Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 47) (1878 06 18)
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yt \ a: 7 a a Do Jt i nt i! Copyrighted in 1878, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. SAN \\ s le Number. Nightingale Nat; OR, THE FOREST CAPTAINS. BY T. C. HARBAUGH, AUTHOR OF ‘NICK ©’ THE NIGHT,” HIDDEN LODGE,” ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I. SINGING THE TRAIN INT) DANGER. ‘**T love to sing till the wild woods ring! ! ho! O! ho! Till the leaves are stirred, and every bird Dreams of the wondrous song he’s heard! O, ho! ho! ho!” rivers whose waters, after many miles of tortuous trav- _ cling, lose themselves in the ’ immensity of Lake Superior. He made the w rin with his musical notes, an it may easily be believed that many a sleeping bird was constrained to lift a drowsy head from beneath a good warm wing, and listen to the song of their new rival. e singer was seated as- tride of an ox which, with his yoke-fellow, was slowly drawing a clu wagon over a horrible road,if we may be permitted to desig- nate the forest trail by that name, in this day of pikes and jnacadamized thoroughfares. The sun had departed for the day, and the woods were enjoying the short twilight which rendered objects quite indistinct among the ghostly trees. The youth evidently had charge of the team, for his ruddy hands held a heavy driver’s whip which he did not use, for he had trans ‘erred himself to Buck’s back. His ‘‘ whoa-haws!” like his vid song, were full of nature’s music. He was a uatural singer. ; Clad in a light green jacket which boasted of a shoulder- cape of a darker shade of the same color, and close-fitting gray pantaloons which were tied around the ankles, and just above rather fantastic moceasins, the boy presented a real woodland ce. He wore no covering on the head. Indeed, he needed none, so far as the question of warmth was concerned, for his hair was ve abundant and though inclined to curl fell fully upon the em- erald cape above mentioned. He could, beside his wealth “THE | BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. .\ PATTIN Price, 5 Cents. No. 47. of hair which was very dark, boast of a full ruddy faceindicative of a healthful constitution, and a pair of sparkling eyes that were full of ‘ood-humor. Such a boy would never die of the blues. A noise before him told that one or more wagons were in advance, pushing northward, while the occasional crack of a whip behind an- nounced the presence of others. The voices ahead were those of rough, irrita- ted men, and at times the ruggedness of the road made the air quiver with the curses that fell from their lips. At these times, and they were not infrequent, the oxen came in for a rn beating by the hickory handles of the whips. In the midst of these difficulties the young Nightingale continued to fill the forest with the | echoes of his wonderful voice, and the hand of Ir was the clear barytone voice of a boy singing | in the dark forest that bordered one of the wild | some unseen spirit, pleased with his humor, seemed to guide his wheels. For they struck ‘*] AM SHADOW-SHOT, AND I MEAN BUSINESS.” few ruts, and the hoofs of the patient oxen did not descend into the unseen holes, which were continually besetting the beasts attached to the foremost wagons. Verily the Nightingale was the protege of some good genius. ‘*Here! the cap’n says we’ve had enough of this screechin’!” suddenly cried a rough voice at the boy’s side, and he felt himself almost jerked from his perch. The refrain at that time falling from his lips, was ruthlessly snapped in twain. “Well, if the captain says so, I am willing to stop,” meekly answered the singing boy, look- ing down upon the burly fellow who had de- livered the ‘“‘cap’n’s” command. “But I do not see why a fellow shouldn’t be allowed to ex- ercise his lungs in these parts. Was I singing louder than the men are swearing where the captain is?” e@ boy’s eyes snapped with the spirit of in- dependence. “The cap’n didn’t send me back hyar to answer a passel of tomfool questions. He wants you to stop singin’ an’”—the man’s hand fell like a trip hammer on the gray breeches—‘‘ an’ if you on’t stop, I’m to make you!” ** Who said I was not going to stop?’ asked the Nightin- gale, the merry twinkle re- turning to his eyes. “ The captain shall not hear me again to-night. I always try to obey him, and if I do tran- scend his orders, it is because I forget them in my eager- ness to sing. Now don’t you think this is true, Zimri? es !’ the man said tartly and with a scowl. “You sing etarnally too much. If we git into an Injun muss, I'd like to know what you’d amount to.” “Try me!” was the quick reply. ‘T ‘spect we'll hev_ thet chance afore long. It’s a long way yet tothe mining count Our oxen may be shot full of arrows ag’in’ to- morrow night, an’ we— sculped, p’raps!” The man looked up with triumph as if he had expect- ed to frighten the boy; but his countenance fell into the slough of chagrin, when he did not discover a sign of fear on the youthful face. It retained its ruddy ype “Tm goin’ back to the ay 7 now,” he said resolving to hide his failure by a hasty retreat. ‘‘Now mind you, little Nat, no more screechin’ to-night. The cap’n ain’t in the best of humors nohow. It’s him what’s doin’ most of the swearin’ ahead.” With this the man left the boy and, passing beyond the horns of the oxen, was soon
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2 lost among the shadows that concealed the fore- mee Captain Lige hasn’t be happy th ‘Captain Li sn en ve app ese six days pees F the musical rhode? aabered. “He is that he will not get all the gold that they say is to be found along the shore of the big e. Sometimes I think that some- thing besides the love for gold brought him into these woods, for didn’t the people tell us before we struck these woods that the ore was copper and not gold? But Captain Lige said that they lied, and here we are, creeping north toward Lake Superior. Maybe I did wrong in comin along; but I guess I couldn’t well help myself. I’m in for it now at any rate, and I'll face the music as it comes.” A moment’s silence followed the boy’s low words, and then, unable to repress the music which like a well-spring flowed from his heart, he began to drum with the whip on the horns of the plodding ox. “When a fellow can’t sing he can think the songs over!” he said to himself, with a smile. ‘* Bless me! if I wouldn’t like to give a concert in these woods! But just wait till I get to the lake! Blossoms and flowers! but I'll make the old shores ring. The captain will have to gag me if he wants me still there!” The lake-shore! Nightingale Nat did not think, in the midst of his castle-building, that ae might never see the pictured rocks of Supe- or. All at once the drumming ceased, for the curses of the men ahead failed to salute the boy-bird’s ears, and instead, there rung in them a strange, rough voice which he knew he had never before heard. It seemed to denote danger to the train. “ Get ready to fight!” cried a man who Nat at a quick e, and ghost-like vanished toward the rear of the column. “‘That we will!” said the boy as he tossed the whip forward upon the yoke, and slid guy from the beast. ‘‘ Was crickets! I didn’t look for brush so soon, but it seems that we’re in for it. Well, we'll give the reds the best we've got in the train.” As he uttered the words he hastened to the wagon and drew forth a rifle. Then he plnng peep and powder-horn over his head, and too is station at the heads of the oxen, which, at his command, had come to a halt. “‘They’ll be down upon us in a minute!” he heard the voice of the man who had him say. ‘The woods to the right ar’ full of ’em. The cap’n says ‘ fight,’ but this is a pretty place to corral the wagons, I’m thinkin’.” The man was coming back. ‘Who brought the news, Jack?’ asked the boy as the trainman came in sight. ‘I hearda strange voice down where the captain is.” * An’ a strange critter is the man what owns it,” was the reply. “’Pon my word, Nat, you never see’d such 4 fellar. We'll hey to wait till daylight to see whether he’s a white man. Oh, we're in fur it. He says thet they’re not fur off an’—I didn’t stay to hear all his gab. Cuss the day we sot out fur the lake! hy, thar’s no more gold thar than thar’s in my eye.” “That is what I think, Jack. But we must- n’t whimper over spilled milk, not even when the pitcher is broken.” ‘Of course not; but the cap’n—” The man did not get to finish his sentence for Zimri Paddock made his appearance on the scene, and caught the boy rudely by the arm. ‘The cap’n wants to see you!” he said, ina tone that boded the youth no “Tt wasn’t hard to tell thet your infa screechin’ would git us into trouble. Why couldn’t you kee aad apne to yerself? e snake wouldn ow whar the cat-bird’s nest is if it wasn’t fur her squealin’.” Before the boy could reply, he found himself — forward by the brutal man, who in a ew words told Jack to guard the team until relieved by orders. At an_ inconsiderate @ gt rs Nat was hurried toward the head of the train, from which came the voices of the men in conversa- tion. He knew that the captain was ina for sundry ressions, more emphatic than elegant, told him this, and he ¢ to encounter a simoom of rage where, that worthy ‘Here’s the blatant brat!” cried a strongly- built and dark-featured man as he sprung upon the youth who was released by Paddock, when he saw that he had attracted the attention of the group. ‘Time and again I have told him to bridle hhis tongue; but he would sing. Here he is, sir. Come forward and look at bird.” The captain’s last words were addressed to a Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. unt specimen of humanity whose shaggy ead looked in the dim light like a lion’s, »perched, and out of place, upon the shoulders of a man. The quaint personage took a long stride for- ward, and from beneath a tangled mass of long eyebrows fastened his gaze i Sy the boy. ““Why he’s a leetle one!” he said in a rough, uncultivated, but not unkind voice. ‘‘Is this the bird what I heard so far from. the wagons?” “Yes!” grated Captain Rough—a name which he wore with credit to his nature. ‘This is the bird... Wait! I'll shake his planes <3 a little.” Hard upon the last rough words, Nightingale Nat was jerked suddenly from the ground, and shaken so furiously by the captain of the train that his rifle fell from his grasp! “That’s what I call shaking his plumage up a little!” said Rough, as he released the boy and turned with a grin of brutal delight upon the uncouth visitor. Nat staggered when released. It seemed to him that the captain had loosened every bone in his ame & “* He’s the scamp what is bringing the outlaws and Indians down upon us with his singing!” Rough continued. _‘‘ Bless me! if I’m done with him yet. The fiends wil) not attack us for ten minutes. Paddock, where’s a whip?” The next instant a heavy ox-whip was thrust into the captain’s hand, and with an oath he pushed his right sleeve above the elbow. ‘“* Stand still, there!” he cried to the boy who involuntarily shrunk toward the wagons as he caught sight of the cruel whip in the hand of Rough. ‘Move, if you dare! and b my life! Tl cut your chicken-throat the first blow.” White-faced now, Nightingale Nat halted and looked around. The faces of the members of the caravan did not exhibit any signs of pity. While few show- ed evidences of glee at the expected punish- ment, more than one was jally averted. It was evident that Captain over the train. “Pll teach him to sing the enemy down upon us!” grated the brute as the heavy lash de- scribed a circle around his head. ‘Yes, my friend—” There was the sudden darting of a figure for- ward, and the uncouth invader of the train ee himself firmly like a rock before the hreatened boy. “Don’t you hit the leetle one ” he cried, put- ting forth his long arm while his keen eyes sent sparks of fire from their dark caverns. “I reckon as how no giant hes a right to whipa dwarf. He didn’t know thet it war wrong to sing in these parts. Music is in him, an’ it hed to come out; thet’s all.” Captain Rough dropped the uplifted yhip, and, with a face livid with rage, started bac His eyes were riveted upon the interferer in his “Who are you?” he almost yelled. ‘‘ And what do you know about the boy?” “ Answerin’ your last question first, I say ‘nothin’’!” was the reply. ‘I am Old Shadow- Shot, at your sarvice, an’ by the snakes of the woods! I'll kill the first man what teches the leetle one in my presence. Thet’s me, and I mean business!” Nighti e Nat, with a look of deep grati- tude, crept closer to the strange being. ugh ruled supreme CHAPTER I. THE VULTURES OF THE WOODS. “HARK! Can’t you fellows stop ers ee for a moment so a person can hear something“ At the edge of a dense forest, not very far from the scene of the incidents just narrated, a company of men, mostly Indians, were, with two exceptions, seated statue-like on the backs of horses whose ing heads proclaimed them corners ti b gce !” said th ker, afte: ere it is @ speaker, ra moment of silence. ‘‘That is the voice of some one singing. We are going to strike the train to-night.” At the mention of a train the horsemen lift- ed their heads, and eagerness flashed in their eyes. Pe do you think it is whar that chap is was a dark-faced, uncouth individual who put this question. “There is just where it is and nowhere else,” was the 2 ag e in h would not allow it, I was think. Doesn’t he know that he’s in a dan- gerous kentry?” “He had ought to. But, as he hasadvanced so far without accident, I suppose he thinks that he will get on to the copper country without trouble. ‘Poor fool!” sneered the rough man, ‘‘ Cap’n whar’s the train what has passed over this i unteehed?” A curious smile played with the cruel lips of the man called cap’n. Ay, where was the train which had passed through the Wisconsin forest unscathed, to the wonderful copper mines of Lake Superior? The Vultures of the woods had fallen upon it when in the midst of fancied security, and left but ruins of wagons and bones of oxen and men to mark the spot of the fatal sweop! ‘“ Youre right, e! where is the one?” »‘'Its name is nary,” was the answer, accom- panied by a malicious chuckle that sounded like the chatter of wolfish teeth. ‘‘But, Cap’n Dave, you can’t hear the song now.” ‘No; it grew still suddenly, just as if Cap- tain Rough had put his hand over the singer's mouth. e train is just ahead of us now.’ “ Sartain se “ Certainl , 1am.” Then the last speaker turned to the dark fig- ures behind him. “Get ready!” he said, in a tone of command. ‘* A rich prize is jogging slowly over the trail, and we'll strike it near the place where we struck Collyer’s ph il ‘** Great r! cap’n, I wish you hedn’t said a word about that fracas,” said the man called Rafe as his hand fell on Captain Dave’s arm. ‘*Pshaw! you'll get out of your ghosty no- tions before you die, old boy,” the brigand said, with a sneer. “I never think of that little brush, and I never trouble myself about the things that frighten you. Let me tell you Rafe, and I say it in a low tone, for I ont want the rest of the boys to hear.” The bandit lowered his voice as he leaned toward the dark-faced man. ‘Well, out with it, cap’n!” ‘‘Tam ashamed of you; indeed, I am, Rafe. I don’t want to tell you so before the boys. I tell you that nobody escaped from Collyer’s train!” “Nobody, cap’n?” ejaculated the bandit opening his eyes with incredulity. “ What about the gal? ‘*Oh, there wasn’t a girl in the train!” said the leader, with a forced smile. ‘‘ Are you goin, to harp about it all your life? I was’ there, an when I say there was no girl in the train, why, there wasn’t. That settles it.” ‘‘Mebbe it does and mebbe it doesn’t,” blurt- ed the unconvinced Vulture; ‘‘mebbe I wasn’t there that night, or p’raps I went into the muss with my eyes shut, an’ didn’t open ’em until it was over.” The captain of the forest scourges bit his lip. “Tt is no use!” he said straightening up in a pet of chagrin. ‘‘ You’re bound to have your own way, and have it and be hanged.” “Not so fast, Cap’n Dave?” and the speaker’s eyes shot a malicious gleam at hisleader, ‘I’ve been your right bower fur five years right in these woods, and when I say thet there was a gal with Collyer’s train when we struck it, why there was—that’s all!” There was no reply to this, and the next moment the freebooter’s hand gathered es the reins as he turned to the main body of his force “Ready!” he said. ‘‘ Now let us be off. It is a richer prize than Collyer’s train was. It must be ours before morning.” There was a quick gathering of reins, and the yd where the outlaws had halted was soon eserted. The two brigands who were exchanging some high words when the strange forest song reach- their captain’s ears separated without a word; but their looks told that they would resume the quarrel at the first opportunity. It was evident to the man who rode at the head of the party that the train was not far away. Let us look at him as he appeared in the twilight of that eventful day. - He was a eat frontier Apollo, Though in the neighborhood of his thirtieth P heat he looked like a man of twerhy an or rae A ee and sha head sa y on br an massive ‘alas tie dark eye-brows over- arched a pair of deep, gleaming orbs, which could appear as soft as the eyes of the gazelle, at their possessor’s ese: His hair, black as the lustrous eyes, was Closely cropped, and the lips, at’ once sensual and firm, were more half hidden by a heavy yet silken mustache. The bod; saves by the close-fitting suit of gray with no ornament save a Mexican-like capote was faultless from chin to boots, and the hand that held the rein seemed fitted for the count- 4
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“= Nightingale Nat. ing room, and not for the handling of pistol and gun. A wide-brimmed hat set on his head in devil-may-care style completed the bandit’s ap ance, is white followers were similarly but not so well clad, and the Indians wore leggings, and, with one or two Sep eiih a coarse buck-skin jacket or hunting frock. This was the band dreaded by adventurers and miners en route to the inexhaustible cop- r mines of Lake Superior. Its terrible forays ad been told beyond the Wisconsin woods, and a few trains, knowing its accredited haunts, had skirted the dreary shores of the Meant lakes, and, escaping the rifles and tomahawks of the Indians, had reached the mining country in safety. But that route was long, toilsome and exhausting, and many who resolved to try the shorter one and run the risk of being attacked by the bandits, discovered, when it was too late, that the long way was the better one. None knew anything about the identity of the handsome man, called Captain Dave by his men. Occasionally a sensational journalist, seated in some cosy city sanctum, tried to con- nect him’ with the young bank cashier who mysteriously disap between two days; or proved conclusively, to himself at least, that the Robin Hood of the North- west was the young Spanish hidalgo who flashed for awhile in avenue society, and then fled after knifing a Hi to turn bandit and terrorize a romantic d nd. If they did not demonstrate their theories to the satisfaction of their readers, they filled several columns, and that was something. Pushing through the woods with the young outlaw gightly in the rear, the cavalcade moved with much caution, Ri resting carelessly across the pommels of saddles obtained by some night attack upon a rich train, were grasped by determined hands as ever wielded the deadly weapon. Captain Dave did not speak to the man who rode at his side and never took his eyes from his face. “Don’t I know that there was a gal in Col- lyer’s train?’ chuckled the man, who was Rafe rmstrong, already introduced to the reader. ‘*Ha!l my cap’n, you may my that you settle the matter when you say there warn’t; but that doesn’t settle it by along shot! Fire and furies! did I go into the train yelpin’ like a devil with my eyes shet? Didn’t I see the gal crawl under the wagon what the oxen over- turned when they fell over, an’ when I went to look for her, arter the fray wasn’t she clean gone? These are facts, my Cap’n Dave, which are gospel, an’ mebbe, beside thet, Funk an’ me didn’t see the gal—or suthin’ mighty like a female creetur—runnin’ into the bush when we war tryin’ old Collyer himself.” The brigand seemed to enjoy his communion with self. It relieved him vastly, and he looked as if he had convinced the forest Apollo ina SE SDE oF ANE argument, “ce ; |” Instantly every rein was tightened, and the bandits looked eagerly forw: The curses of men and the whips cracking over the heads of the plodding oxen were falling distinctly upon their ears. | The position of the train was now closely re- vealed and the brigands were eager to attack, “Put on the mufflers!” Captain Dave said in alow tone, and a stout buck-skin sack was quick- ly thrust over the mouth of each horse, “Hey they got any horses, cap’n?’ ventured Armstrong. , “ft is not likely that Captain Rough would embark for the mines without them,” was the reply. With less speed and increased caution, the forest foes crept upon the train. They heard it come to a sudden halt which opuael an expression of anxiety to flit across the brigand’s face, and when signs of commo- tion became apparent, he looked around into the dark features of his men. - “Something’s wrong!” he whispered. “We have been betrayed.” “That will do!” was the interruption, as the speaker’s eyes flashed baleful light upon the venturesome man, ‘J will not put up with your infernal fears any longer. Rafe Arm- strong, you can do one of two things, and that right now. You can leave me forever, or prom- Nest MB oe shut in the future.” sy ee nothing i was the firm reply. “What are you go to do? Open your mou ckly. _with the co Cap'n Dave—” “No preliminaries!” interrupted the leader of the brigands, out of patience with the man. ‘“We can’t stop here and listen to a long rig- ee of nothing. Go! or keep your mouth shut, **’As long as I stay with you, cap’n?” So long as that. Serna “T can’t do it! it’s impossible. By my beard! I will not keep my mouth shet fur any man!” With uplifted hand the bandit chief pointed into the depths of the forest, from which they had lately emerged. ‘‘T understand the p’intin’, cap’n,” Rafe Arm- strong said, with a vicious twinkling of his deeply-buried eyes. ‘‘ When a man will prom- ise to keep his mouth shet, when he knows he can’t, he oughter to be tied to a horse’s tail. Oh, ’'m goin’, Cap’n Dave. Mebbe you'll wish by an’ by thet you’d let old Rafe have a little tongue run, T will prove thet I wasn’t blind thet night, mind this, Cap’n Dave!” Steadily that hand pointed to the west, and Rafe Armstrong wheeled his horse. “* Good-by, boys!” he said, as he rode through the group of astonished men. “I won’t quit talkin’ for any livin’ man. This isn’t the you'll see of Rafe Armstrong, [’m thinkin’.” The white bandits, to the number of six or eight, muttered ‘‘ good-by;” and the Indians nodded, but did not speak. Slowly the deserter disappeared among the shadows, watched with conflicting emotions by the man who had bade him go. “Tf it hadn’t been for the noise!” he murmur- ed, significantly, “‘ there would be blood on his saddle now,” and then he turned to his remain- ing men: ‘Let nobody succor him!” he said, merci- lessly. ‘‘ We are better off without the gabbler.” The party advanced again. At the leader’s side rode an athletic and evil-faced Indian. ‘“* Ride ahead and leave us!” the young bandit said to this red-skin in an undertone. ‘‘ You know what to do. Follow him with caution, and see that he is as dead as a stone before you come back to me.” A meaning nod from the savage told that the words were understood, and he rode ahead. The white bandits seemed to divine the move and exchanged looks, but said nothing. They knew that their chief had thrown one of the most cautious and malicious scarlet fiends of the North-west upon Rafe Armstrong’s trail. Heaven help the deserter if Sharp* Knife sought his life. . On, on still went the cavalcade. It crept Hie the train, and strange voices, which seemed at variance, came to their ears. “They're having a quarrel among them- selves!” the leader of the bandits whispered, gleefully, to hismen. ‘‘ Now, ready!” The clicking of thirty rifle-locks was heard. A moment’s silence followed the deadly sound, ond then a deafening volley was poured upon e “Charge!” shouted Captain Dave. r thieves!” It was a wild moment, for, like thunderbolts, the Vultures of the woods fell upon the train. “Down CHAPTER IIL A HAND ON NAT’S THROAT. THE onslaught of the outlaws upon the train occurred at the moment when Nightingale Nat, having heard Shadow-Shot’s determined words, crept closer to him for that protection which they promised. As might be expected, the volley, though fired almost at random, threw the adventurers into a confusion which seemed from the first destined to prove disastrous to them. ortunately no one was hit, but several bullets found a lodgment in the bodies of the faithful oxen, which, plunging with pain, overturned the wagons, and added to the uproar. ‘** Down with the copper thieves!” yelled the ore who dashed through the dim light upon e train. The explorers immediatel rung to arms. penne Nat picked up yp rifle which the brutal Captain Rough had shaken from his grasp, and sprung instantly to the side of his uncou Fw ete whose eyes flashed with the light of forest battle. ‘* Stan’ by me, leetile one!” cried Shadow-Shot, lege at the . “We're in fur it now, an’ ’m thinkin’ thet thar’ll be some toes turned up to the sky afore the stars go down!” A few shots which emptied several saddles answered the initial volley, and then the greater rt of the train-men, seized by a sudden panic, ed ingloriously from the fray. After all, Cap- tain Rough’s followers were, for the most part, quite unused to ‘dance with death,’ and almost instinctive y fled from it. Shadow-Shot saw the desertion and gritted his teeth. “The skunks!” he hissed, derisively. ‘‘ Leetile one, they’ll leave us alone presently. No use fightin’ the wood cats, an’ fur sech a scamp as yer capt’in. But wait! thar’s one feller what needs a leaden pill.” The long rifle struck the speaker’s shoulder, and the report that followed the action sent a white plunderer headlong from one of the wagons. It was a death shot. “Look!” suddenly cried the boy, grasping the ranger’s arm and pointing excited!y to the right. ‘‘What does that mean? Captain Rough and that outlaw are friends.” “The — old Harry!” ejaculated Shadow-Shot, starting at the picture exhibited to his : “‘Sech scamps ought to be friends; but, Pll make one of%em friendless. Yer rifle, boy.” "No! no!” said the boy, withholding the weapon for which the great bronzed hand of the ranger was eagerly Bsc “Don’t shoot Captain Rough now. | He ows something that he must tell one of these days!” ode Suthin ’ about you, leetle one? Well, he shall The speaker’s lips closed firmly behind the last word. “They’re lookin’ fur us—them two devils! It ar’ lucky, p’raps, thet we’ve escaped so long.” Believing that the flight of the train-men had left the train completely in their power, as in- deed it had, the Vultures had fallen to plunder- ing. With that insatiate greed which charac- terizes brutes of their stamp, they were ransack- ing the wagons, caring for nothing save the few valuables which were thus offered to them. The shadows and the greed of the outlaws had providentially screened Shadow-Shot and his young protege from observation. The shooting of the man on the wagon had not drawn their attention to the slayer. The others no doubt deemed him slain by some lingering miner who had delivered the shot before joining his com- panions in flight. Well might the rw to which Nightingale Nat called Shadow-Shot’s: attention cause that worthy to start. ~~ Rough was shaking hands with Cap- tain Dave the outlaw! “ Birds of a feather!” the ranger said, looking at the twain. ‘‘ We'll clip their wings afore long, paps. Come with me, leetle one!” e boy was nothing loth. With Shadow-Shot he would be Sep the reach of Captain Rough’s aber ot e would find a protector in the person of the old ranger, and he did not hesitate to follow. d The two plun into the forest. Side by side they pushed into the darkening depths; the boy holding trustingly to the hand of his protector, and keeping pace with his long and rapid strides. ‘Hyar we are!” said Shadow-Shot as he came to a sudden halt. Nat looked wonderingly into his face. “T want you to stay hyar till I come back,” the ranger continued. ‘‘ The hole is big enough to hold your carkiss, I guess.” What hole? The boy saw before him the dark trunk of a great tree, and closer scrutiny revealed an tetas about four feet from the ground <9 oe t did not look large enough to t : “Tt held 78 once!” the ranger said, noticing the youth’s incredulous look. ‘* Hyar! Till lift you into the place. Plenty of air, boy, and room at the bottom. T’ll be back soon. Thar’s suthin’ I want to find out back yonder at th: wagons. Thar’s new deviltry afoot in thesc parts an’ Shadow-Shot will have new enemie: m this hour, I’m thinkin’.” with all the confidence of a Tr of his few years, heh seaae ale Nat allowed him- self to be lifted ily m the d, ana soon found himself snugly ensconced in'thé novel lace of concealment. ‘* No b’ars in these pe s,” were the last words that the ranger said to the boy, and then the sound of footsteps which rapidly grew indistinct saluted Nat’s ears. Shadow-Shot had departed, and he was alone in the capacious hollow of a tree in the wild woods of Wisconsin. The situation so novel and startling to the oe his senses on the alert. is ears clung with tenacity to the footsteps
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4 What if the ranger should lose his life amon the outlaws? Then, indeed, would he be friend- less in the forest, and certain to fall into the un- feeling hands of Captain Rough. The thought made him shudder. thrill of terror to his heart. ‘*Shadow-Shot could make the captain tell yoy he brought me into these woods, falls to-night what shall I do?’ A moment’s pause, and the hidden boy said a “What will I do? Why, Ill make him tell myself! That’s what a o!” irty minutes on en wings passed over the head of Nightingale Nat. = The silence that followed Shadow-Shot’s de- parture seemed to be the calm before the storm. When there came to the tree the sound of a footstep in the forest, Nat started joyfully, and ejaculated the cognomen of his protector. The person approached the tree. He came from the direction of the wagons, from the vi- cinity of which no shouts of conflict now came. It was certainly Shadow-Shot. To the boy waiting so anxiously for his return, it could be no one else. With senses on the qui vive and eager to learn the result of the ranger’s scout, Nightingale Nat stood erect and a anxiously into the forest. Pit-a-pat went the feet of the unseen, until the youthful eyes caught sight of a figure mov- ing among the trees. ‘Here I am!” At the sound of the boy’s voice the person stopped, and an ejaculation of success saluted Nat’s ears. It was so full of devilishness, so dif- ferent from Shadow-Shot’s voice, that he shrunk from the aperture white as ashes. He had betrayed his presence to a foe! As he hug the wall of the tree furthest from the open ng the boy fondly hoped that he had not revealed his exact whereabouts to the man in the forest; but, alas! he builded poorly. Straight to the tree, as if guided by the boy’s own hand, came the treacherous oe Nightingale Nat held his breath, and kept his eyes fixed upon a star which glittered far be- yond the boughs of the tree. All at once a heavy pall seemed to blot the ye from his sight. © man without was at he opening. “Oh, P've found you?” he said, throwing a voice full of the fiendishness of outlawry into the tree. . Nightingale Nat did not reply; but his heart seemed to cease throbbing in his breast. The man without was Zimri Paddock, one of Captain Rough’s men, and a person who hated the boy of the train. It will be recollected that this man delivered Captain Rough’s orders which put an end to Nat’s song, just before the charge of the forest demons. “Oh, it’s no use to keep your mouth shut!” hoarsely exclaimed the man. ‘‘ You thought I was that tall old codger what step atween our back an’ the cap’n’s whip awhile ago. Not young cat-bird. e old y a long shot, =a hound’s gone back to nose around the train, eh? Well, he’ll find an cone Bee when he gets hyar. Come, my emg hope = What! fall in e hands of such a man as Zimri Paddock, whose every instinct was of the most brutish kind—a man who would not hesi- tate to take human life for gai “You ang os into a Gowile mens didn’t you?” said Paddock, coarsely; ‘‘ we was gettin’ along peace . Confiscate your bird t! goin’ 0 slit it, and let all the music out for- ever! That awful threat, accompanied by the - ish glare of the two eyes that regarded made Nightingale Nat resolve not to fall into the villain’s hands. He could not raise his rifle to his shoulder; the hollow in which he was ensconced would not admit of this; but he could thrust the muzzle toward the a and fire. This he did A loud cry followed the report, and when the smoke cleared away Nat saw the far-off star again. Zimri Paddock was ! and the boy ho that the bullet had crashed | through his aT But this triumph was of short duration. A wild ‘ ar to a savage oath, ee boy, and the hole became dark again. e@ next moment he felt hi grasped rudely by the shoulder, from which the hand almost instantly shot to his throat. “ Not dead yet, my Nightingale!” hissed Pad- It sent ay If he | old sm heart! I depriving him of sensibility. CHAPTER IV. UNDECEIVED. WE have seen with what regret Captain Dave rmitted Rafe Armstrong to desert the outlaw d, while on its march to attack the train, lumbering slowly through the woods. On any other occasion he would have added another crime to the list already long, for he would have rid himself of the querulous man with the pistol or the knife. But at the place where desertion took place, neither of those agents of death would do: the former would make aloud report, and a death- ery might follow a blow from the latter. erefore, he did the next best thing that sug- gested itself; he set Sharp Knife, the wily Crow, upon Armstrong’s trail, and felt relieved. He had confidence in the scarlet vulture. Rafe Armstrong talked too much. He was continually harping about the ‘‘ attack on Coll- er’s train,” a d of forest barbarity which k place in the Wisconsin woods five years rior to the date of our present story. The out- aw was superstitious, but brave to a fault; he had never shrunk from danger; but the only failing that characterized him—his talkative- ness—irritated the Apollo of the wilderness, and at last, as we have seen, brought about an open rupture. ell mounted, and armed with rifle, pistol and knife, the dismissed man left the band to con- tinue its march through the somber woods. He resolutely turned his back upon it and rode away. He did not look back with longi try and think of the spoil which would fall to his com- rades by the capture of the train. He did not see the dark-skinned assassin who, having slid from a horse and hidden a bridle for future use, was following him with soe glittered with the wickedness of the isk’s., If he had dreamed that Sharp Knife was on his track, would he not have turned and put an end to one Indian’s trailing? _ But Armstrong did not see the murderer. ‘* Bless me if I don’t go an’ tell her what I know!” he muttered to himself, as he rode along. ‘*She’s got no business in these an’ if thar’s any money in gettin’ her back to the city, why [ll run the ri I wonder how city life would go ag’in, with pay of money in my pocket, el ne drinks?” : The fo mg which the bandit traversed at length prea t him to what appeared to be the edge of a cliff, below which sounded the musical hum of flowing water. ‘* She oughter be at the a il he said, bring- ing his toahalt. ‘No done if I go down an’ see.” Turning to the north he rode slowly along the edge of the precipice for some distance un- til he stood almost on a level with the stream. As yet Sharp Knife had not reached his vic- tim, who had put six miles between him and the outlaw band. Advancing at a snail’s ae up the river bank, strewn in many places with broken rocks, which seriously impeded his progress, Rafe Armstrong pushed along. At he abandoned his horse and proceeded on foot, with that scarlet trailer still on his track. All at once the bandit stopped, for he stood on the threshold of a little cave wonderfully chisel- ed from the rock by the hand of nature. There were evidences of late occupancy; but now it was tenantless. Armstrong stared at the place and then looked around, “Gone!” he ejaculated in atone of deep dis- Aerie aga *“T’ve had all this trip fur nothin’. ut she’s been hyar. Cap’n Dave needn’t tell me thet a gal d not escape from Collyer’s train. What I see with my own eyes I know, an’ thet was one of the things what I see’d. Business is business! I came hyar to see the gal an’ by hokey! I’m not goin’ away till I’ve se eyes on the creetur’.” With the last words on his lips the deserter stepped into the cave and began & examine the few articles of use which were arranged with that neatness which proclaimed the work of female taste. Just beyond the threshold and in the darker shadows, for the starlight, beautiful and bright, now seemed to concentrate in oe aaraee a pair of sparkling eyes were watching his every movement, and a hand held the long ing blade of a knife. wh A g the interior of the ‘Here is whar the cap’n comes somuch. Now I’d like to see thegal. It’s been five years since we cleaned Collyer out, and she warn’t more nor ten year old then.” Hard upon the outlaw’s last sentence came an exclamation that caused him to start. “Thet war somebody!” he a turning ey: - I heard a voice, an’—the gal, by . He started forward with the ejaculation on his lips, for standing at the edge of the cave ap- peared a vision of female loveliness, which ps well have surprised the man. girl of near sixteen, clad in a half boyish hunting suit, with a jaunty cap of skins set up- on her head, and a mass of long hair on her shoulders. The outlaw took in her habiliments and beauty at a glance, and a moment later, he stood be- fore her, his rough hand encircling her arm, and his riveted upon her face. “Tve caught you, my beau he cried triumphantly. ‘‘ Didn’t you think I war Cap’n Dave? I used to sarve under him, but we played quits to-night. I talked too much, = entirely too much for Cap’n Dave. I said thata gal of your looks did escape from Collyer’s train, an’ he said that if I would still talk such non- sense, I might pack my kit an’ dust. You see he says nobody gotaway; youstan’ here to prove that I war right, an’ he war wrong. — Bless me! I’m glad I found you. Why, you be growna deal since that night. Haven't furgot it, ve ye, my little bird? The man rattled his sentences off too rapidly ! for the girl, eager as she was to talk, to get in a single word, until he paused for want of breath. e stood with his back to the foe, crouching near with the knife; but the Indian’s eyes were full of curiosity. He, too, had been surprised by the appearance of the girl; and, for the mo- ment, had forgotten the mission upon which his chief had dispatched him. ‘“What do you mean, sir?’ cried the girl quickly upon Armstrong’s last word. “You hevn’t furgotten, I hope,” he said, aston- ished. ‘‘Why, warn’t you on a train once when a passel of Injuns and whites came down upon it an’ killed ween # “Oh!” cried the girl starti + dock the outlaw, and with a wild shriek she threw her hands to her head, and staggered against the walls of the cavern. “Now you’ve got the thinkin’ cap on!” Rafe said. “I didn’t think you could furget that time. It sticks with me, fur I saw you crawl from the wagon, an’ run off!” “ Forget that night? never!” was the cry, and the fair speaker, with a pair of eyes flashing above her d cheeks, sprung erect, and halt- ed before outlaw. ‘““That’s what I thought!’ was the rejoinder. ‘‘T war thar—” “You! And do you come hither to tell me that you were among the forest fiends who at- pos my father’s train that night, and in cold blood butchered all save myself? Do that I have lived for vengeance? who offers me the only kindness that I have re- ceived in these woods since that night of blood, has promised to hunt the wolves of murder down. He may be on their trail now! I have asked to be permitted to follow him; but he says “no!” and here I stay until he brings the instigator of that massacre to me.” A strange smile played with Rafe Armstrong’s lips while the girl excitedly for revenge. “‘ When war he here last?” the outlaw asked. “ ” “What do you think of him?” ‘What should a person in my situation think of the only one Pe eeere friendship?” “Oh, thet’s a question, I wanted an answer. Now, to come down to business: Do you that man?” ny 1 hesitated, evidently startled and as- 6 Why these questions?’ she said coming for- ou know e person
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_ Captain Nightingale Nat. 5 ward as if puzzled by the outlaw’s manner and the smile on his swarthy face. ‘‘ You are iling, and by it you mean something. Why should I not love the man who is to befriend me? Tell me this, and then I will answer you.” “Just like the women in the city,” and Rafe Armstrong burst into a loud ‘aw, whose coarseness made the chasm ring. It made the girl blush and look indignant. “Why it isn’t natural fur a person in your fix to fall in love with the who did you all the harm he could!” the forest freebooter said at the end of his laugh. The hand which had left his arm now closed upon it again; and a face painful in its blanched eagerness was upturned to the deserter. Oh, tell me what you darkly hint at!” the girl cried. ‘* You do not mean—no! no!—” ‘“*Thet’s jest what I mean!” was the interrup- tion. ‘‘Warn’tI thar? and oughtn’t I to know? Yes, my little gal, the man what has pretended to be your friend is the rascal who led the attack on Collyer’s train! He has lied to you. You may have heard of Captain Dave—” “Yes! yes! she told me that he would hunt ave down, and bring him to me to be dealt with as I elected.” ** Just one of his tricks!” laughed Armstrong. ‘*He is Cap’n Dave himself. He’s pulled the wool over yer eyes completely.” The white-faced girl did not answer for a ' moment. She stood like a statue before the out- law, a look of incredulity in her eyes. Rafe saw that she doubted him. “T tell the truth, gal!” he said with an earn- estness that sent conviction like an arrow to her heart. ‘‘He is the vulture of these woods. wer hed a diffikilty; at loggerheads, you see ‘Now I know whom to hunt!” cried the pirl, seizing a rifle that leaned against the wall of the cave. ‘‘ My father’s blood calls for vengeance. A lie has kept me three long years from the th of justice; but now these woods shall oes a trailer as implacable as the Indians who inhabit them. Love you, Noel Gordon? No! There was a something that withheld my love. Now the mask has been torn off. I see in you that Captain Dave, whose villainy has made the wagon-roads through these forests red with human gore. Hear me, Heaven! and let the hand of Violet go do the duty which the dead demands of it. Not one fiend shall escape!” The terrible oath whitened the outlaw’s cheeks, and he involuntarily shrunk from the irl who, standing in the strong starlight with ate uplifted — om firmament, looked like a young queen of tragedy. Not one? That takes me in!” muttered the white-faced wretch. ‘I wish I hadn’t sprung the subject!” Shri from Violet Collyer, he approached the dark fi in the shadows. Another step and he would tread on the hidden Pottawatomie. But the Indian’s eyes were upon him, and flesh, and staggered fee gin » enter his an e 3 Sharp Knife sprung to his feet to find the avenger’s rifle at his breast. He started back, hesitated a moment, and fled we . ravine, rey But the fair avenger saw the flying figure, and before it could lose itself in the shadows, a flash lit up the little cave. ¥ Sharp e fell forward on his face! CHAPTER V. rt of Nightingale Nat's rifl, fired At the report of Ni © Nat’s rifle, point blank into Zimri Paddock’s face, a figure moving through the forest at no great dis- tance from the spot, came to a sudden halt, and a strange 6 on was heard. ‘‘Tt came from the place whar I left the leetle *un!” said the person in the wood, in tones that betrayed much anxiety. “I’m not used to the crack of his weepin, so I can’t tell whether it war his. Howsomever, if the ny AA aap oe I guess he will give the enemy the he’s got.” The er quickened his gait, and was soon pe through the wood at no inconsider- able “Pve heerd strange things jae he con- tinued, as he hurried along, “ an’ it makes me sort 0’ about the boy. That skunk of a White Vulture would never hev teched a a blanket in Captain ’s train if he had known who he war. Now we'll see a_ pretty partnership in these One wolf: go in with the other, an’ the boy’ll hev to look out.” At the pace which bore the speaker the forest, he was not long in reaching the tree in which but a short time previous Nat had been hidden. An ominous silence brooded over the spot. ‘Nat, my leetle one?” said the man, approach- ing the giant of the woods. ‘‘ Wal, I’m back again. ou’re uncommon still, I’m thinkin’!” But no reply came from the depths of the tree, and Shadow-Shot thrust his great hand into the hollow. It encountered nothing. “Gone! by hokey!” exclaimed the ranger. “He didn’t go away on his own account. et isn’t his style. Now ther’ll be somebody waked marge ee yi Plates and platter! The cha what took the leetle feller hey stirred up the lion, an’ his name is Shadow-Shot, late of Il- linoy!” As the ranger withdrew his hand, he felt a slippery something which, —— he saw it not, convinced him that it was bl He stepped back and examined the und as carefully as the faint light permi , but the search did not enlighten him. ‘*Tt’s back to the train now,” he said, rising with a sigh of disappointment. ‘‘I war follered when I left it, an’ the chap what took the boy will carry him back to Captain Rough.” Shadow-Sbot searched no longer in the vicin- ity of the hollow tree; but tightened his belt, and began to retrace his steps. He believed that Nightingale Nat had been re- captured by one of Rough’s men, who would, of course, attempt to return him to his chief. A man had followed him and the boy from the train for the purpose of recovering the boy. Thus the ranger reasoned, but that he was wrong for once, the continuation of our story will show. At the place where the Vultures had fallen upon Captain Rough’s train a scene striking in its singularity, for that region, was —s place. The Vultures had ceased plunder the wagons. With sullen looks and muttered anathemas, the outlaws were replacing many articles which they had ily seized upon during the attack. The keen eyes of Captain Dave were upon them. He was commanding them to re various things; and was super- intending the righting of several wagons and was overseeing the refitting of the train. Moving here and there among the busy scenes a arb a number of Captain Rough’s men, who had sneaked back after the sudden lull in the fight to see the two leaders talking together like old acquaintances, and finally to mingle with their late foes. eee es Seah ani questioned eager’ conce c rete Gétitel eka seonied sbtagh exercised over the youth’s absence, and more than once in no measured terms, he cursed the man who had lately appeared as Nat’s protec- tor. “The train can proceed now,” the Apollo of the woods said, coming up to Rough, who had been leaning a tree for an hour, with arms folded upon his chest, and eyes i the ing of the mishap. worked five minutes longer. Look! I have made them restore eve ing, even the little keg in the hindmost wagon.” Open it for them, and let them fill them- Nore te ly. “ We'd ha “No!” was the : e’ ve pan- demonium here in tala than i md There’s bad blood in my men; but little good in yours, captain, and the two streams would be sure to collide. We must separate. Look at that old Pottawatomie yonder. He is telling his comrades how easily they could the — and plunder the wagons which — F) reloaded. If you will not move, m “Then move it shall be!” Rough said stepping from the tree. “I’llcountmymen. I het ase teen when you came down wu us.” In a few minutes the captain of the train had marshaled his fag * igntin onle Not bce pier Three were missing: e Na oc and Jack Gustin, a man whom the email styled a “ do-nothing,” whose absence was better With subd hed an ger displa su which was ed in lowering brows and flashing eyes, the outlaws saw the epeceet FEST about to be snatched motive which send Captain Ro valuable goods red. Their glances shot angrily at the Apollo who seood beside the y could not fathom the head wagon, holding Rough’s hand in his own. One by one the whips were recovered and again they cut the air and cracked over the heads of the oxen, It was now near daybreak. ‘Captain, P’ll be up on the lake-shore by-and- by,” the chief of the Vultures said as he held Rough’s hand and looked into his face. ‘’Pon my word! if I had known who commanded this train, there would have been no attack. You can go straight through to the mines now; but you'll not find an ounce of gold there—not an a be Rough’ had twink] aptain Rough’s eyes a merry twinkle. " Gold!” he enced. “ Ain’t I getting lots of it mr _— trip?” is, “Oh, yes!” was the reply, accompanied by a light laugh. “ But that ad. chap wil cheat you out of it if I don’t outgeneral him.” “You must!” “*T will!” ‘You will come as soon as it is done?” “Do you want me to join you sooner?” h, quickly. “Now, good-by, captain. I can’t hold my dogs off longer; their Flo get louder.” en the outlaw chief released the captain’s hand and sprung hastily to the horse which had carried him to the train. Vaulting into the saddle with the grace of a cavalier, he turned to his men, and in a tone of authority not to be disputed by the most dar- ing, ordered them to turn their faces from the wagons. Sullenly they obeyed. ** Now go!” he shouted to Rough. “Give your brutes the command.” The next erage d the wagons ees eal started on again, the grumbling of the whee mingling with the blasphemy of the teamsters r to leave the Vultures behind. ptain Rough, mounted on a horse, put him- self in advance of the first wagon, and was ae person who passed from the Apollo’s At last the teams faded from the vision of the Wisconsin bandit; but the curses of the drivers and the rumbling of the heavy vehicles pro- claimed the route. ““Now, back!” Captain Dave said to his sul- len men. ‘A richer train than that will soon fall into our hands, Captain Rough and I used to be boys together.” There was no reply to his words. He seemed to feel the pulse of his discomfited party, and hor § refrained from exciting it. **Oho! Captain Roug) ” he said to himself, with a smile. “ You think I couldn't read your eyes. Old fellow, I know you like a book. The idea of you going to Lake —} leaving that wit these woods, is the hight of absurdity. , you'll not lead your train a mile, you o double-faced villain! There’s too much money trembling in the balance just now to keep you on the road to the copper mines.” The bandit captain was not Wrong in his pre- dictions, for the first streaks of day that illu- mined a Wisconsin forest found Captain Rough ri slowly southward alone. train was not sight : ae oP rs ts gags rumble had passed en ond hearing. The villain had eserted his men in the forest, and was on the “ back track.” “Dave Sepoy thought I was an idiot when he supposed 1 would go on and leave the boy to be cared for by him!” muttered the ruffian with a smile. ‘‘I want the blood of that man who mg between me and the lad.” e eyes of Captain Rough the words fell from his lips. counter Shadow-Shot, All at once the report of a rifle startled the pore and he felt his horse sinking to the oun or With a loud cry Rough leaped from the sad- die, and raised his rifle; but before he could throw it to his shoulder, a tall 1 inly figure sprung upon his path and a pistol was thrust into his face. soiich wae at your sarvice!” cried a voice. “‘ The very man you want to see accordin’ to yer talk. Now, cap’n, we'll com- accounts, an’ mebbe we'll squar’ ’em afore we're each . Captain looked into the flashing eyes of the tall ranger, and his face grew white. CHAPTER VIL. THE SONG IN PERIL. 2 MEBBE as how I don’t know how to sarve ye?” ** What are you going to do with me?” “Not let you go, of course. Now I can’t say that I hev any partic’lar ill feelin’ ag’in’ ye; but ed madly as e wanted to en-
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6 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. you hev got me into an onpleasant predicament. idn’t ye rips on singin’ ontil them wood ran- gers flopped down upon us, an’ cut right an’ left until Zim Paddock is the only survivor of Cap'n Rough’s train? An’ didn’t ye try to drive a bullet through my skull a while back? I ought to love ye fur these two leetle kind- nesses, oughtn’t I, young ’un? *Pon my honor! I ought to adopt ye; but I guess I'll not take that responsibility at present.” There was a savage leer in the eyes that over- looked a face begrimed with forest dust and blood—an admixture hideously repulsive. ‘Have ye any money on yer person?’ the man suddenly asked. ** Not a cent.” “Do yeever expect to get any—I mean, hain’t ou got a rich father or uncle or some kind 0’ in who is goin’ to do well by you one o’ these days? he eyes of the boy dilated at the singular question, and became riveted with an expression of wonder upon Paddock. ‘What makes you think I have?” he asked. ‘* That is buckin’ one question ag’in’ another,” Paddock cried, chagrinned. ‘I’m not obleeged to answer, am I? Well, I’ve got two eyes inmy head. I’ve had’em thar fur forty-two year. I kin see some things when it tain’t too dark. Yer hands war white as the skin on your breast when I first saw you with Cap’n Rough. They’ve been browned by the climate whar we’ve been. Now come out an’ say fur honest, boy, if you hevn’t got a prospect fur money ahead.” “*T donot know!” was Nat’s reply. ‘‘I am sure that I am no blood kin to Captain. Rough.” ** So war all of us,” Paddock said, with a smile. “Many’s the time Pve told the boys, Jack Gus- tin ‘in partic’lar, that tet war no more his boy than mine. Whar di you come from?” The curiosityof the man who stood before pops Nat in the midst of a forest with a coil of rope in his hand, was of the most intense kind. He seemed to believe that he stood on the threshold of a secret which, if disclosed, would bring to his empty coffers that god which he worshiped with the miser’s adoration. But it appeared seers to take flight, and leave him, moneyless still. ““Zimri Paddock, what are you going to do with me?” the boy suddenly demanded, totally ignoring the ruffian’s eagerness. ““That depends on your own actions!” was the rejoinder. “You mean to hang me here in the woods with that rope?” ‘Not exactly a hangin’,” laughed the villain. “T hain’t got time to parley here. Can’t you hear a strange noise over your left shoulder? The scent of my own blood is the cause of them sounds. Say, talk tome. Whar did you come from when Cap’n Rough took you up? That’s what I want to know!’ **T lived in a city then.” * Just asl imagined. Go on!” “My father made fire-works in a little shop—” “Stop? thundered Paddock. ‘I don’t want a lie—no fixed-up story here, my young lark!” Nat’s face flushed with indignation, **Tt is not a lie, sir!” he cried. ‘‘ You would not say that the second time if I stood free on this he rads Paddock laughed brutishly, and showed his colored teeth. “Yer hands say thet you never er io make fire-works,” he said, eying the youth. ‘“‘ Now tell the truth, or, by the eyes of me! I’ll settle the matter between us right here.” ‘“Why should I lie, Zimri Paddock? Captain Rough took me from the shop with the consent of the man who called me his son.” “He wasn’t your father, though?” the man cried, with a joyful start. ‘“*T don’t know—but I—I think not.” “Ah! think not!” was the ferocious cry. ‘*That’s your way of beatin’ around the bush. Well, gold or no gold, Pll bring matters to a crisis.’ Setting his lips firmly behind the last word, Zimri Paddock pushed our hero pa the lit- tle tree beneath which they had halted, and pro- ceeded at once to throw the cord around his body. Ny htingale Nat fixed his eyes on the villain; but did not put in a word of pleading. Mercy seemed a stranger fo Captain Rough’s money-loving tool. | The cords were wielded without pity, and _ found his body drawn painfully close to the ree, He almost wished that the hand of Paddock had not relaxed on his trachea when he roughly drew him from the hollow tree as we have already related. ““Now, beauty!’ cried Paddock as he flung the lash-like ends of the rope into the prisoner’s face. ‘‘A person with half sense could tell what this tyin’ means. You had to sing the train to its death, an’ thar’s half of my cheek carried away by yer bullet. I guess I'll live over itif I git away from hyar soon. So you came from a fire-works shop, eh!” Taian’ ‘‘ Mighty tart!” sneered Paddock, cut by the brief reply. ‘‘I’m thinkin’ yer sentences will be longer afore mornin’. ell me who you really are, an’ by the eyes of me! Pll turn kind an’ tramp you out 0’ these woods.” ‘*T have already told you. Iam not going to purchase my liberty with a lie?” ‘*Oho!” cried Paddock, lifting his head and giving a prolonged whistle. ‘I guess you're nothin’ worth sayin’ after all. But the cap’n did act as if you war a valuable prize. Strange! Now good-by, my nightingale. If thar be any gold comin’ to you not one dollar will ever shine on your hand. Because why, my bird? Be- cause Zimri Paddock left ye tied to a tree in the big woods of Wisconsin, to be eaten by wolves an’ b’ars!” Did the boy’s cheeks blanch? No; his eyes flashed fire at the merciless i ernest and his lips, a trifle paler than usual, closed with determination. The man picked up his rifle and stepped back, followed by the eyes of Nightingale Nat ‘‘Arn’t ye goin’ to beg?” he exclaimed in sur- prise. ““Not to you!” was the reply. “*Zimri Pad- dock, if I should get away from this tree alive you will have an enemy who will hunt you not only in these woods but far beyond them— wherever you go. He will hunt you to death!” “Tf you get away, eh?’ laughed Paddock with the coarseness of the deep-dyed villain. “Jest try the ropes, my cherubim, an* see if thar’s any danger of that. I fancy thet you would be a bad enemy; but you’re one what will never foller me—never, my Jad!” Paddock now step further back until his burly figure gradually grew indistinct to the bound boy. “It’s good-by fur good!” came a voice from the deeper shadows—a voice which Nat recog- nized as his tormentor’s. ps!” murmured the mprenesle: but he did not send the word into the wood for he knew that it would occasion an outburst of coarse ruffianism. He had heard enough of Zimri Paddock’s voice for the present. Perhaps he might hear it in the future freight- ed with the brute’s death-cry. Perhaps! The footsteps died away and Nightingale Nat was alone. “There ’re two reasons why I want to get out of this scrape,” he muttered to himself. ‘I want to know who I am, and I want to pay off some old scores, The old man who made fire- works can not be my father. He indentured me to Captain Rough for a pu Paddock suspects as much. kets and Roman-candles |! when [ get away from this tree, Pll hunt Shadow-Shot up, and ye poy off several old scores. Captain Rough ugh should he learn from Paddock that I was left here. He brought me into these woods for some terrible reason. Iknow it. Oh! Father above, shall all their villainy ge Strong in his indignation, Nightingale Nat tried his bonds; but his trial caused them to cut into his flesh, and, with a groan, he desisted. “ Wolves and , he said,” the boy ejacu- lated. ‘‘ Just let them keep away till morning. Shadow-Shot will not give me up until he fin me again. I’ve got a big friend in that old hunter, and I’m going to stick to him, too.” The little captive remained so quiet for an hour after his muttered resolve, that a person standing a few feet away would not have been aware of his presence, It grew suddenly dark with the shadows whose greatest intensity precede the dawn. “It’s no use!” Nat exclaimed all at once. ‘I danger, please good for- tune, I may sing myself out of i So here goes, ble if I don’t send the notes skipping up my throat.” Then out into the depths of that lonely Wis- consin forest, floated the wild musical notes of the doomed ar He sung with the zest of a nm infatuated by the spell of music, and a listener would never have dreamed that the singer was bound toa tree, and had been left to the mercy of the maddest tenants of that dark forest. Louder and clearer grew the strains as the song advanced, and the boy seemed to forget is gg art in the melody of the bird-like trills. Did any human beings hear? Yes, A man seated on a horse—a man who wore a broad-brimmed hat, and carried a rifle across the saddle. ““There’s the accursed boy!” he said, gather- ing up thereins. ‘‘ Why, in the name of heaven! is he singing now? Is he crazy? He’llsing a bullet to his heart if he doesn’t stop!” The second poree who heard was a girlish looking individual who had becn brought to a halt by the weird song. She, too, carried a rifle. “What is it?’ she asked herself, with all the curiosity of her sex fully aroused... ‘‘ What but some person singing out there in the woods, The voice comes no nearer. It is not the voice of aman; it isa bey’s. I wonder if he belongs to the train?” After listening to the song for a moment, the pretty speaker started in the direction of the singer Imost at the same time, the man on horse- back began to approach Nightingale Nat, but | from a nearly opposite direction. As for the boy, he stopped suddenly and ex- claimed. “The wolves are answering me. Well, I thought I could not sing, even in these woods and not get an answer from some kind o throat,” He did not exhibit signs of fright. On the contrary, he smiled at his own words. CHAPTER VII. A RETURN TO PLUNDER, “YES, mebbe we’ll squar’ accounts, cap’n.” Captain Rough looked into the stern counte- nance of the man who stood before him, pistol in hand, Then he glanced at his horse, lying motionless on the leaves beside him. ‘*Dead as a door-nail,”. Shadow-Shot said, with a grin, as he noticed the coup d’wil, ‘‘ Now let’s come to business.” The man stepped nearer. ; . iP the first place, cap’n, whar is the leetle one Rough started at the question. It told him that Nightingale Nat’s where- abouts were not known to the ranger. “Do not ask me,” he said. ‘All I know is that you were with him, when I saw him last— CORR, at the place where we fought the rob- T's. “Fought?” sneered the gaunt ranger. ‘ You don’t pretend to say that you fought the White "tough Masher ‘‘Oh, it paints your face when a fellar talks about that terrible resistance what you made to the robbers. Why, your cowardly men could have wiped out every robber, an’ avenged the massacre of Ccllyer an’ his men.” fed ranger’s lips closed madly behind the last words. “*T thought I could rely on my men,” Rough said. “ en they deserted me, I, of course, could not contend with the bandits alone. ‘‘Did you, cap’n?”’ taunted the ranger, a me gleam in his dark eyes. ‘ How about thet hand-shaking thet took place at the train, an’ why was the wagons allowed to go on? Thar’s a leetle explanation wanted on this par- tic’lar p’int, cap’n. What d’ye say to it?” The man in the toils saw that prevarication would effect nothing with the ranger, so ho said: ‘‘In Captain Dave, I unexpectedly found an old acananianon who permitted sabe proceed. I did not: know he was in these De “TJ did!” said Shadow-Shot, significantly. “ An old friend, eh? Friends yet, cap’n?” “That must depend upon circumstances, ” ‘* Jest so, Now for the next question. Who “ sir. ” “Cap'n, that is what I calla lie.” Rough flushed indignantly. “Oh! git redif you wish!” said Shadow-Shot; “T’m not swallowin’ everything thet’s put into my mouth. Your nephew? if he’s yourn, he’s rine. What war thet you war sayin’ to your- self jest afore I give your horse the dead-drop? Suthin’ about huntin’ the leetle one down in
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a Nightingale Nat. SSS Se eS these parts. Come, cap’n, I’m one o’ these fel- lars what hates to the bottom of my heart any man who persecutes a boy. Theda leetle chap once, an’ not very far from hyar he sleeps at the foot of a big tree. I put him thar, cap’n, with my own hands. He war killed by a friend o’ yourn. Now, d’yesee, I kind o’ likes boys. I always takes their parts, an’ when a man lifts his paw ag’in’ one, he riles Shadow-Shot to the ecnd of his nature. You war talkin’ about doin’ dirt to the boy what sings. I heerd you, ag He hezn’t got many friends in these parts, but hyar’s one that intends to stick to him through thick an’ thin, rain an’ shine—Shadow-Shot, at your sarvice!” ‘“Why should T lie to ei ?”’ Rough said, put- ting on that bold face which men of his ilk can assume at will. ‘You have me in your power. Would a lie do me any good now?” The ranger shook his head. “Not much, cap’n, fur, mind you, the man what steps on the Teetle one’s toes comes ar’ down on my hull foot. He isn’t your nephew. I know that.” ° ‘Then why the question?” “Because I wanted to see if you wouldn’t lie. Out with the truth.” “T can but rehearse my former statement.” The ranger was puzzled. He seemed to be- lieve that his man had spoken the truth. rao Rough took hope. “* Well, mebbe it is a fact,” Shadow-Shot said. ** You kin go back to the train, I guess. We'll not settle accounts now. But the time is comin’ when more’n one will be settled in these woods.” The train? why it was lumbering through the forest several miles to the north. Captain Rough had deserted it. Would he return? “T don’t want you hangin’ around me!” the ranger cried, the man hesitate. ‘Go back to-your comrades.” ‘* My train is far away and my horse is dead.” “You may be tha 1 thet your own skull hasn’t got a hole in it. The best thing you kin do, cap’n, is to go south, an’ keep on gom’ until ou git to the end of it. This isn’t a healthy entry fur such people as you, an’ while I make = home hyar, it are likely to stay thet way. Pil take care of ps friend, Cap’n Dave.” Captain Rough, who should have thanked the ranger for g his life, gritted his teeth and looked sullenly north. As far as sight could reach, he saw the forest stretching in unbroken grandeur. Daylight was fast illumining the dark aisles, and the cheering rays of the sun would soon add their splendor to the scene. : The woods of Wisconsin were new to him; but he was not a novice in woode “Well then you kin stay hyar, an’ f° when ou ait ready!” blurted the ranger. I’m In. o follerin’, ca n, fur my old gun shoots back’ards as well as for’ards.” The ranger now step back, and moving nite rapidly away, left Captain Rough alone in the forest. \ The trees soon hid him from his sight. ‘A lie was believed, and not for the first time, either,” Rough said, with a light chuckle. ‘Here I am, m rse dead as a herring, and the o somewhere loose in the woods. He’s not with that villainous ranger. Where he is, I must know. When started with him, I gave my word that somewhere between the big brown stone — —_ arma Superior he shou “ a; ‘ ve, and Ca; Rough is going to keep it. The train? Cares the cow ! Tet them go on and die in the copper country. I’ve cut loose from the skunks, and they will wait in vain for me. No! Shadow-Shot, I'll follow if I choose, and at the first opportunity, I'll send a bullet through your brain. I started out to find the boy, and T’ll tramp these woods over from the lake to the southernmost river, but that I fulfill my part of the bond.” Captain Rough was a man of iron will. Noth- ing could daunt him. He hada in view, and to carry it out was his fixed irtention. He did not stir until the ranger had passed en- dians—-come suddenly into view. “The Vultures again!” the captain ejaculated, recognizing the train. Heaven helps the cowards this time!” sence being made known to the plunderers, Cap- tain Rough counted their numbers. He saw the whites who filled the saddles like veritable bandits, and the Indians, who, some reps pe artificial seat sat astride of the bare backs of their steeds. But he noticed that Captain Dave did not lead them. Had the insatiate Vultures turned from their leader for the p of finishing the destruc- tion of the train? Perhaps, in a mutiny, they had made themselves leaderless, and were rush- ing to new scenes of blood. With hiseyes fixed upon the riders, Captain Rough crouched at the trunk of the tree. He felt no pity for the men he had cruelly deserted. He blessed the fortune which had parted him from the train. The fiends of the woods would not a man! On came the bandits, unconscious of the cap- tain’s presence. They threatened to ride him down; but all at once they veered to the right and left him undisturbed. ° “Go!” he exclaimed, looking after them. ‘ May never a one of you come back, Ha! there’s another train which will not reach the mines,” Fast upon the utterance of the last word came a startling sound to Rough’s ears. His eyes were still fixed upon the horsemen and he sawone throw his bands up wildly and pitch headlong from the steed. ‘“'That’s sudden!” the captain said. ‘‘I want a little warning before I Who did that? It wasn’t Shadow-Shot for he’s ahead. Bless me! if a man is safe five minutes at a time in these parts.” He crouched lower among the bushes that surrounded the root of the tree, for the bandits had drawn rein and were looking toward him. What if they should discover his figure, and with cries of vengeance for the blood just shed, swoop down like eagles of death upon him? Captain Rough held his breath and drew the hammer of his rifle -inaf back. All hopes of catching igh i e Nat seemed at that moment to vanish from his heart! CHAPTER VIII. A HEART TWICE ‘‘ COVERED.” LEAVING Captain Rough in momentary ex- pectation of an attack from the freebooters so suddenly brought to a halt by the death shot, story, Nightingale Nat, whom we left filing the ry, Nightingale Nat, whom we le e forest with one of his songs. The reader will recollect that his notes reach- ed the ears of two persons, one of whom, a man on horseback, we left. approaching the boy. Some time elapsed between the cessation of the song, and the sound of a horse’s tramp. “That is not a wolf,” the boy said, rai head as the noise saluted his ears. ‘I wonder who I have sung to me this time.” Nearer and nearer came the animal, unseen because of the night that still enshrouded his surroundings. He did not fear a return of Pad- dock, for that worthy had evidently left him for good, and would be the last to re to his succor. ‘He must be near here,” he heard a voice say, as the tread of the animal ceased not far away. Nat held his breath. “If the boy but knew that I wanted to save bs would let me know by some noise where e The Nightingale started with hope at the last words of the unseen. “Here I am!” he said, and he heard an ejacu- lation of joy greet him. A minute later the nose of a horse brushed his face, and he saw a human figure spring from the saddle. tirely from sight. **Ho! here you are!” cried the new-comer. He let half an hour elapse before, with that | ‘‘Well, well, T did not expect to find you so doggedness that sometimes courts death, he | soon!” threw himself upon Shadow-Shot’s trail. The voice, ¢ to its natural tone, was The light increasing as he advanced, showed | enough to send cold blood to the boy’s heart. him the forest; it made the trail of the gaunt | He saw the sombrero-like hat of the man who r —— as the captain could desire. He | had sprung to the ground. believed that it would lead him to Nightingale | It was Captain Dave, the leader of the Vul- Nat, for Shadow-Shot was no doubt acquainted with the paths of th they were, as yet, bordered with mystery. came at once a sound from the south-west that startled the ruffian leader of the He quickly threw himself behind a tree, and ! “ Who did this?” cried the man, laying hold on the cords. bet of Captain Rough’s men—Zimri Pad- ‘“‘Oho! why, he tied you for keeps, didn’t he? Well, I’m going to untie you; just see!” “They're following the | Hugging the tree closely to prevent his pre- saw a number of horsemen—white men and In- | Suiting the action to his words, Captain Dave, the Apollo, severed the ropes, and the little cap- | tive, with an exclamation of joy he could not suppress, stepped from the tree. ut he was not free; the fingers of the Apollo encircled his arm! “You got away from the train to-night with that long hunter who calls himself Shadow- racon said the Vulture, eying the boy. ‘‘ Where is he? “T do not know. He wasnot near when Pad- dock fastened me to the tree.” “T reckon not,” Captain Dave said, with a smile. “ You will go with me?” The boy’s recollection flew back to the meeting of the two ruffians during the attack on the train. “T will not go back to Captain h,” he cried, jerking away from the hand that held him. With an oath, the outlaw sprung forward, but before he could touch the boy, the latter had thrown himself upon the horse, and drawn a pistol from the heavy holster! “ Lift a handand I'll blow you to Davy Jones’s locker,” cried the little imp. ‘‘I guess the ta- bles have turned, my Captain of the Vultures. This saddle suits me to a ‘t,’ and I’m going to keep it. Rockets and. torpedoes! Pll laugh at Captain Rough when I ride away on this horse. | The old scoundrel brought me into this forest to get me out of somebody’s road. Didn’t he tell ou about it, Captain Dave, while you talked to The posse / letely in Nat’ e Apollo, completely in Nat’s power, grated his teeth, but Kia not wr gh ““Oh, you needn’t answer if you’ve got the sulks!” the singer said. ‘‘ The less I of your voice the better, perhaps. Now I’m going away. I may return the horse some day, but that’s hardly likely? Don’t you see I’ve got the pistol at your head. Stars and firebugs! couldn’t I do Hs gases a service now by touching the trigger? Oh, my rascal, I’ve 4 mind to drop you where you stand.” Still no reply. “See here!” suddenly cried the og ged forward with eagerness. ‘‘What’s that mys- tery about Collyer’s train? There ’re Collyers in the big city where I came from, and they’re rich, too. One of our neighbors, a widow woman. is named Collyer. ’Pears to me that her husband went off somewhere, years ago, and hasn’t come back yet. Was he the Collyer who com- manded the train plundered by you and your devils in the woods five years ago?” ““T don’t know!” was the snappish reply. ‘‘My little demon, if I had you in my hands for just one moment—” *T wouldn’t be inquiring about the Collyer train, eh?” “ N oO ? “Well, we'll bring this scene to a close. Captain Dave, there is a law in the forest which is respected in the cities. Here itis wild. Iam going to kill you. Roman candles and rockets! that’s plain talk, but it’s business. You have lorded it over these woods long emough. You and your men have made the paths to Lake Superior paths of blood. In your , you have no’ spared the dumb oxen that drew the wagons. If I did not take your worthless life, you would hunt me down and mercilessly slay.” “That is true!” said the Apollo savagely and with candor. “Look up and say where you want it,” the boy said sternly. outlaw’s handsome face grew white. He shrunk from the determined boy, who filled his saddle and held his pistol in his hand. _ ; Death was most certainly before him. His executioner—the avenger of blood—held the weapon at his breast. F Z Nightingale Nat saw the sign of cowardice that betrayed Captain Dave’s true nature. “Are you afraid?” he cried in derision. “TI allow that it does go hard with a fellow as pret- Bn you are to look death squarely in the on t turn your head if you can’t give the old boy your eye. Quick! I cannot sit here all og Where you take the bullet, “ee # be aren the heart, or straight through For a moment there was no ‘“« Well, if it must come, let it be here!” sud- denly cried the Apollo of the woods, eae | wide his rich coat and exposing his breast. “‘ the Vulture captain presented a ance, **T can’t do it!” cried Nightingale Nat. “I et wes ees 0 ek ere © tt ee ee ne ee Ee ee 8 eT ee
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8 = —— can’t shoot a man who can bare his breast for the bullet. I’m no murderer. I never willfully shed blood in all my life, and I can’t do it now. Pick up your rifle and try to shoot me and Tl drop you too quick. No! Captain Dave, bad as you are, Nightingale Nat can’t take your life now. So now good-night. Keep away from me, for, by my life! this circumstance will never be ree icated |” Nightingale Nat gathered up the reins and turned the animal’s head. Captain Dave breathed freer and sent a grim smile at the boy. ao he would not thank him for sparing his e. It was carne, & lighter. Objects were becom- ing distinguishable at a distance. ith a wave of the hand, in mock adieu, the little imp turned from the captain of the Vul- tures. e galloped away quite briskly, while the Apollo sprung to his rifle. Seizing it, he turned — toward the vic- tor, and gave a peculiar whistle. The horse instant! stopped, wegen, B35 feet firmly on the ground and almost sending Nat, rocket-like, over his head! It was in vain that he spoke to the steed. The animal would not budge. ‘Fire and furies!” he cried, turning his head as he raised the pistol. ‘‘ This is a trick I never dreamed of.” It was indeed a trick that threatened to bring his career to a sudden close. He was beyond pistol-shot; but the captain of the Vultures, so lately discomfited, s erect, covering his y with the rifle. ‘The tables are turned, my little demon!” came the triumphant tones of Captain Dave. ‘‘ Now we'll see an empty saddle in less than a minute. You may spare a foe, but I never do !” Se cheek of the speaker dropped again to the rifle. There was a second of awful stillness. “Shoot if you dare, Captain Dave. turned vengeance hunter!” These words, clear, distinct, and musical as the sound of a silver bell, startled man and I have boy. | Captain Dave lowered the gun and looked up. Not far away, resting on one knee, in true hunter fashion, with her rifle against her flush- ed cheek, he saw the girl called Violet Collyer. ‘*T know you now!” she continued. ‘“ You have lived a lie to me for five years. You are Captain Dave, the king of the forest Vul- tures More than half bewildered at the sight of the girl, Nightingale Nat kept his eyes fixed upon er. “Shadow-Shot has talked about a girl who would make things lively for the Vultures one of these days. I wonder if that is the one?’ he murmured, CHAPTER IX. *THE CHAMPION LIAR. ‘* You will put aside the rifle!” The voice of the girl addressed to Captain Dave was gentle, yet full of firmness, and, with much apparent sullenness, he obeyed. ‘* Will you not go and leave us here?” she con- tinued, turning to Nightingale Nat, who had re- mained a speechless and bewildered spectator of the scene. The boy started at the est, and hesitated, ‘And leave you with that man who, if he hates you, would not hesitate to send a bullet into your heart?” “He will lift no rifle against me,” the girl re- sponded. “I want to be alone with him. **T will not cross you, girl; but I will keep within call.” “No! no! Go beyond that. Ride on until you cross a stream. On the further bank you may wait for me.” ‘** That I will,” said Nat. It was with reluctance that the boy left the pe and the captain of the Vultures alone in the orest; but, as the former had saved his life, he felt that he should obey her without equivoca- tion. “Now!” said the forest girl, approaching Ca tain Dave, ‘‘we are stele 4 What say es the lie you have lived to me for five years?” He looked into her face, and burst into a boisterous laugh that made her cheeks tingle. “A lie? o has been filling you with such nonsense?” he cried. ‘‘ Did you not call me Captain Dave awhile since? Why, that is the name of the wretch who leads the Vultures— the man whom we have sworn yen- —— Bea dle’s Half-Dime Library. geance. Why, Violet, I am inclined to believe that you are om ee wits. What! do Phe think that I would have placed myself so often in kad power, if I were the real Captain Dave —the fiend who brutally butchered your father onthe. aa rds amy he girl; th © man’s wo the ; they made a serious breach in her tein ge 8 Was that man telling the truth? She looked searchingly into the depths of his eyes, as if by fathotning them she would get to his heart—his inmost pw Swiftly across her mind rush- ed that thrilling scene in the night just passed when Rafe Armstrong invaded her secluded home and declared that the man who called himself Noel Gordon to her face was the ver- itable Vulture chief—the man whose blood, above all others, the cause of justice demanded. Rafe Armstrong was a Vulture, and he pro- fessed to know the man of numerous aliases, for had he not served under his leadership in the foot foray for many years of blood and plun- er? And now this Noel Gordon stood before her with the hat which Captain Dave was wont to wear—the broad-brimmed hat, looped up at the left side with a gold buckle; she saw the brig- andish cut of his garments, and yet he declared that he was the Noel Gordon who had befriend- ed her in the Wisconsin woods since the massa- cre of Collyer’s train. “Who has told you this, Violet?’ he cried the second time, coming forward when he saw the effect produced by his last words—his startling denial. ‘Somebody has invaded your home since my departure—somebody with poison on _ lips and hatred in his heart for me—for both of us. ‘‘T have been visited. A man was there last Ei err an Indian, too.” Ja tain Dave started. ‘Did they come to er?” *T do not know. e Indian seems to have followed the white, for in my presence he struck him with his knife, and ran like a deer.” “ Well?” Eagerness pervaded the outlaw’s tone. He felt that Sha a hace had accomplished the mission upon which he had sent him. ‘“‘But the red-man did not get far,” Violet said with eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘‘ He id for that blow, for it was acoward’s, I shot im, and he fell somewhere near the spring. I er not ee ¢ slight! apta’ ave’s face w y pale. ‘They must have Deen enemies,” he said re- flectively. ‘‘ But the man, Violet? He was the poisoner?” “He told me that you and Captain Dave were identical,” she said frankly. ‘‘He said that he belonged to the Vultures but that the chief had dismissed him, and set the Indian up- on his trail. He must have been in the wicked band that night, for he told me so much about the massacre which I know to be true.” ‘‘And he said that Iam Captain Dave?” the outlaw said, growing so bold as to smile. “He did!” the girl answered. ‘‘I do not want to believe it, for you have been kind to me. But that hat—these clothes, Noel—I never saw them on your person before. “T suspect not, Violet. In order to hunt this foe of yours, and mine, as well, I must assume which seem strange and outlandish to you. DoT look like a brigand in this suit?” For the first time the beautiful vengeance- hunter smiled. ‘* Now, suppose I was Captain Dave,” he said; ‘suppose every word uttered by that slanderer last night were true—what would you do?” “‘T would not spare!” cried the girl, with flash- ing eyes, as she involuntarily started from the Apollo of the woods. ‘I have sworn toavenge the massacre of the train, and if I were con- vinced that you were the fiend who led the de- mons of slaughter that night, I would send a bullet cr through your b: iy The attitude of the gin, coupled to the look that clothed her face, sent a cold chill of fear to Captain Dave’s heart. He was standing over the crater of a volcano of destruction which a he ny act of his—might put in awful mo- on, “T would forme the many kindnesses you have done me, if I knew you as Captain Dave,” she continued. ‘‘Why should I not? For five years you have kept me from the path of ven- pom but I am on it now. That man ma ve lied; but he knew so much about the Vul- tures and. their chief. Why is it that for five years you have accomplished nothing?’ “T admit the prowess of the man Tiave been . He seems anignis fatwus, which sud- ppears as you follow. I have tracked denly him to find myself on the edge of a cliff over which he seemed to leap. Violet, he shall not elude me much longer. This man whom I hate because he made you fatherless, shall fall before me— “No! you have promised to let me avenge that night!” the girl cried. “So l did. I will not forget that. I see that I have enemies! That man who invaded the cave-house last night may have been one of Cap- tain Dave’s men; but he was a fool for telli ou. Does not the Vulture chief know that unt him all the time? Ah! Violet, who knows that he is not at the bottom of it—that he did not send the man to you, to set you inst me, and by your hand rid him and the world of me.” ‘But the Indian?’ cried the girl. ‘‘Why would a savage follow a Vulture? I thought the two bands were on the most friendly terms.” ‘Friends fall out sometimes. Where is the white man?” r “ He is dead!” Captain Dave averted his head that the girl might not see the gleam of triumph that lit up —— of his eyes. pore e Armstrong was e garrulous man would bocees him no more, .Bolder and bolder w this living lie in the presen of the fair girl whose hatred for him, e had adroitly turned into sefter channels. He was playing cards so well that he ventured into new seas, nor kept near the coast. ‘‘ Why, I laugh to think that I have been mis- taken by you for Captain Dave!” hesaid. ‘ Vio- let, do you think I would stand here, knowi what I do, if I were that scamp? Your t has led to me instead of the arch-fiend of these woods. If you had not checked me when you did I might now be on the freshest trail I ever struck.” Violet Collyer opened her eyes and started. “That boy was a very young imp!” continued the Apollo. ‘‘He rides where Captain Dave rides; young as he is, and innocent looking, he has taken a part in the overthrow of more hen one train.” Violet looked astounded. “Tt is that scamp who has upon several occa- sions kept his leader from my grasp. He has wit, courage and devilishness enough for a pack of robbers. I was not going to shoot him when ou came up. I would have captured him, and orced from him the whereabouts of his master —not very far away at this moment. What did you think of him, girl?’ ‘* Not that he was a Vulture; heis too young!” was ore reply. ” ct oagnt of Pam at on rega. as a who may have esca from some plundered train.” “Boys do not escape when Captain Dave leads,” laughed the Apollo, and there was a meanful fiendishness in the cachinnation which went to Violet’s heart like an arrow of ice. ‘‘ But we will let the imp go for the present. He has ridden far away ere this, You will go back to the cave now?” “Were you going there?” “ Yes. e time for you to -— on the path of vengeance has not ye ** When will it come?” “T do not know—soon, I hope.” “Tt cannot come too soon! I have waited five years, and to day I am no nearer Captain Dave than I was then.” : : She did not see the strange smile that flitted across the half-averted face. Walking side by side, the singular twain pushed through the forest in a south-easterly di- rection. ; ou told the “Over there is the place where y' ag Sy wait for you,” Captain Dave said, poin a place they were leaving to the right “ He will never wait for you.” ‘Perhaps not,” was the reply. ‘ We will not. go over to see, anyhow.” But, seated on the outlaw’s horse, in the midst of a thick cluster of trees, Nightingale Nat saw the two walking side by side. The sight made the boy open his eyes, which were filled with genuine wonder. : ‘“‘ What on earth does that mean?” he exclaim- ed. “Ten minutes ago she had a bead on Ca tain Dave’s head, and now she’s walking at side. It beats the Jews! Id give this horse to know the meaning of wonder if the aity in love with that outlaw? No, she cannot ! Nat watched the twain until they had passed completely from his sight. “Td soon know something if Shadow-Shot was here,” he said, gathering up the reins. “But I feel one thing: If that girl is Collyer’s child, she don’t know who she is walking with.” The boy was right! personally come.”
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CHAPTER X. THE AVENGING SHOT. “*ComeE like a shadow ; go like one—that’s the reason, I s’pect. At the pt ig of astream whose banks, tower- ing like precipices far above it, seemed to lose themselves among the stars, sat Shadow-Shot and Nightingale Nat. The night was about them; but the full-orbed moon that shed her radiance upon the earth re- lieved the gloom, and rendered the nocturnal season one of splendor and beauty. The gaunt ranger had a quict smile on his face when his words, just written, fell upon the boy’s Nightingale Nat. | | | as pian’ as day. ears. They were an answer to a question as to how he received the quaint name which he | bore For several days question the twain panions. Their meeting in the forest had been a source of changed narratives and compared notes of plans formed for the future. “Tl allow that I’ve been a shadow-shot to rior to the night now in | ad been constant com- | pleasure to each, and they had ex- | more’n one red-skin,” continued the ranger. | ‘“‘Pve seen tough times in these parts durin’ the | last five year. They hev stuck notices on trees vin’ me so much time to clear out; but ’'m yar yet, an’ hev got a hull scalp left. I don’t scare worth a cent. I’m goin’ to leave these pes when I git ready, an’ not one minnit afore. ness is business, an’ I mean business by Fev Soy hyar. What are you thinkin’ about, my leetle one?” “T was listenin iP ng sir.” “Not very painfully I guess, or yer face wouldn’t he t so red at my question,” said the ranger, smifin . Pears to me thet you’ve got it oncommon fur one so young. You war thinkin’ about the gal.” The blush on the boy’s face grew deeper. It told the story of his thoughts. “Tf she likes that fellar it is because she likes a lie!” said Shadow-Shot, clenching his big hand. “If she only knew him! P’raps she would believe me, fur if she has any mem’ry left at all she would know how I used to honey around her, an’ make swings fur her all along the road to death.” ‘Then go and tell her this night!” cried Night- ingale Nat, with much earnestness, as he laid his hand on the ranger’s arm. ‘‘ The cave is not far away. Yes, go and not—she cannot know that that man is Captain Dave.” “Tf [ thought she knew it, bless me if I wouldn’t lose all faith in the female gender!” said the ranger, reflectively. “It is true that the cave is not far away jist now, an’ the time fur the other thing is pretty ae : “* Yes, yes, if she not believe you at the cave bring her here, and convince her as they e by. - Thet wouldn’t be bad,” mused Shadow-Shot, as he rose. ‘ Come good or bad! I'll go.” ‘““Whether she believes you or not, you will not say long?” said the boy. ae No i” “Then may she come here and know the “Oh, she’ll come!” was the confident reply. “Go up to the big tree. Ill b her there. They will not pass afore I git back, an’ when they do go by, it will be in the prettiest moon- t wat over fell on the skunks.” ith much anxiety and many inward pray- ers for the success of his mission, Nightingale Nat saw Shadow-Shot depart, and he clamber- ed to the upland thro a natural in the rocks, and took a station beneath the boughs of a tree. The noiseless ranger crept along the stream flitting here and — like a hoe gmp Now stooping, now erect, or crawling on all fours tike. the bear, he made until he resented himself at the mouth of a cave cut as tt seemed by a legion of sculptors in the rocky ee cobody to home?” he exclaimed in his rough speech; but a light cry of mingled fright and ent quickly convin him that the cavern was tenan “Tm to shootin’ when I’m the mark,” he said as the click of a rifle lock fell upon his ears, and a girlish fi ure came from the ows of the cave with a rifle in her hands. She hee. 5a suddenly before him and threw a wild stare into his unhandsome face. “T haven’t lost much beauty, my leetle one hev I?’ he said with a chuckle that illumine his face with smiles. ‘‘ Jest keep on lookin’ till I git into the moonshine an’ then p’raps you may be able to recognize me.” Shadow-Shot spoke he stepped back until her eyes. She does | | & year, m = his figure was full in the moonlight that stream- ed into the chasm, and rendered the place almost With wonderment in her eyes, Violet follow- ed him. “You are not a Vulture,” she said after a short study of his face. ‘If I war I wouldn’t come to see you,” he said. “Jest look closer, my leetle one. Five years ago you used to sit on my hands while I tossed than ridin’ on the ox wagons, eh, my bird?” “What do I see?” cried the gir! clutchi ranger’s arm. ‘Five years ago! tures made me fatherless then!” the “Yes, an’ me horseless—the best animal in these f? Oh, my mind goes back to that dreadful ol £ time,” she said. hought a minute since The Vul- | li that I knew you—that you belonged to the | train; but it cannot be.” “Can't, my bird? Who used to toss you up an’ down on his arms when you war with the train?” ““Matt Pokington!” was the cry. “Yes, old Matt—a man what would sooner play with you, if you war gittin’ to be a woman, than eat. That’sme! I’m old Matt Pokington —hev been five years in these parts, payin’ off some old scores.” A cry of joy orang from the lips of the girl. In one moment she saw the once loved and fa- miliar features of ea haem in the uncouth man before her, and she threw herself into his arms. “Bless me! if I wouldn’t like to hold you hyar leetle one!” cried the old ranger, filling with emotion. ‘‘ But I want to show you suthin’, an’ to see it right we've got no time to ose. But she did not seem to hear him; for she clung to him, and her head was hidden in a bosom in which beat one of the biggest and bravest hearts in the North-west. “We've got no time to lose,” Shadow-Shot said, firmly, yet with gentleness, as he disen- gaged the girl from him. ‘‘ Do you know who s been your friend fur five years?” Violet, the avenger, started back, and her tearful face grew white. “Do you know?—thet’s jest what I said.” “TL have doubted!” she cried. these great woods, I have believed many stories, for sometimes my brain seemed on fire. Oh! Matt—you will let me call you this for I loved to long ge will trust in you—I will believe ou! Tell me honestly if he is whom he says eis—a friend and—and not that fiend who massacred all our friends.” **Tll show you who he is!” the ranger said. | yourself, an’ I needn’t say a word.” “*T will go!” Violet cried. ‘ Lead where you will. I want this mystery cleared up. Oh, Matt, you haven’t been kept from the path of vengeance as I have for five years.” ‘“No! I’ve been a thorn in the side of the skunks of the North-west. My leetle one, there be precious few left who rode down upon us that night when I war makin’ a swing fur you in the tree.” Without more ado, Shadow-Shot seized the | girl’s hand and led her over the patches of moonlight and shade which he had traversed to the cavern. No word passed between the twain until the upland woods were reached, and Violet started at beholdi shadow of his tree. “It is the boy!” Shadow-Shot said to her. *'You’ve seen him afore.” “Yes,” the girl said. “TI trust he isn’t as bad as I’ve heard he is. I know he is not, for he is with you, Matt.” Her trust in the unhandsome ranger brought a smile to more than one face beneath the tree, and the boy turned to Shadow-Shot. “You are just in time!” he said. coming even now.” ** Thet’s so!” ‘* They are “Shut up in | _ eyes, and compressed li | I avenge thi Suddenly the head of the cavalcade debouched into the moonshine and reins were drawn. “Tt are the Vultures!” whispered Shadow- Shot, at the girl’s ear. No need of that. Her white face, flashing told that she had re- cognized the terrors of the woods! ut there was one figure which above all | others commanded her attention. She saw the | gay hat, the brigandish dress of Captain Dave; ou up and down. That was more fun | But under the broad brim was the face of Noel Gordon! _ The sight brought a cry to Violet Collyer’s ps. “ The “oe, lie!” she exclaimed. ‘‘ Here will e deeds of that one night.” as a flash, she sprung beyond the reach ui | of Shadow-Shot’s ee at the report of her fe rifle, Captain Dave forward on his steed’s a heavy n! ‘*T was afeared of it!” the ranger said, looking at Nat, as he seized the fair avenger. ‘“‘ We're in fur it now. A shot, quick! boy, an’ then a run fur it.” Simultaneously the twain threw their weapons to their shoulders, and before the Vultures could recover from the effects of the premerts shot, ead from | two more of their number dropped | their saddles! | her eyes. “Now!” cried Shadow-Shot. gs iolet in hisarms. ‘“ Down the Devil's Path. e’ll out- wit the skunks yet, 4 little ones!” ing bondiin star tioiinane terial Wlbeypoared ering anew is voice, a harmless volley among the CHAPTER XI. THE MYSTERIOUS SLAYER. In order to follow the trio to the bed of the chasm, the Vultures were forced to dismount. The pathway of rocks leading to the bottom was ye precipi to admit of the descent of orses, Without a moment's hesitation, bloodthirsty and vindictive, the outlaws poured into the de- file. Several were left in the woods above to guard the horses. Indians and whites, in their eagerness to get at the wielders of the death- d rifles, loosened stones in great numbers, which, rolling down the dark path, fell with plashes in the stream. The trio reached the bottom of the chasm in west where the rifles were hastily reloaded. ‘You're convinced now, my leetle one!” Shadow-Shot said, with a smile, as he turned OPO yest” said. th l, a gl f victory in ‘ Yes!” sa e a gleam of vi ** After ine kept back five years by | the power of a lie, I have at last avenged my ‘ \ _ father’s death.” “Tf you will come with me you shall see for | ““Thar’ll be safety for trains in these parts henceforward.” “Tt has been a wood of death—this vast tim- ber-land.” ‘* Shadow-Shot, did you notice who rode be- side Captain Dave?’ The questioner was pat come 9 Ne Nat. **No, boy. I was lookin’ chief sinner of ’em all.’ “Tt was Captain h!” The wild ranger did not start. Why should the intelligence cause surprise? “Birds of a feather,” he said. ‘‘They’ve _ taken the boy-whipper into full faith an’ fellar- A sound that now fell distinctly upon the ears | of all announced the approach of a body of | fair avenger hesitate. night-riders, and the er grasped arm as she looked inquiringly into his face. ~ ’s a long streak of moonlight,” he said, pointing ahead. “Some fellars are goin’ to ride | down the stream. along it presently. Keep your eyes fastened on it, ny little one, an’ see what you kin see!” e ee seemed to comprehend before- hand the sight in store for her ayes, She fixed her gaze on the lighted spot. The sounds of hoofs grew more distinct, and voices of men—good English Indian jargo —were soon heard, a zs 1 ship, I guess. Did you drop him, my leetleone?” "aie dna aeatod we cond. ‘He must tell sis t's so. If I don't recollect this I might give the skunk a bullet some o’ these times.” The foregoing conversation was quickly ex- changed while the trio reloaded rifles in a darkened place not far from the end of the path. Their ears were constantly saluted by the sounds of the approach of the foe, who were cursing the rocks which they loosened in their descen “Go down the stream with the gal,” Shadow- Shot said, suddenly, to the boy. “Ti jine you in a minnit.” Nat turned to Violet. “Go, leetle one,” the | everything before he dies.” Nightingale Nat step from the | ranger said, seeing the “T want to another Violet’s | Vulture afore I leave, an’ then I'll kiver the re- treat.” Seizing Violet’s hand, Nightingale Nat started The ‘aoe not rough, and the twain made rapid progress, soon from the ranger’s sight. Standing in the shadows with his eyes fasten- ed on the mouth of the Devil’s aed cast in moonlight and plainly visible, the gaunt ranger awaited the foe. He heard them still ling down the nar- strugg. row way; the rocks shot from it and lost them-
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10 selves in the river, each succeeding one announc- ing the progress of the fiends in the cut. -¥ last a scarlet figure bounded over the great bowlder which tried to block the mouth of the ravine, and landed full in the moonlight. Shadow-Shot saw his tuft of eagle feathers, the fiendish face, and the banded arms. “Tf this old gun doesn’t miss, my bird o’ prey!” quoted hadow-Shot, raising the rifle quickly to hisshoulder. ‘‘ An’ miss it never does, by hokey!” Quick as was his glance down the long barrel to the Sioux’s breast, his finger was not quick enough for the bolt of death which leaped from a rifle overhead, The report startled the ranger; he lowered his own rifle and looked up, blank astonishment depicted on his countenance. The Indian lay in the big bowlder, a lifeless mass of humanity. ‘*Flints and triggers!” ejaculated the ranger. “Who fired thet shot? It warn’t the boy, fur he hasn’t had time to get up thar. It’s uncom- mon strange; but it has stopped the devils in the cut. No! they’re comin’ ag’in!” Another rock shot over the bowlder and splashed into the water, and several figures sprung into the moonlight. Shadow-Shot raised his rifle again; but that mysterious marksman overhead forestalled him in the work of death, and another Vulture—this i a white man—staggered against the rocks to die! Astounded more than ever, the ranger cast his eyes upward, but saw nothing but a no = smoke, white and wavy, against the deep ue, ‘Here! you fiends, if you don’t go back to your horses, thar’ll not be one of you left to report!” came a voice from the position of the slayer. ‘* By the etarnal! ’li drop another in less than a minit, just to show you how it’s done.” The Vultures started back with eyes starin ” the rocks overhead, and faces blanched wit ear. Death seemed to be enthroned among them for his fatal thunderbolts had been hurled ami their ranks. “Arn’t you goin’?’ came the same rough voice after a minute of waiting. ‘‘T'll give you a minit to make yourselves scarce in. Not that I want to kill ye partic’larly, but I don’t like to handle a weepon that hits all the time.” There was a grim sense of humor in the un- seen man which made Shadow-Shot smile, and he wondered anew who the marksman was. That last threat, coupled to the grace of one brief minute, had the desired effect; the Vul- tures retreated into the cut, but halted there. “Go up!” cried the unseen. ‘‘When I say leave, I mean fur ye to git out of the reach of this gun, an’ it carries a bullet an oncommon a kin shoot clean up the cut. Bless me if I can’t shoot right around a tree with this old weepon. Git out! my birds!” the cut scrambled the discomfited and cursing Vultures. The man who had caused the retreat of the trio was a deadly mystery to them. The min- utes that elapsed during the flightup the cut seemed burdened with death, but the mysteri- ous slayer was merciful, and no bullet spun on its mission of doom. The most bewildered man was our friend Shadow-Shot. The voice of the slayer was to- tally strange to him. It was the voice of a man uncouth and unlearned like himself, the kind of an ally for whom he had often wished. His heart went out to the unknown, and be- fore the Vultures had regained their horses, his gaunt figure was pushing its way up the rocks to the spot whence the voice had emanated. Waiting for him, for Shadow-Shot’s progress was made known by noises which it occasioned, ®™ man was crouched between two ragged rocks. ‘there was nothing in the stranger’s appearance that might be startling. He was a heavy-set man with piercing gray eyes deeply set in his head, and an open face cavern ae a reddish beard of a fortnight’s growth. is garments were good and totally unlike the half-savage garb that covered Shadow-Shot’s lank figure. All at once he poked his head over the stones and fixed his gaze on the ranger who stopped with an ejaculation of surprise. ‘‘T heerd you comin’, stranger,” the dead- shot said, thrusting a hand over his breast- work, ‘“ Bless me! if you ain’t the man what v us warnin’ several nights ago. Put her thar! Thar ’re two Vultures down yonder. How many did you kill in the woods?” “Three, I think.” ‘Three an’ two ar’ five, an’ the fellar what my bullet ran ag’in’ not long since makes a good Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. half dozen. Say! I kind o’ like ye: that’s me, Jack Gustin, one of Captain Rough’s men.” Shadow-Shot took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. *“You kin shoot like lightnin’,” he said, look- ing into Gustin’s eyes. ‘T Yarnt the art in linoy. Used to pick wild- cats an’ wolverines at nignt in jest sech places 2 this. Say, stranger, it’s all up with the ‘here was emotion and sadness in the rough voice, ** What boys?” “The train boys! Them Vultures followed an’ butchered all. Not a wagon will ever roll along the rocks of Lake Superior. I hev jest come from the scene of massacre. The boys ar’ all thar but Cap’n Rough.” “He is with the Vultures!” said Shadow-Shot. ‘ined ‘em? Water will seek its level. The scamp has found his sphare at last. But whar’s the boy?’ **Oh, the boy—and the gal!” cried the ranger suddenly recollecting the youthful couple whom he had dismissed for a while a short time be- fore. ‘‘Flints an’ triggers! if I warn’t furget- tin’’em. Come, Jack! we'll go to the leetle ones, an’ try to get ’em out of these parts,” The two men left the spot and made their way below. As all sounds of the Vultures had died away it was evident that they had departed satisfied with the blood shed by their adversaries. But, as Shadow-Shot remarked to his companion, they would not give up their quest until more lives had been taken. Over at the foot of the cliffs the two men hurried down the stream. They were eager to reach the young fugitives; but many rods of ground were traversed without finding them. “Whar can they be?’ asked the long ranger, pausing and giving Gustin a puzzled look. ‘TI told ’em not to go too fur. It ar’ gittin’ interes- tin’, Jack. I’m kind o’ feerful like!” ap looked around before he attempted to reply. “4 saw the moonlight on the water far down the ravine; he noticed great dark walls above him, but no signs of Nightingale Nat and Violet were seen. “Curious!” he ejaculated. **No! it isn’t curious! J’ve got the two birds in my power, an’ I’m goin’ to throw ’em squar’ down to you! Look out!” If a thunderbolt had burst in the faces of the rangers, they would not have started back less horrified. ‘Great Ceesar’s ghost!” cried Shadow-Shot, staring upward. ‘“ In the name of creation, who are ye?” _ The question was answered at his side by Gus- tin. “Tt isZimri Paddock!” Then he sprung forward. * Hold, Zimri!” he shouted, ‘‘ I am here—Jack Gustin!” “Oh, that doesn’t mend the matter, Jack,” was the reply. ‘‘T’ll throw the boy down first. Hold still, my little nightingale; you won’t be a minit fallin’!” The last brutal words were distinctly heard by the horrified rangers below. “Catch the boy if he comes!” Gustin said quickly, to Shadow-Shot, and the next moment he sprung to the ascent of the cliff. Shadow-Shot dropped his gun and planted himself firmly as a statue at the edge of, the moonlight. CHAPTER XII. PADDOCK’S DESCENT. THE scene above the bed of the stream, or, to be precise, fifty feet above Shadow-Shot and his new-found ally, was quite exciting. he causes that led to it were simply these: Obedient to the ranger’s command, as we have seen, Nightingale Nat and Violet left him to the retreat, and hastened along the stony bank of the forest river. Not far away an individual who stood alone had been startled by the sudden shot fired with fatal effect by the girl-avenger upon recognizing Noel Gordon in his true role at the head of the Vultures. Following that shot, came the other reports before which two more outlaws bit the dust. hi Thang 5 him beyond description, and he was about to leave his station for the purpose of inquiring into the reports, when voices rapid- ly approaching saluted his ears. He changed his porpaes, and, with a pistol in each hand, threw his gaze up the stream. ‘ Straight toward him came the youthful wain. “The Nightingale, by my life!” he exclaim- as his eyes dilated with astonishment. “Now, my singin’-bird, (ll clip your feathers an’ those, too, of the pretty mate you’ve foun somewhar in these woods. She’s the creature who untied you from the tree. Well, it will be her last untyin’—her very last!” All at once the young fugitives were startled to see a figure spring from the shadows of the ragged rocks and plant itself firmly in their path. ‘Not a trigger, my birds!” said the man, coarsely. ‘‘T kin shoot with both hands at once. Zim Paddock used to do thet fur amusement, you know, boy.” Nat recognized his old tormentor at a glance. Shadow-Shot was up the stream facing the Vultures. Where was help to come from? They were in the hands of the uncultured rough—Captain Rough’s tool. “4 At his command, which was accompanied by a terrible threat, the twain threw their weapons aside. His eyes told that disobedience might be followed by death. ** Now, for’ard march!” That command was also obeyed. At a wide “path to the cliffs above—a path whose sides and bottom were brilliantly reveal- ed by the light of the moon—the villain halted with his prisoners, and they: began to climb up. Close behind, with his vistols, moved Zimri Paddock, the very devilishness of savage glee in his evil eye. Biting his lip and biding his time, the boy of the train toiled slowly up the path with the girl’s hand in his. They heard the shots of the mysterious slayer which played such deadly havoc with the pursu- ing outlaws, and thought that they came from Shadow-Shot’s rifle. Zimri Paddock heard them, too, and was puz- ed. 4 At the top of the cliff he halted and listened. The apes of the two renee was soon heard, and from that spot he startled them with the terrible threat recorded at the close of the foregoing chapter. Violet, unarmed, stood a short distance from the brute, who held Nat in a gripe of iron, She was powerless to help, and, of himself, the boy could do nothing in the hands of a strong man whose passion was aided by his prodigious eames. ‘*No! you'll not be long fallin’!” he repeate poking into the youth’s face, and then he call oud: ‘Stan’ from under down thar, Jack Gustin!” The man knew that his position in the shadows soe egy his person from the eyes of the twain low. But Gustin did not reply; he was half way u the rocks, still climbing on, knife in mouth, an rifle slung across his back by means of a buck- ae Whe Ph to nightingale?” said Me at hev ye say, my ingale Paddock, suddenly. “ “Nothing, Zimri; you will pay for this night’s work. That’s all!” “Well, it warn’t much, boy,” was the rejoin- der, followed by a coarse sani. He stepped back with the heartless cachinna- tion on his lips. ‘Now, my singer!” he hissed. By main strength he forced the boy from the ground. Over the outlaw’s head he went. Another moment, with his victim, Zimri Paddock was at the very brink of the preci- pice. A cry which, for the triumph of fiendishness it contained, was enough to strike a chill to the bravest heart, pealed from his throat. It made Shadow-Shot brace himself. He knew what was coming. While yet that cry echoed in forest and over stream, another different, but piercing all the same, was heard, and a human body went hurt- ling over the cliff! Shadow-Shot saw the object shoot from the shadow, and like a great shell come spinning toward him through the moo sie se For an instant he prepared to catch it in his strong embrace; but with a ery of horror he popes a yee > _— fell heavily on the ja rocks at his fee : OF thou ht it war too big a body fur the lee- tle one!” said, seg age ing the quivering mass which preserv e outlines of the human form. He bent over the man, and saw the pallid, deathlike face of Zimri Paddock. “Somebody turned the tables up thar, eh?’ said Shadow-Shot, seeing the wandering become fixed upon him, waited till Jack got up.” eyes “You shouldn’t ey
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Nightingale Nat. 11 “Jack?” muttered Paddock, trying to rise “Tt warn’t Jack. That girl—the Nightingale’s mate—hit me with somethin, an’ hyar I am.” ‘‘ An’ hyar you're likely to stay!” the ranger said. ‘It takes no doctor to see that you’re go- in’ to give in. Say, what do you know about the little one?” ‘‘ Nothin!” and the lips closed more than half triumphantly behind the word. “‘ Nothin’, Paddock? Sartin?’ ‘Tf I did, IL wouldn’t tell you, an’ let you reap the benefit of it,” was the malignant reply. Bhadow-Shot bit his lip. Paddock saw the discomfiture and smiled. Then his head went to one side spasmodically, and with his eyes fastened on the ranger, Zimri Paddock’s life went out in the little chasm. *“Wouldn’t tell if you knowed, eh?’ exclaim- ed Shadow-Shot. ‘ Well, I kinder think you knowed, It did you a mg 4 of good to be stub- born. Ill wring it from the hear} of Captain Rough one of these days!” Springing over the body of the man whose career of crime had so tragically terminated, the ranger began to ascend the cliff, and soon stood before the rejoicing trio there. ‘*Ts he dead?” ed a voice at his side. “ Dead? dead as a Labrador herrin’!” answer- ed Shadow-Shot, a queer twinkle in his eye as he looked into the face of the fair ques- tioner. Violet stood before the ranger, a long stout stick in her white hands—the stick which she had hurriedly snatched from the ground, and with it dealt Zimri Paddock the blow which had caused him to loose his gripe on Nightingale Nat and fall headlong over the precipice! ‘‘He went over my head like a deer,” said Jack Gustin. ‘I thought it war the boy till I saw him gettin’ on his feet hyar. If he’d held the leetle chap a minit longer he’d felt old Jack’s hand on his breathin’ apparatus!” , ‘What! Jack Gustin?’ cried Nightingale Nat springing to the speaker whose voice he now recognized. ‘I thought you were with the train.” ‘* Not much, thank ’e, boy. I’m Jack Gustin, big as life. e an’ Shadder-Shot ar’ goin’ to stick to ye through thick and thin, e mean business, too.” A look of gratitude filled the boy’s eyes; he placed his hand in the woodman’s rough palm. “JT can ask no more, Jack. You two stand py me, for ’'m going to stand by this young lad re Young lady!” exclaimed Shadow-Shot, fol- lowin, his exclamation with a prolonged whistle. ‘‘It’s gittin’ interestin’ mighty soon. Young lady, fursooth! She’s only a gal; but you'll make a lady of her, my little one.” Nightingale Nat blushed and cast down his lustrous eyes. CHAPTER XIII. DIAMOND CUTS DIAMOND. WE will now return to the Vultures whom we left retreat up the path in the rocks before the death-dealing rifle of Jack Gustin. Their hearts were full of revenge, and the —- to return and glut that passion whic ruled their evil natures so long; but the stern voice of the slayer, whose work lay at the foot of the cut, told them:that such a policy at that time was hazardous and full of death. So they smothered their r: as best they could, and ascended to the w and above. They were met there by the horses which had been left in the cave by several of their number, and were not long in ai ap to saddle. The outlaws slain by Shadow-Shot and the boy lay in the moonlight with the ghastly hue of death on their upturned faces, Where was Captain Dave? Seated on a beautiful iron gray whose curved neck was the synonym of meena and pride, the forest Apollo met the of his returnin band. His jauncy hat had fallen to the ground, and one of the corks of the iron feet pressed the broad rim into the earth. His chin lay on his breast, and below the white face a little stream of blood trickled across his neck. He was not dead, for he started at the voices of his men re- turning from the unsuccessful and deadly pur- suit, and looked with a glance of anxious inquiry into the face of the man whose arm seemed to ~— body in the saddle. t man was tain Rough. . tt bo mrad are back!” Rough said, answering ce. = * Gall them up,” was the response, in a hoarse I. In a brief time the White Vulture was sur- sounded by his angry, discomfited men. His eye wandered among the crowd, and he | seemed to be mentally counting their numbers. ‘“We left two over there!” said the leader of | the pursuit, pointing to the chasm, ‘** And two are here?” “ Yes. ” ‘“« That’s four to-night!” There was no reply; the outlaws glanced from their wounded leader to the two corpses on the ground, “Who did the shooting over there?’ Captain Dave asked. “Nobody knows. It warn’t Shadow-Shot’s weepon, fur we know the crack. The first shot took Little Crowfoot, an’ then Lame Nick got the leaden pill. The voice what we heerd was totally strange. It war uncommon shootin’, Cap’n Dave!” * And you ran?” There was scorn and sarcasm in the husky voice. “Yes. It war death to turn back, an’ we wanted to fight around you if you lived, an’ to avenge youif we found you dead.” “Not dead yet!” and the speaker tottered in the saddle as he spoke, as if to tell his followers that the grim monster even then was shakin him. ‘i’m worth twenty dead men. Oh! we’ have vengeance for this! Vengeance? The profane responses that followed his words told the feelings of his men. . ‘“T don’t know where the bullet is. I feel as if it went clear through me. He shot a little too low!. Go down to the camp by the ford. If I am able I will join you there to-morrow.” The rough-riders hesitated; they did not want to desert their leader. ‘“Go!” was the command, accompanied b the look and lifting of the finger that command- ed respect and obedience. ‘‘ Boys, I am Captain Dave yet.” One by one the Vultures began to turn their horses’ heads, The two captains were left alone. “They would follow me to the brazen gates of hades!” the Apollo said, his eyes lighting up with pride as he looked at Captain Rough. ‘‘One of these days perhaps I may lead them thither. Have I lost much blood?” “A great amount,” was the reply. alone now.” “Then move straight ahead. Your arm need not steady me longer.” Rough laughed. bi it released you you would not sitin the saddle half a minute.” The outlaw gritted his teeth. “Maybe so,” he said. ‘ But the scoundrel’s bullet did not finish me. I will not die. I swear by the stars of heaven that I am not going un- der this time! There isn’t power enough any- where to kill me before I have carried out my plans in these woods.” ‘Your plans?” asked Rough, inquisitively. “My plans! Captain, we've been friends a long time; before we met in these woods, we knew one another. You brought the boy here for a purpose. It isknown tome. I’m not go- ing to interfere, captain. Your business is not mine, mine not yours. You are going to con- duct me to a certain place: you will see some- body there. Will you keep my secret?” Captain Rough started. So the forest outlaw | ssessed a secret. **Did I ever blow on you, Dave?” he asked, appearing. offended at the question. ‘No. DPve got a girl in these the prettiest creatures that ever inhabited them. | Why, I’ve known her for five years, and she does not dream that I am Captain Dave, of the | Vultures.” A girl in love with the leader of the outlaws? The thought was ludicrous to the brutal Rough, | ‘Where did you get her?’ he asked, anxious- ] “We are —one of Vic Never mind that!” was the reply. “I want you to see her.” . : There was a strange light in the train-mas- ter’s eyes. It was well that he turned them away, for had the Apollo caught their glance, he would have repented of his words. ‘* And I am eager to see this beauty of yours, Dave.” “ Straight ahead, then. I will guide you.” Slowly the two rode from the spot. Rough still held his companion upright in the saddle, and again the chin sunk upon the crimsoned bosom - | It would be difficult to describe the thoughts that filled the scheming brain of Captain Rough | as he rode beside the Pest of the Wisconsin | woods. A new revelation had broken upon him; | he felt that his feet were on a path that termin- | ated ina mine of untold wealth. He thought no longer of the copper and, perhaps, gold de- posits on the shores of Lake Superior; the butch- ery of his train-men called up no thoughts of revenge; he forgot it entirely! His plans, de- serting Nightingale Nat for the nonce, clustered about this strange girl whom the forest brigand | had mentioned. After a toilsome ride, toilsome on account of Captain Dave’s wound, the two men found themselves cn the bank of the forest stream, which they had descended by means of a gradu i ally sloping path. he steeds were guided along the bank until the space between water and cliff would not ad- mit of passage by the animals. So the twain were compelled to dismount and proceed on foot, which they did, Captain Rough steadying the White Vulture, whose steps were tottering. “At last the journey ended: the cave-home stood revealed in the dim light of the waning |} moon, Captain Dave released himself, and tottered forward to sink upon a heap of skins with a sigh of intense relief. ‘Violet?’ he exclaimed. Of course to the name there was no response. He called in and again, elevating his voice and manifesting impatience at each call. Captain Rough stood in the shadow, eager to see the person who bore the name. ‘She isn’t here, captain!” the Vulture cried rising with a or of fear on his face, “I always found her here. I wonder if she was with that infernal Shadow who has followed me and my men for five years?” Captain Rough could not reply, for he did not know. ‘‘ Well, she may come!” Captain Dave said, catching at a bubble of hope of his own blow- ing. ‘‘We must wait. Here are pine burrs and sticks, my friend. Make a fire at the ed of the bed, and we will look at my hurt. lungs seem full of needles just now. If the bul- let went through them, maybe I'll have to look for a coffin, after all.” The outlaw returned to the cot while Rough proceeded to build a fire on the floor of the cav- ern, and the light of a ruddy blaze soon illum- ined the place. “ It revealed no tenant besides the two men, and Captain Dave's eyes filled with blank disappoint- ment as they returned to his bloody breast after the search for Violet. He bore the unsurgical examination with that fortitude which the occasion demanded. Heedless, as it were, of the value of life, Captain Rough probed the wound below the right shoulder blade, and smiled grimly to himself as YY monet that it promised to prove fatal to the 0. ut Captain Dave was the possessor of a con- stitution of iron, and his determination to get well might conquer death, and rob him of a vic- tim. “‘Tt’s a bad one!” Rough said, completing the examination. ““T should suggest that it was!” was the reply inno good humor, ‘‘ Ninety-nine men out of a hundred would stand a mighty r chance of getting well after being shot as I have been, and ving had a knife rummaging through their | lungs looking for the ball! But 1 gritted my teeth and never squealed, captain.” Rough looked away; he ost felt the flash- ing eyes that regarded him; the voice, so full of sarcasm, cut him to the quick. His eyes fell upon the stone wall revealed by the fire. Suddenly he started. ae was a name on the stone— Violet Coll- yer. All at once he started to his feet, and stepped toward the threshold of the cave. Greed was in his eyes. He had made a won- derful discovery. But the orbs of Captain Dave were upon him. ‘Where are you going?’ he demanded. At that moment Captain Rough halted, and snatching a rifle that leaned against the wall wheeled suddenly upon the bandit. “T’ve found the very person I want to find!” he cried. ‘‘Look at that name on the wall. Violet. Collyer is worth untold wealth to me, Captain Dave, you stand between me and that money. I’m going tokiJl youhere. Your wound will not need dressing.” He was standing within twenty feet of Cap- — 8 ft the Re 1d tain Dave, who did not quail of the dangerous weapon. “Shoot and be hanged!” was the defiant re- sponse. ‘I know what the girl is worth to any one who takes her back to the city, and I know, too, who the boy is. Captain Rough, we've Coed z ee A a een AF Ree es oo Petit Ries Sees te oe ee : Da. SS ES
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12 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. played desperate games in our lifetime; we’ve taken desperate chances. I knew that your dis- covery would come; but I had to have help to get here. You tried to kill me a minute ago, by ooling with my wound. Now you want to finish Shadow-Shot’s work with the rifle. Do you think you will do it, captain?” “What is there to hinder me?” ao Dave smiled. “Did you take me for a fool?’ he said. ‘Knowing you as I do, did you think I would hold your rifle while you tied the horses with- out taking the cap off? Ha! ha! Captain Rough! When diamond cuts diamond, the hardest will win. Now, sir, you are mine!” A pistol came from beneath the covering of the couch, and with both hands, for he was weak, Captain Dave thrust it forward. Rough touched the trigger of his rifle; there was a click, but no re rt The sound seemed the sentence of death. ““Mercy, Dave!” he cried, flinging the useless rope against the wall of the cavern. ial oy !’ was the heartless nn “That is just what you were going to parcel out to me eh cantata?” aden thers : att? speaker’s eyes seemed to emit sparks of Captain Rough knew that he was dealing with a fiend. CHAPTER XIV. THE FIGHT IN THE CAVE. WHILE the events narrated in the several foregoing chapters were transpiring, another character of our romance, and one from whom we have been separated, perhaps, long, was listening to sounds that startled him. It was Sharp Knife, the Crow! It will be remembered that he followed Rafe Armstrong to the cave-home where he, at Cap- tain Dave’s bidding, struck the deserter his death-blow, and that he in turn fell before Vio- let’s rifle. The girl did not go to note the effects of her shot; she turned to the mortally-wounded man to hear him reiterate the charges concernin the true identity of the man who called himsel Noel Gordon. If she had visited the place where the Indian fellshe might have discovered that the Crow was not dead, any stunned by the ball, which carried away part of the scalp above the ear. Upon recovering, Sharp Knife made himself as scarce as possible, and in a short time he was uite a distance from the cave-home. The thought of returning to his master, the outlaw, without revenging himself on the fair girl whose rifle had so nearly put an end to his existence, was not a tenant of his brain. He believed that he had slain the deserter, and an Indian who, assassin-like, gets a fair blow at an adversary, pee’ not n to wonder if that blow was fatal. Rafe me bemer ge was as good as dead. Sharp Knife believed this. Then the presence of such a being as Violet Collyer in the forest was a mystery to the In- dian. He was not so obtuse that he could not connect Captain Dave’s frequent absences from the band with her, and the cave-home. Sharp Knife was not a member of the Vultures at the massacre of Collyer’s train, therefore he knew nothing about the identity of the avenger. He spoke indifferent English, and the conversation which had passed between Armstrong and the girl—every word of which he heard—was not unde enough to enlighten him. Not long after his flight from the cavern, he saw the Vultures ride through the forest; but he did not join them. He was on a trail which personally concerned himself. We have said that the revengeful Crow 0, indeed, — listening to startling sounds. © was. He was letting his scarlet body down over the rocks that rose above the cave when he heard the sound of voices. Sharp Knife stopped and listened ame A familiar light beamed in his eye when he recognized Captain Dave’s voice. The outlaw was in the cave that sheltered the white girl; but he was not alone. It was the voice of Captain Rough that mys- bese the Indian, for he ‘heard it for the first e. As he had been dismissed upon the errand of assassination, he had not taken a eae in the at- tack on the train, and therefore he had not be- come acquainted with the captain’s h. After awhile, as the words w high, indi- cating a season of choler, the Indian resumed his crawl, lizard-like, and approached the cave. With the glittering knife in his teeth he con- tinued to near the top of the natural door, and Without haste, Rough proceeded to arm him- at length, eager to see the occupants of the cave, leaned over for that purpose. His evil ve saw Captain Dave sitting bolt- upright on the cot, pointing the pistol at Cap- tain Rough. Violet, the girl, was not to be seen. Such scenes excited Sharp Knife; bis dark eyes flashed. He heard Rough appeal for mercy, when he found the tables suddenly turned on him, and then the laugh of derision which greeted it. He saw the blood-besmeared face of his reck- less leader, and fastened his wicked .eye upon — whom he believed the perpetrator of the deed. To see an enemy of Captain Dave meant to Sharp Knife an attack, and with a half tigerish cry he executed a dextrous somersault which landed him upon the unsuspecting man. Rough uttered a startling ery, and staggered back; but the savage with the nature of the wildcat uppermost in his heart, kept his hold and bore him back, % “Sharp Knife!” exclaimed Captain Dave with surprise: but the Crow did not hear; he wanted to finish the man whom he believed had wounded his master. Rough was a man of splendid physique, and, as a wrestler, a match for any naked Indian in the then wilds of the “ Badger State.” He suc- ceeded by a sudden display of dexterity in grappling with the brave, and putting himself on an equal footing with the adversary. He twisted the assassin’s wrist until with a ery of pain the red-skin was obliged to relin- quish the knife which fell to the ground. Vain- ly von em | to trip each other, the two athletes eS po for the mastery in the presence of the single spectator who watched the combat, un- — to rise to lend a helping hand to the red- skin. But Captain Dave watched for a chance when he might suddenly raise the pistol, and render victory certain for the Crow. It was a struggle between two wrestlers, well matched and fresh, They fought for no belt; but for the life of each other. At last Captain Rough, by a coup de maitre, which Sharp Knife thwarted several times, succeeded in gras ing the scarlet trachea. His great hand c cae like an instrument of inquisi- torial torture on the red-skin, and he saw the flashing eyes grow deathly and roll wildly in their sockets. Captain Dave observed the advantage and greeted it with a curse. But he could not ele, Pe tool, for Captain Rough stubbornly kept his body between him and the cot. Rough was in his element—the power to dis- play his brutality. A child could. have released § Knife’s hold on his antagonist, as the death gripe tight- ened. His hands fell limp and powerless at his side; he was gasping like a dying man. “You thought you were too much for Captain Rough, eh?” cried the victor, looking into the face becoming hideous at the end of his arms. ‘““ By George! I guess you’ve grappled your last man, Mr. Sharp Knife! Why, I used to knock men bigger than you clean over the ropes at Aug’s. I’m no boy. I haven’t forgotten science, if 1 am in the woods of Wisconsin!” Of course the Indian could not re ly ‘** Look out, Captain Dave!” he suddenly cried, eg over the Indian’s shoulder at the white- aced man who in his inability to rise was actu- ally frothing at the mouth. ~‘‘Here comes a thunderbolt what I hope will crush your cursed life out.” All at once Captain Rough stepped back, dragging Sharp Knife after him by main force, and then gathering all his prodigious eee ee he threw the limp body straight at the White Vulture. It is true that two feeble hands were lifted to stay the singular bolt of war; but as well might bf have been kept down. e bolt went straight to the target! Sharp Knife fell heavily upon the Apollo of the forest, crushing him back upon the cot with the ease of a five-ton weight, and there both lay like dead men, silent and motionless. “It didn’t take much to crush out what little life was left in you, Captain Dave!” the train commander said, with brutish triumph. ‘I guess I can hunt the girl up now without your meddlesome interference. There’s some stuff in you, Captain Dave; but a man dn’t always trust you out of his sight. The boy! Oh, Pll give him a bullet—but the girl—she’s worth nifty thousand dollars to me, or to any man who knows what I do.” self with Captain Dave's rifle and a plentiful supply of ammunition. “*T& was a lucky escape!” he said, self-con- gratulatorily. ‘‘ Not long ago somebody’s shot saved me from the Vultures, and led them in pursuit of him just when I expected to see them ride down upon me. It’s ominous! It means that I bear a charmed life—that I’m going to get out of these woods with a bigger pile in eg than I had when I entered them. an Rough, you’re in luck! plenty of money and the position of a nabob among the boys again awaits you! If I meet the Vultures, I can tell them that I left the captain comfortable. He said that they know nothing about the cave. But I will not meet them. They have gone to the camp at the ford, and I have no business there at ee He looked again at the startling heap of hu- manity that lay on the cot, and smiled. “They'll keep the ghosts away!” he murmur- ed, as he darted from the cavern. His feet sounded for atime on the gravelly shore, and after awhile a man mounted on a fine horse ascended slowly to the forest above. Captain Rough was at large again, with mur- der and avarice filling bis heart and urging him on. ‘Plenty of money and the ition of nabob = the boys again!” he muttered, as he rode ong. We shall see, Pe nae A Rough. It is in wild life jally that chateaus en sudden- ly totter and fall a mass of ruins! He did not note the movement of life that manifested itself in the cave-home. He was far away and did not dream of it. Feeble arms, but determined ones, rolled Sharp Knife to the edge of the cot of skins, and the flashing of Captain Dave's ho became appar- ent once more, They glanced wildly around the a ment, and gleamed with satisfaction when the ruffian’s absence was noticed. “Let me git up!” said a voice, which was more than half a . “By the fires of To- phet! I will git u I am not dead!” Asif to prove that he was not a corpse, the speaker regained his feet. He was a horrible- looking specimen of humanity! Those parts of his body not besmeared with blood, were white and ghastly. He tottered as he attempted to stand. “T swear that I will not die!” he cried, blas- peenttew & ‘Not until I have paid Captain gh for his devilment will I yield to the mon- ster death. He shall not e the thousands out of the — Tl kill her first. I’m at war with everybody in these woods, and I'll fight to the death, and die on my foes. But I will not die now! I’m going to live to out every plan I have formed. Oh! if I hadn’t this ras- oy ball in my lungs!” e could speak no more for his limbs refused to support body longer, and with the last as if occa- word, prolonged into a cry of sioned ty ait arrow in vitals, he fell back heavily upon the skins. But he was not dead! There was death in the hand that closed on the covering of the cot. The Apollo was destined to conquer the grim monster in the little cave! CHAPTER XV. NAT SINGS AGAIN. ‘Wao told you that I sing sometimes?” Nightingale Nat looked into the eyes of the girl who at his side. ‘“You have forgotten then that I heard you,” was the answer. The boy was nonplused. “Pardon me,” he murmured, blushing, ‘I have forgotten.” “Tt was upon that night when you were bound to the tree, Captain Dave was guided to your side by the song, and so was I.” “Ah, yes!” the boy laughed. ‘You will sing for me now. Our friends are not near enough to chide you, and I am sure that the foe is far away. Besides, you need not pitch your voice in a high key.” ’ The gentle look of pleading that accompanied the words was irresistible. Nightingale Nat sent his glance around, but saw no one. Five days had passed since the adventure on the cliffs. They were a y distance from the scene of Zimri Paddock’s doom—in a seclud- ed of the wilds of Wisconsin, Shadow-Shot and Gustin were hunting for Captain Rough for reasons obvious to the attentive reader, and the —- couple had promised to await their re- rn. ¢
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Gladly would the boy of the train sing for the fair ; While she looked into his eyes, he lifted his voice in one of those free, wild songs, which he could sing with such simple athos. Her cheeks glowed as he advanced, and conscious that her gaze -was upon him, his face flushed, but not a note quavered. In the song the boy suddenly forgot himself, and lifting his voice to a key which he dearly loved, he sent the song far into the forest, till a thousand wonderful echoes came back from its depths. That loud singing might be ry a even there; but Violet forgot peril in her love for the song, and she did not interrupt it. When the boy concluded and looked into her face, she broke out in rapturous praise of the song and the singer. “Shadow-Shot would scold me if he heard,” Nat said, with a smile. ‘ Can’t you sing?’ “T would not attempt a song after such as yours!” she said, with a smile. 4 an I cannot sing. I picked the song up in the “What city?” _ The ‘“*T lived there once—I am sure I did!” ‘Shadow-Shot says that you came from Chi- cago with your father—Captain Collyer. But hie © pr you leave your mother—that puzzles me ‘*My mother—what do you know about her?” “Not much.” “Nor I. Sometimes I think—no, I cannot tell you what I think. I do not recollect anything about my mother. There was a woman who called me child sometimes, but she never kissed me. I know by this that she was not my mo- ther. Father was never happy. I never saw him smile, and I have wondered if he ever smiled. ere must have been some great cloud between him and my mother. But do not let me talk about this. ill you not sing again?’ Sing again and for her? The boy was willing to give her another song; but before he could make a selection from his repertory, the tramp of a cavalcade was heard, and he seized the rifle that leaned against a tree. “Tt is the old luck!” he exclaimed, glancing at Violet. ‘I always sing the foe down upon me. Look!” The girl did look, and saw, despite the gloami which was settling down upon the forest, the ban of night riders appearing suddenly to them. There was no corer, B.3 eyes of the Vultures had descried the t at ioe j will not !” the boy said, through clenched teeth, and there was dete tion histone. ‘‘ They are the fiends whoattacked our train; they fell upon your father, girl, in these very Bors & I will fight them. back! fly quickly toward the cave. I will cover your re- treat.’ But Violet did not stir. ““T will not desert you!” she said, firmly. ‘We are friends, and as such should stand by each other.” At this juncture the Vultures of the forest suddenly drew rein, and the voice of the fore- most, a great brutal-looking fellow, fell upon the ears of the train. what will do it. the shootin’-irons, an’ we'll take charge of ye fur the cap’n!” Violet looked at her companion as the men- lips. Did he mean Captain Dave? “ Aren’t you goin’ to give in?” he said after a. moment's wai . : The reply was the dropping of Nat’s cheek upon the rifle-stock. The Vulture saw the movement and fell for- ward on his steed’s neck; but as quick as he was, he was too late, for with the crack of the rifle his fingers slipped from the reins and he fell to the ground at the feet of his horse! A cry, startling in its ferocity, greeted the torn iranger’s Seath-shot and like a missile urled from a catapult the Vultures darted for- w Violet sent a ball among their ranks; but it succeeded only in onnding a horse and failed to break the force of the charge. In the of an eye, as it were, the young couple were They fallen into the of fiends whose deeds of daring and f. still told throughout the “8B, r State.” “To the cap’n, now!” said the new leader of Nightingale Nat. the bandits. ‘‘These birds ll make him open his eyes. Bless me! if they ain’t worth ten trains. We’ll get the last bar’l open for this.” The Vultures were not | in riding from the spot and their gallop took them rapidly toward the south. The captives, separated, seated on different horses and closely guarded, had no chance to converse with each other. “Tll never sing again!” Nightingale Nat said to himself for the twentieth time. ‘‘ Songs get a fellow into trouble in these woods. I don’t care particularly for myself, but that girl has got into peril on account of my singing. Rock- ets and pa serpents! I wish I never learned to sing. No! I don’t either, for it does.a person a powerful sight of good sometimes. Tl wait till ’m out of the woods after this.” After rapid riding for several hours, the forest pirates reached a spot illumined by several fires about which human figures were distin- guishable. The scene soon assumed the look of a camp, and the night-riders drew rein in the ruddy ht. ““Whar’s the cap’n?’ demanded the burly leader of the raid. “Thar!” was the reply of a white man, who inted to a hammock swaying gently beneath he boughs of a tree. The leader turned and advanced. **Cap’n,” he said, to the ghastly but anxious face that looked over the edge of the suspended couch, ‘‘cap’n, we must open the last bar’! to- night. fur we’ve brought in two important pris’- ners. The eyes in the hammock flashed fire. ** Prisoners!” his voice was husky. “Yes,” and the bandit turned to a group at one of the fires. ‘* Bring up the birds!” he said. ‘‘ Cap’n Dave wants to take a squint at the leetle ones!” Almost instantly Nightingale Nat and Violet were led from the group, and the eyes of the a in the swinging-bed became riveted upon em. In order to exhibit them plainly to his gaze, one of the freebooters carried a torch in the van. Captain Dave, for this was the identity of the man in the hammock, shut his ashen lips and — his fiery eyes fix = the captives. he thrilling scenes of the past few days had told terribly on the once handsome leader of the Vultures, is cadaverous face, the deep-seti blood-shot eyes, and the nervous twitching of the ae led lips told of mental and bodily an, iolet did not recognize him until she was at the very edge of the hammock. It is not a wonder that she started back with his forest name on her lips. ““T am Captain Dave!” he said, looking at her. “Girl, [owe much of my present awful situ- ation to you. I have madly loved you, girl that But_ there is a man abroad who is bei are. paling you. Do you know what you are worth to him?” The fair avenger shook her head. ‘“‘ Fifty thousand dollars!” was the reply. ~"T never wished to claim it—the reward, I mean. He never will, I am sure. I wish I had that shadow-man here, who sent a bullet into my ee e eyes of the girl sparkled with the tri- umph of revenge. Shadow-Shot did not shoot you,” she said. - “Tt was my rifle that drop you on the neck of your horse. Captain Dave, you slew my father and his people in this very wood, and for five years you lived a lie to me, and kept me from the path of vengeance. Do you believe that I had‘no right to shoot you when I discov- ered that you were the leader of the Vulture band? I would have shot you in the midst of your men if I knew that death should come to me a moment later!” The girl talked in a firm tone, looking straight into the eyes in the hammock. a so it is your bullet that I carry with me ‘Tt is mine!” His bloodless hand crept over the edge of th “Darcy,” he said to one of th scourges, “ give me our pistol!” - ‘ bee pao aoe of ae teabeerps we me was jer m the outlaw’s belt thrust in- to the arg te hand. pfs _ ‘What have you got to say?’ he said, turn- ing his burning gaze — the boy. 7 You ran off with my horse not long ago, I believe.” _“* And if it hadn’t been for certain things that night, you would not be here to take the life of an innocent girl.” ‘Ts that all?’ sneered ey ta Dave. The boy stubbornly shut his lips. “T have a mind to make you sing!” the out- law said. “Try it!” was the banter. “Oh, you wouldn’t, eh? I guess you’d make the w ring if I held a pistol at your head and commanded you to treat us to a song. But [ll not bother you.” = fingered the hammer of the pistol as he e. “The same — who wants the irl wants you, but not for the same purpose!” he contin- ued, addressing the Nightingale, ‘I am going to see that he gets neither!” oa turned upon Violet as he uttered the last word. ‘‘T lived a lie for five years, eh?’ he flashed. ‘Well, I lived it completely, didn’t I? Your bullet is going to be the death of me. Before many days Captain Dave will not live in these woul but in the minds of some people he will live forever. That shadow-man has left me— the only one of the twenty-three who fell oe your father’s train. He*must have escaped that night.” ‘He did!” said Violet. “T always — so. Captain Rough sees fifty thousand dollars in you, but he’ll never touch a dollar of it! ha! ha! It hurts me to the death almost when 1 laugh. My hands are get- ting tired of this pistol.” e said no more but raised the wea There was murder in the eyes of the dying bandit. ‘Hold on, thar!” cried a rough voice. ‘I’ve got a bead drawn on your head, Cap’n Dave. vy the saints! you’ve got more lives than a cat! The outlaws turned toward the sound of the startling voice. As for Captain Dave, he lowered the pistol and raised his eyes. ** It is Captain Rough!” he said, and he low- ered his voice as he glanced at his lieutenant. “Darcey, you must kill that man out there!” “T want no fooling!” came the same strong voice. ‘‘ Vultures, if one of you move I'll burst our cap’n’s brain-pan! Cap’n Rough has meant bodinem all his life!” With one accord, the outlaws looked at their leader. What would he do? CHAPTER XVI. IN A TIGHT PLACE. THE man who uttered the threatening words which startled Captain Dave and his band, sat on a horse —_- the shadows that lay beyond the light afforded by the fire. His cheek rested on a rifle and the polished barrel of the deadly weapon was raised to a level with the Apollo’s head. The man was Captain Rough. His movements since his struggle with Sharp Knife, the Crow, do not possess cient inter- est to lay them before the reader. Suffice it to say, concerning them, that he had not crossed the path of the Vultures, and that he had been able to elude the eager hands of Shadow-Shot and Jack Gustin. Darcy, the lieutenant, when commanded by his chief to get behind Rough and dispatch him, was prevented from moving by the last threat. If an outlaw stirred, the life of Captain Dave, even then hangin by a slim tenure, might be sna by the villain in’s rifle. ‘““What do you want?’ asked Captain Dave, at last, looking toward the west and vainly try- ing to make out the exact position of the man. : Why, the gal, of course!” was the reply. ** And the boy, too?” ; 2 “No! you may empty your pistol into his carcass.” The Apollo looked at Nat. ‘* What do you think of that?” ‘“‘ He never liked me!” the singer said, with a smile. ‘‘ We couldn’t get along on the train, I wish I was out there for a few moments.” Captain Dave saw the flashing of the boy’s eyes and wished as much himself. ‘* What if I don’t give the girl up?” the White Vulture said, wying his man. “Refuse and I'll burst your brain open!” The Apollo bit his li ** Will you go with that man?” he said, turn- ing to Violet. ~ glanced at Nightingale Nat, but did not reply. t And leave my friend here?” Yes.” “ “T will not go!” — \ “Hurry up!” cried Rough, growing impa-
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ee tient. ‘‘I,ean’t sit here all night. What are you going to do?’ “The girl will not go of her own accord,” Captain Dave said. ‘‘ One of my men will con- duct her to you.” ‘* Well, be quick about it. My fingers are get- tin’ uncommon nervous on the trigger, an’ they might touch the shootin’-iron off.” he forest Apollo miade a sign to Darcy, who leaned forward and clutched Violet’s arm. “A change of masters, my gal,” he said; and he added, in a whisper: ‘‘ You may thank your sais that Cap’n Rough opened his mouth when he did. But the girl shrunk from the outlaw, tearing por og from his gripe and forcing her horse ack. **No! no! I will not go to that man out there and leave my young friend with Captain Dave.” ** Well, how are you goin’ to help yourself, my little catamount?’ cried Darcey, roughly, as the rest of the band laughed audibly at his mo- mentary discomfiture. ‘If I say go, go you shall! All the powers that are cannot prevent im ge I say, and by-the stars, my bird, ‘go’ it is The lieutenant pressed forward with out- stretched hand. His eyes were fastened on Violet. “No resistin’! I’ve wrung necks as purty as yourn. Come! come! my dove!” The words were lost on the forest girl, for, with the quickness of thought, she drove her horse toward the lieutenant, and tore a pistol from his belt! The suddenness of this startling action ap- palled every spectator. The Indians looked on with gutturals of surprise, and oaths shot from the throats of the white outlaws. She reached Nightingale Nat’s side in the twinkling of an eye and grasped his bridle-rein. “Stand back!” she cried, leveling the pistol at the maddened men, who looked through the eyes of wolves upon her. ‘‘ Do not lift a hand. I'll drop the first one who does.” She turned quickly and spoke sharply to the | horse that bore the boy. The next moment they were off. “Great Cesar!” ejaculated the man who sat in the shadows. ‘I never thought the girl had such grit an’ judgment as that. They will not follow! Captain Dave has fainted in the swingin’- bed. I will catch the fugitives. I’m in luck, fur I can shoot the boy when I come up, an’ have the gal all to myself.” Captain Rough lowered his rifle and gathered up the reins. fle saw the outlaws flock around the hammock back into whose depths Captain Dave had fallen with a groan. e knew that their solicitude for his welfare would occupy them for some time. He resolved to follow the young fugitives. Wheeling abruptly about he was muxprised to find his own bridle-rein in the gripe of a dark figure that darted from the dense shadow of a tree. The steed, frightened by the apparition, shied to the left. ‘*Who are you?” Rough demanded, as his quick hand darted a pistol. ‘“Shadow-Shot, at your sarvice!” was the re- ply. ‘‘ We’ve been huntin’ you, cap’n. You war goin’ after the leetle ones, eh? That gal played a sharp trick on Cap’n Dave, didn’t she? No cussin’, my bird, fur I git narvous like when I heard such words, an’ my finger’s on the trigger now. Rough’s hand crept reluctantly from his belt. He saw himself a captive in the hands of the death-shot of the Wisconsin woods, ‘*Come, Jack! fetch up the horses.” From the right a man approached. He sat astride of one horse and led another. “* Tt’s Jack Gustin—one of your men,” Shadow- Shot said, glancing at the captain, into whose eyes a eer of hope suddenly ee: “Jack!” he cried, putting forth his hand. “Why, I thought they killed you when they fell like wolves upon the train, Shake, old boy: _we’ve always been friends,” With a curious smile on his face the ranger grasped his captain’s hand; but the shake had not that cordiality which characterizes the meeting of bosom friends, “You must submit to a bit o’ tyin’, cap’n,” the gaunt hunter said, producing a piece of rope. “It is jest for security’s sake. after awhile we may turn you loose an’ dismiss you with our blessin’!”’ Rough did not resist while Shadow-Shot secured him to the horse, and bound his arms to his side. ** Now we're off,” he said, springing upon the horse which Gustin had brought up. ‘*The leetle ones will not go far afore they stop to take their bearings. How much did you say the gal is worth, cap’n? I heerd you talkin’ to yourself awhile back, How much?—fifty thousand, eh?’ Rough did not reply. “Mute as an oyster,” and the heavy hand of the aker fell upon the captain’s shoulder. ‘Look a here! I mean business, There isn’t any law in these parts; but thar’s a certain amount of justice that strikes oncommon hard. Do you want it to strike you, Cap’n Rough? I want my questions answered. Business is busi- ness. When the time comes I'll let daylight into your brain-shop if you don’t answer the questions which I will ask.” The awful determination revealed in the rough voice of the speaker sent a pallor of fright across the villain’s face. ‘* When the time comes!” repeated Shadow- Shot. ‘‘It may come afore mornin’. Prepare to open your mouth.” No other word was spoken, for the three were pushing through the forest as fast as the night would permit. The camp of the outlaws was left to the right, and its fires disappeared. Jack Gustin’s iron hand held the bridle of Captain Rough’s horse. Shadow-Shot rode a little in the advance. After several hours’ riding the long ranger drew rein and turned to his associate. “The young ’uns may hev gone to the cave!” he said. ‘‘I hear somethin’ down among the rocks. Stay hyar, an’ I'll go ahead an’ recon- noiter.” Rough’s eyes brightened as he saw Shadow- Shot move off, and leave him alone with Gustin, one of the late members of his train, There was a minute’s silence between the two men. | ‘*Jaek,” said the captain, suddenly, ‘‘ we've always been friends.” The ranger smiled. as he turned to listen. “There are fifty thousand dollars in these woods for us to-night. We can make it ours without much trouble. Let us be friends and make our fortunes before we go back to the city.” a iiety thousand dollars!” ejaculated Gustin, “ Whar might that mine in assumed. surprise. be, cap’n?” . ‘Tell me first if you will go with me!” cried Rough, anxiously, but. catching eagerly at hope. “Fifty thousand isn’t to be made every day. Even I could cut a swell in the city with th half of it. It wouldn’t be ‘Old Jack’ at Bur- ley’s any more; the high bobolinks at the nest would have to ‘ Mr.’ me.” “Certainly they would!” exclaimed the cap- tain, ‘‘ You must decide quickly, Jack. Two are enough. Tl share equally, Shadow-Shot might return and spoil our plans.” ‘““Whar’s the mine, cap’n? I’m not the feller to embark in enterprises afore I know somethin’ about ’em.” Rough was chagrinned; he was losing time. “Tt is where the girl is,” he said. ‘She is | worth that to us!” “How?” “Tl tell you as we ride away. Cut my bonds, Jack, an’ let me get a gripe on the lines, Then we'll make a dash for the fortune.” The next moment Captain Rough saw a knife flash in the starlight; his eyes replied to the glit- ter. ** Cut your bonds?” cried Gustin. ‘‘I’d sooner cut your throat. Whar ’re the i what you de- | sarted a few days ago? The Vultures followed as you. knew they would, and butchered every one! D’ye think Jack Gustin is a fool? Cap’n, all the friendship I ever had for you I kin put in my eye, and see as well as ever. Fifty thou- sand dollars! That’ll be the amount on your jail bond when we git you back to Chicago!” The expression that covered the ruffian’s face was frightening in the extreme, From the pinnacle of hope he had been dashed into the pit of despair! He could not look at the honest Gustin, and turning his face away, sought to hide his coun- tenance. ‘“They’re comin’! said the ranger, suddenly, and Captain Rough heard the voice of Shadow- Shot in the forest. The tall ranger soon made his appearance, ac- companied by Nightingale Nat and Violet, whom he had ove en near the cave-home, the scene of several thrilling events in our story. ‘Wal, hyar we are!” cried the hunter, look- ing up into Rongh’s face. “ Cap’n, ain’t it kind in me to bring you the fifty-thousand-dollar gal? An’ hyar’s the little one, too.” The discomfited man did not reply; a dark — — Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. —_—s - — — —s 7 —=e scowl settled on his face, and he tried to look away. “The time is hyar!” continued Shadow-Shot. | “Now, Cap’n Rough, look at that boy an’ tell him who he is!” But the stubborn man sealed his lips, There was the sharp click of a pistol-lock, ‘‘No foolin’, cap’n! I mean business!” CHAPTER XVII RETRIBUTION! SHADOW-SHOT moved nearer the captain as he uttered the last word. Nightingale Nat, with his eyes full of wonder- ment, imitated his protector’s example. “Now! tell us all!” the ranger said. ‘‘ Who is the boy?” “His right name is Winfred Maxton. His father is dead—has been these thirteen years. His cousin, Geoffry Nixon, is spending the money that belongs to the boy. tn his baby- hood, the chap was stolen an’ taken from Chica- go. By an’ by the man who was raisin’ him moved into the city, an’ began to manufacture fireworks. Do you recollect that, boy ?” ‘* Yes!” cried Nat, eagerly. ‘‘ He is telling truth!” he said to Shadow-Shot. ‘Which is jest what we want. Go on!” “Geoffry Nixon found out that the boy came back like a piece of queer. He hunted me up, but he saw British John, the fireworks-maker, first. I agreed’ to bring the boy into these woods and lose him, Our ip to the copper mines was a sham, for some fellows appeared to be watchin’ me. I-did bring the boy here, an’ he lost himself!” Captain Rough smiled faintly at the attempt at humor on his part, and ceased. “That's all?’ said Shadow-Shot, laconically, Rough nodded. “You didn’t fracture your own character much, cap’n. Are you sure that you war only to lose the boy in these parts? Now wasn’t thar somethin’ said as to how you war to lose him?” The caged man turned pale again. ‘“Of course Geoffry Nixon might think that a boy lost hyar might git back to Chicago, an’ upset his arrangements, Now wasn’t thar to be some young blood spilled?” *. Yes!” issed Rough. ‘‘But I wasn’t to do =~ it. “Oh, no! You wouldn’t harm a fly. Look byar... I'm huntin’ fur evidence what will stand inlaw. You war to do it yopnelt. pat guilty look of Captain Rough betrayed im. ** We'll see if you will tell the, same thin’s | when we get Mr. Nixon into the clutches of jus- tice. . We'll face you with the fireworks-man.” ‘“ What! are you going to take me back to the city?’ cried Rough. “Of course! Don’t you want to go, cap’n? Old cronies back thar; most. of ’em in jail, I “That is not fair, after what I have said. Leave me here to die somewhere in t wilds.” ‘‘'You’re not needed hyar: they’ve got a Cap- tain Dave—that is enough. You’re wanted in Chicago—wanted badly, cap’n, at two of the courts.” . The last speaker was Jack Gustin. ‘Let me say a word!” “*Sartainly, gal,” said Shadow-Shot, lookin at the fair speaker, whose face was aglow with anxious excitement. “Captain Rough, you say I would be worth fifty thousand dollars to you,” Violet said, fastening her eyes upon the ruffian. “Not that much, perhaps,” he answered. “Those two men will get ig ted can for you, depend upon that.” shadow-Shot’s eyes sparkled, ‘‘ That’s a lie, cap’n!” he said. ‘If the gal’s mother is livin’ back she an’ Jack an’ me wine charge a cent. ..Now, is she livin’?’ “Yes. ““My mother. living!” cried Violet. “ Oh, what joy I will bring to her heart before long.’ The party who composed the interesting Soup sat on their horses at the edge of a Saath an in the light of a full moon just rising over the horizon’s rim. The expressions of their faces were clearly vis- ible and quite various. The eyes of Ruffian Rough moved restlessly in their sockets. He abominated the thought of going back to the scenes of his.crimes as a prisoner. In the courts his agreement with Geoffry Nixon would be made known, the story of his desertion of the train would be told by Jack Gustin, and the doors of the State prison would be swung open to welcome him. Not only all this, but he was losing the oppor- as rt
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————EE———— tunity of delivering long-lost Violet Collyer to her mother’s arms, and reaping a goodly sum of money for the act. If he was free, he would not give up hope. The trails that led tothe city on the lake were long and toilsome. He could follow the quartette before him, and at last, tri- umphing over every obstacle, carry Violet to Chicago, and pocket the money a yearning mother would give for her child. Freedom and gold! The thought went like an arrow through Cap- tain Rough’s avaricious heart. _All at once he threw his body forward on the horse’s neck, and yelled madly to the beast. The cry was enough to startle any animal, and, with a snort of mingled fright and pain, for the captain plunged the spurs into his flanks, he dashed away. A cry of astonishment burst from the lips of the spectators. “ Stay thar!” yelled Shadow-Shot, as he whirl- ed his own steed, and darted after the ruffian. Captain Rough, bound hand and foot as he was, could not guide his horse. But he continued to apply the spurs, caring little whither he was for the present borne. _ Shadow-Shot at last began to gain on the fly ing man. His unnatural position in the saddle told on his horse, The animal kept in the moonlight, eschewing the darkened forest, and keeping up his speed as well as he could. Suddenly the handsome horse stopped, and started back with a wild snort of surprise. The ranger drew rein and listened. e heard the neighing of a horse which came from the forest not far from Captain Rough, and that ruffian’s steed replied. The captain straightened in the saddle and turned his face toward the wood to see— A sudden flashing of rifles, and to fall for- ward upon his horse’s mane! ‘“‘Jehosaphat!” exclaimed Shadow-Shot, half blinded by the sudden flash. ‘‘I reckon the Vultures have paid off an oldscore: they ’ll pay another, perhaps, if I don’t get back.” Brave as he was he stood not upon the order of his going; but whirled and rode back toward the others, anxiously awaiting his return. He did not see the score of forms that gather- ed around Captain Rough, and cut him from the saddle. Not a word of pity fell from their lips; on the contrary, he was hurled to the ground with real forest brutality. He lay there like one dead until two men took a human body from a horse and placed it at his side. ‘‘ They look alike!” said several voices. ‘ Jest as if they might be brothers.” Did the words cause Captain Rough to start? With a groan he opened his eyes and saw the dead cy beside him. Starting at the sight, he raised his own body on his elbow and looked down into the handsome but pallid face. “Dead!” he cried. ‘‘ We swore once that we would never recognize each other again; but ou are dead, and I’m goin’ to break my oath fore I die. My brother! may God pity—” He said no more, for death, the relentless monster, put forth his hand, and Ruffian Rough fell forward upon the cold face of his brother, Captain Dave! he Vultures, red and white, exchanged looks of surprise; but did not speak. In the middle of the night, with the starry girdle of heaven above them, lay the forest cap- tains—their days and nights of crime passed forever, and justice cheated at last. But it was the tardy justice of the courts. That forest retribution, dark and stern, had overtaken them in their t. One beautiful afternoon, several days after the scenes just recorded, the voice of some one singing in the wilderness of Wisconsin filled the air with melody. The singer was a handsome boy, who rode a horse with gallant grace, and whose wealth of lossy hair was the only covering of which his Feud could boast. At his side rode a beautiful young girl of his own age with her large lustrous eyes with love and admiration upon him, —— he sung with all the ardor and zest of yout . C Just ahead of the happy twain, a of horses bore two men who looked like backwoods r rs. ne he leetle one kin sing to his heart’s con- tent!” said one of the men, glancing over his broad shoulder, ‘‘I wouldn’t stop him for the world. Sing on, my leetle chap, fur you hev yourself into a fortune, an’ a pretty wife. Jack, we'll stir the animiles when we git to Chicago!” Nightingale Nat. Long and loud did Nightingale Nat sing the song of rejoicing, for the dangers which had environed him in the forest were over, and the city of his destination was not far away. he arrival of the little party at Chicago did create a commotion in well-known circles. A mother pressed to her heart a daughter whom a husband had dragged from her, into the forests of the North-west, and one Geoffry Nixon aman of wealth, saw his ill-gotten estates fall into the hands of the resurrected heir! Here let us end our story. The Vultures, after the death of the forest Apollo, ceased to act as a band, and the roads that led through the wilderness became high- ways of travel. ightingale Nat, as we will call our young hero to the en took possession of his fortune and entering Dusiness life in earnest, added much to it. In time he led Violet to the altary and thus in the great city of the West was happily consummated the love born in the hours of forest peril! As for Shadow-Shot and Jack Gustin, the whirl of city life swallowed them up to the world, but our young lovers never lost sight of the courageous twain. * Their forest deeds did not pass unrewarded; but the memory of the two captains—the strange brothgrs—died long ago! * "THE END. 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Contents of No. 1. Whoa, Emma (new version), Ten minutes too late, Miss Gruber’s boarding house, See that my grave’a kept green, The man in the moon ts looking, love, “-'Twixt two stools a man goes to the ground,” Let the ey alone, They all do it, My pretty red rose, Rose of Killarney, Johnny, you've been a bad boy, Whoa, Emma (original version), Angel Gabriel, Come, gang awa’ wi’ me, The railroad engineer’s song, Molly Bawn, Cheer, boys, cheer, I knew that I was dreaming, Auld lang syne, * Clicquot,’ Landlord, fill your flowing bowl, A good time coming The nightingale’s trill, Co-ca-che-lunk, Poor Jack, Hoop ia, Under the willow she’s sleep- ing, They borrow, but never return, Sweet by an by: Land of my birth, Why can’t I have a beau? Roll out! heave dat cotton, The butcher boy, b mongnen ee papa, ay an Ppy, The hazel dett The vacant chair, Tom Bowling, I muse on thee, Pull down your vest, Rhine vine Sharley, Who will care for mother now? Heather Jock, “Crooked whis y ready, Jim, the carter lad, The drunkard’s raggit wean! Twinkling stars, The Marseilles 1 bap Put me in my little bed, The old English squire, Lord Lovel, Billy Larkin. Contents of No. 2. Captain Cuff, h, You make me la When the pigs My vife is so awfully Babylon ts fallen, The fields of home, to fly, thin,’ A cushla gal mochree, Robinson Crusoe, be by one they crossed the ver, The march of the Cameron men John Chinaman, Bitter beer, The style in which it’s done, Constantinople, The five cent shave, Jimmy’s wooing, Gentle Jennie Gray, I’m looking at you now, FIFTY OR MORE SONGS IN EACH ISSUE. I know when I've enough, George Constantine McKeown, The merry widow, The Donegan light guard, The pilot, Norah, the pride of Kildare, Sweet vision of childhood, Home again, Shall we ever meet again? You get more like your dad every day, The cracksman’s chant, Take it, Bob, Dandy barber Joe, Captain Spike of the musketeers Limburger sheese, Uncle Tom’s lament, Up and be doing, The heathen Chinee. Within a mile of Edinboro’, peme Lullaby, The cork leg, The soldier's tear, I’m lonely |since my mother died, Pull down the blind, What were all the world without Thee? The king's highway, Captain Jinks, The O’s and the Me’s, A motto for every man, Her bright smile haunts still I'm a b’hoy, Little waxed mustache, The steam arm, Single blessedness a fib, uit dat ticklin’ me he ype solitaire, May the best man win, Beside the sweet Shannon. Contents of No 3. The Gainsboro’ hat, Hildebrandt Montrose, Mary McGinnis I do feel so awfully loose, Is there any such place? Cackle, cackle, cackle, Bold Robin Hood, He isn’t as rich as he used to be, Bryan O’Lynn, He was such a nice young man, Human nature Billy Grimes the rover, Sing! sing! sing! Terrance Muldoon, The fireman’s boy, The summer of love, The runaway mare, Peter Gray, Mary of the wild moor, Song of the locomotive, Coaxing with a kiss, Lager beer song, Our army and navy of blue, The roast beef of old England, Massa’s in de cold groun The timid awkw: squad! Nancy Lee, Pink dominoes, The boulevard, {t’s nice, Mine host! mine host! come T’ll be watching for you at, etc. hither! dd My brudder gum : God bless the little church, ete. Only a flower there, The low back’d car, > It’s naughty, but it’s nice, | Llove my native land, The Campbells are comin’, I’m in it The Yankee boy, ary Avourneen, The fighting dog, | Red, white and blue | When the flowers fall asleep, Wake! Dinah, wake. The brave old oak, | Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew, Camptown races, Why have my loved ones gone? A national song, Ee biarney, Papa says I may, Sprig of shillelah, rs al we know each other there? Gor by, John, Old folks at home, Father will settle the bill, Whisper it softly, Hail to the chief, Little maid of Arcadee, Juanita, r Never despair, Contents of No. 4, Johnny Morgan “Fifth avenue George,” The king of trumps, Broadway promenade, Little green vail, Oh! you pretty blue-eyed witch, Sparkling moselle, Looking back, The ocean burial, The Brooklyn fire, After toiling cometh rest, The miller of the dee, A starry night for a ramble, Pop goes the weasel, “Our boys,” The minute gun at sea, Down the shadowed lane she goes Lather and shave, Good-by, Charlie, Good-by till I see Ste again, The other side of Jordan, Mollie Brady, Par excellence, Few days, Row, row, In her “ little bed ” we laid her, Iam waiting, Essie dear, You never miss the water, etc, “T cannot sing the old songs,” Whisperings of love, The old oaken bucket which hung in the well, Bashful young man, “Put the brake on when, etc. The rollicking old man, There are kisses waiting for me, eine wih girl eighing with m 5 The monks of old, Home, sweet home Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, Hard times, Rory O’Moore, Auld Robin Gray, Old Rosin the Beau, The fine old English gentleman, The fine old Dutch gentleman, The fine old Irish gentleman, The spider and the fly, peceqred violets, Rosa Lee, ee Rowen’, és pring, gentle spring, Over the left success, The mocking bird, The stylish servant girl, Star-spangled banner, Nelly was a lady, The Irish regiment. | Ridin’ in a railroad keer, Darling old stick, Rob Ridley, Contents of No. 5. I'll strike you with a feather, / | epee! eyes, ~ 3; ' The star that leads'to thee, “There’s nothing succeeds like | Flow gently, sweet Afton, The household clock, Come to the ole gum tree, Sleeping, I dreamed love, “Our laddie’s dead, Jem,’ Oh! I shall call dada, Buttercups and daisies, Fair Rosabelle, Annie Laurie, Call her back and kiss her, Tilda Horn, ‘Twas like a spirit’s sigh, Bessy was a sailor’s bride, My heart’s in the Highlands, sOcky. hat and feather, Say, bird of summer, Jeannette and Jeannot, ’T was rank and fame, The answer, A sailor’s life for me, Kitty Kimo. The way to Uncle Ned, The pirate’s serenade, Battle of the kegs, Silver moonlight sea, Isle of beauty, “Sparkling Piper Heidesick,” No one to love. He led her to the altar, Come where the moonbeams linger, The belle of the ball, The sweet, sunny smile, etc, Ship a-hoy! My dear old mother, Be sure you’re right, ete. Woodman, spare that tree, Ten o’clock ; or, remember, etc. My eye and Betty Martin, Sword of Bunker Hill, Kate Kearney Answer to Kate Kearney, The sea king’s burial, Good news from home, Since Terry first joined the gang, A bit of my mind, I never refuse, The old man’s got to GO, Lord Bateman and fair Sophia, To the love of my youth, etc. , Eulalie, | Don’t marry your mother-in-law, ' True blue, and seventy-two, A thousand a year, Twenty years ago, Rather too “ heavy ” for me, Be kind to thy father and mother, Jamie! | Gentle Annie, “ Strike the iron while it’s hot,” Contents of No. 6, | George, the charmer Wait till the moonlight falls on the water, “John Barleycorn is a hero bold, Keep on kissing me, I want to go home to mamma! | Kicking a man when he’s down, | Nelly Gray, | Silver stars are softly gleaming, Mulcahy’s home age n, | Miss Malony’s bal “A lock of my mother’s hair,” Alas! my love’s away, Over the mountain, “The scamp,” - Answer to a thousand a year, Ben Bolt, Poor old slave, Roger O'Malley, | By the sad sea-waves, | Song of Blanche Alpen, | Away down East, } Sweet long ago, | The little blacksmith, | ae, Bly. | A life on the ocean wave, | Rock me to sleep, mother, be happy, Sold by all newsdealers, five cents each; or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of six cents per copy. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, N. Y, BEADLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. 1 Deapwoop Dic By Edward L. eeler 2 YELLOWSTONE JACK, 8 Kansas Kine. B 4 Tae Wiip-Horse Hunters. Reid 5 VacanonD Jor. By Oll Coomes. aif 6 Brut Brppon, Trapper. By Edward 8. Ellis. Tue Prince oF THE Roan. wt Sere? Buffalo Bill By Capt. Mayn 21 Frontier ANGEL. B 2 Tre Sea SERPENT. 23 Niox o' THe NIGHT. 24 Diamonp Dink. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. . 25 Tae Boy Capra. By Roger Starbuck Edward 8. Ellis By T.C. Harbau Col. Juan Lewis Oe 89 D : 5c. | 26 CLoven Hoor, tHE Demon, By Edward L. 7% Tue Fiyina YANKEE, By Col. Prentiss In- s sem J 10 Nav Topp, 11 THe Two DETEcTIVEs, 12 GuLLIvEeR’s TRAVELS. . 18 Toe Dumps Spy. By Ol 14 ALADDIN, ... 15 Tue Sea Cat. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 16 Rogryson CrvusoE 19 Tue Puantrom Spy. 20 a Daaesrs. By Edward 8. Ellis. . By Albert Comes Buffalo Bill By Edward L. W. Aiken. “-* Geo 81 K 84 OrEGon Sot. By Ca t. J. F. 85 Win Ivan, THE vt 32 Bos Wootr, T Wheeler anal, ‘By Oll Coomes HE BorpEeR Rurrtan, By Ed- ward L. Wheeler... ......-.. - 1. 33 Tue OcraAN BLoopHounp. . Adams LAUDE DuvaL. No, 4 of the Deadwood Dick Romances. By Edward L. Wheeler... . : 36 Tae Boy Crown. By Ifrank 8. 42 Tum PHantom 44 Ratruine Rune. 45 OupD AVALANC By Edward L, 46 G@ 87 Tae Hippen Lopes. By T.C. Harbaugh 88 Nep Wy.pr. By Texas Jack ore EATH-F'ACE, THE DeTEcTIVE. By Edward L. INER. By Ed. L. Wheeler _ 423 Dick Dar.ina, THE Pony Capt. Frederick Whittaker... .. LAss-Eye, THE GREAT SHOT By Capt. J. F. C. 47 NIGHTINGALE Nat. Clear the way, | Brown eyes has that little maid. en, Dear mother, I’ve come home t«. e, Lanigan’s ball, Don’t you dare to kiss me, Joe! Oh, merry hours! I wish I was in Dixie’s land, I've only been down to the club, The merriest girl that’s out, Sa did, Katy didn’t, Finigan’s wake, “Unsophisticated love,” l really don’t think Ishall marry. Poor t i Beautiful dreamer, ‘ My love is still the same, “Free and easy,” Merry little birds are we, Boy with the auburn hair, Evangeline Vegetable J y Her pretty, smiling face, Never venture, never win! Ada, with the golden hair, The dashing gay brunette, Victorine, Castles in the air, The female smuggler, Kind and true. Contents of No. 7. The belle of Rockaway, Bathing in the surf, Annie of the vale, Awfully awful, Spooning on the sands, Pretty as a picture, Mother, dear, I’m thinking of you That’s the style for me, boys, Little diamond dewdrop, Taffy was a Welshman, Take this letter to my mother, Like a Turk! Never push a man because he’s going down the hill, America, American vocal melody, The blonde that never dyes, Tassels on the boots, My pretty little blonde, The big sunflower, Dat’s der kind of mans I am, Uncle Sam’s farm, Remember you have children etc He knows how to do it, Winter—sleigh-bell song, What is home without a mother, ake gre | and drifting, Bear it like a man, The rol making, rams, Grease the er ddle, birdie, etc, “Pulling hard ‘against the si 4 The Mulligan guard, Pretty lit rimrose, I know you'll be true to me, etc., The blue and the gray, | Lhold the winning hand, ‘ake your coat up to your uncle, The old folks are Rone, Oh, George! beautiful George! | Ob} I'm going home, The little ones at home, Wait for the wagon, The belle of Pleasure bay, Ev inch a sailor, Would oe if you were me? Cr ane, Speak to me, speak, Stick to your trade and be true, Widow Machree, I’ll remember you in my prayers, Marriage bells, . Fin es 9 the fire, Come, maiden, with me, River. By By Harry St. George ee THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR, eeler ¢ OF THE West, Adams. .. ee By T. C. Harbaugh ..... SS 8 EF SEER BS 48 Buack Jown, THe KOAD-AGENT. By Jos. E, Badger, Jr. Ready June 25th A new issue every week. Beadle’s Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS Publishers, 98 William Street, N. Y.