper lip which enraged the hot-headed ranger. Jie only bit his lip, however, and remained’ quiet. He must be wary for be was suspected, not without fear of detection. All was ready; the mules stood awaiting the word to start, the horsemen and Isidore were already in their saddles; and Hart sat in his deep saddle covertly watching the fair girl who was wholly unconscious of his presences, having eyes and ears only for the young lieutenant. Apache Jack rode to where the body of the dead ranger lay. It had been closely scrutinized that morning by every one in camp except Hart who kept aloof and cursed. The man had been the best shot in the band— the one to whom he had whispered the sacred order at the midnight meeting. Apache Jack noticed the black plume in Hart’s hat, and observed one just like it in the hat of the dead ranger. He whistled softly. He had for some time suspected the existence of a band of outlaws led by Hart, and his suspicions were now strengthened. He turned and waved his hand. ‘Hold yer hosses, leftenant!” he said; ‘‘ watch out and take keer of the purty gal, and this chicken ’!l be back afore Jong ter help yer, ef she’s willin’, Hold yer hosses!” He was off on a long swinging ‘‘ lope.” The train creaked and rumbled, and the bells sent out their sweet monotony of tinkles; the train moved on, Craver sat watching the receding scout as he rose and fell, each time further away. Isidore seeing him abstracted and quiet, ventured near and lingered by. Hart rode on with the train, but still angrily and covertly watched her and a young man, ‘The ranger was desperately in ove. The scout disappeared behind a hillock, and Craver, on sweeping the horizon on the lookout for Indians, saw the beautiful girl close by and the train far ahead. He could not repress an exclamation of delight at this proof of her devo- tion. He rode up to her, and kissed her, for which he received an energetic slap in the face. ‘Tsidore, were you waiting for me?” She blushed scarlet and her eyes fell. He snatcbed another kiss and she forgot to slap this time. Fora few yards they rode on in sweet silence. Then she spoke, fondly getting a little closer to him. ‘* Does the senor lieutenant feel alarmed about the Indians?” ; “Yes, Not for my safety other than it af- fects you. Yes, Isidore; I think before an- other twenty-four hours will have elapsed, we will hear from them.” ‘‘ But they are not in sight now? See, t plain is quite bare.” ‘* Nevertheless, I believe they have at this in- stant their eyes upon us. They are very cun- ning and vindictive.” ‘*Oh, wasn’t it dreadful, last night? I was so alarmed. Who were the white men?” she sud- denly asked, unconsciously lowering her voice in her earnestness, “*T can not tell,” he replied, musing deeply. ‘‘Tt was a very strange occurrence, and I am less afraid of the Indians than the whites. I fear their presence bodes evil.” ‘‘They were not Mexicans,” she said; ‘‘ they were dressed like Americans,” ““The body yonder is that of a half-breed, I should judge, by his appearance. He is dressed very much like Hart.’ ‘“T noticed it,” and she dropped ber voice to a whisper. ‘I am afraid of that man.” ‘“‘T do not 1ke him—he seems so snake-like and treacherous. Besides, you remember he gave us false directions about the route. It seems strange that your father should cling to him after that,” : ‘Oh, he has completely deceived him with his smooth tongue. Father thinks he knows ever thing and is upright and honorable, I don’t; am ufraid of him—he watches me so.” Lieutenant Craver flushed. ‘‘ Watches you?” ‘*'Yes; angrily, sometmes, then in a way that makes me shudder, it is such a strange look. That is when he smiles; it is so unlike— unlike—” ** What? softly. She blushed. He leaned over and kissed her, tenderly. ‘¢ Whom, Isidore?” aie As his stalwart arm encircled her yielding waist, a look of passionate tenderness welled up from her eyes into his. ‘* Yourself!” she murmured, aoe: Ah, well! the horses mechanically stopped and for a moment the bare plain seemed a para- dise to these fond lovers. Who can describe such a scene. / But her modesty quickly took fright, and she» crept away from him and rode on quite rapidly to overtake the train. He was delighted; twice had she rested in his arms, for a moment only, then, blushing scarlet, hurried away. He was everjoyed at this proof of her purity. “Hurrah!” he vociferated, with all the vim and lusty manner of an ardent lover. ** Hurrah!” She turned quickly and eyed him timidly, © askance, from under her long, sweeping eye- lashes, Then, as she divined the cause of his enthusiasm, she blushed again and rode for- ward, this time rt a gallop. He quickly overtook her, and she immediately changed the subject, shyly and prettily: ‘*Ts the senor lieutenant’s mother very beau- tiful” ‘ Why should she be beautiful?” he asked pro- vokingly. ‘‘ Because I am beautiful, eb? hal! ha!” and he laughed uproariously. She pouted prettily: ‘“‘I did not know before that men were beautiful,” she said slyly, turn- ing the tables on him. Men adding quickly to prevent his retorting, she asked: ‘* What is the senor’s first name? He never told me.” ‘Robert, At home, away up in the State of New York, they call me Rob,” ‘‘Rob!” she said, repeating it in a variety of tones to try the effect. “TI don’tlikeit. I like Robert befter, It sounds sturdy and independ- ent. I shall call you Robert, if you have no ob- jection.” She gave hima sly glance of ill-concealed af- fection. Southerners can rarely hide their feel- ings ond they rarely try to do so, Isidore, bred in her father’s household, was affectionate and gentle, without that mask of reserve so fre- quently seen in northern latitudes, The reader will not do her the injustice of thinking her bold and forward. She was simply following her warm and tender Southern nature. ‘‘Objection?” Robert rejoined warmly, “T shall have a decided objection to your Callin me anything else than Robert, so set your sweet heart at rest!” They were now quite close to the train, an jogged slowly on, conversing tenderly, in true Jover style, “Hart was still in the rear, and he had been fuming and fretting at seeing them so far behind alone. For it was pertecty evident to him, as it was to the remainder of the party, that they were lovers, and that Isidore was very fond of the handsome young man. He ground his teeth, and his fingers played about the handle Whom?” the young man asked,
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eof his knife convulsively. If he. thought he oH -would gain anything by the deed, he would have r amurdered Craven then and there. ae But he was forced to bide his time, and see her affectionate glances bestowed upon his hated rival, while he was abhorred and avoided by her, and regarded with contempt by Craver. , So he rode on, just in advance of them, with }ears wide open for any remark which might chance to fall. He could hear her dove-like { _ h tones replying to the pleasant voice of the young “man; he could see the horse and the white pony f i jostling each other at every step; and to crown 3 all he heard her say: ; : ‘Tam afraid of him—he is so much like a e 4 - snake.” , , a Low, degraded as he was, still something be- t sides foiled love caused the nerves to creep 4 about the roots of his hair, and the hot shivers _ to possess the ends of his fingers. f _ Snake, eh?” he snarled between his teeth. _ --#* Weill, take care, my turtle-dove, that the snake - does not infold and crush you yet!” Tt was a diabolical threat; a threat made in the heat of an evil passion, to be executed if pos- ‘s sible in the calm deliberation of cunning hate. ay _ But, maddened or not, he was able to execute a ‘it without the slightest scruple—such was the fae’ man, ff ’ _ Sergeant Dare and private Hicks, trudging _ along in the van, were talking earnestly and - pointing fearfully over the plain toward the \" Battes, which were now at some distance to the south, There, against a long, low range of } --—s- mounds, a minute speck kept pace in a parallel | _—s«sediirection with the train—sometimes disappear- a _ ing for awhile, sometimes invisible for an hour or more; but always reappearing, ana following a, . on opposite the train. & ” It was the Tangemund. Sharper eyes than ay ‘they possessed were in the train, eyes which ee could detect and distinguish objects where the ay | common eye could see but a blank; but theirs . 2a. “were sharpened by superstitious fear. Peay |) ee “T tell you, Hicks, something wrong is brew- My ing, and I for one wish we were out of this ac- f cursed Land of Silence. It is an object of evil. ‘= _ Youremember we saw two shooting-stars last y ? night—one following square in the track of the eee i other, Thatsays, death! Youknow me, Hicks! F Ete You know I’m no coward; but I'd give a trifle Be ar if we were out of this ugly, sleepy land. I can _—~*~sC fight: «snjumss, veteran bay’net chargers, sharp- eo eet shooters anything that belongs to the earth, and pipet not flinch; but I can’t fight the devil and fate; - . it's no use to try, either!” ss Phat’s sol? replied his comrade gloomily. ; _- «¢ Weareunderacharm, Iremensber the day the P ay two new men came to us—that scout, Apache Jack, and Hart. Sergeant, our troubles didn’t a) begin till that day, after noon—when you saw , It the first time. 1 was mighty surprised when Vy ; 4 “you acted so, but when night came and I saw it 3 mas plate 5 ‘myself, I knew what the matter was with you, +s Holy Moses! I could ha’ sworn. that it spoke! hija Something seemed to say—” “*Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, blood for _ blood!’” nervously interrupted the sergeant. Sih ‘ **That is what I seemed to hear when I saw it in my dream that afternoon. I—” ; “Hullo!” interrupted his comrade, looking _ -eagerly toward the north. ‘‘ There is the scout : coming like blue blazes!” , | He had been seen for some time by the rest of the train, but they bad been so occupied by the ~ Tangemund they had not noticed the shout that arose on his being seen half an hour ago. In a few moments he dashed into the group, -and reining in the rN he reared back on his haunches, he pointed back over the plain. & a y Ay i r f el e Several dots were to be seen afar away, -h ‘Yer see them?” he authoritatively demand- i ed of Senor Martinez. ‘‘Tnem’s Injuns! Hold -yer hosses!” es CHAPTER VII. WAS IT AN ACCIDENT? “ -Yus,” continued the scout, ‘‘ them’s Injuns, and mighty wicked ones, to boot. We'll hev ter stir round on our pins purty lively or we'll ‘bein a mess.” ‘ ‘There was very little confusion. Every man in the party with the exception of Craver was yoy ** Kall in!” _-—sS Phe soldiers took their respective places with 4 the orderly, on the left wing. Craver sharply —s gw lanced down the diminutive line. a ar, ait Right dress—head and eyes right—front!” ee ee — Then “he stepped to the front, precisely as if he had been on parade. He was thoroughly military, ‘“‘ Attention, company! I am your command- er, but as you are all aware, am but indifferent- ly versed in this style of warfare. Iamcharged to escort this party safely to the Colorado River. God willing, it shall be done. And to further the safety of the band, I now relinquish the su- preme command of you to the worthy scout Apache Jack. You will obey him strictly, and execute no commands other than we. give, un- less by Senor Martinez. [ have no doubt that you will cheerfully obey, and if required, fight like soldiers. What say you?” ‘* Ay, ay, sir!” was the hearty response. “Very well, Iam gratified to observe you so willing. Break ranks—march!” The dark objects on the plain were nearer now, and approaching rapidly, The scout went to work speedily and with no confusion. In five minutes they were in a tolerably secure for- tress, or rather pen, prepared to stoutly resist the coming savages. The mules had been unharnessed, and the wagons drawn so as to form two semicircles, the concave sides facing each other. Then the last two wagons were placed one at each end to fill the gaps. The tongues were pointed in- ward, and to these the mules were tied, safe from a stampede. Thus, with the squat, low- bedded wagons, with their cap-tents all bunched snugly together, and brave men inside, the for- tress was formidable. After this had been completed, the scout sta- tioned the men round the circle. Hart he pass- ed over as usual; but after thinking a moment, spoke to him: ‘*T reckon ye'll fight?” ‘What do you think about it?’ growled the sullen ranger. ‘*T think ye know enough ’bout Injuns ter do yer sheer of the business; so I'll let yer pop away wharever and whenever yer please, as the kitten on the shed sed ter the monkey below with the squirt-gun.” “You are very obliging,” sneered Hart. “I will fight or not, as I please,” The scout watched him steadily for a moment. Then his eyes snapped as he spoke: ‘Cap Hart, when I war a bit younger and foolisher than I be now, I tuk the notion I war cut out fur a civilized life, and so one day un- dertuk ter drive stage-coach fur a livin’, When I war fixed ter start, I went ter gitsome advice from an old whip. The only thing he told me was—‘ Young feller, hold yer hosses!’ ‘*T laffed in his face fur tellin’ me sich a fool- ish thing as thet. *** Wal,’ said he, ‘young feller, ’ye druv a stage a tie -snecch ter know better'n ter laff at a man as knows mor’n I do,’ ‘He war riled, and cussed a bit, then T left him. TI hedn’t gone a mile when, as I war list- ening ter a young feller a-tellin’ yarns, a ho bu’st out of a fence-corner with a snort. warn’t holdin’ th’ lines over-tight, and the hosses tuk a stampede and started off on the keen jump jerkin’ the lines from my paws, ‘We turned a corner like ma: , and run ag’in’ atree. Geewhittaker! yer’d ought ter hev seen us fellers fly off the top of thet stage as it tipped over. One old buffer hed his arm broke; an- other feller undertuk ter plow with his nose, and oe chicken hed the wind all knocked out’n im, ‘‘ But thet warn’t the worst. One young fel- ler—the one that war a-spinnin’ yarns—lit on a fence-stake and tore the breeches nigh off’n him. Thar war a lot of wimmen aboard (or rayther on the ground), and they complained ter the head boss about it. ‘* When I went back ter town he boosted me, and I struck west, fur the hull town war a-laffin’ at me, After thet I allers held my hosses. Now, ye jest hold yourn, or thar’ll be a fuss|” ; The ranger growled surlily and walked slowly away. The scoutreturned to his duties. While he had been talking, the savages had drawn quite close, and had halted just beyond rifle-range, They numbered thirty, and were painted black. They were the same band that had pursued the rangers the night before. They had been unsuccessful, however, having been distanced by the superior horses of the whites. The one scalp they had taken only added fuel to their bloodthirsty fire, and they were bent upon mischief. Several] dismounted and capered grotesquel about, making the most insulting gestures, whic maddened the young Irishman, Sonny, who was very hot-headed. He broke out into a torrent ee eee ee ee ee ee: eS Ee ES EE Eee : f Bis ine wt <n ; SOUS OT ss Tangemund, the Desert Detective. | 9 ee —————————————————————————— ——— — of epithets and menaces, and at length mounted one of the wagons and shook his fist at them. A pulf of white smoke was his answer, and a bullet whistled over his head, which caused him to descend hastily. Craver reproved him, and cautioned quiet and watchfulness. The other men lay quiet, closely watching the savages, who gradually grew more demonstra- tive and drew cautiously near, When they had drawn as near as they dared, they separated and galloped round the encamp- ment, yelling and hooting hideously, When they had made the circuit several times without molestation, they gatbered in a compact body and made a rush toward the camp, rending the air with their yells. Of the thirty, about one- half were armed with fire-arms—a mixed col- lection, the result of thefts and pillages. ‘* Steady—men!” said Craver, warningly. 5 z ‘aing yer hosses!” countermanded Apache ack, ‘““They ain’t fools! they won’t come very clost. f they do, men, don’t shoot ontil ye see the red on their pesky mugs. It’s thar, but ye kain’t see it yet.” The scout’s prediction was verified. When they had drawn within easy range they sud- denly separated like chaff in a whirlwind, and each taking a different direction, they curveted around the camp, widening their circle beyond sure range. in deep war-paint, and their actions showed deadly hostility. This they continued for an hour or more, then drew off to their former position, and, grouped together, had a consultation. sidore had teen placed ina wagon by Craver who took his post near her. She was pale an alarmed, but the presence of her lover and father gave her courage. She had drawn the wagon-cover aside to allow her to see and talk to her lover, and he cheered her with encouraging words. The day wore on. The Indians dismounted and lariating their mustangs, walked to and fro with their characteristic cat-like tread, nar- rowly watching their Peet the while, They were waiting for night to aid them by its dark- ness, Meanwhile the scout was not idle. In the wagons were spades, and now they were put in requisition, Putting them in use he soon had a circular trench about four feet deep close to the wagons. Into this the men descended, with their weapons ready for use. Several stakes were driven in the center of the circle formed by the trench, and to these the mules were tied, together with the saddle-horses, All was ready now, and they had only to wait for night. It was not long in coming. The sun sunk slowly down, shining dimly through the ee atmosphere; several coyotes appeared in sigh sneaking toward them; a_ vulture wheeled solemnly overhead; and the Apaches still con- tinued their steady pace. An hour before sundown the vultures were now a flock; the coyotes were a large body, scattered about; and the sun still shone dimly and the Apaches still continued their steady ace. Juss before the sun set, several wolves trotted near and howled dismally. When the sun sunk belie the horizon the In- dians, by one impulse, walked grimly to their mustangs, mounted them, and rede slowly away toward the distant mounds. The long shadows of the wagons disappeared; the air thickened_and the sky became gray; in the twilight the last Indian had disappeared, and the night settled gloomily down; all was quiet in the Land of Silence, ‘Oh, Robert! have they gone?” asked Isidore, nestling close to him, “Yes, love—for a time; but they will return, T am afraid.” ** Coorse they will!” growled the scout. ‘‘ It’s nigh dark now and the moon rises in four hours, [ll bet my skelp thar’ll be a big scrimmage afore that time.” A grunt of assent went round among the sol- diers. They were old Indian-fighters; they knew their habits. “Tt makes me durnation riled!” grumbled Apache Jack, after half an hour of dismal silence, hain’t got no more sense than ter think they’ve left fur good. Blast’em! I know more’n the hull lot of the rascally devils. Ef they knowed I war hyar I'll bet a river they'd jest sot down and say: ‘Look a-hyar! thar’s Apache Jack! thar ain’t no kind 0’ use in tryin’ ter come gum games re Ps, We know Salk by ? Apache Jack was vain—there is no gainsaying that. But, his vanity was pardonabile, for he They were all scantily clothed and’ “It riles me ter see they reckon we - y
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4 re 3 certainly was a first-rate scout: living years in the wilds, he had learned all the tricks of say- ages, and he knew it—hence his vanity. An hour more passed away in darkness, and the mer. were becoming impatient, when a faint cry arose away in the north—the scream of the horned owl. ‘*D’ye hear that?’ whispered the sergeant. nudging the scout. ft f Fronts it? Coorse [ hear it! Do ye think I’m deef?’ growled Apache Jack, nottled at the question, ‘‘ Thar’s another in the south—ap an- swer. Keep yer eyes and cars skinned now, ali of yer!” he commanded, in a low tone. The men drew their musket-hammers and set- tled themselves into favorable positions to resist a sudden attack. Isidore was seated behind Apache Jack, between Craver and the old senor, She left the latter and nestled close to the young a He passed his arm protectingly roun er, ‘Courage, dear!” he whispered; ‘‘ courage! we are secure here, Keep good heart: I will protect you.” ‘*T know you will,” she answered; ‘ but still I feel alarmed at the thought if we are defeated what will become of us.” “Tt they take you they will do so over my dead body!” muttered the young man, with set teeth. “Dry up!” whispered the scout. ‘I beg yer pardon, lady, but ef he talks he kain’t fight.” Craver ceased and all was still again. Suddenly the mules became restive, and snort- ed and stamped fretfully. They pulled hard on : the Jariats; something was wrong. The scout crept round among the waiting sol- diers and whispered advice to each one, ** Keep yer musket pointed wnder the wagons. That's the way they'll come—’tw’u’d make too much fuss to climb over the covers. Draw er knife and keep it in yer trigger hand. They’ll slip up in under the wagons, and when everything is ready each red fool nf yell; they kain’t help it, When you hear a yell clost by, shoo rightat it, then go in with yer knife. But don’t cut any fellow that’s got clothes on his shoulders! tek the naked fellers. Mind that!” He returned to his position by Isidore with rifle and knife ready for use. Hart hated to fight in defense of the band he was working to destroy, but he was forced to do it to save his own life. He heard the lovers whisper their af- fectionate words, and a diabolical idea entered hishead, He watched and waited The restlessness of the mules increased to a ferment, and they pawed the eartb in wild af- fright, Indians were at hand. The darkness was intense. As the besieged band anxiously waited and listened they could scarcely see one another, The horses now became violently alarmed, and there was danger of their breaking loose. But not another sound was heard, The men, following the scout’s instructions, kept in readi- ness to repel the certainly approaching assault, It . Simultaneously bursting out upon the still, Black night, arose a blood-curdling shriek —a yell as if all the demons of the infernal re- gions were loose, Then came a second of silence, Then oufi burst the musketry with a deafen- ing roar which drowned the echoes of the yell. As the guns belched their flaming contents, another wild cry went out—the cry of death: the deadly sagacity of the scout had worked with fatal effect. Then through the dim air the whites beheld dusky forms swarming toward them, and they rushed to meet them with their knives, It had come—hand to hand. At the first shrill yell, Craver tightly clasped Isidore, who was supported on the other side by her father. He drew his knife, and whispering - courage to the fair girl, settled himself firmly to resist the attack. A shadowy form rushed toward him, striking down a soldier as he came. It seemed to make directly toward him, and he withdrew his arm from Isidore, and placed himself in front of her and a little in advance of Senor Martinez, who stood like a veteran, He had just time to sec his approaching an- tagonist wasa huge Apache, and that his arm was raised aloft as if with a knife, when he was upon him As the savage sprung he slightly stumbled, and his aim was disconcerted, the knife whizzing past his ear, Had hie not stumbled the knife would have surely been buried in Craver’s breast, the blow was delivered with such tremendous force. They grappled and fell, Craver beneath. As they fell the young man’s knife arm was twisted round by the brawny savage, almost ra? A ; ms efits) tite eee 2 ‘a is: Sper, at so = i #h Gee , ; ; Tangemund, the Desert Detective. breaking it, and he fell on it and on the knife, escaping miraculously from its keen edge. savage released his grasp young man by the throat—with both hands. Craver had but one hand with which to de- fend himself, but he used it well and battled manfully. He was at first surprised and con- fused, having never before been in a hand-to- hand conflict But when the suddenness of the first attack wore away he became maddened, enraged, and was bent on not only disabling, but killing his adversary, His right arm and knife were useless, but he strove with his other to tear his enemy’s hands from his throat, He struggled desperately, but to no purpose. The Indian was his superior in strength and skill and had the advantage of be- ing uppermost. He felt the bony hands com- press and his breath to fail; he saw, with eyes starting from their sockets, the brave senor des- perately struggling with three Indians, closely ressed: he heard the profanity of the desperate- -fighting veterans intermingled witb the gut- tural accents of their red foes, and with a ring- ing in his ears, heard his enemy grunt in tri- umph, and Apache Jack’s voice strangely faint and far away: ‘‘ Hold yer hosses! hold—hold— hold—” Isidore all this time had stood transfixed in horror, her hands tightly clasped. But now, seeing her lover's danger, she seemed to possess superhuman strength. Seizing the savage by his top-knot she bore him backward and off her lover with the force of a whirlwind. As he fell backward, one of his legs, entwined in Craver’s unable to endure the immense strain, snapped like a pipe-stem, Apache Jack in the course of the combat hap- ening near, saw ata glance the state of affairs, ealing the savage with whom he was struggling a death-blow with his knife, he sprung upon the faflen warrior and struck. A red stream spurt- ed from his throat, a guttural rattle sounded, his arms relaxed and his head fell back, He was dead. By this time Craver had recovered and was now on his feet, and even at this moment sup- rting Isidore, who had fainted after her hero- ic deed. The scout stayed still for barely two seconds ‘No time fur foolin’ now!” he yelled. ‘‘ Dror yer knife and tek keer of the gal!” Seeing the old senor hard pressed, he sprung witha yell on his assailants, cutting right and left. They fell tack for a moment at this rein- forcement, but only for a moment. Two of the three Indians left the senor and sprung upon their more formidable and hated foe, whom they instantly recognized. At this instant aros», close by, a piercing cry; a tuneful, swelling bay echoing above the din of the conflict. The savages drew back, and the scout stood still. Again it rung out deep and mournful. With a wild cry the savages turned and fled, jumping over and crawling under the wagons, and retreating as fast as they could run. The rest took up the cry and fled, darting away at full speed. The whites stood still, rooted to the ground with amazement, forgetting even to pur- sue. What could it mean?” The whole procedure was so instantaneous, that the defenders stood looking, now at their dimly-discernible comrades, now in the direction of the panic, wholly unable to account for it, Except two, Hart and Apache Jack well knew the cause of the rout and knew it from experi- ence, It was the wail of the Tangemund! For fuli two minutes no one spo ke, They could hear the Apaches mount their mustangs | and clatter away over the plain. The hay had only sounded twice. It was now silent. The men slowly gathered together, and silently awaited another attack with their recovered guns ready, “No use, boys!” muttered Apache Jack, in a low tone; ‘‘the devils won’t kim back, They won’t stop fer ten mile.” Senor Martinez addressed him. ‘ What isthe matter?” The scout turned full upon him, **Did yer hear a Joud howl jest afore they ske- daddled? It was the Tangemund, Thet’s the reason,” ‘* Ah!” and the senor looked relieved. “Men,” muttered the scout, ‘tek keer! Death’s prowlin’ round, Who’s hurt?’ he called suddenly. The men looked inquiringly round and gath- ered closer anxiously. ‘*Don’t be afeard, men: the devils won’t kim back. Better hev the leftenant call the roll.” Craver stepped forward, supporting Isidore, ‘ae a, The and clutched the and called the roll. Tho young Jrishman, Son- ny, and a private by the name of Johnson, were: missing. As no fears were entertained of the Apaches’ return, torches were lighted and a search made, They soon came across the body of Jobnson,, interlocked with that of an Indian; both mangled. ao gashed fearfully. They were both quite: ead. Next, the body of an Apache lay cold and! grim across their path, in close proximity to two more. These were all the bodies in and around the trench. Then they searched among the horses andi mules, which, strange to say, had not stampeded. during the struggle. The search was fruitless, They were returning, when a shout from the: scout who had wandered away by himself, at— tracted their attention. It was an exclamation of surprise. They hastened to where be was, at the further end of the corral, He stood gazing soberly up- on a strange group of four, all lifeless, The young Irishman was leaning against the wheel of the further wagon, bolt upright, with knife drawn and in his hand which hung down. At his feet, were the bodies of three Apaches— by far the most formidable warriors of the night’s combat. They lay, twisted and twined about his feet and legs in such a manner as to stiffen his knees, so he remained standing as he had died The brave lad had undoubtedly slain the trio, single-handed, and then died from the effects of his wounds, which numbered eight, nearly every one being mortal. ‘““Geewhittaker! it’s a burnin’? shame thet sech a lad died. Stood up like a grizzly and beat off their cursed hatchets with one hand, while ke stabbed and slashed with t?other, Ef thar ain’t grit no one never see’d any. Henever- so much as bellered for help, either. Did any one of ye hear ’im?” No one had—though he might have done so, and been unheard in the excitement. At any rate, he had died like a soldier. ‘We'll jest bury him ter-morrer on the high- est hill in the kentry!” declared the scout, rever- entially. ‘‘He desarves it, thet he does. And we'll build a big heap o’ recks over him, ter show he ain’t forgotten. Le’s tek him away- from them blasted skunks.” While they were engaged in caring for their- gallant comrade’s remains, Craver, who had been drawn to the spot by the noise, hastened’ back to where Isidore was seated by her father. Hart sat sulienly, just bebind. No one had seen him in the struggle, though it was prohable he had fought desperately, as when aroused he was. every inch a fiend. He sat there in a ey unpleasant frame of mind, te say the least, e saw Craver welcom- ed and cordially thanked by the old senor, with tears in his grateful eyes; he saw the young man seat himself familiarly by the side of the beautiful girl; he saw bim wind his arm about: her; be saw her nestle close to him. This last was toomuch. He drew his revolver,, a sharp report rung out, and Craver’s left arm dropped from her waist, crushed. In his excitement, he had shct wild, and had nearly killed Isidore, . Craver sprung to his feet, with a genuine, round oath, and faced about. The soldiers. rushed to the spot, headed by Apache Jack. ** Oh, he’s shot! he is killed!” shrieked Isidore, as Craver reeled, She sprung and held him up, frantic. ‘* He did it, that snake! Oh, he is shot!” and she clung to him, allafire. For a moment the ranger’s life was in danger- He narrowly escaped being lynched by the. angry soldiers. They sprung upon him and. bore him to the ground, violently. ‘*Cut the villain’s throat! hang him! some- body put a bullet through him!” resounded on: all sides, Senor Martinez hastily interfered, and, after- using all his authority and arguments, the ranger was allowed to rise, but with a half- dozen weapons at his head. His face even in the darkness could be seen, white and anxious, ‘‘Let me explain!” he demanded. “It was: an accident. Let me exp'ain.”’ ‘¢ We'll give ye five minutes to pray,” shouted Private Hicks, ‘‘ Shet up!” commanded Apache Jack. ‘See here, men, it was allan accident. Iwas capping my revolver when it went off. You don’t think I intended to shoot him?” ‘“Yes we do; we know it!’’ shouted the men, ‘Dry up!” again commanded the scout. “Yer are a purty feller ter let a pistol go off, ain’t yer! Yer’ve handled weepons ter much, my lad. Yer kain’t stuff thet down me, But ial f i fie oe ay | 5 4 | oe 4 ae bia } ' i 2 « ‘ a, P ‘ ¢ & if / . ti fv ; ‘a ; k 7 ‘ 4 | Le eS i war, the ae eae S > Foe : 2 > ae : ¥v . hs vA 7 & ae i * . ¢ , \, Ay % > ae | oe rae ae 7 raga eS mae 3 é ihe ote 4 an Fe > Be 4 > | ae a | aa ae | ces \ eas ee ¢ By 2 13 + ane ms ; > "oN | a tat “a hse Py ’ nS ik r4 ee ae Eby. ol Sry 4 2 ; ry is e a lee t,o #2 gees. ray - » - # >
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. barricade. it’s lucky fer yer thet ye didn’t kill him, ’kase I wouldn’t give a picayune fer yer life ef yer did,” * Having delivered this opinion, the scout turn- ed to Craver, who was now recovered from the first faintness and was quite cheerful in his speech, though enraged at Hart. The moon was just rising, and the soldiers sat down, grumbling, but still watching Hart. CHAPTER VIII. THE RANGER'S TRIUMPH. CRAVER sat on the edge of the trench, making wry faces as Apache Jack set his arm with a rude sort of skill. It was not badly broken, but the pain at first was intense. However, when the bullet was extracted, the arm rudely, but comfortably bound, and Isidore nursing it ten- derly, he felt quite content. The affair had turned out badly for the ranger captain. Notwithstanding his protesta- tions of innocence, he was not believed except by the old man, who placed implicit confidence in his lightest word. He was watched, and he knew it. For certain reasons he feared to remain longer in the camp—he was resolved to leave it as soon as possible. And he did leave it, and soon after. Fortune —that erratic, fickle goddess—smiled upon him, as she often does upon the unworthy, and he ac- cepted it. The moon was an hour or more high when Tsidore crept behind a wagon to get a band of soft cloth she had, to use for a bandage. To do this she had to pass outside the circle of wagons and pass her hand into the wagon. This wagon—her own—was at the furthest distant from where the party now were, and the guard was half-way round the other side. As she crept between the wagons she heard a fretful stamp of hoofs, and saw the black horse, Avalanche, saddled and bridled, standing at will, close by. The horse was vicious, but she did not knowit. Whether from careless- ness or natural fearlessness, she afterward could not tell, but she ventured too close to his heels. The animal, caring for no one besides his mas- ter, laid his sharp ears back and struck at her with his powerful leg. She was so close, it was scarcely more than a push, but it was sufficient to stun her. He struck his unshod foot full in her breast as she was bending, and hurled her against the wagon, senseless, on the outer side of the circle. He then stamped and neighed shrilly in delight. Hart heard him, and was instantly aware something unusual had occurred. He walked toward his horse with the scout’s eyes upon him, As he climbed over the wagon-tongue his horse ran to meet him, snickering. He was looking sharply at something in the wagon shadow, ° He stooped and saw Isidore senseless, With his natural sagacity he instantly divined what had occurred. d } ‘¢ Now or never!” he whispered, with an oath. He carefully raised her and placed her athwart the saddle, then mounted behind her. he was unseen, for the large tent of the wagon intervened, Choosing the route that would hide him from sight the longest time, he started off on a cer- tain stealthy, swiff trot, for which Avalanche was famous, ie _ ~ He had receded a quarter of a mile, and was flattering himself he would not be discovered, when a loud cry rung out at the camp. He was ‘ discovered. He now abandoned all attempt at conceal- ment and drove the spurs into his horse. Ava- lanche responded willingly, and away he flew, with the insensible girl in his lap. He made directly for the mounds, several miles away, He was not much afraid of being overtaken by the camp-men, for he had a long start and Avalanche was the swiftest horse on the plains, After the cry there was a silence—the silence of determination. But busy hands were at work - behind—men who were accus*omed to saddle and bridle a horse ina very few moments were already on horseback, ; Benedento was the first to ride out from the Mexicans are renowned for the agility with which they saddle and mount, _ Then came Craver in the rear, On account of his disabled arm, his horse being saddled by the ser- eant. He was in agony. The scout’s mustang had only taken a few rabbit-like leaps when: Apache ack drew in, The ranger was four hundred yards away. Very soon he would be further. He settled bimself in the saddle and glanced over the ivory sights, then fired. The bullet whistled by Benedento. The ran- ee Ups es Se ee ee a ee a as ee a Ee Se Se ee ee ee ee ee ee a a ea eee eee si 5a y Sean ‘A-4 4 £& Tangemund, the Desert Detective. ger, far ahead, heard the report, and the next instant the ball whistled by his head. “Devilish close, you darned rascal!” he growled, ‘Closer than I like. Whew! how that fellow shoots. But it’s no use—no use.” The spur touched the horse’s flank, and on he flew like a swallow. Isidore opened her eyes and moved, as if in pain. Then she closed them again and murmured: ‘‘ Robert,” ‘“'Yes, ‘Robert,’” sneered Hart. ‘By the time you open your eyes again, unless [ am m'sta ken, ‘Robert’ will be out of sight in the rear.’ But she happily remained too unconscious to hear this speech, and the ranger looked over his shoulder. He had gained some and continued to gain, but it did not surprise him, His horse was fresh and could keep this pace for hours. In two hours his pursuers would be out of sight, behind. And they were out of sight in less time. Hart, nearing the hills, saw a shadowy form run from one hill to another, He instantly changed his course and rode in a more west- erly direction. By this move he passed the hills half a mile distant. As he dashed by, out from the shadow darted a score of forms on horseback, and gave chase. They were Apaches—the same band that at- tacked the camp. He drove in the spurs and flew on. Suddenly the Indians halted—before they had ridden two hundred yards. Hart watched them anxiously and chirruped to Avalanche, After remaining stationary for a few seconds, they all slunk back into the shadow. he reason was plain. They had discovered the pursuing party, and they afforded a better ppporganity for revenge. f they sent some in pursuit of Hart, then Apache Jack’s party would bécome wary and would be likely to elude them, If they re- mained still, the rear party would gallop on unsuspecting, and would run directly into them if they changed their position, So they slunk along in the shadow and waited within fifty yards of the path they supposed the pursuers would take. So Hart was allowed to go scot- free, He laughed and flew on. Apache Jack was wrong in saying they would not halt within ten miles. otwithstandin their superstitious horror of the Tanoement’ they soon recovered their self-possession and were even then on their way back, Thrice had the Tangemund appeared in their villages, closely followed by some destructive, contagious disease; once had he howled by their camp-fire and their chief died the next day. Several times he had been heard on the plain, and always some disaster had haret So they regarded him as a messenger of evil and avoided him, Hence their sudden pause in the night attack. They lay in wait and the ranger flew on, elated, Truly had fortune smiled upon him. a she is fickle—liable to veer like a weather- cock, His fair burden lay heavily in his arms scarcely breathing, Sbe had been badly jarred and stunned, Not witnessing the accident, he was rather surprised at her insensjbjlity, but was too much occupied in avoiding ambushes and getting sas away to attend toher, But he held her tightly and rode like the wind round a hill—ai unpardonable act of heediess- ness. For doing it he should have been way- laid and slain on the spot, even had he been a better man. It was the hight of recklessness. Instead of hugging the base he should have given it a wide berth to avoid an ambush, had there been one. As he turned the corner he looked back. ‘The pursuers were almost opposite the ambush. In another moment he expected to hear the sounds of a strife, but instead, a sound rose on the night air which made him tremble, bold as he was, It was the wail of the Tangemund. ; Now, indeed, he flew. Whites, Indians, every thing fled from his mind but that long, low, mournful wail. His spurs drew blood as he dashed on. He need not have been so alarmed; the blood- hound was naturally slow, and Avalanche could show his heels to an ordinary grayhound. But the fear of evil; the overpowering sense of being pursued night and day by an unseen, ter- rible, and relentless foe, goaded him, He had only twenty more miles to ride, then he would be reasonably safe, He rode like the wind, out from the bills and into the plain, haunt- ed all the time by the echo of that terrible cry. Still all wassilence behind him. The expected sounds of a fight did not come. What could it 4 ‘i : ’ = 5 pa Ke a Vee = yer rs pa Re OP ER, Pa - mean? Had the Tangemund again driven away” the superstitious Indians? It must be so—there could be no other cause. But he did not stop to listen and conjecture. Time was too precious; he rode on. Fleecy clouds scudded across the sky, at intervals ob- scuring the moon, He was glad of thet; it aided his ty These became larger and flew faster, until the moon shone only at rare intervals. He stopped and gazed long and earnestly be-- hind. e had left the hillocks which stretched out from the mounds, and now stood ina bare dain. : Nothing was in sight—the pursuers were dis— tanced and thrown off the track; be was alone: with his unconscious burden, He smiled wickedly and rode on at a slow gal- lop, having recovered from his temporary ter-- ror. Just as day was breaking he rode up to a small’ hillock, the only one for miles around. This hillock was a strange one. It was apparently artificial and had been constructed (evidently) for a fort, ages since. He had often been there be- fore, and was well acquainted with it. It was about forty feet in length, by fifteen in: width, and was five or six feet high, covered with small pebbles, with here and there a large flat stone, : Dismounting, he placed Isidore on the ground. She had not yet recovered. A sudden alarm: seized him. as she dead¢ She did not move; and her face was pallid. Villain as he was, he loved her, and he felt sick as he stooped over her and listened. A look of ° relief swept over his swarthy features as he felt. her heart beat gently. Leaving her lying there, he picked up a heavy stone and dashed it against a flat rock marked with a deep dent, on the hillside. The rock dis- appeared and a circular opening appeared, large enough to admit the body of a large man. He lifted Isidore gently and entered the cavity, , first lowering her down. ‘The hill wasa shells. he stood in a cavity the size of a common room,. faintly lighted by chinks above. He walked fearlessly on, and squeezed himself through a. narrow opening which led, into a second chamber. This was quite light, small openings like badger-holes being made in the. shell above. A pile of furs and blankets were in acorner. He placed her upon them, and went out. Then he climbed out, drawing the stone- with him, He seemingly forgot sometbing, for he agaim. descended, and reappeared with a black bottle. He fixed the stone back in its place, took a drink from the bottle, which contained brandy, threw the saddle and bridle from Avalanche, and lay” down to sleep, leaving the horse to roll and wate» —which he did. Suddenly he started as the horse whimpered. Cursing himself he again entered the bill, and brought out a huge bucket of water, from which the horse drank greedily. His mind was not easy. Twice had he forgot- ten that which he had never before done—his drink of brandy and water for his borse. Then he lay down, and tossed for hours in a troubled sleep, outside the hill—the retreat of the outlaw rangers. — CHAPTER IX. THE WAIL OF THE TANGEMUND. True pursuing party dashed on after Hart, and were nearing the hills when they noticed the In-- dians dash ~ after Hart. Almost before they had time to draw rein, the Indians, as before re- lated, slunk back into the shadow. The wary scout instantly understocd the maneuver, and branching away from the party, veered off into» the plain. calling to the party to follow. They did so, and the Indians, not knowing that they were discovered, lay still, not under- standing this action, But when the whites flew by at a considerable distance, they knew they had been discovered. With a howl of rage they darted forth in pursuit. The whites heard the cry and flew on, ocely) Hart doubled the bill a half-mile in advance, and the pursuers were losing ground, The In- dians were moun on fleet mustangs of a large breed, and skurried on, whooping and brandishing their Weapons, They .saw_ the whites gradually close in to the hill and draw near the point where Hart disappeared. They saw their horses suddenly shy and break their gallop, then tear away in different directions un- manageably. What could it meant Was an-- other band of savages at hand? } They yelled and hooted, still riding at a breakneck pace. Now they would have an easy
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ee ee Le SN ' ae Pie oe io a Tangemund, the Desert Detective. -victory, as the whites were scattered and their horses unmanageable. But they reckoned without their host. When ‘they were rapidly drawing near the scattered band, and were yelling in anticipation of vic- tory, a dark form sprung from the shadow di- ‘rectly in front of the foremost savage. It was -a quadruped large and dark. ‘he first mustang veered suddenly aside; the second, not seeing it until almost upon it, clear- ed it with a fierce bound. The others sprung aside in terror. As the last mustang darted by it, the animal raised his head and howled, fill- ing the air with his pealing, tuneful note. It was the same object that had frightened the ‘horses of the white men, and it now leaped out -at them. The first savage, the chief, drew in, and wheeling, motioned the band to halt. They did so, and the chief then galloped off into the ‘plain, looking uneasy. The rest followed him, totally disregarding the whites. The Tangemund (for it was he) sat on his “haunches, looking steadfastly at them. When they had gone some distance away they halted, «and the chief called a council, in which he made a short, forcible speech, ‘Children of the Vulture, the Great Spirit is eangry at us. He has sent his messenger of the darkness tous. He is displeased. He has come to our village when the night-owl cries; he has warned us on the war-trail; he has said to the Children of the Vulture, ‘The Great Spirit is - displeased; return to your-people.*_ Why should ‘we dig up the hatchet with the Great Spirit? “The Children of the Vulture will be taken from their hunting-grounds. Let the pale-faces go in peace. Hear you not the messenger of dark- ness, the Tangemund? He says, ‘Return to your peopl?! The Great Spirit is angry with his children,’ O-kee-chow has spoken!’ The warriors looked one at the other. On the ‘red faces the fostered superstitions of centuries back were working. The chief turned toward the south and slow- ‘ly rode away. Slowly they followed him. The white men had disappeared; the moon was obscured by fiying clouds; the air seemed teem- ing with evil, in the minds of the savages; they followed on. They disappeared round the hill, riding from the war-path with a single scalp. The Tangemund watched them out of sight; ‘then, with a mournful wail, followed the whites. _All was quiet in the Land of Silence. Apache Jack and his companions rode on at full speed, for some time glancing page ‘back, but the savages did not round the hill. “They were surprised, but kept on, the two pri- -vates talking gloomily and prophesying evil. Benedento no longer kept the lead, but rode with the scout and Craver. The latter was “nearly frantic with rage and apprehension, and -all the scout’s arguments and promises of Hart’s ‘capture failed to soften his passionate feelings. He knew what a villain Hart was—-he had sus- poceyt it before, but now he was certain, and he earel the worst. Broken ejaculations issued from his compressed lips, and the pain in his -arm had succumbed to the greater mental ~one, He urged on his horse as he saw the ranger far ahead, rapidly recede. He called upon God in his agony, to strike the villain dead; he even went so far as to shoot after him with his re- volver, which could not carry one-tenth of the distance. He bestowed not a thought upon the savages “behind; he had entirely forgotten them. But he kept his gaze fixed upon the ranger, away in ‘the moonlight, and drove the spur. The aged senor’s grief was of a different kind, but in its way as deep, if not so uncontrollable. He now saw the ranger in his true light, and ~cursed himself for ever receiving him into the party. As he looked forward, a deep determination arose Within him—a resolve to kill the ranger at the first opportunity. Like tne young man, he never thought of the savages, but kept his eyes fixed on the dim form ahead. But, the scout heeded the Indians and kept his head continually over his shoulder. At last, afar behiad, he saw the band wind out from the hills and disappear. ; Me knew their superstitious fear of the Tange- muna, and divined the cause of their retreat, He felt easier now. Flying clouds obscured the moon at intervals, -and ke was afraid the ijight of it would soon be dimmed. Theu the ranger would certainly -elude them for the time. They would have to had ridden five miles further, the clouds grew larger, and at length closed over the sky; the moonlight was gone, The reason Hart could not perceivo them, was this: the moon was not very high, and the hills were between it and him, Therefore he looked agains: the hills which were heavily shaded, and objects between them and him could not be distinguished. But they saw him until the moonlight faded. Then he vanished from their ocun ut they still kept on, hoping the moon wot reappear. They rode for an hour, when the horses showed unmistakable signs of exhaustion, Then the scout pulled in, and dismounting, stooped close to the earth and peered intently into the distance. Nothing was to be seen. He halted the men and advised a rest. There could be no certainty of their even following the right eo by this dim light. On the hard, baked soil, the ranger left but little trail. ‘*Tt’s no use goin’ any further now,” he said. ‘““We mou’t as well shet our eyes and ride, We'd better jest all dismount and wait ontil mornin’. We'll lose the trail sartain ef we keep on. I wouldn’t wonder a cussed bit ef we air a mile away from it now. We kain’t do anything by keepin’ on, so yer’d better git off and let the hosses rest a little.” ‘Great God!” passionately ejaculated Craver. ‘* Shall we stand fore like statues for hours when she is in danger? ** And git lost in less’n an hour! yer air a boy all over. Hold yer hosses; it’s no use ter fret. Ye kain’t do any good by acting the boy and gittin’ lost.” *T will not get lost. I know the way and can follow it in this light.” ‘*-Yer never lived on the perarer much—any greeny kin see thet. Now s’posin’ yer show us the way.” Craver pointed in the direction he supposed was the one. ** Wuss’n I thou’t!”* declared the scout. ‘‘ The rascal went southwest, and yer air pointin’ northwest. Geewhittaker!” ** Don’t you erty I can remember for five minutes?” demanded Craver hotly. ** An’ don’t yer reckon J kin?” asked the scout angrily. ‘‘See hyar boy! When ye’ve b’en on the plains as much as I hev—when ye’ve b’en around this identical kentry as much as I hev— when ye’ve trailed as much as I hev—when ye’ve—blast it! hold yer hosses,” He continued, directly: ‘*Leftenent, No! I for one will keep on.” don’t ye reckon I know what terdo? Jsay stop; and I will stop. Yer kin go on ef yer like, but mark my words! ye’ll be at a standstill in less’n an hour. Inthe mornin’ I'll tek the trail ef I kin find it and ketch the rat; but not a cussed bit afore, ef the moon don’t shine.” He unsaddled his mustang with an air which lainly showed he meant what he said. The exican, Benedento, and the soldiers followed his example. Senor Martinez looked anxious and evidently sided with Craver. He addressed Apache Jack in low, anxious tones: ‘*Could we not form two parties—one to fol- low now, and trust to fortune, while the other would wait till morning and be sure?” ‘** No!” shortly answered the scout. ‘¢Can you not think of some method? If you could feel as [ do; and as this unhappy young man does, 1 know you could discover some way to proceed, Oh, my child—my child!” fe bowed his head and groaned in his sorrow, Craver echoed the groan. The scout’s ire vanished, and his voice soft- ened wonderfully. ‘* Senor Martinez,” he said, ‘* God knows I kin suffer as well as any man, and I kin respect suf- fring. Don’t yer reckon ef thar war the ghost of a chaince I would tek it? What I’m doin’ now is fur yer own good, and not fur any whim o’mine. Jest compose yerself and reason; jest hold yer hosses and think, and ye’ll soon see what's best.” He gave Benedento a meaning look; also to the soldiers, They took the hint. Benedento affectionately put his hand on his master’s knee: ‘* Senor, what the worthy scout says is for the best. God knows, senor, how I feel for you how I pity the poor senorita; and He knows I would cheerfully brave death for her. 1 feel my blood grow hot as I talk of it, senor, but I feel thescoutisright. Senor, wait. Wait until Sey nane: It is the only way. Then we proceed aster more surely, and with the advantage of fresh horses, Come, senor!” horse and seated him upon a saddle; he sat there, motionless with grief, while his faithful, tender- hearted servant unsaddled the horse, “ Courage, senor,” he whispered. Then he spoke a few words in a low tone. Senor Martinez sprung to his feet and gasped out: “For God’s sake! tell me it is so!” “Tt is, senor.” ‘“*Thank the Lord!” and the grief-stricken gentleiaan wept tears of relief. The soldiers, Hicks and Day, at length sue. ceeded in their object of making their leader lis- ten to reason, and he dismounted, though with a sore heart. They sat on each side of him, and casting aside their haunting, superstitious fears, endeavored to cheer him. They met with but little success. Naturally passionate and impetuous, he now allowed his passions full sway, and they proved bad masters. He loved Isidore so fondly; he had pictured such bright and happy scenes for the future that this atrocious deed had unman. ned him. He had spoken impatiently and hotly to the scout in his wild grief at the thought of her whom he loved being in the power of sucha villain; he had raved at Hart when in hot pur- suit; but now, when he was obliged to lie idle while his treasure was being borne away, he fell into a stupor, the result of his recent mental agony. A gloom rested upon the party—a deep, som- ber gloom. The scout moodily gazed at thedim heavens, and, notwithstanding his outward composure, was, in his heart, enraged and anx- ious. He was fond of Isidore; her winning, innocent ways had taken his sturdy heart by storm; he inwardly resolved to rescue the beautiful, suf- fering girl from her terrible fate, and his ire rose as he impatiently waited for daylight. Sitting there, chewing his everlasting tobacco, he watched the old and the young man in pity- a et ey nce he thought he heard a distant sound, but after listening without a repetition, he supposed it a delusion, and sunk again into moody watch- fulness, els * an hour passed, Dawn was close at hand, The scout arose, stretched himself, and looked at his companions. They were in the same positions—the senor with his head bowed in silence, and Benedento by his side; Craver was feverishly restless, and now and then sprung to his feet and gazed im- diers watched him tenderly. They were rough men, deeply attached to him, Looking over the horizon, the scout thought he saw an object at a distance; he peered in- tently and grunted; he saw something. It was coming toward him from the east. Had the savages recovered from their alarm, and setting aside their superstition, returned? It could not be ponelkin they could not follow a trail at night. Grasping his rifle, he quietly watched it. It came nearer, gradually grew in size, and at last was directly opposite the camp, about two hun- dred yards to the north. It was a quadruped. Was it a wolf? No; its actions were not those of the wolf trike. A bear? No; it was too agile and its legs were too long, As the truth came upon him, ke almost dropped his gun, strong man that he was, It was the Tangemund, By naturo and surroundings, the scout was superstitious, and so was every one in regard to the brute now before him. Not knowing his history, he, with the hunters and Indians of the region, regarded him in the light of an evil- bearer. 1t was not strange that he did. But be shook it off, laughed at himself, and watched it. It drew near, sniffing along the trail. The sound he had heard an hour ago was its bay. Bloodhounds never Seat only when on ascent. Could it be? the ranger! Hurrah! He shouted aloud in gratification. The men heard him, and thinking danger at hand, sprung to their feet. ; ; The dog also heard him, and stopping short, eyed the camp and howled dismally, The breeze, quite a strong one, which was blowing, had wafted the camp-scent away from him, and he was too oceupied with his trail to notice it, ‘Saddle up!” shouted Apache Jack. ‘*Saddle up! Don’t hold your hosses! Don’t hold ’em! Let ’em rip and tear! Hooray! Saddle up!” The scout, for the only time in his life, capered like a baboon. i hi his saddle upon his Hurrah! he was trailing a vim which caused the | o pe Fs ye air a fine young man; but | ploringly toward the eastern horizon. The sol- i > wait untii daylight and take the trail. mustang’s back wit y * His fears were well grounded. Before they He gently drew the old gentleman from his | animal to squeal and kick spitefully, he “‘cinch- *p i: ti. .% tt oie OMe
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' RC nae he uate a Kat phate cae ; $ : ee, aed a 1 34 a vaste. th ‘Come then!” And he led the way into the other chamber. ae She started when she saw the a ly bound on the ground, but said nothing, I only halted another
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Se ay iS 4 ae —_— ae aa fg \ ~ danger, t -out to the horses which were feeding together j his carbine. **one night at the fires, theyran scout, had a quarrel, We -showed, and my horse’s After peeping out on the plain to guard agains‘ e -o lifted Hart in his arms and went close by. He laced Isidore on his own steed and left “Hart on the ground. Then he went back and The pistols and knife he put in over his shoulder with As hes over the ranger, pre- paratory to lifting him into the saddle, Hart saw the weapons and instantly recognized them. ‘“Where did you get them?’ he asked anx- iously. Pedro lifted him up and pointed to the body of the Trailer. Hart recognized it at once. ‘* Take me to it!” ho said, Pedro lifted him upon Avalanche and led the horse to the spot. art looked down and saw tes prizes. aes his belt; the gun he s ung his right-hand man, dead at his feet. He was surprised and alarmed. He turned to Pedro. ‘* When did this happen?” ‘* When you were unconscious.” Hart turned his head away with an air-of in- difference. ‘*T never saw the man before,” he said. Pedro looked at him in contempt. “Senorita, you wished me to relate m ‘ventures. For the benefit of this ranger, do so as we ride.” Planting Hart behind the saddle he then mounted, and with the ranger bound behind him, and with Isidore mounted on his own ‘trusty steed, galloped away. “You see, senorita,” i began his story. er here, and the , after that distur- bance I lay awake, thinking. It might have been several hours after, when I heard hoof- strokes, and looking out, saw a man with a black feather in his hat, ride away toward the south. I suspected mischief, for I recognized the man and had many times heard ill news of him. It was the man now behind me—Captain Hart, ““T watched him disappear; I waited in silence his return. It was daybreak when he rode in- to camp, and his horse was covered with foam. ** He limped as he took care of his horse, and his leggings were torn, as if a the teeth of some animal. After he finished attendin, to his horse, he lay down in _ his blankets an apparently was asleep when the sergeant rous- rs the camp. ‘*T continued to watch him until the first meal was ready; then, confiding my hastily- formed plans to trusty Benedento, took some black war-paint from his wagon, and some clotuing from my own, rode away, no one see- ing me besides Benedento. When I had gone several miles, I hid behind a small mound, for I knew that the breakfast would soon be over, cand I then would be discovered if on the naked ad- will plain. Then I examined my materials for the disguise I was to assume. ‘T found I had a tuft of black feathers, a pair of leggings, an old robe and the black war- aint. Then changed, and in an hour had 5 my body where it Jackened my clothing, “hoofs.” What was your object in staining yourself black?’ asked Isidore, smiling as she beheld him in all the glory of war-paint. “Partly to keep the Apaches from Banting me, and partly to deceive any one whom should chance to meet. It succeeded perfectly. I watched the train until it was a mere dot in the distance, then making a circuit, hurriedly passed it and spoke to you and the young senor.” Isidore blushed, and her bosom heaved as she thought of that morning. Hart saw her, and was deeply enraged. He held his peace, how- ever, and Pedro went on: “* As I was talking to you in my new charac- ‘ter, [saw the form of a lage animal at some distance, approaching. It was the Tange- mmund,” He crossed himself and went on: “Tt was an excellent chance to deceive you, and I profited by it. You remember the oc- eurrences that morning, so I will not repeat them. “*T rode away, and after some time looked back. The Tangemund was on my trail. For amoment I felt alarmed. This animal is the forerunner of evil and death. Was I doomed? I prayed not. y “Dreading the sight of him, I rapidly rode ‘away from him, and soon had the satisfaction of finding [had left him out of sight. It. was then about midday. I had brought some dried meat with me, and seoing a large mound off in the distance, rode toward it, soI.could eat and think under its sheltering sides, “ After I had eaten, the hot sun made me tor- - i SSS SSS i - Tangemund, the Desert Detective. pid, and I fell asleep. I slept, I should judge, about an hour, when I was awakened by the shrill neigh of my horse. I sprung up, thinking of Indians,. On peeping over the summit, I saw a horseman rear miles away, galloping to- ward me. I thought it was a solitary Indian, and formed my course of action immediately. ‘*'You know the Indians here have a tradition that the ghost of one of their old chiefs rides about the plain when any calamity is about to happen to his tribe, He is stained black from head to foot, and rides a black horse. He is much feared and avoided, ‘Tf this was an Indian, I resolved to adopt this character, and so preserve my life and perhaps drive away any Indians who might be in the vicinity, On his approaching nearer, I saw it was the scout, Apache Jack. What brought him at that place I know not, but I was not at all surprised to see him. He slackened his pace from a gallop to a trot, and finally came down. to a walk, ‘*Flere was a good opportunity to test the completeness of my disguise, and I resolved to use it, Accordingly I soon found which side of the hill he would skirt, (I knew he would not ascend it,) and then rode round to the other, keeping the hill between us. Then I rode softly up behind bim, keeping in the small hollows as much as possible, ‘‘He heard me when I had got quite close, and wheeled suddenly. When he saw me he stared in surprise for a moment; then he leveled his rifle at me. I made haste to throw down my gun and dismount, to show him I meant no mischief, Then I slowly walked to- ward him, ‘‘Ho still. kept me under his aim, to guard against surprise. After I had looked bim full in the face for a moment, I felt my disguise perfect; the sharpest scout in this part of the country had not recognized me. ‘*T then told him who I was. He stared, astonished. Then I told him I suspected Cap- tain Hart meant evil to the band, and I was mh fe to outwit him.” ‘** You are a sneaking Greaser spy!” thundered Hart, angrily. : Pedro only smiled grimly. ‘* He believed me, and I told him of his mid- night trip the night before. Then he told me of a certain mound where he had seen the ‘Desert Rangers’ several times. He gave me full directions as to its locality. Then he started back to camp to cover my absence. How well he did it I do not know for I have not seen him since,” ‘*T think if was done very well,” said Isi- dore, with charming innocence and simplicity. ‘““T did not suspect any thing—neither did Robert or father. We all felt very badly; we thought you had been killed or captured by tha Indians,” Pedro was delighted at this pretty and simple speech, He reached for her hand and kissed it. He continued: ‘‘I left the scout and rode off toward tbe mound. It was sunset when [ reached it, but Isaw no one there. Then I rode west and took a circling route to where the scout said you would camp. I had not reached the hills where the camp was, when I heard voices to {my right, ina southerly direction. I listened. The voicesceased. Leaving my horse in a dark gully I crept toward the place where the voices were, and almost ran into a band of armed, mounted men, From their conversation I soon learned their object was to kidnap you, sweet senorita, and place youin a bad man’s power. The horsemen were ‘ Desert Rangers; the man was their chief—Captain Hart,” ‘You are a liar!” shouted Hart, in rage. ‘** You are a lying Greaser, spy, and curse me if I don’t make you wish you never saw me!” Pedro halted, dismounted, and taking a scar- let handkerchief from his pocket, ov rather breast, stuffed it in Hart’s mouth. For a mo- ment he thought the ranger would burst a blocd- vessel, he was so furious. But Pedro calmly mounted and went on with his recital. ‘‘ When TI had learned this much, [ started to alarm the camp. When in a hollow [I heard catlike steps approaching. A man slipped by me, I saw it was this rascal behind me. Ee had a blanket. I followed close. behind him. He ascended to the summit of a hill and stood there a moment. Then,he unfolded the blanket. The truth flashed upon me. He was going to give a signal, “‘T must stop him. I sprung forward, quick- ly, but too late; the blanket had circled twice above his head when I grappled him. I threw him down and fell upon him. He struggled violently, but he was no match for me. After a ES little, seeing it was no use to waste his strength, he lay quiet and asked me who I was. **T told him my name was Night-Owl. Just then from out in the plain the voice of the Tan- gemund arose, I told him to listen. He did; then I jumped away from him and let him es- cape, for I could manage him better in the camp He quickly returned to the camp and I went back toward the rangers, ‘Thad not got balf-way when I almost ran into another band. These were Indians. I had no more than seen their shadowy forms when a sudden idea occurred to me. I felt on the ground and found a large piece of dried clay. This I hurled with all my force in the direction of the rangers. It struck, making a dull crash. Just then the moon arose from the eastern horizon. Slipping into a dark ravine I heard the Indians steal as silently as possible toward the rangers, who were, moving off -in the shadow, alarmed at the noise of the missile. ‘*The rangers must have seen the Apaches, for they darted suddenly away at full speed, The savages followed silently. I watched them as they flew by the camp, and I saw the rangers killed and scalped. ‘*The next day I kept hidden, and from my hiding-place saw the Apaches lay down before the camp. I was at hand when they attacked ou, and was rushing in when they fled. I fol- owed them in among the bluffs, and it was there I saw the rascal carrying youaway. I immediately started after him, but lost him, be- cause the night turned out cloudy. However, I found you this morning, and I knocked this ruffian on the head—and here we are, miles away from camp, with nothing to eat, and the sun going down. Shall we keep on, sencrita?” ‘You know best, Pedro.” ‘¢ Senorita, if I had only myself to take care of I would keep on. But the chances are we should get lost, and then we would be in a bad i, Have you eaten anything to-day, senor- ita? “ Nothing since last night.” ‘Since last night!” he echoed. ‘‘ Twenty-four hour hours without food or rest! Senorita, you must be very weak.” ‘* Not very,” she said, with a cheerful smile. ‘Yes, you are, senorita! I can see it in your face. Fool! to come away from the cay- ern without food.” _ He searched all over himself for a bit of dried meat, but could not find it, Then he ungagged Hart and asked if he had any. He could not speak. The gag had been large and tight, and his tongue refused to act. Seeing this Pedro felt in his pockets, and to his great joy found a small piece of dried meat. It was ard and gristly, but he gave it to Isidore. She nibbled prettily. at the tough morsel with her dainty teeth, and Pedro watched her affec- tionately, when he was startled by a suppressed exclamation of joy from his prisoner’s lips. Away in tho distance could be seen & group of tiny objects dimly visible in the range of the setting sun. They were men—no animals roam- ed that barren plain. Speage Hart in his triymph could not contain himself, but now recklessly cried: ‘*-You know what they are?” “Indians, I think,” answered Pedro. ‘¢ Never,” chuckled the ranger. ‘‘I can tell them as far as I can see them. They are the Desert Rangers.” : Pedro was in his saddle in a twinkling. ‘* Come, senorita! follow me and keep close!” He dashed the spurs into Avalanche’s limbs, and they darted away. CHAPTER XTI. THE TRIUMPH OF THE TANGEMUND. THe day was just breaking when Apache Jack’s party started on after the blocdhound, who steadily trotted on far in advance. After going for some time on a slow trot, Craver’s patience gave way. He was suffering severe pain from his arm, and this, added to his mental pain, was unbearable. He burst out re- proachfully: ‘“‘T don’t see why we should crawl along at this snail’s pace when it is broad daylight!” ‘Thar! he’s bu’sted out again. Now we'll hev ' trouble with him all day long.” Private Hicks, to whom this remark was ad- dressed, shook his head sagaciously, “Wal, you see, he’s up over his he’d in love, and it’s nateral—it’s nateral,” ; ‘*Nateral!” retorted the scout, scornfully. * Jest take a look at the gal’s father, will ye’— the old senor. Now UU bet a coon-skin he thinks and feels as bad about it as the young feller, and he don’t make half the fuss.” ** Wal, I’ve only one thing ter say about it, 1 a i. : q ia -_- > I 4 rf * “ | ig ¥ { A « Px, ™ 4 a f f A . i . | - 4 va 7 7 4 : a + oe ia =. - ur e Say ev ae) | Fae t 1a > a 7 ” ‘ ‘| | 9 + oe 5; , € ee 5 Pras j ne ort fe * ee ¥ i yy ml 4 i 64 a By 2) Rots d- V. b a “
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7) “e 3 i ‘ Sf oe ‘and that is, if our lieutenant catches that ranger he’s a dead man in two minutes. He’s like a tiger when he gits bot.” And Hicks again wag- ged his head knowingly. **He's a fine young feller. But, he’s a boy yyet—he hain’t larnt ter hold his hosses.” Thus the day wore on in its sad monotony, and the afternoon brought them to the edge of a vast expanse which was actually barren and level—not a blade of herbage nor the slightest hillock tc relieve the endless monotony. It was here that the dog, who was far in ad- vance, suddenly stopped and faced round at right-angles like a Povtet, They halted and earnestly watched him. He remained faced thus for only a moment, when a long, tuneful bay sounded out and he ran off at_a gallop. “Poller the dog!” ordered Apache Jack, him- self off at a ‘‘dead run.” e rest followed helter-skelter. **Foller the dog! the cut-throat ain’t fur off! Hooray!” Again the dog ahead bayed at his full bent and then pattered on. No longer was his head to the ground, but up in the air, like that ofa pointer ‘‘drawing” over meadow grass. He scented something off at a distance, He was Balloping wildly. ; “Great Jupiter!” cheerily sung Day. ‘“‘I’ve seen bloodhounds, but never a one act like this afore, Heavens! what a scent thar must be ahead. Hooray!” “ Bo-o-ow!” Thecry had changed. No longer ‘was it sad and mournful, but ringing out its ‘wild peal of approaching triumph. ; » They rode like the wind, excited and wild, They were nearing something, they knew not what, but any thing wasa relief from this de- pressing monotony. Suddenly the scout soon’ yelled: ‘‘Thar he is!” and pointed to the southern horizon, The beams of the setting sun were like broad machine-bands; stretching down from the zenith to the ea orb. They shone upon the south- ern plain and lit it up with a ghostly grandeur; and far down against one red beam were two objects, dim and indistinct. he obects were Pedro’s party; and they were }at a standstill. Isidore’s horse, as they fled from the coming party, whom they supposed to be Hart’s band, had stumbled and fallen, throw- ing his beautiful rider many feet in advance, She arose unhurt, but the noble animal was un- able to rise—he had broken a leg. Pedro, as soon as he discovered this, though mourning for the loss of his favorite steed, has- tily pulled the swearing ranger off his horse and placed Isidore in the saddle, Then, leaving the ranger bound on the sand, he prepared to con- tinue his flight. But, here arose an unlooked-for obstacle. Avalanche refused to carry double, As long as Hart was upon his back he would submit to anything, but, when he was off, he was as balky and as stubborn as a mule. ; ; When Pedro sprung up beside Isidore, he kicked frantically, and then began to rear, Isidore was ‘cited trom her seat, and as she fell, the girth broke and Pedro came down too, | Hart sat on the ground, chuckling at Pedro's baffled efforts. y Pedro turned to Isidore with an anxious, af- fectionate expression on his honest face. “Senorita, mount the horse and fly! east, and you may yet escape.” He lifted her into the eadiilie, but sho struggled and entreated him to set her down. Surprised and indignant, ho did so, Then she put her hands on his shoulders, *¢ Pedro, my old, m for a moment think will stay by you.” “But, senorita, think of your gray-haired father—he loves you dearly, senorita, ‘And the young officer, too—think of what he would suf- fer if anything should happen to you. Go, senorita, and may the Holy Mother keep you!” She hesitated, wavering between Hier love and her sense of right. But love carried the day, as it does always, and he placed her in the saddle, then, with averted face, waved her a fare- well, and drove his knife into the horse’s shoul- er. He did this so cunningly he starcely drew blood, and did not injure the horse in the least, though causing him severe pain. But the ani- mal refused to leave his master. Pedro swore. Then he used every means in his power to induce the stubborn beast to move; but it was of no use; he would not start. The approaching band was close at hand now, and Hart al ete grinned. Pedro savagely turned upon him faugh, do you? Well, when those rob- Keep faithful friend! Can you would desert you? No! I “You ye oe Se Raat) Tangemund, the Desert Detective, ’ =| 4 weg Re Ly tale Le dae Ue’ eo : wiezets: Se : Na ptr LNW > : re bers charge on me, do you know what I am re- | solved to do? I will sheathe my knife in your heart at the first shot!” Hart turned pale; he knew Pedro of old; he knew he would do what he said. The coming band was quite distinct now, and Pedro counted six. The revolvers shot five times each without re- loading; the rifle and the carbine, once, Twelve shots in all, He must work with cool, steady nerve, yet with lightning rapidity, to pick off six men coming at a fierce gallop, from the time they arrived within rifle-range. Isidore touched him on the shoulder, ‘* Let me hold the revolvers,” she said, “I can shoot! See, my hand 1s steady.” She held it out. It never shook nor’ waver- ed. At that moment he worshiped her. He gave her his weapons, and said, in a low tone: ‘‘Don’t fire until you can see the butts of their revolvers; then keep cool!” They braced themselves and waited. Tho horsemen came rapidly on, strangely silent. Hart stared. They drew close. Pedro leveled his rifle at the foremost—a lithe, active fellow, on a large horse. Hart groaned. Pedro aimed carefully. Isi- dore, with a loud cry, struck up his arm as he pulled the trigger, and the bullet flew toward the sky. He turned on her in amazement, She left him and ran swiftly to meet them; he tho: ght her demented, then rushed forward to shield her. At that instant arose a cry he well knew, and he stopped short. A huge, mighty man, on a mustang, suddenly put on a “spurt,” and shot ahead of te rest. : ‘* Hooray!” he yelled. ‘‘ Don’t tech the Injun —hold yer hosses—hooray!” Accustomed to obey at all times, the soldiers turned aside and shot by like rockets, followed by the old senor and Benedento, Craver drew his horse in so sharply, ke feli back on _ his haunches, and then sprung to the und, She was waiting for him. Before the others had drawn in their horses he had clasped her in his arms. ** Robert!” **Tsidore!” To attempt the description of such a scene would be to attempt an impossibility. While she is Jocked in his arms, while the aged senor is hurrying toward them, let us glance at the rest, and leave this sacred scene. Pedro was overwhelmed with honest and cordial greetings. They crowd«! about him, shaking hands, twitching him from side to side. ‘“ Wal, by the Etarnal! this beats the cock- robin!” vociferated Day, at the top of his voice, ‘*Tt does, by the Etarnal!” “Yer blasted red-skin!” cheerily shouted the scout; ‘‘blast meef yer hain’t played this air thing well!” and he shook his hand vigorously. The horses were allowed to roam at will while the joyful greetings were being interchanged, and Hart was left unnoticed. He sat yet upon the sand, unable to stir, a prey to the most harrowing reflections, As he gloomily gazed round him, an object upon the plain drew his attention, The moment his eyes rested upon it, he recognized it. It was coming directly toward him, in a swift gallop. He knew too well its deadly purpose—that it was his blood which the fierco brute hungered for. It was the Tangemund, who had fallen behind in the race. “‘ felp! help!” he cried; ‘‘ help!” All eyes were instantly turned toward him. He was writhing upon the ground. The quick eye of the scout, always taking in a situation at a glance, saw the hound almost in the act of darting at the ranger. ‘The dog! the Tangemund! keep him off!” Apache Jack shouted, and sprung in front of the outlaw ranger, Pedro and Day were by his side in a moment, with clubbed guns, The beast came on, frothing at the mouth, but stopped and hesitated. His angry eyes shone redly in the twilight; deep, ominous growls came from his massive throat; his Jaws snapped menacingly, as he circled round and round the men who guarded the ranger. At last, finding the ranger was for the present secure from his vengeance, the hound sullenly retreated and camped down on his haunches, several hundred yards away. ; They were forced to spend the night on the spot, as they could not return by moonlight Over the trackless plain. é When they set forth the next morning for the camp, Isidore and Robert feli behind, and rode together. Now she was with him again, he could not leave her side, and she was nothing loth to his presence. Hart was strongly guarded, and when the party reached the camp, amid the heartfelt congratulations and greetings of the remaining soldiers, he alone was regarded with anger, He was doomed. Little more remains to be told. The old senor returned to his beloved hacienda, just in time to save it from the hammer. Then he settled down there with his charming daughter, to spend the remainder of his days in peace. Soon after, the young officer obtained a furlough and visited them, and at length returned hap- pier—a married man, The old gentleman, on condition the officer would leave the service, presented the happy couple with a handsomely stocked ranch, on which they now reside, In the delicious summer evenings they sit in the pleasant si ata watching their joyful chil- dren gamboling about, and talk over the excit- ing scenes, which they underwent in the Land of Silence. May they rest in peace, Pedro and Benedento pass their time equally between the two residences, and are the same faithful, trusty servants. Sergeant Dare and his brave little band are fighting nolonger. During an Indian outbreak they were hemmed in on the open plain, an massacred, dying like heroes. Of the Desert Rangers apts, and it was supposed that they had fallen a prey to the hordes of savages which then infested the country. It was a small loss to the world. Apache Jack still enjoys the reputation of be- . the best and ablest scout on the frontier. Although in our story he played a secondary rt, he had no other—as the ablest men are peqeenty served. - He is the same good-natured though blunt man; and once a year he goes to see the ‘ purty gal,” and he is always welcomed cordially, was ever heard, One afternoon at sunset, there stood on the brink of a yawning canyon on the Colorado River, three men—Apache Jack, Pedro and the oe captain. The latter was securely bound, and his face was pale and gleaming with despair—he was to shot. He was on the brink of the gulf. His two executioners were facing him, and their faces were stern and grim: no relenting light shone in their eyes—they were deter- mined, Pedro addressed the doomed man: ‘* Have you anything to say?” The ranger’s lips moved, but no sound issued from them. The ranger was conscience-stricken and parelyaes if Soc vend “Very well. ou see that lone tree just at hand? ell, every night at sunset, the top of it gleams like gold for a moment. When that gleam dies away you will beadead man. Tho sun sets very soon; make your peace above.” They folded their arms and watched the stu- ese robber in silence. If the ranger had not een blind with guilty fear, he would have seen a tawny hound creeping toward him from be- hind the others’ backs, But he did not, and the terrible hound stole on, with gleaming eyes fixed upon his prey. Slowly the sun sunk to the rum of the horizon; sae the hound crept on. A faint gleam overspread the treetop, Apache Jack raised his rifle. : The gleam grew brilliant, then gradually faded. The sun sunk from sight. Pedro lifted his arm and said ina low tone: | ‘May your soul rest in peace!” Apache Jack fired, but too late. Just as the last word died from Pedro’s lips, the hound sprung forward and fastened upon the ranger’s throake He saw him leap, and shrieked in anguish. Then the smoke hid the rest. When it cleared away, neither man nor hound was in sight. They looked at each other quietly for a moment, then creeping to the brink of the chasm, looked over, Far below lay the mangled and lifeless re- mains of the ranger, crushed on the rocky river- bed, The dog, badly mangled, lay near, As they looked, he arose and feebly dragged his crushed body to that of the ranger. The whistling breeze below seemed to whisper in the minds of the two men: ‘Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, blood for blood.” The dog placed one foot on the dead ranger’s throat; then, as he sunk to the earth forever, he gave a long, long cry. Pealing up from the depths below, rising out of the chasm and swelling over the place, ring- ing out its wild, triumphant note, came to their ears the last, victorious wail of the Tangemune THE END “tg . y ext te" rd Me : s to ee ' >} us ‘ ieawt ae j ‘ +
Page 16
hey jae de SI cet ath eer coring SS ; Te capers ce a. ae bs r - . ' Cie Nn m . a ate re. ‘ ee Se mee i. ee > a? “a 61 Buckhorn Bitl; or, The Red Rifle Team. By E L. Wheeler. Crooked Cale, By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 857 The Ranch Raldera, By Puckskin Sam. 62 The Shadow Ship. By Coionel Prentiss Ingraham, Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective. By Charles Morris, 858 First-Class Fred, ‘he Gent irom Gopher. Py B. L. Wheeles 65 The Red Brotherhood, By W.J Hamilton. Fritz to the Front. By Edward L. Whee'er. B59 Doraiayw wuye, tue Young Wrvebe, canned. By Maj. te 64 Dandy Jack. By T C. Harbaugh, Wolfgang, the Kobberof the Rhine, By Capt, Whittaker. I. St. Vrain. : - 65 liereicune BULL. By Joseph ©. badger, Jr. Captain Bullet, the Raider King. By T, é. Harbangh. 860 Silver-Mask, the Max of Mystery. By J. C. Cowdrick, 66 Single Mand; or, A Lite fora Life By W. J. Hamilton. Bison BIULL, the Prince of the Reins, By Col. P. Ingraham. 861 The Phantom Lighthouse, By Royer Starbuck, G7 Patent-Leather Joe. By PiilipS. Warne. Captain Crack-Shot. By Edward L. Wheeler. 862 Deadwood Dick’s Claim. By Edward 1. Wheeler. 68 The Border Robin Hood, By thwifilo Bill, Tiger Tom, the Texan Terror. By Ol] Coomes 868 Little Tornado. By Philip S. Warne. 69 Gold Rifle the Sharpshooter. By Edward L. Wheeler, 219 Desapard, the Duelist. By Philip S. Warne. $64 Snap-Shot, the Bey Ranger. By Buckskin Sam. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin. By Captain J, FO. Adams Tom Tannery, Scalawng ani Scapegrace, By Chas, Morris. 865 Baltimore Ben, _By A. P. Morris, Ti Delaware Dicks the Young Ranger Spy. By Ol] Coomes. Sugar-Coated Sam. By “dward L. Wheeler, 866 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective, By |. C. Harbaugh. - @2 Mad Tom Western, the Texnn Ranger. By W.J. Hamilton. Grit, the Bravo Sport. By Col Prentiss Ingraham. 867 Wide-Awake Joe, By Charles Morris. 78 Deadwood Dick on Deck. By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Ozark Alf, King of the Mountain. By Edward Willett, Yreka Jim, the Gold-Gutherer. By FE. L. Wheeler. 74 Mawk-eye Marry. By O}l Coomes. Dashing Dick. By O11 Co mes. Shasta, the Gold King, By J. C. Cowdrick, 7b The Boy Duelist, By Colonel Prentiss Ing¢-aham. Sam Charcoal, the Premium Darky. By Charles Morris. Breaker Ren. the Pref Rurner. By Roger Starbuck. 76 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. By Albert W. Aiken. Snoozer, the By Sharp. Be Edward L. Wheeler, Kingbolt Chris, the Young Hard-Shell Detective. 77 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo. By E. L, Wheeler. Dusky Darrell, Trapper. By E. Emerson. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrain, x 7S Blue Dick, By Captain Mayne Reid, little Wildfire. By 011 Coomes, Yreka Jim’s Prize, By Edward L. Wheeler. 79 Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. By Albert W. Aiken. Crimson Kate, Bv Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, Little Jingos or, the Queer Pard. By Philip S. Warne, SO Rosebud Rob. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Yankee Rajah, By C. Dunning Clark, Gold-Dust Tom. _ By George WH, Morse. S1 Lightning Jo, By Captain d F.C. Adams. Plocky PhUL of the Mountain Trail, By T. C. Harbaugh. & Chiota, the Creek. By Buckskin Swim. . 82 Kit Marefoot the Wood-Hawk By TT. C. Harbaugh Gold-Duast Dick. By Edward L, Wheeler. California Joe’s First Trail, By Capt. F. Whittaker, 88 Rollo, the Boy Ranger. By Oli Coomes. Joe Buck of Angela, By Albert W. Aiken Bonodel, the Boy Rover, By Col. Prenties Ingraham. 84 Idyl, the Girl Miner, By Edward L., Wheeler. Old Rocky's ** Boyees.” By Buckskin Sam, Nabob Ned. By Edward L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Backram. By Captain J, F.C. Adams. Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy. By Charles Morris, Larry, the Leveler. By Charles Mc rria, 86 Dandy Rock, the Man from Texas. By G, Wallo Brown. Apollo Bill. By Edward L. Wheeler. > Avalanche Alf. By Major E. L. St. Vrain, 87 The Land Pirates, By Captaiu Mayne Reid. Lone Star, the Cowboy Captatn. By Col. Ingraham. Bandera Bill. . By Buckskin Sam, 8S Photograph Phil, the Boy Sleuth. By E. L. Wheeler, The Parson Detective, By Ol] Coomes. $2 Cool Kit, the King of Kids. By Edward L. Wheeler. SY Island Jim. By the author of “ Jack Harkaway.” 9 The Gold-secker Guide. By Captain Mayne Reid, 8 The Indian Pilot. By Cel. Prentiss Ingr@iam. 90 ‘The Wawa: Rider. By George Waldo Browne. Cyclone Kit. | by Edward L. Wheeler. § Whip-King Joe, the Boy Ranchero. By Ol] Coomes, 91 The Captain of the Club. By Bacebrilge Hemyng, 41 Bill Bravo and Wis Bear Pards. By T. C, Harbaugh. Yreka Jim's Jokers By Edward L, Wheeler. 92 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief. By E. L. Wheeer The Two * Bloods,” By Charles Morris. Captain Cutlass, the Ocean Spider. By T, C. Harbaugh. 98 The Boy Minera, By Edward S. Ellis. The Disguised Guide, By 0}! Coomes. Warpath WII, the Boy Phantom, By Col P, Ingraham. 94 Midnight Sack, the Road-Agent. By T. C. Harbaugh, 44 Sferra Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler. Little Oh-my, By Philip S. Warne- 95 The Rival Rovers. By Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. Merle, the Middy. By Colone! Prentiss Ingraham 89 Bieycle Ben. By Edwar! L, Wheel r. 96 Watch-Eye, the Shadow. By Edward L, Wheeler Clant George. by Buckskin Sum. Jaguar Joe. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrain. 97 The Outlaw Brothers. By Jobn J, Marshall. AZ Old Grizzly and Mis Pets, By Capt.“ Bruin’? Adams, Kid-Glove Kit. By Sta H. B. Stoddard, Ex-Seout, 98 Robin Hood, the Outlawed Earl. By Prof, Gildersleeve. 248 Sierra Sam's Secret. By Edward L. Wheeler. Roméo and the Reda, By Buckskin Sain. 99 The Tiger of Tuos. By Georve Waldo Browne, 249 Milo Romer, the Animal King. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. Seawall, the Boy Lientenant. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 100 Deadwood Dick In Leadville, By E. L. Wheeler. 250 The Midshipman Mutineer. By Col. P. Ingraham. Yreka Jim of Yuba Dam. By E. L. Whesler, 101 Jack Harkawnay in New York, Hracebridge Hemyng. 251 Lirht-house Lige. By ( aptain J. F.C. Adains, & Californian Joe’s War Trall, Ry Capt. Whittaker, 102 Dick Dead-Eye. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 252 Dick Dashaway. By Charles Morris. Rough Rob, of Dynamite. By T. C. Havban,h. 108 The Lion of the Sea. By Colone) Delle Sara, 258 Sierra Snm’s Pard. By Edward L. Wheeler, Bob o’ the Bowery.__ By Jo Pierce. 104 Deadwood Dick's Device. By Edward L. Wheeler. 254 The Half-Blood, By Edward §, Ellis. Kid-Glove Kit and Pard, By Muj. H. B. Stoddard. 105 Old Rube, the Hunter By Captain MH, Holmes. 255 Captain Apoll:. By T.C. Hurbauch. 899 Black Buckskin. By Col. A. F. Holt. 106 Old Frosty, the Guide. By T. C. Harbaugh. 256 Young Kentuck, By Cuptain Mark Wilton. 400 Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective. By E. L. Wheeler, 107 Ome-Eyed Sim. By James L. Bowen. 257 The Lost Hunters, By Capt. J. F.C, Adams. 401 Little Shoo-Fly. By Philip S. Warne. 108 Daring Dayy, the Young Bear-Killer. By Il. St George. 258 Sierra Sam'’s Seven. By Edward L. Wheeler. 402 Inodor, the Young Conapirator. By Col. P, Ingraham, 1° Dendwood Dick as Detective. By E. 1. Wheeler. 259 The Golden Harpoon, By Roger Starouck. 408 Firefly Jack. By Charles. Morris. The Black Steed of the Prairies. ly J. L. bowen. 260 Dare-Devil Dan. By Ol! Coomes, 404 Little Lariat. By Buckskin Sam. . The Sea-Devil. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraliain. 261 Fergus Fearnaught. By George L, Aiken. 405 Dendwood Dick In Dead City, By Ed. L. Wheeler The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe 262 The 8 pe rh tn By Charles Morris. 406 The Mad Man-Hunter. By Maj. H. B. Stoddard. dack Hoyle the Young Speculator. By f.1. Wheeler. 268 Deadwood Dick’s Divide. By Edward L. Wheeler. 407 The Boy Inaurgent. _Fy Col. Prentiss Ingraham. The Black Schooner. By Roger Starbuck. 264 The Floating Feather. By Col, P. Ingraham, 408 Little Leather-Breeches: By Philip S. Warne. The M . By George Waldo Browne. 265 The Tiger Tamer. By Captain Fred, Whittaker. 409 Hercules, the Dumb Destroyer: By OO!) Coomes. The Hussar Captain, By Col. Prentiss [ ,raham. 266 Killb’ar, the Guide, By Ensign Warren. 410 Deadwood Dick’s Diamonds, By Edward L. Wheeler. Gilt-Edged Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler. 267 The Buckskin Detective, By T. C. Harbanch, 411 The Silken Lasso. By T. C. Harbangh. WIL! Somers the Bov D tective. By Charles Morris. 268 Deadwood Dick’s Death Trafl. By E. L Wheeler. 412 The Wild YVachtaman. By Col. Preniies Ingraham. Mustang Sam; or, The King of the Plains. By J. E. Badger. | 269 The Gold Ship. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 418 Billy Bombshell, the Cliff Climber. By F. 8. Winthrop, The Branded Wand. By Frank Dumont. 270 Blizzard Ben. By Pagani Mark Wilton. 414 The Dalay from Denver. By Buckskin Sain. Cinnamon Chip, the Girl Sport. By EL. Wheeler, 271 The Nuge Wunter. By Edward §, Ellis. 415 The Vagabond Petective. ‘By Jo Pierce. : Phil Mardy, the Boss Boy. By Charles Morris. 272 Minkaskin Mike. By Oll Coomes. 416 High Wat Harry, the Base Ball Detective. By E. L. Wheeler. Kiowa Charley, the White Mustanger. By T.C Harbaugh. | 278 Jumbo Joe. By Edward L. Wheeler. All Webfoot Mose, the Tramp Detective. By Ol] Coomes, Tippy, the Texan. By George Gleason. — 74 Jolly Jim. By Charles Morris 418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter. By T. C. Harbaugh. Bonanza Bill, Miner. By Edward L. Wheeler. 75 Arizona Jack, By Buckskin Sam. 419 Kenneth, the Knife-King. By A. F. Holt. Picayune Pete. By Charles Morris 76 Merlic Monte’s Crutae. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 420 The Detective’s Apprentice. By J.C. Cowsjlrick. W Ild-Fire, the Boss of the Road. By Frank Dumont. 2 ¢ * My APSELVATHESLS é wen B=Stetauewen ~ - we ’ 2 Denver Doll, By Edward L. Wheeler. 4 421 Deadwood Dick in New York. By E. L. Wheeler. The Young Privateer, By Il. Cavendish. 8 The Three Trappers, By Major Lewis Ws Carson 422 Raby Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone. [y Ol} Dendwood Dick's Double. By Edward L. Wheeler. 79 Old Winch, the Rifle King. By T. C. Harbangh. Cronies. Detective Dick. By Charles Morris, 280 Merle Monte’« Fate. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, A28 The Lost Finger. By Charles Morris. The Gelden Hand. By George Waldo Browne 281 Denver Doll's Victory. By Edward L. Wheeler. 424 Cibuta John. By J.C, Cewdrick The Wunted Hunter. By Edward S. Ellis. 282 The Typo Petective. By Edward Willett. 425 Texas Trump, the Border Rattler.. By T. C. Mar euch, Bows Bob the King of the Bootblacks By E. L, Wheeler. 288 Indian Joc. By Major Lewis W. Carson, 426 Sam Slabsides, the Beggar-Eoy Detective, EB. L. Whe ler. Sure Shot Seth. By O}l Co: mes 284 The Sea Marauder, By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 427 The Three Trailers, By Buckskin Sam. Captain Paul. By C. Danning Clark 255 Denver Doll's Decoy. By Edward 1. Wheeler, 428 Fred Flyer, the Reporter Detective. By Charles Morris. Night-lIflawk Kit. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 286 Josh, the Boy Tenderfeot. By Cupt. Mark Wilton. 429 Duncan Dare, the Boy Refugee. By Col. P. Ingraham. The Helpless Hand. By Captain Mayne Reid, 287 Billy Blue-Fyes. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 480 Deadwood Bick’« Bust. By Edward L. Wheeler. Bi nde BEL By Edward L. Wheeler. 288 The Scalp King. © By Captain J. F.C. Adams. 481 Little Ah Sin, By Philips. Warre. Judwee Lynch Jr. By T.C. Harbaugh. 289 Jolly Jim's Job. By Charles Morris. 482 Invincible Logan, the Pinkerton Ferret. By Chas. Morris. Blne Blazes, By Frenk Dumont. L 290 Little Foxfire, . By Ol) Coomes. ‘ 488 A Cabin Boy’s Luck. By Col. Prentiss Ingraliam. S lid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent. By Ed. L, Wheeler. 291 Turk, the Ferret. By Edward L, Wheeler. 484 Jim Beak and Pal, Private Detectives. By E, L. Wheeler. Wandsome Harry. By Charles Morris. 292 Sancho Pedro. My Major E. 1. St. Vrain. 485 Little Lightfoot, the Pilet of the Woods. Py A. F. Holt. Scar-Face Saul. By Oll Coomes. f 298 Red Claw. the One-Eved Trapper. By Captain Comatock, 486 Phil Flash, the New York Fox. By T. C, Harbaugh. Dainty Lance, the Boy Sport. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 294 Dynamite Pan, By T. C. Harbangh. 487 The Sea Ratder. By Col, Prent’ss Ingraham. Cortuin Ferret, the New York Detective. By Wheeler. 295 Fearless Phil. By Edward Willett. AGS Santa Fe Sal. By E. L. Wheeler. “Sver Ftar, the Bov Knight. By OIL Coomes. ‘ 296 Denver Doll’ Drift. By Edward L. Wheeler: 489 Sandy Sam, the Street Scout. By J. C. Cowdrick. Ve UL Wildfire, the Thoroughbred. By Charles Morris. | 297 The Tarnntula of Taos, By Buckskin Saw, 440 Little Foxfoot, the Gold Bowie Kid. By Arthur C. Grissom. “haro Sam Ky J. Alexander Patten. 298 The Water-Hound, By Charles Merris. 441 Vhe Qcenn Firefly. By Col. Prentiss I: yraham. \ Game of Gold, By Edward L, Wheeler. 29) A No. 1, the Dashing Toll-Takers By Edward L. Wheeler. 442 Bluff Bill; or, The Lynx of the Leonn. By Buckskin Sam. "ance nud Lasse, By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 800 The Sky Demon. By Ol! Coomes, | 443 Deadwood Dick, Jr.; or, The Sign of the Crimson Crescent. Panther Paul, the Prairie Pirate. By Jos. E. Badger, J. 861 V ndville Nick. By Majer E. L. St. Vrain. By Fd. L. Wheeler. / Black Hess, Will Wildfire’s Races By Charles Morris. 862 The Mountaln Detective. By T. C. Harbaugh. 444 Tittle Buckskin, . By Ol) Coomes. “'nele Kit. the Boy Demon. By Ol] Coomes. 808 ‘Liza Jane, the irl Miner. By E, L, Wheeler. 445 The City Sleuths, By T. C. Harbaugh. The “w rd Wunters, By My oe Frederick Whytaker. 804 The Dead 8! Billy Baggage, the Railrond Boy. By Charles Morris. Ned, the Cabin Roy, By Jack Farragut. 456 Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. By Chas. Morris, Hickory Warry. By Harry St. George. c M14 Eelipae, Trump Curd of Arizona. . By T. C, Harbaugh. 457 Wingedfoot Fred, By 01! Coomes. Axa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. By Edward Willett. Peacock Pete. By Lieutenant Alfred Thorne. 458 New England Nick. By Albert W. Aiken. Deadly Dash. By Joseph E+ Badger, Jr. Ker-whoop, Ker-whoo! By Buckskin Sam. 459 Flush Fan, the Ferret. By Edward L, Wheeler, Tornado Tom. By T. C. Harbaugh. The Black Rider. By Joseph E Badger, Jr. 4¢0 The Lawyer’s« Shadow. By Jo Pierce. 170 A Trump Card. By Charles Morris. The Sen Sorceress, By Jack Farragut 461. One Agnints Fifty. By T..C. Herbaugh. 171 Ebony Dan, By Frank Dumont. © Deadwood Dick’s Dozen, By Edward L. Wheeler. 462 The Born Guide. By Cel. Prentiss Ingraham. 72 Thunderbolt Tom. By Harry St. George. 2 Nemo, the Detective. By Edward Willett 468 Tamarac Tom, the Big Trapper Boys By O1) Coomes. 78 Dandy Rock’s Rival, By Geoire Waldo Browne, 2 Arkansaw Jack. By Harry Hazarl. 464 Nimble Nick, the Circus Prince. By Albert W, Atken. A Rob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. By Charles Morris, $21 Ralph Rendy, the Hotel Koy Detective. By Con Morris | 465 Philo Fly, of Phenix. Ry Edward L. Wheeler. 5 Captain Arizona. By Philip S. Warne. Kelley, Hickey & Company, the Sleuths of Philadelphia. | 466 Wide-Awake Jerry, Detective By Charles Morris, he Boy Runaway. By Lieutenant H, D Perry, U.S.N, By Edward 1. Wheeler 467 Pisco Dan, the Daisy Inde. By J.C. Cowdrick. Nobby Nick of Nevada. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Ten Pards, By T. C. Harbaugh. 468 Neptune Ned, the Poy Conster. By Col, P. Ingraham, Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper. By Ol] Coomes, Creeping Cat, the Caddo. By Buckskin Sam. 469 The Rival Giants of Nowhar’. By J. W, Osben. Rob Rockett, the Bank Runner, By Charles Morris. The Sky Detectives. By Maior Mickey Free. A470 The Boy Shadow? or,, Felix Fox's Hunt for the Nabob, The Sea Trailer, By Lientenant H. D. Perry, U.S.N, 829 Red-Skin Tom. By Harry Hazard. By T. C. Harbangh. Wild Frank of Montana, By Edward L. Wheeler. BRO Little Quick-Shot. By Edward L) Wheeler. 471 Rozeman Bill of Big Brace; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Little Hurricane, th+ Boy Captain, By Oll Coomes. B81 Riack Nick, the Demon Rider. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. Corral By E. L. Wheeler. WWM WWW RAMA KSOWS VrmhSm SSL a Wes RAR ZAG = S e e -ee af s v ih war sSS LIAS ¥ GENS Ht 1 1 1 1 i 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 f 1 1 1 J 1 1 1 4 1 t J ! 1 1 } J 1 J q 1 1 1 1 1 1 \2 1 1 ~= ah ph fj RArnrnrrne tk nk ek ok BENAVR Ae Na KR SOKSCENVS Vhe Hidden Hand, By. Charles Morris. 882 Frio Fred. By Buckskin Sam. A472 Jannty Joe, the Young Horse-King. By Jo Pierce, 4 The Boy Traflers. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr 888 Rrimstone Bob, and Wi« Lightning Worse Quar- | 478 14 Tom Rattler, the Red River Epidemic. Py Ol] Comes, Evil Eye, King of the Cattle Thieves. By Frank Dumont, tette. By Maioe EL. St. Vrain. s i a a <a A7A Flora, the Flower Girl, By Col. Prentiss Ingrahan, Cool Di 1. By Colonel Delle Sara, . RBL Kaneranroo Kits or, The Mysterious Miner. By E, L, Wheeler, ant F Fred atsard, the Life Boat Boy, By Charles Morris. RRS Old Touble Fist. By Tousph E. Badger, i 475 The Black Ship. By & - S. Warner. ‘ 4 88 Ned Temple, the Border Boy. By T. C. Harbaugh. 826 Rig Benson. By T. GC. Harbaugh. A476 Huwboldt Warry, the Hurricane. Py Edward L. Wheeler. so Rok Heskett, the Crosicarane Charles Morris R&T Per Tikeds the Gree Sieg gis J. Hamilton. 477 The Excelsior Sport. By T. C. Harbaugh, ‘ ndyv ce, By William R. Evster. s Tough Boy. By Philin S. Warne. ae . Be Buffalo Billy, the Rov Bullwhacker. Be Capt. A. B. Taylor aeo Ranparee Kit'’s Wee elcents By Edward L. Wheeler. 478 Tangemund, the Desert Detective. By Frederiek Dewey. 92 a por be the Wi | gett of 4 er Perry $40 Clip, he Contortionist. By Saward Wulets eet ee 479 Detective Dodge, By Charles Morris. 9 he Lady Road-Agent, By Philip S. Warne. 841 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective, By Charles Morris. ins. W HH Tafrale Kills Ret.” By Captain Taylor. Az TheM ountain Devil. By Harry Hazard. 480 Three Jolly Pards, By Eatip S. Warne. 95 Deadwood Dick's Pream, By Edward L, Wheeler. 848 Manhattan Mike. By Edward L. Wheeler. 481 Moll Mystery; or, Deadwood Dick Jr. in Dendwoed. Py 96 Shadowed. By Charles Morris. be. vial i 844 The Fighting Trigg By Books in Sam. Edward L. Wheeler, ; 5 97 Little Grit, the Wild Rider. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 845 Pitilesa Matt. By T. C. Harhingh, 32 Boy Trojan of t yee By 198 hedne, the Man with the Knife. By T. C. Harbaugh. 846 Rapter Raphael. By Mayor H. R. Stoddard A82 cronewalt Bob, the Boy Trojan of the Great Range By herwelght. By Edward Willett 847 Dendwoo ck’a Duents. By Edward L. Wheeler. j a be don The Hoy Hedoulns, By Capt, Frederick Whittaker $45 Fire-W elu or, “old” Skinfli.t the Death-Shadow, By | 488 Ferrets Afloat; or, Wisard Will's: Last Cane; By Coloneh 201 The Black Hills Jezebel, By Edward L. Wheeler. Roger Sturbnek. Prentiss Ingraham. ; 202 Proapect Pete, of the Boy Brivade. By Ol) Coomes. 849 Wild Wolf, the Waco. _By Buckskin Sam. 484 Comanche Pick and Hl« Four Invincibles, By a - RPRESOELTE-IN mh eek pe pk kh rh ph fh pf fd, 208 The Boy Parda. By Joseph KE, Badger, Jr. 850 Red Ralph. the River Rover. By Ned Buntline. , Henry J, Thomas. 204 Gold Plume. the Bov Bandit. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham 851 Deadwood Dick Sentenced, By Edward L. Wheeler. A New Iraue Ly Tuead 205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom, By Edward 1L., Wheeler. 852 Tombstone Tom. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrain. 2 avery Tuesday - 206 Park Pant, the Tiger King. By Charles Morris. 858 The Reporter-Detective. By Charles Morris. The Half-Pime Library ts tor ente ty ot newsdeniers, five. QNT Navnto Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter, By T, C. Harbaugh, 854 Big Horn Ike the Hill Tramp. By Roger Starbuck. cents per copy, or seu t by inail cn receipt of six cents each ee’. aT y Hercules, By Oll Coomes. T : f the da . Demet Boone’s Last drail. - y Soe 2 A {Ne Bound: Roe Detective. By Edward L, Wheeler sind = oy Syn Satan clin ‘ BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 210 Faro Frank of High Pine. By William R. Eyster. 856 Cool Sam and Pard, By T. C. Harbaugh. 98 William Street, New York, an iA