Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 542) (1887 12 13)
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“a YY oe yo A AY 2 yy Aw , : y \ \\) \ \ ‘ Y CK \ \ ~ ha . =. gy CWO WA Ua Se ont om my fi) eS | re \ ida am (UA VO Vly zee Entered at the Post Omice at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyright, 188%, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, __ December 18, 1887, $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, No 542 a Year. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. BS \ a) YS AS \ ¢ SY aN VAN eee \\\A RY Ba \\ ) \ y | EY MW) 1, INUf a WE i MM Mili I } \\} | ANY a) | ali) Ai) W Na Win) : \\ WHAT | ie div 0! \ PIMARRON JACK'S LAST HUNT A Romance of the Great Plateau, BY FREDERICK DEWEY, AUTHOR OF ‘*CIMARRON JACK, THE KING PIN OF RIFLE snots,” ‘* TANGEMUND, THE DESERT DETECTIVE,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. . THE PHANTOM. On the ninth day of July, 1849, a meza of the Colorado River, usually quiet and deserted, was the scene of a startling and alarming incident— startling because of its incompreheusibility, and alarming from its being of a supernatural nature, Lest the contemporaneous and consequentiy practical listener, should smile with modern iy | ' Wy \\\f | MANNE \W Hiei \ ‘ii Nee NAAN j Nil LIGHTED BY THE BRIGHTEST, MOST TIMID, AND SOFTEST BLUE EYES JACK HAD EVER SEEN,
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2 The Canyon Fards. scorn at the simplicity of the idea ‘‘ supernat- ural,” let me state here and now that the inci- dent was witnessed by a confirmed skeptic, one of the most doubting and incredulous of prac- tical men. He was also a party to it; at first doubting, then perplexed, and lastly a thor- ougiiiy scared man. Tt was high noon on the meza of the Colorado —high and dry, for it was the summer solstice and the middle of the dry season. Away over the flat table-lands adjoining the river canyon, the veat rose in shivering liquid waves from the drie.t and baked earth, “Heat—drought! two fit com)mions, and the invariable frequenters of the Colorado River plateaus. ‘The ravine-traversed meza (table) contiguous to tue main canyon, was devoid of verdure, save here and there, where grew stunted and isolated clumps of the wild sage. So scanty in its foliage, so bare in its desolation that even its most constant frequenter could find no shel- ter under it—the gigantic hare—the ‘‘ jack-rab- bit.” With the exception of this sage-brush the meza was bare and yellow, miles from human haunts, quiet and ghostly—a deserted land. It was a dreary place and its numerous frightful chasms only served to make its dreariness more apparent; the only redeeming feature in the wholes landscape for miles, being a distant and higher plateau where the verdure was more juxuriant and still retained a resemblance to its natural color, Near the brink of a deep chasm, one of the many that joined the river at right-angles, was a small camp. It was evidently the halting- place of a band of hunters or explorers—prob- ably the latter, ‘for the accustomed observer would have instantly pronounced the camp a ** facigue-outfit’’ from its compact and sparse dimensions. A small and well-worn tent was languidly fiup ping its patehed sides in the steady breeze— the only shelter in case of inclement weather. Bei le it were several bundles of blankets ready baled for a sudden decamp; a solitary rifle leaned against one of them: a saddle and ac- companiments lay near at hand, while scattered about the shady side of the tent were a number of tin dishes, looking asif carelessly arranged for a meal, Bustling about a small fire was a short, sandy- haired man of thirty or forty years, with a meager, bronzed face, and sharp gray eyes set close together. With his shirt-sleeves turned up to the elbow, thereby exposing a lean, skinny arm, but well-lined with muscle, he was, while endeavoring to coax the fire, the very personifi- cation of fretfulness. His whole aspect was that of a man keen and discriminating, with plenty of practical sense, but over given to sul- kiness. He was dressed in a ragged suit of Kentucky jean, the nether portions of which were consiu- erably in need of repair—so were his boots, for his toes protruded from the ripped uppers; while his shock head was crowned by a tattered slouch hat, which flapped annoyingly down over his eyes, causing a running fire of curses the day through, While occupied about the fire he alternately eyed a vicious-looking mustang, picketed close by, and kept up a running soliloquy, which, muttered and indistinct, coupled with the fret- ful tone in which it was uttered, proclaimed finally his disposition. His voice was sharp and uerulous; his words more so: and as he left the re, and mounting an eminence close at hand, looked away toward the north, his tone grew sharper, his face more bitter, and his words ran thus: “Oh, every hair of my blasted head! Whata cursed pickle ’min. They went off and never told me when to get dinner. Told me?—of course they didn’t; though I axed Pedro, and he’s the king-pin of the hulloutfit, Oh, calamity, what a life, what a life! to cook and slave for a pack of gluttons, a pack of lazy, strolling vaga- bonds, who don’t keer what happens to me long’s their stomachs are full of meat and drink. Eh, you old fool—you villain—what dye mean thar/—hi—whoa—whoa—stop, I say! oh, my eyes, he’ll bu’st loose, and then whar won’t he run to? Whoa, thar, you ugly brute.” The last words, uttered in a still shriller tone, were addressed to a vicious mustang. which was dancing and tugging at the entire length of the picket-ropes with fierce pulls, which threatened to uproot the small stake to which it was secured. As every successive jerk caused the frail pin to bend and strain, the coox, Kit Dun- can, saw it would soon break or be drawn from the ground, sohe darted toward the mustang and seized him by the nose, at the same time kicking him violently, Then commenced a fierce struggle. tang was equally wrong-headed and obstinate, tang can; while Duncan, tightly clinching his nostrils, held firmly, at the same time kicking the beast violently. The mustang was active, and struck out sharply at the cook with his fore-feet, striving, as he did so, to tear away from the latter’s clutch; but Duncan held tighfly, and had it not been for an incident which occurred in the brute’s favor would have gained the victory. The mustang, during the brief struggle, had picket-rope, in wild attempts to break away; and the stake, slender and frail, incapable of en- during the strain, at length bent, wavered, and finally snapped. Now the furious beast, freed from the confin- The mus- | | and kicked, plunged and squealed as only a mus- | ' quiet. He waited several minutes more, Then, growing surprised, left the tent and walked out into the plain. The mustang, recovering from his temporary fright bad forgotten his original design of flight, and had halted northward a half mile, where he was calmly grazing. The mare, too, had re- sumed her grass; and a little ashamed at being so easily alarmed, Duncan shouldered the rifle and walked away toward the hill. He had not gone over one hundred yards, and was abont half-way to the base of the hill, when a horseman came suddenly into view, riding over the summit. In a hostile country, Dun- can’s first act was to cover the stranger with his rifle, Had the latter made any warlike demonstra- tions, he would have been in extreme danger of his life, for the cook would have fired, and as he ing rope, plunged still more violently, and | was anold Kentucky squirrel-hunter, was a good danced about, taking Duncan entirely off his | shot; but the man rode directly toward Duncan, feet; and the latter, feeling his fingers grow | who, on his guard, still covered him, ie for a moment ceased to pull bard on the numb under their tight grip, became frantic at the thought that he must soon Ileose his hold. Apparently, the mustang perceived the lessen- ing grip upon his nose, for, with a vindictive squeal, he braced himself for a final effort. Lowering his body until his belly nearly touched the ground, he stood motionless for a moment; then, with a desperate plunge, at the same time striking out his fore-feet, he overturned Duncan on the ground, and, bounding past him, was free! With a sbril ‘“‘whigher” of triumph, he bounded away from the camp, heading south- ward; disgusted with the dried-up seanty her- bage of the river mezas, he was galloping to- ward the more fertile plateaus, miles away in the south, Ata little distance away, a pack-horse was tethered—an old Spanish mare, lazy, slow and stolid; and as the cook sprung to his feet, de- cided to pursue, and accordingly ran toward this animal with the intention of mounting and giving chase, A second’s reflection, however, convinced him of the folly of so doing, for the mustang was very fleet, while the mare had been stiffened and abandoned as a saddle-horse, long ago, So, he stood with an inflamed face, swearing like a trooper, watching the fast-retreating mustang as he galloped away. The latter, however, did not go far; for at the summit of a small knoll he halted short, and tossing his head, neighed wildly, evidently in alarm, then turned to retrace his steps. Ap- arently he saw some fantastic or foreign ob- ject, which caused him alarm, for he waited but an instant in his irresolute posture; then, with another and shriller neigh, he turned_ tail, and came galloping swiftly back toward the cook, who watched him now with satisfaction and glee. ““Ah, you ugly bunch of devilment!” he shrieked. ‘You see the boys, do you? “hey are coming, are they? Ah-ha, my bird—so-ho, my beauty! The Spaniard’s lass’ will soon ke around your neck, and then—° I guess Fll make a big club out of the-tent-pole. Hello! what’s the matter with you, now? What’s got into the old mare?” Withdrawing his gaze from the fleeing mus- tang, he bent his eyes upon the pack-mare in wonder; for the stolid animal, generally half- asleep, and not easily excited, was now with erect head, and pricked-up ears, intently staring at some invisible object, probably the one that had frightened the mustang, ‘“*Something’s wrong!” muttered Duncan, 4s hé watched the mare. ‘Injuns, p’r’aps. If *twas the boys coming back, the mustang ’d have known ’em; so’d the mare, And, by thunder! if twas the boys they wouldn’t be coming from that direction—they would come from just the opposite—due north, No, it can’t be the boys— it’s some one else. I guess I'll hide for a bit.” In the heart of a hostile Indian country, it was the wisest thing to be done under the cir- cumstances; and without further surmising, he took the rifle from its stand by the blankets, and glided into the tent. There was a rent inthe canvas on the south side. Creeping to this, he peered out, having a range of vision which commanded the whole southern plain, and waited for the appearance sof the (as he supposed) invisible enemy. Nothing strange was in sight, The mustang. with flying mane and tail, galloped by, and dis- appeared from his limited vision, Next, just over the knoll, a solitary bird of prey arose, with discordant screams, and soaring aloft, wheeled slowly away. He waited five minutes, nothing came to view from the hill-top. He grew uneasy—it was so | | Duncan’s sharp eye noted the stranger. He was a tall, thin man, dressed plainly, as he could see a neutral-colored garment beneath the Mex- ican poncha he wore cast over his shoulders, His face was that of a dark-skinned man, and was partially hidden by a glazed sombrero which sloucbed down ovcr it. A minute examination of his features was not to be had, as be was some distance away—one hundred and fifty yards or more—and his head was bowed as if in abstrac- tion. His pantaloons were dark, and the lower portions were covered by a pair of cavalry boots, which reached to his knees, terminating in huge flaps which hung down. In one of the boot-legs was a silver-mounted revolver, while a large knife was stuck in the other. The horse was chestnut. in color, was well formed, and looked like an American animal. Without showing any alarm, he came gently on in a slow trot, appearing as if lately ridden on a long journey. Duncan felt uneasy, though he was a brave man and knew no fear, being unsuspicious and extremely skeptical; but, as the horseman rode silently down the hiil toward’ him, and drew nearer, he resolved to keep him ata safe dis- tance, and, raising his voice, called: “ Hello!” No answer; and what was stranger, the horse- man still hung his head. Was he so deep in ab- straction that he had failed to hear the hail? Undoubtedly. So reasoned Duncan, and though from this fact his suspicions in some degrce abated, he called again, still louder: y *¢ Fello !” Still no answer, still no movement on the part of the rider; stiil the chestnut horse trotted on. “Stranger,” and Duncan’s finger pressed hard the trigger, ‘“‘ this is a hostyle country—we al- low no trickery here. Either answer or stop where you are, or I'll shoot. D’ve got a bead on ou.” f No movement yet, The trot of the chestnut horse was still continued, On the slouched hat’s brim slightly moving, Duncan remarked the rider’s eye was vacant like that of a somnambu- list—vacant, staring, and socket-fixed, “Paps you didn’t hear me, stranger; may- be you didn’t—so, once again, and for the last time—fAELLO!” As the rider drew nearer and his face became less shaded, a scowl was visible on his face, and, heavens—such a scowl! 1t seemed as if cast in bronze. Duncan’s face grew stern. 3 “Stranger, you are less than fifty yards dis- tant. I’ve got you covered. Will you stop?” What & scowl—what a stony, frozen scowl it was on the haggard, brown face. How stony and vacant te eye—how horrible the curve of those dark-brown lips, “Once more, ftranger, and the bullet goes. 7t al for Gua's sake—for your life’s sake, halt! The chestnut horss, as he planted his hoofs, left no sound, he stepoed so softly. The rein that drooped from the Srown hand was loose and hangmg down—great God! would not the rider draw it taut? ' “ Stranger, it is the las ~it is over!” The rifle-bullet sped on i*s way, and Duncan heard the dull ‘‘ thud.” of thy ball as it struck the rider’s skull. A slight smoke arose for an instant obscuring his view. Never doubting he had tilled the rider, he cried, psssionately: ‘‘ Ho brought it on himself—his own act! God witness it. I heard the bullet hit his skull—my God, look there!” i Ke started back in surprise, ‘0 filled with wonder he was speechless, as he svw the chest- nut horse still advancing close upon him, any
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- The Canyon Pards. the rider still erect in his seat. Still the head hung down, still the Jean hand held the loose rein, still the horse kept on, within a few feet of the bewildered Kentuckian. Staggering back, Duncan, now alarmed—his courage almost vanished—clubbed his rifle, and struck dumb with amazement and alarm, me- chanically waved it as if to strike, The horse stopped, then walked slowly circling round Duncan, watching him with his steady brown eye, as if guided by some invisible hand, Still the rider, with his head bowed steadily, kept bis saddle, like one in a trance. The lean, brown hand that held the loose rein still rested on the saddle-horn, as the horse turned again and quietly trotted back, retracing his steps, The trot increased to a gallop; it grew into a smart run as be bounded up the hillside; and at last, flying into a cloud of dust, he disappeared over the summit with great velocity, with the quiet rider still bestriding him, yet erect, and never once raising his bent head to look back. The dust settled down again, and the cook, filled with awe, stood watching the hill-top. A shout drew his attention to the camp. Three horsemen were there, two of them in the act of dismounting, while the third, a large man on a powerful black horse, was bringing in a stray mustang at the end of a long riata or lasso. “‘They’ve come at last, thank God!” uttered Duncan, as he walked toward the camp, not without glancing fearfully back over his shoul- der. ‘‘Great Heaven! he never dropped, and nae dead shot, and I heard the bullet strike his skull ! CHAPTER II. A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING, Wuen Duncan returned to the camp, he found his three companions talking excitedly, with gestures of annoyance. Their faces, too, were clouded and gloomy—evidently they were not in the best of humor, The principal and loudest talker was a young man of six feet three in hight, fantasti- cally dressed, and was engaged in removing the saddle from his horse, a beautiful blood-bay. ' He was addressing no one in particular, but savagely tugging at his saddle-girth, was in high ill-humor. The next man was a brownish, wiry fellow of forty years or more, dressed roughly in buckskin, and was standing with his arm thrown over the neck of his roan mustang, idly tearing the soil with one of his huge spurs. oth of these men were well known through- out the Southwest, being famous in their several “lines,” The young giant, Cimarron Jack, was noted for his enormous strength, reckless dar- ing, cunning strategy, and inordinate bragging. The other was still wider known, being none other than the far-famed Simpson—‘‘ Tim Simpson, the Guide.” : The third was a Spaniard or Mexican, tall, sturdy, and weatherbeaten, He, too, was of great courage, strength and ability—a fitting companion for such men as Cimarron Jack and Simpson, He was a Spanish vaquero. and well known to most of our readers—Pedro Felipe.” ‘*T never saw such a fellow!” angrily growled the giant explorer. ‘ The laziest, most careless lout in the country. He don’t care how tired we are—how hungry and fatigued—not he! All he looks out for is himself. Now, here we are, after riding in the hot sun all the morning, back to camp long after noon, to find the coffee boiled away, that tender antelope-steak burned to a cinder, and the cook off hunting jack-rabbits. Curse such a cook! he a cook—ha! ha!” and Cimarron Jack laughed scornfully, Though these sarcastic remarks were addresed to his saddle, which he flung angrily down, Duncan, being quite close, overheard every word, and was well aware to whom they were addressed. He flared up instanter. “ Think I'm a fool, a slave, V’ye? Yes, ’ma fool for ever cooking for such a miserable set, and in doing it Iam also a slave. You grow because you come back and don’t find your slave ready with the dinner, do you? Now after those remarks of yours you can just cook your dinner yourself, for [ won’t! Just put that in your pipe and smoke it, will you?” ‘* What in thunder is the use in gittin’ mad?” cried the guide, himself very surly. ‘‘ There you are on the pararer huntin’ jack-rabbits, while the dinner, left to itself, s iis, of coorse, Then you come back and growl, ’cause we find fault, when you are toblame. Gurse the jack- rabbits! who wants any jack-rabbits?” "See Harty Dive Lisrary No, 313, “Who's been hunting jack-rabbits, I’d like to know?” “You!” * | hain’t!” ‘**'You hev! we all see’d you with yer gun.” re What if you did? was it any of your busi- nessé ‘*Senors, senors, keep cool—preserve your tempers,” and the burly form of Pedro Felipe interposed between the angry disputavts. ‘What! men of your age and sense stooping to indulge in a petty wrangle like children? Senors, Iam truly ashamed. Come, now, don’t quarrel; I am sure Duncan had some good cause to leave the dinner. This is a wild country, you know, and I, for one, will not grumble. Come, all bear a band, and we'll soon have a rough dinner, and then Duncan will explain, [ am sure he will. Depend upon it, Tim Duncan is too careful and faithful to leave a dinner to spoil for the sake of a paltry rabbit—he has a satisfactory explanation in reserve I'll guarantee, Hurrah! now for dinner.” His good. nature and brusque heartiness wero contagious. At once forgetting their idle dis- pute, the guide and Duncan advanced and shook hands, with faces of a deeper color than usual; while Cimarron Jack, lustly roaring a rollicking negro melody, rolled up his sleeves, preparing for a new and better dinner. Pedro went back to unsaddle his black horse and repicket the skittish mustang, while the guide heaped more wood on the fire, Duncan pounded coffee, and Jack sliced off juicy steaks of antelope—dinner was ‘‘ under way.” The repast was discussed amicably, the dis- putants, like other wranglers, being very oblig- ing and social after their quarrel. Jack and Simpson related reminiscences of their ‘* green- horn” days, and lustily roared snatches of un- couth songs; but sharp-eyed Pedro, watching Duncan, noticed bim glance frequently over his shoulder at the knoll, as if in expectation of see- ing some disagreeable object; and, satisfied the latter had a story to relate,which would satis- factorily explain his neglect of the dinner, re- solved to question him at the first opportunity. He had not long to wait, for the cook being sadly perplexed, voluntarily explained. When the last man had eaten his fill, and charging his pipe, lazily stretched himself in the tent’s scanty shade, he faced them all, and said: ‘““We are here to explore Long and Black Canyon on the Colorado River, ain’t we?” Jack sleepily nodded assent, ‘¢ And we have got plenty of time to do it in?” ‘¢ Plenty.” ’ “Just so. Well, I had a yisitor this morn- ing. Pedro knew the explanation was coming. ‘* A visitor—whom?” he quietly asked. ** A dead man.” ** A dead what?” ** A dead man!” ** Nonsense!” ““Upon my life and soul as I ever hope for mercy—either a dead man or an iron one.” Jack and the guide aroused themselves, and sitting upright, eyed Duncan with interest, looking incredulous. The latter proceeded, ‘* Why, you saw him yourselves,” ‘¢ We saw no man,” quietly replied Pedro. ‘¢-You must have been blind, then—didn’t you hear me shoot?” te 7 “‘ Thunder! it wasn’t five minutes after I shot, when you fellers hollered to me from the camp, here.’ ‘¢ Where were you then?” ‘*Over yonder, about half-way to that hill, You must have been asleep or you'd have seen him ride over the summit. Gracious! how that horse did fly. ‘* What horse—what are you talkin’ about?” demanded the guide, janpesiensiy. “Why, that tall dark man ‘on the chestnut horse that rode over the hill just before you hollered.” ‘* Senor, we Saw you three milesaway. All the while we were Coming that distance, (and we rode slowly) you never changed your position, but stood perfectly still. We wondered then what you were dOlIng—when we came near enough to distinguish your rifle, we supposed that you were out after rabbits,” **You say—you—saw me—for—three miles— and I stood—still all—the time?” “Yes; you did.” . *“‘Then, instead of standing there a minute, I stood an hour. No wonder the dinner spoilt.” “You were motionless half an hour, certainly —quite still, leaning on your gun, looking to- ward the hill.” “T stood there for an hour—that’s a fact!” and without further preamble he related the incident, in his honest, straightforward way, from beginning to end, while they listened at- tentively. He finished and sat down, Re Bs, his pipe. Jack whistled softly, and thoughtfully walked to a small keg attached to the pack-saddle, con- taining whiskey. Taking a small stick, he thrust through the bung, and then withdrawing it, measured the depth of the liquor. Then he turned to his companions: ‘It takes a quart to make cook so drunk he don’t know what he’s about—a quart or pretty near it. There’s been no liquor drawn since morning. So he’s been sober, and as he never spins yarns nor lies, what he says is so; he hita tall man on a chestnut horse, square in the head with a rifle-ball at twenty-five yards, and it didn’t drop him. Gentlemen of the jury, he was either a spirit, a dead man, or an iron one; no wonder the dinner spoiled.” An interval of silence ensued, during which the four men smoked and eyed each other quietly; then Simpson spoke: ‘* That thar cook is a skeptic ef thar ever were one—he’s got ter see and know—yes, know, a thing afore he believes it. He saays he see’da dead man ora spirrit, and saays he hit him in the head with a bullet, and it didn’t burt him. Gents, the cook never lies nor spins yarns—be tells the truth.” Duncan was honest, careful, and certain in his speech—he was a man whose word could be relied upon under any circumstances; and they never doubted the truth of his statement. “Well,” said Cimarron, after a Jong pause, ‘shall we postpone the exploration and ferret out this cock-and-bull chap? It will be seme excitement, and this business is devilish dull. What do you say—shall we do it?” Every man promptly assented. “Correct, my lion-hearted minion! ‘ Well begun is half-done;’ shall we begin now#— no time like the present!’ ” “Yes,” was the unanimous cry. ‘*All right. The moon shines all night to- night—we can search until we are tired. Tear my ten-ton heart out, but ’m starving to meet that chap, Hurrah! Saddle up! I’m the cock of the walk!” So saying, he walked to his saddle and placed it on his blood-bay’s back. The rest followed suit, and soon four horses were ready to start. The fractious mustang was to be ridden by Simpson, as the cook, being a poor rider, would have been ‘‘bucked” off the moment he be- strode the malicious beast; and the guide’s roan mustang was always ridden by Duncan on a march. Pedro and the cook were to follow, as nearly as possible, the direction taken by the mys- terious rider, all returning to the camp as a rendezvous. The country being unusually quiet, it was not deemed necessary to leave the camp under other guard than that of the old Spanish mare; and after closely scanning the horizon in all direc- tions, they rode away, the two parties separat- ing at the start. In ten minutes the mare was the only living creature in camp. -Ten minutes more, but two horsemen could be seen on the plain; the guide and Jack having disappeared down a canyon, About three hours before sunset, the figure of a woman appeared on the summit of a distant hill. Seeing the camp, she uttered a cry of joy, and hastened toward it, as if seeking a refuge, Panting with her haste, she flew by the mare, and with a glad, but pale and worn face, en- tered the tent. The afternoon went on toward sunset. CHAPTER III. A FRUITLESS VALLEY, At an hour before sunset, Pedro and Duncan reined in their horses on the border of a dense chaparral, nearly six miles from camp, and close to a lofty hill. This eminence was bition and rough, bearing evident traces of a volcanic formation, and was almost entirely covered with thick bushes, which, vividly green, presented a strong contrast to the surrounding yellow and verdureless country. At the base of tbe hill, as on the extreme summit, there were no thickets —at the former, a natural ‘ clearing” extended in a circle entirely around it. This, however, the two men could not see, as the dense inter- vening busbes effectually hid it from view. “Well,” observed the Spaniard, after briefly gazing at the lonely, silent hill, “so far, so good; we have as yet failed to get a glimpse of this strange prowler. We bave seen no trail— he left none; but, Senor Duncan, unless the ex~. *
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me false, the object we are seeking 1s even now in yonder chaparral.” **Do you think so?” hastily inquired Duncan, somewhat startled at finding his companion’s views brought him into such propinquity with the mysterious rider. ‘‘And if he is, Pedro, shall we enter? What are your reasons for thinking he’s here?” ‘*Doubtless just ones, senor. In the first panes though 1 doubt it, the man may be dead; ut, whether or no, his horse is not, for you, with your own eyes, saw him gallop away. What more natural than a horse, if left to him- self (as he undoubtedly was), should head at once for comforts—good feed, cool water and shelter from the sun? <A horse will go to such a place; and such a place is this, the only one for miles around.” “You ain’t a fool, Pedro, if you do havea dark skin and a foreign accent; but how do you know there’s water here? I can’t see any.” ‘*T smell the water, senor—or rather the mez- quit, which has a strong odor when soaking.” ‘* Pedro, you are smart.” ““T know it; itis not to my credit, however, beyond observing. Just the cleverness which experience always brings tothe observant. Just as I believe if a man is born godly, with no bad qualities, if he lives religiously all his life, he is no better than a knave, if the latter was born with evil traits. Toa man naturally good. it is no credit to live good; but if he struggles to live better, he is entitled to great credit, and is in reality a better man than the one who lives religiously because it is his nature to do so.” “That's a strange doctrine, Pedro— Hallo! looky yender.” And Duncan hastily pointing toward the sum- mit of the hill, in a loud tone uttered the con- cluding words: ‘* Bu’st every buttonhole in my coat, but thar he is!” Pedro looked up quickly. A dark form, clear- ly outlined against the dark blue of the evening sky, wasen the bare an« yellow summit—the figure of a tall, slender man on a chestnut horse —the form of the Rider. As several hours before, the head hung down, and the glazed sombrero flapped over his face in the lazily-floating north breeze. His side was toward them, and his straight black hair tress: gled out from his hat over the brown neck, glistening uncannily. Across the born of the saddle, the dark, lean band still hung, lightly clasping the loose bridle-rein, and his other arm was akimbo. In all respects, he was the same as he had appeared to Duncan. The h and neck of the chestnut horse drooped downward, and one of the hind-legs was drawn up, the tip of the hoof barely touch- ing the ground. His whole attitude was that of a tired animal. Quietly he gazed at the two men below, in the chaparral—steadily, yet cold- ly, as if wholly unconcerned. But he rm his ed gaze upon them, as if, being wholly at leisure, he had nothing to fix his attention and had allowed it to wander vagrantly on them, Both horse and rider were motionless. How they had come into view upon the sums mit without being discovered in the ascent, wa- a question the cavalleros bel?w could not an- swer, and it mystified them. Bus there he was, anyhow, and that was sufficient. edro unslung his rifle, a long symmetrical ‘weapon, which he used very skillfully. Duncan raised the hammer of his Kentucky smooth-bore. “‘Are you sure he is the same, Senor Dun- can?’ whispered Pedro, ‘“‘The same.” Pedro, ergy} a searching glance at the cook, was satisfied the form on the summit was the one they were seeking. He spoke, softly: _. “Takeaim at bis head, Senor Duncan, while I cover his heart. We are both crack shots— can it be possible we will fail to roll him from his saddle?” E Duncan, after attempting it once, very much doubted their ability to do it, but said nothing. ‘“‘T will count three,” resumed Pedro. ; “ one!” Simultaneously the long rifles were raised— their bearers settled themselves in their saddles, “ Two!” Four eyes gleamed over four sights, two of which were covering the drooping head above, while the others were on a dead line with the heart under the dark poncho, ‘* Three!” The rifles cracked as one, They hastily low- _ ered them and peered through the smoke at the summit. There sat the Rider, motionless in his saddle. Perhaps the chestnut horse pricked up_ his éars and tossed his head a trifle at the guns’ re- Ete “ The Canyon Pards. perience of twenty-five years as a vaquero plays | port—perhaps he did, very slightly; but when the filmy vapor dissipated, bis head and neck still drooped, and his hind leg remained lazily drawn up, as he still watched the men below. It was a harmless volley. Duncan glanced at Pedro. Across the swarthy | face gleamed a dark-crimson glow; the blood of the Spaniard was up. Yet his voice was clear aud cool as ever, and his features were calm as he quietly said: ‘**Senor, the gun is not my favorite weapon. We will try the riata—we will give him the lasso,” As he spoke, from his saddle-horn he took the coil of twisted hide which depended therefrom. Settling its nether end yet more firmly around the pommel, he took the coil in his right hand and slid the running noose. Then he turned to Duncan, who uneasily watched him, every second or so casting a swift glance at the motionless pair on the summit, ‘Senor, are you ready? If so we will go.” Duncan nodded assent. Pedro raised his bridle-rein. At the well-un- derstood signal the black horse started toward the hill in his customary swift walk. Just be- fore them a clump of dexse bushes lay in their path, towering above their heads, To pass, they were forced to go around them, and accord- ingly they made the circuit. or the space of not more than five seconds the summit of the hill was concealed from view—barely five seconds, not more; but when they rounded the chaparral and came into view of the summit, they at once drew their steeds in sharply, and an oath escaped Duncan. The summit was bare! CHAPTER IV. PEDRO TALKS SPANISH. ‘* Senor, I say! where bas he gone?” excited- ly cried the Spaniard, with a passionate ges- ture. He asked a useless question; the cook knew no more about it than he himself. For a moment only Pedro Felipe remained transfixed with amazement, mingled with vague, superstitious fear; then his Spanish blood boiJed, and for the first and last time in his life he made use of an American oath, and perigee beautiful dagger, he brandished it to- ward the frowning hill. His black eyes, it seemed to Duncan, shot electric sparks from their raven depths; his heavy eyebrows lowered savagely over them; and in a mixed jargon of Spanish and English he roundly declared he would triumph over the strange horseman or cie in the attempt “Duncan,” he cried. ‘‘ you ride to the left, round the hill, [ll ride on and meet you on the other side. your gun before you start. hence you see that lofty tree yonder, on the plain ‘Yes; it’s on the other side of the hill, a mile away.” ‘“Yes. When you get opposite it, halt in some open place and wait for me, We must not let him escape us. Till we meet adios.” The Spaniard’s spur gently grated the black horse’s flanks as the noble animal, with his rider disappeared in the chaparral. Duncan, greatly excited, struck the spur sharply into the roan mustang, which obeyed the command, and at a smart gallop darted away to the left, The cook, dodging the overhanging branches as he swept along, abandoned himself to specu- lation in regard to the mysterious horseman. What was, he demanded, who was, where was this extraordinary rambler—this unconquer- able shadow that baunted him, and whom it was imposs‘ble to slay? At the word “slay ” he immediately dived into his logic, and, as usual with such divers, came out sputtering, with closed eyes. Once had bis bullet struck his skull—he had heard it: twice as many bullets must have entered his body while on the summit, for he was a crack shot, and Pedro rarely missed his aim. Why did he not fall? If he was hfe- less, the law of gravitation would have com- eg that, if he had not been held to his saddle y invisible means. If he had been alive, he must surely be dead now; if he was dead he was dead, and that settled it; and if he was neither dead nor alive, he was a spirit—a ghost. If he had been alive, he would have fallen from his horse when struck in the head with the first bullet, as he surely was; if he had been dead, he would not have been on the horse: so he was neither dead nor alive, consequently he was a phantom. So deduced Duncan from his argument. “T ain’t excited,” (which was untrue), he cried; I ain’t scared,” (which was the truth)— “T ain’t drunk or crazy, I’minmy right mind, } And, by thunder, ’ve come to a conc'usion PY] stick to: the man is a ghost.” He increased his gallop to a sharp run as he entered a flowery, beautiful glade of an acre or so inextent. Bordering the glade on the opposite: side rose a dense, nearly impenetrable chapar- ral, a dozen feet in hight; and, looking about. him for an opportunity to enter, he drew the raustang in slightly, when the animal, without warning, suddenly sheered aside, unseating his unpracticed rider, who, with his rifle, fell heavily to the ground. ‘* Ha! ha! ha! ha!” A fiendish, discordant laugh shrilly arose from. the undergrowth in front, and ringing with ma- niacal intonation fora few seconds, died away in a hollow echo round the bill. Duncan sat upright and listened, staringly, until the echo was lost, then rose, and carting to his rifle, gras and cocked it. ‘““What the devil was that?’ he muttered. ‘*By my uncle, what a horrible noise.” All was still. The mustang, with pricked-up- ears, stood braced back, and with tossing head was snorting in alarm, and intently staring at the spot whence the wild laugh proceeded. Doubtless he had seen the utterer, who was even more horrible than his noise. The cook proceeded to the mustang’s side, and looking in the same direction, endeavored to: ierce with his vision the barrier-like chaparral; Rot they were too thick and dark—he saw noth- ing. Fie looked over his shoulder uneasily. He was. alone in the glade. All around bim was dark chaparral, gloom, and intense stillness; and the last slanting rays of the setting sun bathed his: head in weird and ghastly splendor, The mustang stamped impatiently; he liked not this ghostly glade. The cook called aloud: “* Hallo!” No answer. y ‘‘Hallo—o! Is there any one in the shapperell that dar’sn’t show his face?” A hare did. First he peeped from the bushes timidly, then, not noticing Duncan, hopped quietly out into the glade. He came from the spot of alarm. Suddenly, seeing the man and horse, the shy animal turned and leaped back into the bushes, and disappeared with a siight rustle. Duncan stared. ‘“By gosh!” he ejaculated, ‘‘’cording to the rabbit, I’m the only one around. For if there was a chap in the bushes he’d have come ont on the keen jump, for that’s the way he did when he see me. By ginger! I don’t understand it; the rabbit’s shy and skeery and has got sharper eyes than me; if there’d been any fellow there he wouldn’t ha’ come out soslow. Gosh! there’s no one there.” As if to further convince him, an owl tie from a low bush where he had been concealed, to a small tree close by, where he plumed him- self, after a fretful croak. Could he bave been mistaken in the noise—in his excitement had he imagined the notes of the screech-owl to be the laugh of a human being? 4 Such would seem to be the case, for if the chaparral had contained a hidden occupant, the suspicious owl would have discovered him and taken flight; and yielding to this latter convic- tion, Duncan blamed himself for being a coward and remounted the mustang. : Hark! a dull report came to his ears—the dis- charge of firearms a mile or more away in the direction of the tree of rendezvous. He listened for an answering report. ; There was none, though he waited five min- utes or more. and seeing a slight opening at a little distance, galloped toward it. j ‘Pedro shoots,” he muttered, ‘and I ain’t there to help him if he’s in trouble. Oh, what a blasted fool and coward I was to stay there so long! Plying the spur, he dashed away through a natural lane in the chaparral, growing weird and uncanny in the fading twilight. He was nearly to the appointed place of meet- ing, and had emerged into a plain covered with straggling bushes, when he saw a horseman a half-mile away, coming rapidly toward him, and dodging the scattering bushes, He reined in instantly. A moment’s glance sufficed him in which to — recognize the approaching horseman, There was tid mistaking the colossal] rider, nor the black steed which so gallantly swept along with him. It was Pedro Felipe, riding like the wind t him. : allo eit a Duncan; “ “gate wrong,” And he gallo to meet him. A few seconds and the Spaniard reined in be He struck spurs to his mustang, |
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Stn ake side him with a force that brought the black horse back on his haunches. He was wildly ex- cited, and his raven eyes glowed like coals. “ Wi cavallero, companero—el cavallero !” he cried, pointing back over his shoulder, ‘¢T)) cabbillaro—nar-ro—ill cabillaro!” snarl- ed Duncan, as choleric asever, ‘Darn it! you know I don’t understand your cussed talk. Speak English, man—what’s the matter? Spit it out!” “The horseman, comrade—he is yonder. There are a dozen more just like him. “What! wa—” “Back!” eried Pedro, wildly. ‘‘ Back to camp! Fly—get the others at once!” and he squirmed in his saddle like an eel. “ But—” ** Vamose!” and the gigantic form of the Spaniard towered above Duncan, as, with flash- ing eyes, glowing face and huge arm stretched forth toward the camp, his voice rung out again: ** Vamose !” ‘*Bommos!” muttered Duncan, watching the Spaniard uneasily. ‘‘I know that—that says, ‘Go—leave!?’ When he talks Spanish, he’s mad.” Wheeling the roan mustang, he darted away like the wind, bound for camp, while Pedro sat watching him. ‘**Bommos!” muttered Duncan, again and again. ‘‘That says, ‘Leave!’ Gosh! how mad he is—never saw him so before. When he talks Spanish, something’s up.” . As the full moon brilliantly streamed its white light out over the mezas, Duncan was out upon the plains five miles from his destination, riding for dear life toward camp, The roan mustang was doing his best. ‘*Bommos!” he cried, in a sort of wild delight to the mustang; ‘* bommos!” CHAPTER V. A BALKED THROW. PrpRo watched Duncan until be was lost to view, then turned his horse’s head toward the late rendezvous. All around him the various noises in the chaparral announced that day had depart- ed. The steady, monotonous drone of nocturnal insects resounded sleepily through the breeze- trembling foliage; an owl boldly hooted from an adjoining tree;,a coyote, yelping shrilly, slunk snuffing along through the glade; andthe Southern lion—the ferocicus jaguar—crept his supple length along, at intervals harshly scream- ing. Various rustlings in adjacent thickets be- trayed the flight of the shy rabbit, under the craving supervision of some gaunt wolf; but though Pedro noticed each and every scream and rustle, be had been bred in similar jungles, and heeded them not. F With his right hand on his revolver, he still kept his steady pace, riding toward the tree, The white moon in the eastern sky glowed and shone with a splendor and radiance that norti- ern latitudes cannot conceive of, making here a silvery, sparkling aisle, here a rippling, shim- mering sea of foliage, and there a grotesque and gigantic shadow, sentinel-like, watching over some fairy glade The stag, as he lightly trod the damp and springing turf, ever and anon pausing abruptly at some fantastic shadow, only to be reassured by a second glance, turned and fled as a moving object crossed bis vision; the figure, boldly out- lined in the brilliant moonlight, of a tall, slen- der rider on a chestnut horse, ~ But Pedro saw neither stag nor horseman— that time was yet to arrive; but swinging along at a swift amble, passed out of the dense chapar- ral into the gleaming plain, Still shines the moon; yet waxes the night; ever the varying yet monotonous din in the jungle continues; and Pedro, warily watching, rode on toward the tree. p 5 The latter stood solitary, ina plain covered with scattering sage-brush and grease-wood— now forming a diminutive but dense thicket— now Only appearing at intervals, and cast by the moon into grotesque and fantastic shadows, gi- gantic in dimensions, ‘ Rounding a small jungle, the Spaniard reined in and scanned the tree, now in uninterrupted view. It was deserted—under its branches no one was visible. He pondered for a moment, then strayed into a rambling soliloquy, idly tapping the stirrup-block with his toe. He spoke in a tone of ppointment, and in his native tongue: F “He no longer is beneath the tree, but has ime where, it is beyond me to tell, This mys- y is gettlng thicker; who were the horsemen, an who were trailing them an hour ago?” The Canyon Pards. f ee ld y ; ea) ae" at five ore Bye ET eT ty Cy wl “Fey ashe RR ae get Hin He paused and reflected a moment, then con- | stant in which the brim of the sombrero was tinued, vagrantly rambling, in and out among the bushes, the black horse snatching a mouth- ful of shrubbery here and there. ‘What will my comrades say when I tell them the chaparral is occupied by more horse- men—desperate-looking fellows, armed to the teeth; that I counted a dozen sneaking after the strange cavallero—the Phantom Rider? Can it be that | have rivals in the chase? rivals whom it may be policy to avoid? Perhaps; I will con- ceal myself at least; it is foolish of. me to ride broadly in this open plain in such brilliant moonlight.” He was turning his horse’s head to ride into a neighboring chaparral a few yards distant. The act was not performed; for, as he was near- ing the shelter, the bushes swayed, rustled, parted; and a horse and rider came slowly out, riding toward him, It was the tall man with the hanging head, riding the listless chestnut steed. The horse of the Spaniard, though bold and courageous, was suddenly seized with unaccount- able fright, besides the start he gave at the sud- den appearance of the horseman; and wheeling suddenly, turned tail and darted away. He did not run far with his rider, for the lat- ter braced himself in his stirrups and pulled hard on the bridle-rein. Under the strong check, the horse soon yielded, and his rider, gathering him up, shook him down once or twice, and soon collected bis senses, ‘ There are probably only three races in the world which fully understand the horse and the manner of managing him: the Arabs, Moors, and Spaniards.. This Spaniard was a rider among riders, excelling in the skill and grace of his equitation, asin the knowledge of the dis- position of horses; and quieted by his magnetic influence, the horse soon recovered his cour- age. It was the first time he had ever run away. Though surprised at the extraordinary alarm of his horse, Pedro stopped not to inquire into it; but turned round and again faced the Phan- tom Horseman. ' The latter was motionless, where he had emerged. Still his head hung down, his body was erect, and the lean, skinny hand clasped the loose bridle-rein; he was unchanged. As on the summit, the horse had drawn himself up, and was standing with drooping head, but stead- ily regarded the Spaniard’s movements with pricked-up ears, : It is momentarily startling to meet at night, in a wild country, a man, unexpectedly; but when that mau has been repeatedly shot at, always struck, and betrays no sign of injury, the feeling grows into one of alarm and positive superstition. For the moment, such feelings Pedro felt, as he paused at the silent rider, who, with shrouded face, seemed to be steadily regarding him. He was face to face with the object he was seeking: the Phantom Horseman. His alarm, however, was momentary, and quickly dissipated. Drawing his bridle-rein a trifle more taut, be gently pressed the black horse with his steel spur. The high-spirited animal,.as if ashamed of his late timidity, in- stantly obeyed the signal, and in his habitual rapid walk approached the motionless form in front, while his master loosened his lasso from its loggerhead. But now the demeanor of the chestnut horse underwent a change, As if animated by a sud- den impuise, he started into an erect position and stamped impatiently. Tossing bis head, with rapidly moving ears, he keenly watched the coming Spaniard, who being now within fifty yards, prepared to throw his lasso. What was the matter with the chestnut horse, generally so listless and heavy? Was he Spanish bred? Was the experience of former captures warning him to beware of that slender coil in the Spaniard’s hands? An American steed would have noticed noth- ing wrong in the loosening of that coiled line depending from the saddle-horn; but a Spanish horse would have instantly fled, knowing to re- main was to be captured, The horse,” however, kept his position, but ‘‘ whighered” uneasily. Pedro still advanc talking to himself: ** That borse is flesh and blood, whatever may be the rider. He is uneasy—perhaps he has been lass’d before. But no—it can’t be; he is pave, American—there is no Spanish stock in m, His muttering suddenly ceased as a stiff breeze swept through the chaparral, lifting the flap of the glazed sombrero on the bowed head in front, Pedro drew rein, sharply. In the in- camp. oressed against the crown by the breeze, Pedro ad a full view of the features, Now they were changed, he knew from Dun- can’s graphic description. The dark, skinny lips were now parted in a derisive, horrible smile, disclosing a set of teeth as white and fanglike as those of a wolf, and which glittered brightly in the gleaming moonlight. Instead of vacant, glassy eyes, Pedro was now quailing beneath the stern stare of a pair of orbs that flashed and scintillated like those of an enraged serpent, and were bent fully upon him. The features, malevolent before, now wore a fiendish scowl; a dark, devilish frown that gave the entire face the expression of a thwarted arch-demon. The wrinkled brow; the sunken cheeks; the horribly-curling lips, all gleamed in the moonlight with a hightened ferocity, and Pedro sbuddered as he gazed upon the face. He stared as if fascinated—it was the first view he had had of the face. Across his swarthy cheeks he felt the blood come and go while the hereditary legends and traditions o centuries thronged in his brains. Old nurses’ stories of demons and goblins; hideous nar- ratives of midnight assassinations in lonely un- frequented places; recollections of ccemrades? experiences—all these were but trifles to the sense of facing to-night, alone, in this wild jungle, the shadow of a specter. Ha! he started back in his saddle. Was not that a movement of the lean hand on the saddle- horn—did not the hideous, horrid head move just then? No; it was only the night wind playing through the straight black hair—the tightening of the bridle-rein as the chestnut steed turned to depart. As the quiet form passed by Pedro on the now slowly-trotting chestnut horse, the brim of the glazed sombrero again lifted, disclosing the face. Now the moon shone broadly upon it revealing every lineament and deep seam; an Pedro, for the instant, covered his face with his hand to shut out the sight. ““Mother of God, what a horrible face!” he whispered, under his breath, ‘‘ What a terrible scowl!” When he looked up, the horse and rider were gliding through the bushes, retreating slowly. Somewhat relieved by the innocuous departure, the Spaniard watched them uneasily. sif en- tirely regardless of his presence, neither horse nor rider turned his bead; but receding toward the hill, they were passing away. He remembered his vow to Duncan, and his raven eye gleamed, : ‘‘Coward that I am!” he eried, recklessly, in a loud voice. ‘* Now,” and he waved his hand menacingly toward the retreating figure, ‘* be you man, ghost, or devil, ll bave you if arm is able to cast the riata. Ho!” he shouted, in stentorian tones, and spurring his horse, ‘* come my horse! show your breeding—ho! for tbe riata!” The noble animal dashed forward in a sweep- ing gallop, and in a few vigorous leaps was within casting distance. The chestnut horse turned his head, then broke into a gallop. “You shall not escape this time!” muttered Pedro, working bimself into a passion, Then he seized bis riata in his right hand, and whirl-- ed it over his head, At this motion, well understood by the horse the latter darted suddenly toward the intended capture, watching the whirling line over his head. When the coil left bis master’s hand he would halt suddenly. aud wheeling, brace him- self for the shock, Such is the breeding of the Spanish horse. . But this time he did not execute the maneuver; for, as the riata was on the eve of departure in its spiral length, a sharp report rung out from an adjoining thicket, and a bullet whistled by Pedro's head. , At the sound, so utterly unexpected, the black horse halted short in alarm, although accustomed to firearms. Pedro glanced sharply about him, still holding bis unthrown lasso, A white smoke arose from a thicket just im front. Pedro, staring sharply at it, suddenly observed the Phantom Horseman had entirely disappeared. He was not in sight. : The Spaniard did not care to expose himself to another shot, and hastily wheeled. With an oath of disappointment ‘and amazement he dropped the coiled riata over the saddle-horn, and struck spurs to his horse. “ Oaraja |” ‘ Dashing out from the hill, Seg. riding like the wind, went Pedro, ng the bushes, bound for * Caramba |”
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?. eet LGR geitiee. CHAPTER VI. CIMARRON JACK FINDS HIS DESTINY, CIMARRON JACK and Simpson had not been absent over two hours, and were scouting along a narrow canyon, when the latter, who was in advance, suddenly reined in and began a hur- ried search throughout his pockets, Whatever he had lost did not come to light, for his brow clouded and he looked blankly at Jack. ‘“* What’s the matter?’ inquired the young giant. ‘“‘ Lost your tobacco?” ‘“No—curse the crooked luck! I left pipe, fine-chopped, and plug at camp so I kain’t smoke nor chaw. Give us a chaw,” Cimarron Jack reined in, and, placing both hands on the guide’s shoulders, said: **My Christian friend, can you for a moment imagine that this virgin mouth of mine could possibly endure the profaning contact with the vile nicotian weed? Are you so depraved you suppose every man to be as filthy as yourself? Ah, my friend! what do you suppose the Queen of the Fee-jee Islands would doif she thought the grizzly-domesticator chewed filthy tobacco? Why, she would never smile again.” This manner of talking always nettled the uide, and none knew it better than Cimarron ack. Simpson burst out angrily: “You talk an’ act jist like a born fool, an’ durned ef I don’t more’n hafe b’lieve you air one. Now give us a chaw; I’m ’most dead fur some.” “*Now give us a chaw!’” mimicked Jack. “For all the world like a whining cur or a bla-a-ating sheep. Hear the slave of tobacco whine, ‘give us a chaw.’ Don’t insult me by insinuating that I carry the vile weed,” ‘‘Kerry it! of coorse, yer don’t kerry it!” said the guide, angrily. ‘‘I mout a knowed it *thout axin’, No; yer don’t never kerry it, but yer chaw more’n any other man in the hull out- fit. No; yer kin beg terbacker, though, like a mice, but ‘yer never kerry it; an’ beg yer do, more’n twenty times a day.” Jack leaned back in his saddle and gave vent to a loud guffaw which echoed up and down the canyon, The guide grew angrier. ‘“*Yer kin git yer own terbacker after this!” he declared, with a red face. ‘‘I detest and despiso a man that chaws the hull time, an’ never kerries any. Ef thar’s anything in the world I despise it is a terbacker dead-beat,” Jack saw that he had gone far enough, and discreetly let the storm blow over, as he knew it would, as he and the guide were fast friends, The storm continued, and concluded with a spiteful gust of wind. “T war goin’ ter ax yer fur a smoke, but now yer may jest go ter grass with yer borrered pipe an’ yer begged terbacker. °Tain’t yer pipe, no- how-—TI bought it at Santy Fee—an’ I know durned well yer begged the tobacker of Duncan, wheedlin’ him out’n a hull pound by tellin’ him he was the finest cook yer ever see’d, when the cross lummux kain’t cook at all, an’ yer know it. Now I’m goin’ back ter camp fur some terbacker; an’ when yer come a-beggin’ round me ag’in yer'll git refused—jest clap that inter yer bor- rered pipe and smoke it.” With this threat he abruptly wheeled and startel back toward the eamp, distant two leagues or more. Jack watched him for a few moments, and then followed closely, , “‘This wild-coose cbase is too dull for the lion- tamer,” he declared. ‘‘A man that eats fire and buckshot, picks his teeth with bowie-knives, and takes gunpowder broth for an appetizer, can’t be expected to enjoy it; so here goes the god of war for camp.” With this modest enumeration of his warlike proclivities, be put spurs to his blood bay, and rode rapidly after the receding guide. When the comrades entered the camp, the guide had entirely recovered his good-nature, and dismounting went into the tent, while Jack remained mounted. For a moment only was the guideinside, Jack heard a long-drawn, low whistle, then Simpson came softly out on tiptoe, with his palm up- raised to caution silence. Walking away from the tent a short distance, he faced about, and lacing bis arms akimbo, stared back at it. hen he gave vent to a long whistle. “ Whew—w—w!” “What's the matter?” asked Jack, ‘Indians come and stolen your nasty weed?” * Who'd ’a’ thou’t it?” was the only response; ** whew—w—w !” *¢ Don’t trifle with the cock of the walk—be- ware of arousing the ire of the modern Hercules! What's the matter?” “Jack, such an out an’-outer yer never did see, Yer couldn’t guess what’s in that tent in a bull year.” The Canyon Pards. Jack had never before seen the phlegmatic guide laboring under such amazement; some- thing decidedly unusual bad occurred. Jack was not kept in suspense. The guide stepped softly up to his pard, and whispered: ““Thar’s a woman in thar, asleep.” ‘The devil you say!” ‘* No, I didn’t say the devil—I sed a woman.” Jack looked incredulous. ‘‘What kind of a woman?” ‘* White, Americano, and sound asleep.” Jack burst into a guffaw. ‘*A woman, five hundred miles from any civilization! That’srich! Tim, you are going crazy.” ‘* If yer don’t believe it, jest go an’ see.” The young giant was not put to the trouble. As he was about to dismount for the purpose, a slight rustle occurred within, the canvas was sbaken slightiy, and a golden head peeped forth, lighted by the brightest, most timid, and softest blue eyes Jack bad ever seen. Jack was an as- tonished man, but was more astounded when a shapely form followed the head, and a young girl stood before him with clasped hands, ‘* Please, sirs,” she said, in a pleading voice, addressing the comrades, ‘‘ please have pity on me. “Heavens!” thought Jack, “‘ what a lovely girl!” So unexpected was the entire affair that be could only ejaculate: Bh!” The sweet face raised pleadingly toward his, though pale and careworn, was tae loveliest he had ever gazed upon, and was that, apparently, of a young girl of eighteen years. Her dress was neat and plain, though rent in many places evidently by briers. Her head was uncovere and her hair disarranged, and her whole ex- terior indicated she had recently fled from some disagreeable locality. Her voice was soft and gentle, and had a refined tone, which indeed pervaded her every action. Jack, recovering his equanimity, quickly observed she was a bet- ter woman than those he was accustomed to as- sociate with at the forts. He must temper his behavior now, for a lady stood before him. He took his foot from the stirrup, his hand from the saddle-horn, threw the bridle-rein over his arm and lifted his hat minus the usual swag- er, re Yours to command, miss,” he said, with a graceful bow. ‘‘ Can I assiss you, Miss—Miss—” ‘“*Kate—Katy Sandorn is my name,” she in- terrupted, The guide stared. What bad come over his comrade? Though his speech was as usual, there was now an indescribable something that glow- ed like a halo about his simple actions of bowing and lifting bis hat. Whatever he had been, the guide now know he was aman, who could at will call forth the most princely courtesy. The young girl, too, remarked the suave man- ner, and with the ready instinct of her sex, im- médiately leaned upon him as her protector. Her face lost its expression of extreme care and grief, and became in some degree composed as eer ence to his question. “Oh, thank you, sir, you can, indeed, assist me. Iam in so much trouble, and I’m all alone here. Please keep them from me, and don’t let them again take me.” Jack’s fist rung down on his saddle-born, “Let them try!” he growled, and his eyes sparkled. ‘* Let them come onif they want to!” he declared, neither knowing nor caring who ‘*they” might be. ‘I’m the cock of the—no, I mean I’m the grizzlyv—ahem! I’m very muscu- lar, you see, lady, and I’m large, good for a dozen ordinary men,” he concluded in confusion, smoothing his brawny arm, The young lady gazed in mild surprise at the enigmatical portion of his speech, then smiled faintly, half amused as he concluded. She ad- miringly noticed his enormous proportions, and |. the accompanying bone and sinew; timidly marked his flashing eye, the haughty nose and sensitive mouth; remarked his proud head as he threw it back with an elk-like toss of defiance; and felt quite kindly toward this powerful, new- found champion. She could not repress this feeling, for all women worship strength and power, In a few well-chosen sentences he managed with admirable tact to place her at her ease, so far as that state could be brought about under the embarrassing circumstances; and in return received a relation of her situation which was given in a low, sweet tone, For the first time, and speechless with sur- prise, he learned that the vast territory of Cali- fornia had passed into the hands of the United States Government after a struggle; that in- credible amounts of gold had been discovered on 4 the American Fork and adown the Sierras; that a wild tide of immigration was pouring into that new-found Eldorado, delirious with sky-high dreams of becoming suddenly and enormously rich; that she and her father, in conjunction with a score more, had been pushing their way across by the southern r ute, when they were attacked by hostile Indians, and all, save herself and a small lad, had been massacred or carried into captivity, her father among the former. She related, while he and the guide soberly and sympathetically listened, her adventures since the tragedy, now two weeks gone by. She and the lad had escaped with a few provisions, which she had secured with commendable pres- ence of mind and forethought, and after lyin perdu twenty-four hours in a chaparral, starte for civilization. Being ignorant of the route they had been pur- suing, and striking the Colorado River, had fol- lowed its northern course, hoping by this means to strike California. But in a few days her provisions had entirely given out; by some means she had become separated from her little companion; and after two weeks of suffering unprecedented even in her own lively imagina- tion, she fell in with a party of .wandering hun- ters of the most depraved stamp, who im- mediately seized her and carried her into cap- tivity. The captain of this villainous band had con- fined her in acave. But, aided by a merciful Providence, she had, only that morning, effected her escape, and after aimlessly wandering for the space of several hours, had fallen upon this camp, which she entered, and exhausted by her recent privations, had fallenasleep, They knew the rest. Jack sprung to his feet. ‘“* What!” he demanded, ‘‘ were the villains, then, so near as that?” and he excitedly begged her to describe the exact spot, She said it was a lofty hill surmounted by @ bare and yellow summit, and surrounded with a dense chaparral, and thought it was about two leagues to the south of them. She presumed it could be seen from the camp, and arising was about to scan the horizon when they discovered night had fallen during the recital, and now a bright mocnlight’ was streaming over the mezas. Finding it could not be seen, probably owing to a mist which had arisen, the comrades thought themselves of the needs of their new charge. She was faint from hunger and ex- hausted by suffering, and shaking 4 a bed in the tent, Jack bade her rest while they cooked supper. This last refreshment she stood greatly in need of, and Jack, commiserating ber sorrowful condition, buastled actively about, ever and anon casting a furtive glance at the fair girl within the tent. “Kate Sandorn—Katy,” he muttered, as the juicy steak of antelope sputtered over the coals. * Katy’s a right pretty name, but the bearer is much prettier. She’s an angel!’ he declared, firmly, then his lip settled, *‘* The villains! to shut such a creature upina cave. We'll fix’em to-morrow, that we will. I’m in for hanging, and that’s too good for ’em.” He stopped for a moment in abstraction, then continued unconsciously aloud: ‘‘Cimarron Jack, cock of the walk and king of the prairies—there is no use in talking, your heart is yours no longer.” . The guide, boiling coffee, distinctly heard this last remark. ‘‘ What did ye say about yer heart, Jack?” His comrade reddened, “« [ was merely observing I hadn’t the heart to turn away this poor girl. She is friendless—it is our duty to protect her.” ‘* And we'll do it!” cheerily chimed the guide. “‘But,” (dropping his voice and shaking his fin- ger at his comrade’s back,) *t my Christian friend, yu are dead gone in love a’reddy. ‘Dead gone!” he chuckled, in high glee over what he deemed his comrade’s foolishness, as he bustled about, spreading the supper, ‘ dead gone, Cimarron, dead gone!” CHAPTER VII. A CALL FOR AID, AN hour later, and when the moonlight was” at its bighest degree of radiance, the three occu- pants of the camp finished their supper. The two men drew back from the spread, and filling their pipes, began to smoke vigorously, now and then casting 2 long look over the southern plain in expectation of their comrades, for whose re- turn it was high time, Miss Sandorn, feeling every confidence in the integrity of her come “. | . '
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| a | ee - vr" 4 Mon, ets Ania fa ed we / speedy start. ¥ aude to Duncan. gone.” pan.ons, and reposing the highest trust in them’ sooa expressed a desire for sleep, und accord- ingiy withdrew into the tent to secure the coveted repose, of which she had lately been in such need, For a few moments Jack and the guide si.osed in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts, when suddenly the latter spoke: “¢ Jack, don’t you b’lieve this chap that the cook sed he see’d has suthin’ ter do with the gang that captured the lady?” “T was just thinking of that myself,” was the rejoinder; ‘‘ but unless I mistake, we will soon learn, for there is some one coming.” As he spoke he lazily pointed over the south- ern plain. Scarcely discernible through the mellow haze and thin moonlight wasa dark spot, rapidly rising and falling—a galloping animal. ** Whoever he is, he’s ina hurry,” remarked Jack, slowly reaching for his rifle, while Simp- son laid bis within easy reach. **Tt can’t be Pedro and Duncan, for they would be together, and there would be two spots instead of one.” ‘* Wal, whoever he is, he’s only one ter two, so thar’s no use frettin’,’ and the guide laid his head back on his saddle-pillow, smoking quietly, but closely watching the rapidly approaching object. tt drew nearer—a quarter of a mile distant. Simpson raised his head on his elbow, peered at it for a moment, then quietly said: “Tt’s Duncan on the roan mustang—-I kin tell the little villain as fur as I kin see him him.” The sharp eyes of the guide were right—Dun- ean it proved to be. Hedid not slacken his swift, steady gait, but swept down the hillside where he had met the Phantom Rider, and dart- ing into camp, reined in violently. His first greeting was a wicked one by Jack, who well knew the most vulnerable of the cook’s weakest points. ‘““Coms back to get supper, have you?” he asked sarcastically. ‘It’s a pity you cut short your holiday ride for such an unimportant thing. Men that work hard dote on waiting three or four hours for supper. In fact, they don’t want any—oh, no, indeed.” But, for once, the violent retort did not come, Duncan having almost ridden over the remains of the supper, which were directly under his nose; but his eyes snapped angrily, as he noted the malicious intent of the speech, and it was contrary to his hedgehog nature to forbear reply. ‘Trying to pick a muss ag’in, are ye? Try- ing to torment and annoy your cook? You are old enough to know better, and to behave more like a gentleman, seems to me. Well, we'll do no wrangling now—I’m in too big a hurry.” ‘¢ What's up?” demanded Simpson. “Plenty. Saddle up as quick as you can, for Pedro is in trouble.” “What!” and the two men sprung to their feet. ‘‘ What’s the matter?” **T don’t know. He came all afire to me, and told me to fetch youall. Iasked him what was the matter, but be was in such a fever he couldn’t stop to tell, but sent me back,to tell you to burry. Gosh} how he did roll out the Span- “Eb? What did he say?’ earnestly inquired the guide. *** Bammos—bammos!’ and how his eyes did spit fire.” Gents,” and the guide brouzht his fist down on his open palm, *Pve starved and feasted, laughed and cried, with Pedro Felipe, for these fifteen years, and I know something’s wrong when he talks Spanish.” With this emphatic remark the guide brought the vicious mustang from _ his picket and threw the saddle upon his back in preparation for a But Jack quietly continued his smoking. E “ Ain’t yer comin’?’ asked Sinipson, ‘* No,” was the terse reply. “Why?” and both Simpson’s and Duncan’s face expressed surprise. “We can’t leave the young lady alone here to have those fellows come and take her away.” ** Let ber come along, then.” ‘* She’s got no horse to ride.” ** She kin ride the Spanish mare.” ‘* Where is the side-saddle?” demanded Jack, Duncan stared; “‘the young lady” was an enigma to him, “Got a woman here?” he inquired. Jack briefly related the arrival of his charge, and her adventures, and concluded with a glow- ing eulogium on her virtues, ‘He's bound to stay hyar.” whispered the ‘He won't leave her, for he’s The Canyon Pards. Duncan was too thunderstruck to feel sur- prised at this latter news; but soon recovering his wits, called out, impatiently: ‘* Well, if you ain’t coming, just sing out, and me and Tim will go to Pedro.” In answer, Jack pointed to the hills, Out- lined against the radiant, moonlit sky, were the forms of a dozen halted horsemen, looking down on the camp. CHAPTER VIII. AN UNGRANTED DEMAND. **Do you see them?’ demanded Jack, ‘‘ Well, if you do, Pll tell you who they are, and what they want.” ‘* Well?” questioned Duncan. “They are the rascals that captured Miss Kate, and they want her.” ‘It won’t do no good ef they do,” added the guide, ‘‘ They sha’n’t hev her.” ‘* Of course not.” A slight commotion took place among the horsemen on the hill; then a hoarse voice rung out in a rough hail: ‘* Camp, hallo!” * Hallo!” responded Jack, “What camp is that?” ‘¢ Explorers.” ‘* Seen anything of a spotted mustang with a broken riata round his reek?” “Mo “‘That spotted mustang is all in yer eye,” gruffly spoke the guide to his comrade. ‘* They’re after the lady,” ‘* Hist!” continued Jack, hoarse hail: ‘Who are you?” se Cimarron Jack, Tim Simpson, and Kit Dun- an. Jack swelled somewhat as he noticed the names caused a stir among the band onthe summit. With a ring of exultation, he called: “Who are you ?” “Cyrus Johns’s outfit—out on a raid after Comanche scalps.” nS Yes, and plunder, too,” added Jack, sotto voce, “ Ah, he’s a desperate villain--a regular cut-throat, and cunning asa wolf. One of Cap- tain Hart’s old gang, Tim.” ** Ay, ay, I sabe.” . “So you hain’t seen nuthin’ of the spotted mustang,” called another and still harsher voice, ‘I don’t like ter hurt yer feelin’s, but I’ve got ter search yer. We dunno who yer be —it’s mighty easy ter say you are somebody else.” ‘* He feels bad about hurtin’ our feelin’s,” mut- tered Tim. ‘‘That’s Bill Moore, Jack. Gosh! ef they air all like him thar’s a sweet gang of em, e wants to come an’ see ef the lady’s hyar—shall we let him, Jack?” ‘* No; tell him to keep his distance.” ‘*Keep your distance, Bill Moore!” shouted ot esta ‘We don’t want yer hyar, so keep off ! ‘You are getting peart and peerky nowa- days, Tim Simpson,” yelled the first speaker, Cyrus Johns. ‘Take care you don’t get snapped up in it. You know the law—a man has a right to search anywhere for a missing horse, and if he’s been stolen and the thief’s caught, you savvy the rule—a California neck- tie.” “Don’t insinuate that we stole your mus- tang!” growled Jack. ‘‘ Recollect who you are talking to—Cimarron Jack, the king of the rairies, and the cock ef the walk. I don’t be- ieve you have lost a mustang.” At this declaration a consultation took place among the band, briefly terminated. A par- ently casting aside all disguise, the chief, Cyrus Johns, rode aside, and called out: ** Let the mustang go—it’s no account, you've gota girl there,” As if expecting an answer, he paused, None came, His voice grew a liitle hoarser: ‘You've got a girl there that belongs to us, and we want her. We don’t want to quarrel with you, and if you'll give her up we'll do the right thing by you. We have coin to spare.” Again he waited for an answer, again the pause was useless. His voice’rung discordantly: It’s no use in denying you've got her—we know ou have. Once more, will you give her up and take a thousand American dollars as pay? She belongs to us, and we can by rights take her away from you; but, to avoid’a quar- rel, we're willing to give a bonus.” By what right is she yours?” demanded J vin fnpstised “ ee Villain’s effrontery. y the right of possession—nine poi ihe ieant g Possession—nine points of ‘Ts that your idea of law and justice?” Again came the But Pc i oa sys x ** You bet it is!” “Then s e belongs to us, for she is now in our possession. Your Jaw goes back on you, Cyrus Jobns.” ‘* But [ meant first possession,” ‘**Then she don’t belong to you at all, but to her father. She isan corpban, and has no guar- dian—she is free to go wherever she chooses, and she comes to us. You have no right to ber.” The voice of the ranger grew angrier and authoritative. “So you don’t intend to give her up?” * To such a villain as you are—never, never |” The last words rung out decidedly as the young girl came out of the tent, and pale with fear gazed pleadingly into his eyes for }rotec- tion. After this, whatever happened, he would fight, even die for her—so resolved the brave young giant, looking down into her frightened eyes, ** Do not be *larmed, Miss Sandorn,” be whis- pered, encouragingly. ‘“*‘We are famous for being the best shots on the plain—we will pro- tect you.” - His speech was amply rewarded by the elo- quent, grateful look which flowed from her soft blue eyes. His heart beat faster, as taking her hand, he led her into the tent. ** Rest assured, lady,” he murmured, ‘ that whatever happens, John Worth — Cimarron Jack, will protect you. God bless you!” and bending low he raised her hand to his lips, and was gone. “Again, will you give her up?” called the harsh voice of Cyrus Johns. ‘If you don’t, we will open fire upon your camp.” “Open then, you woman-thieves!” vocifer- ated the guide; and the reply was a flash, a re- port; anda bullet whistled over his head; hos- tilities had commenced. “Tramp out that fire, Duncan—roll those bales of blankets into a shelter, Tim, while I bring in the mare!” and ere he had finished, Jack was rapidly running to perform his task. Crack—crack! Several bullets whistled about him, but none took effect. It is not easy to strike a man running at full speed, at three hundred yards, by moonlight. To uproot the picket and crag the old mare to the camp, was the work of very few minutes; and when he arrived, the fire was extinguished, the blankets, saddles and packs formed into a barrier, behind which lay his comrades snugly on their bellies, A small gully, terminating in a short distance lay behind them, of sufficient depth to afford shelter to the horses; and accordingly they hus- tened to picket them in that sheltered place, leaving them to browse on the dry but wutri- tious bunch grass which grows on the banks. This done, they returned to the breastwork; and having disposed of their weapons to the best advantage, awaited the further aggression of the enemy. In the mean time, several of the besieger. had dismounted and withdrawn their steeds to the opposite side of the hill, beyond the vision of the besieged, and returning to the summit, fell on their knees, and drawing their Jong knives, began to thrust them into the ground busily, as if digging. “T don’t know what they are doing, but it seems to be something to our disadvantege—it must be,” remarked Jack, closely scanning their actions. ‘*‘We had better put a damper on them if we can. How far dves your mfle kill, Duncan?” ‘* At seven hundred yards,” “Good gun: mine won't: but it does at five hundred, And yours, Tim?” “Six hundred.” Aside from the main party were four men engaged in digging, while the remainder (eight) appeared to be m a consultation; and noting the former, Jack said; 6 1}) take the lett man, Duncan the next, and you, Tom, the uext, Aim steady now—we had better rest on the blankets, as every shot tells. When the thoroughbred from Arabia counts three, draw trigger. One.” The guns were rested upon the blankets, te Two,” Each man aimed steadily, “Three,” Atthe simultaneous report, tbree of the four men sprung to their fet, and a wild yell floated over the plain; then two rangers sunk slowly to the ground, while the fourth and uninjured one staggered away with the third desperately wounded, on his back, A volley of oaths arose from the bill, and the rangers quickly scuttled from sight, leaving two borizontal objects on the summit—two dead men. ** Better than I expected,” was the cheery cry pas
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of Jack. bacco,” The guide, entirely forgetting his angry vow of several bours since, quietl7 passed the ** plug.” Jack’s eyes twinkled. ** And now, Duncan, give mea pipeful of to- bacco—fine-chopped—while I smoke the pipe of ‘*Simpson, give me a chew of to- ar. ‘Why, I gave you a hull pound not a week ago; what bave you done with it?’ demanded Duncan, aghast. ‘‘ Besides, you can’t both smoke and chew at once, can you?” ‘“*'You bet he can,” declared the guide. ‘‘ He uses more tobacco than any other man in the hull outfit.” **T wouldn’t have thought of chewing or smok- ing, but when Duncan keeled over that little fel- low on the hill, the smoke of his gun reminded me of pipe-smoke, It was a mighty, mighty shot. ow do you load your gun, Kit, to make it shoot so unerringly?) Why, man, it beats my shooting.” Startled at Jack’s extraordinary elevation of another over himself, Dimean passed his sack of tobacco, of which the other abstracted a large handful, chuckling in his sleeve at his clever- ness, Verily, ‘‘ flattery sinketh into the heart of a fool,” and it might truly be added, ‘‘ and that of a camp cook.” As this side-acting was being concluded, a change made its appearance in the gang above, which had again clustered, though at a safer point. Hurriedly ranging themselves in a line, they leveled their guns toward the south, and at a gesture of command from their chief, fired. owering their guns, they peered earnestly in the direction of tho volley, as if ascertaining its effect; then a yell arose, and each man dart- ed from view behind the hill. Several minutes after, the friends saw them galloping away over the southern plain, plying the spur. . They were evidently alarmed—what had caused their fhght? The cause soon manifested itself, A figure came into view on the summit—the form of a h rseman riding along the crest of the hill, and obliquely from the camp. For only a few seconds the horseman remained in view, then bis horse increased his pace to a gallop, and bearing his ricer swiftly over the crest, disap- peared, riding south. Each and all (save the lady who was in the tent,) had no difficulty in recognizing the horse- man; and though neither the guide nor the young giant had ever beheld him before, they instantly recognized him—it was the Phantom Rider. ; He it was who had caused the hasty flight of the rangers, CHAPTER IX. THE POWER OF GOLD. WHEN Pedro dashed out of the chaparral at the peremptory instigation of the unseen marks- man, he did not long continue his flight,'for he became ashamed of his timidity (? when he had left the bill a half-league in the rear, and was out in the broad moonlight. ‘Then he drew in, and wheeling, gazed back at the hill. ‘“* Ah!” he cried, with a gesture of menace toward the bill; *‘ you area black place, fit for such arambler to prowl about in, Dark and quiet — gloomy, as I fancy the stings of re- morse might be. Well, [’llno more of you un- til daylight, then Pll lasso you, and ferret out the one that shot at me. Whocould it be? Who could desire to take my life?” ““Tndians? Scarcely; they would have been out and after me ere this. The strange caval- leros? Undoubtedly. Well, rest awhile—stay yet in your black chaparral, But, by the Order of the Cross, lll see into this mystery, or uever again tread the soil of Mexico. Rest awhile,” he concluded, with an ominous wave at the island of hill and chaparral; ‘+ stay awhile.” He was about to resume his gallop for camp when a glistening at the borse’s hoofs attracted his attention—a yellow, blazing glitter. “What's that?” he inquired, sbarply. ‘‘ Gold? Jt looks like it—can it be possible?” He wheeled about, hovering over it, but wherever he turned, the same glitter was visi- ble, yellow and radiant, Whatever it was, it co) hg about double the size of a silver dollar. e rode away two rods and looked back— glitter, He receded three more and wheeled— still glitter. He rode at right angles and placed it between bim and the eastern moon; would it, could it shine now, between him and the moon’s rays! Yes, still glitter. und a fierce semicircle he spurred, gazing at it in fascination, trying it at all points and in all possible positions, Now hovering over it likea vulture; here wheeling at a distance like a coyote, again galloping on it like the rush of a torrent; but everywhere he went it was still the same—glitter, glitter. Again he stood silently over it, glariug almost savagely down upon its gleaming brilliancy, yet | afraid to dismount, fearful of finding it some delusion; for this noble Spaniard (for noble he surely was), had a single glaring fault—the love of gold. He was a miser, that at some day he might become a spendthrift. Still he pranced round it, unable to keep his enchanted gaze from it. His eyes ached with the unaccustomed strain—he did not mind it; his faithful steed was becoming impatient—he curbed him half angrily. At last he drew away from it and whispered tohisownears: ‘“‘VJl get down and pick it up —it is two twenty-dollar American pieces, per- haps: yes, ’U dismount.” He did, slowly slipping from his saddle, as if a noise, however slight, would spirit it away. He stood on the ground, and leaving bis horse, crept toward it, ready to make a sudden swoop; and when he had drawn near, pounced upon it. He picked it up and held it to the moon, and shouted in delight. It was no coin, no orna- ment, but a nugget of nearly pure gold as Jarge as his saddle-horn. He stared. at it for several moments, then—toss! away it went up in the air, only to descend into his greedy palms, wide- stretched to receive it. How it glitters in the air. He cannot resist the temptation to throw it up and see the blaz- ing of its yellowness; and up it goes, again and again, while be stands with uplifted face, like an athlete tossing cannon-balls, Still again, and fer minutes, be rep ated his wild gestures. Toss—up it goes; thud— down it comes. Then he laid it softly on the ground, and picked it up again for the pleasure of re- finding it; then leaving it, he ran away, and shading his eyes like a child, peered earnestly back at it—still glitter, Recovering in some degree his composure, he weighted 1 in either hand, and endeavored to compute its value. It was nearly the pure metal, and weighed as nearly as he could deter- mine, two pounds. “Two pounds! how much is t-vo pounds of gold worth—say?’ he demanded of the black horse. ‘One hundred dollars or five hundred dollars—or five thousand dollars? Say—do you know?” The borse watched him wistfully—he was thirsty and hungry, and wanted grass and water; but his master, usually more attentive to the wants of bis horse than his own, now heeded him no more than if be had been the statue of a horse, save to question him mildly about his glittering gold. **There’s more where that came from, is there not? I believe it, [know it. But where did it come from? Say, do you know?” He looked about bim. Over the quiet plain where the yellow moonlight streamed, there was but one object to vary the level monotony, and that object was—the hill and its brooding chaparral, ‘* You are dark! he cried addressing the hill. ‘¢ You are quiet—just the place for the yellow boys to hide in, A level plain never has gold, I’ve heard—-it is only the hills that contain it. Where is a bil hereabout?—why yonder—the hill and tbe chaparral, **Do you ride around nights guarding a hill full of gold?’ he demanded, his thoughts revert- ing to the Phantom Rider, whom he addressed by atmospheric proxy. ‘I believe you do—f suppose you do. I have heard,” he muttered, eyeing the horse, who returned his stare, ‘I have heard that gold has been hidden for cen- turies while men walked daily over it, without dreaming of its existence. Is it not likely, that here, where the foot of man has scarcely ever trodden, on yonder hill there may be gold—mil- lions of it?” [t was possible, He squatted beside his horse, and rapidly shift- ing the nugget from one band to the other, com- merced a rambling series of vague murmurings ne theorizings, peering off vacantly over the plain. “Tf there is gold in you,” he declared at length, addressing the gloomy and forbidding hill, “it is coming out of your griping bowels ‘ And who is to get it?” he continued, imagin- ing himself to be the hill, derisively questioning Pedro Felipe. ‘‘ Why, Vil get it! In dig! Pl burrow! and as for you who ride ahont of nights with your scowling face hidden—I’ll lasso you to begin with.” He feasted his eyes a few seconds longer on his trensure, admiring with avaricious delight the gleam aud glimmer of its rugged yellowness; Neen eee eee Ne eee tken sprung on his horse with the nugget clutch- ed tightly in his hand, ** Here we go!” he cried, as he galloped away; ‘**to lasso the prowler that guards the gold. Wil dig like a badger, and PU burrow like a squirrel; and gold, 1f you are in that bill you are coming out,- Here we go!” Once more taced galloping toward the hill; once more to ride in the shadowy chaparral; once more to lasso the Rider that guards the goid, Behind him lay the river, miles away, deep down in the ground, as it wound its querulous course toward the ocean. To the right, level plain and streaming moonlight; to the left, streaming moonlight and level plain; and in front, the Inil, the chaparial, and the Rider that guarded the geld. As he swept along, he kept his eyes on the plain before and to the left and right of him, looking for a mate to the sparkler in bis right hand, But no gieam greeted his strained eyes, though he scanned every inch of the adjacent and contiguous plain; so absorbed in his search that he did not raise his eyes, but left the horse to follow his head. Suddenly the animal halted, ech Pedro, startled, looked up. He was at the ill. Before him, and tordered by dense thickets, was a small glade brilliantly illuminated by the moonlight; and in that glade, facing bim, was the Phantom Rider. | CHAPTER X. THE CAST OF THE RIATA, AtpEit Pedro was actually searching for and wishing an encounter with the Phantom Rider, the meeting was so sudden and unexpect- ed, on his part, that he reeled with surprise, too amazed to east his lasso while he had the op- portunity. It was an excellent chance for a cast, as the chestnut horse was wholly motion- less, and not fifteen yards away. He had never »efore been in such proximity to him. It wes a rare chance to throw his lasso, and bad he im- mediately done so he might have met with suc- cess; but be was so surprised at the unexpected meeting he sat for a single half-minute staring hopelessly. *, That moment over, his present opportunity vanished; for the chestnut horse, with a celerity for which Pedro had not given him credit, sud- denly wheeled, and with a sbrill neigh turned tail and darted away through the thickets at breakneck pace. The Spanish vaquero, accustcmed to surprises, quickly regains his lest presence of mind under ordinary circumstances; and this colossal vaquero, under this strange and extraordinary situation, soon recovered his, but too late, as the flying Rider was already some distance away, and hidden from view by intervening bushes, But Pedro could yet see the glazed sombrero of the Rider bobbing up and down over the top of the “‘ grease-wood” bushes, at every succes- sive rise and fall, receding a red er more; and having regained bis equanimity, be repre ached himself for his inaction, snd spurring his black horse, followed in hot pursuit. j But he did not go far. On rourding a small chaparral a féw rods in advance, he camein full view of the flying Rider. The latter, still riding at a breakneck speed, was passing through a diminutive meadow or glade, where grew tall grass which reacbed to his horse’s belly, On every side of this meadow, save wkere Pedro was, a dense chaparral bordered it, with a sin- gle exception. Directly in the course of the Pkantom Rider, and in fact evidently the place for which he was heading, a straight lane led from tbe meedow tbrough the chaparral toward the hill. It was several yards in width and bore the appearance of having been constructed for a road, centuries ago, But now it was deserted, and the gleam- ing moonlight blazing down its length illumined its entire course—a furlong in length, At the end of this radiant lane was a pool of water—a clear spring, issuing from the base of the bill. This he well knew, as he had watered his borse there several hours ago, A fissure, having its source at the pool, extended trans- versely across the lane at its extremity; @ gull seven yards in width and four in depth. This made an impassable barrier at the lane’s ter- mination—a blockade. No horse could overleap it, and to spring down into its deptb would en- gender the breaking of several bones. ; Pedro felt exultant as he saw the chestnut horse enter this lane and plunge toward the | other end. The horse was flesh and blood—he — could leap the fissure? was sure of that; and where was the horse that _ Us «
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he chaparral on either side of the lane was so dense a rabbit could scarcely creep through it, much less a large horse; so escape for the Phantom Rider was impossible, unless Le wheel- ed and overrode the Spaniard, an action hardly probable. Hurrah! the chestnut horse had en- tered the neatest of traps, from which there was but one way of escape: to turn and run down Pedro, ‘*He cannot leap the gully—he cannot enter the thick chaparral!” shrieked Pedro. ‘* He is mine at last.’ Stimulated by the thought, he pressed his ( horse into a yet swifter gallop; and preparing for the capture, loosened his riata from the saddle- horn. But he was forestalled. The chestnut horse a was half-way down the lane, boldly visible in the bright moonlight. Pedro had just entered the lane, and with gaze bent upon his chase, was clutching his riata, when from the bushes oppo- site the Phantom Rider, a serpentine line shot out, swiftly unfolding; alasso aimed at the neck of the horse, e Whirr!—the coil dropped upon the neck of the steed, but not to encircle it, though it was adroit: ly cast; for with a wild neigh the horse shook it off, and tossing his head careered onward still more madly—the attempt was fruitless, Some one watching in the chaparral had en- deavored to lasso the Phantom Horseman. In a moment Pedro had reined in, and casting . a hasty look ahead, wheeled to fly. He must not expose bis neck to the aim of the unseen and unknown lasso, even if the coil had failed to capture the chestnut horse; it might encircle the neck of his steed, % In the glance that he cast down the lane he rf saw the Phantom Rider pause for a moment on “; the brink of tho fissure. Then casting a wild look behind him, the chestput horse, with a : shrill “‘ whigher,” plunged downward into the gully with the Phantom Rider on his back. Pedro gazed for a moment, utterly astounded at the feat. What manner of steed was the chestnut—was he, too, a phantom? Once more balxed; once more wheeling to re- treat with an unthrown riata; again bound out- ward from the chaparral. Another hasty look he threw back as his horse settled into the back-gallop. This time still, the lane had an occupant at its eastern extremity, But it was not the Phantom Rider—he had dis- appeared; but standing on the brink of the fis- sure regarding Pedro, was a man leaning on a jong. gun. As he again transferred his gaze to the meadow, which he was about to re-enter, he saw an object which caused him to utter an « - > A iy en en ae Sr ee ‘ nes a es oath and rein in as quickly as he could. The Se object was a man who emerged from the chap- ++; arral, and advancing to the center of the ‘meadow, halted in Pedro’s course and leveled a gun at his head. ri ‘Halt, you greaser!” be shouted in a harsh, por: A discordant voice, ‘‘ Stand still; or I'l bore ye!” Pa His attitude was firm, and his tone was not Sa aa obs | a jesting one—he was wholly in earnest. ee Though too distant for his features to be dis- tinguished, he was not more than fiye-and- seventy yards away—quite near enough to kill the Spamiard, if he shot. His entire mien was that of a desperado, and Pedro hastily unslung his rifle. But he paused in the act, as the man hailed again, and he fancied he could see = stranger's eyes gleam, so earnest was the ne. Halt—stop! don’t unsling that gun. If you do, 1’ll bore ye.” The repetition of the reat, and the signifi- cance of the word bore, had their effect on Pedro. For a moment he was undecided whether to put his horse into a gallop, and ric- ing down the challenger, risk the latter’s bullet; but aware that every man that roamed the plains was precise with the rifle, he saw it would undoubtedly result in his death, and abandoned the idea. He looked back at the gully. Possibly if the man had vanished from the fissure, he could wheel and escape as did the Phantom Horse- man, though it would be extremely perilous; but no—there he stood on the brink still, lean- ing on his gun, with his face towardhim, Es- cage here, too, was impossible. @ was surrounded, and by men who were bent upon capturing him, and that alive. It was only too evident—their every action be- trayed their determination to do so, and it alarmed him, for it showed they had a hidden design upon him. ell, caramba, here he was, but he would endeavor to elude them yet, and he rapidly looked about him. i te i, nn The Canyon Pards. A live-oak, with squat, spreading branches, was Close at his left hand—in fact, one of the Jower and outer limbs, swaying in the breeze, ever and anon tapped him on the shoulder, Underneath the branches was dense, opaque shadow, and beyond, the chaparral was mat- ted and hedge-like. He could not force his horse into this latter and escapé, but he could, perhaps, dart suddenly into the shadow, and be protected in some measure from the enemies’ bullets. Perhaps by temporizing he might yet esca pa. He glanced at the desperado in the meadow. Tired of keeping his gun at arm’s length, he had dropped it into the hollow of his arm, seeing the Spaniard made no demonstration. The man behind at the fissure had not stirred—he was yet regarding Pedro; and taking advantage of their momentary relaxation, he jerked the bridle-rein sharply to the left, over the black horse’s neck, The Spanish-bred horse, accustomed to dart at the slightest signal, was under the tree in two seconds’ time; for the present Pedro was safe to some degree. The man at the fissure, though seeing Pedro’s disappearance, was too well acquainted with the density of the chaparral to fear his escaping; and now his enemy was hidden, he, too, moved into the thicket, to avoid any unseen bullet which the Spaniard might easily direct at him. His brother desperado in the meadow, also quickly scuttled into the chaparral before Pedro could bring his rifle to bear upon him; and over the thickets, adown the meadow and lane, not a creature was visible. Pedro’s first act was to secure his nugget to his saddle, He was resolved if they did capture bim that they should not possess his gold. “Tf to-night I am shot and killed, or taken prisoner,” he calmly thought, ‘‘ my brave horse will be at camp in thirty minutes’ time. And then they will come to the rescue, if not already, as they should be, on their way hence.” Duncan hat left him two hours ago, to bring the other two comrades—they should be here now. He grew uneasy at their non-arrival— had evil befallen Duncan? He was not aware that at that very moment his companions were confined to the camp by quadruple their number of desperadoes, who were bent upon keeping them there; and that a plan to capture him alive had been determined upon by these very men, hours ago. But he waited, listening eagerly for any sounds indica- tive of his comrades’ arrival, and watching every twig, thicket and shadow about him, with every sense on the alert, An hour passed dismally by, and his uneasi- ness increased at the non-arrival of his com- rades, What could detain them? A slight rustle took place on the edge of the chaparral across the meadow at the spot where his challenger had disappeared. He leveled his rifle sileutly upon the spot, ready to fire should an enemy show himself. Another movement occurred, and he heard a distinct rustling of the bushes; then an arm was projected, the hand moving slowly over the ground asif feeling for something. It would not do to fire at the arm, although he had an excellent opportunity for shattering it; when he shot be meant to kill. The rustle grew louder, the bushes sbook vio- lently; a man was there—undoubtedly the des- perado who had barred his path. As the moon rose higher in the zenith, a ran- dom ray found its way through the oak’s branches, and slanting on his head and shoul- ders, illumined them ‘Snghtly, though without his knowledge. Now any enemy that might be in his rear, could have a full view of his body from the waist upward, An enemy was in the rear—a man stealing from the fissure toward him, keeping closely in the shadow, which now half-concealed the lane, He drew near, nearer; inone hand was a cocked revolver, in the other a lasso. ; The rustle across the meadow increased to a violent shaking of the bushes, and ahead was thrust forth, only to be drawn quickly back again. It was the head of his challenger, Now the man in the lane was within twenty yards of the live-oak, with his eyes fastened on the Span- iard’s gleaming neck and shoulders, Still again the bushes were shaken back and forth, and he watched them eagerly, It was a lure to attract his attention, Better had he cast an occasional glance to his rear, Suddenly the head was again thrust forth, and the hand and arm were waved tauntingly at Pe- dro, who quickly aimed, only to be disappoint- ed, as the head vanished. The man in the 0 scurity of the lane now waved his riata hur- riedly over his head once, twice, thrice, an then, with all his force, hurled tbe coil at the gleaming shoulders of the Spaniard. The latter heard the “‘ whirr,” and withdraw- ing his gaze, looked quickly back. But he looked just in time to see a spiral line darting toward him from across the lane—just too late to avoid it, and ere he could move from its path the noose had settled over his shoulders—the gleaming moonbeams had betrayed him, The man in the lane, as he saw the noose en- circle his victim’s neck, yelled in gratification, and throwing his entire weight and strength into the action, jerked the iasso. The noose slid, settled, and became taut, and Pedro, un- able to help himself, was rudely jerked from his horse, which neighed in alarm and galloped madly away. He was captured—taken alive. Away went the black horse, bound for, the camp, with the nugget of gold beating a rapid tattoo upon the saddle, CHAPTER XI. A JOVIAL BANDIT. PEpRO’s rude fall partially stunned him, but he soon recovered, to find his two enemies standing over him. One was a short, smister fellow, of great muscular power—his lassoer; the other was tall and sinewy, and of a fierce disposition—his challenger. At a glance he knew he had fallen into rough hands, and might expect correspondingly rough treatment, e noticed they were heavily armed, but, naturally incensed at their cool capture, he stoutly de- manded, sitting upright: ‘* What do you mean, senors, by lass’ing me? I have done you no harm—you must be mistaken in your man, Let me arise.” With this demand he essayed to get up, with the lasso tightly confining his arms, but the short ranger rudely overturned him, with a curse. “Keep quiet, greaser, and lay still, and yer'll rit treated better than white-liyered Mexicans eserve, But if yer go to cutting up yer didos, ye'll git handled without gloves, so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.” ** Senor, loose this viata and allow me to rise, I’ve got no money, if that is what you want,” “No, I savvy,” remarked the tall desperado, sarcastically. ‘‘ I never saw a greaser that did have more than a few dollars. But you’ve got a fine gun here—or rather J have,” and he in- spected Pedro’s rifle. ** Anda pretty ’cute kind of aknife:” and with | this remark, the lassoer coolly abstracted a jeweled dagger from his captive’s belt, ‘¢ P}] raise you two, and call,” and tke taller one drew a brace of elegant revolvers from the same place. ; Pedro sighed at seeing his beautiful and favorite weapons appropriated by the villains, The dagger was golden-hilted, the revolvers were silver-mounted, and the elegant rifle was worth a large sum, **Recollect, this is robbery,” he growed be- tween his teeth. ‘Tl mark you two rascals hereafter—car-r-amba !” _ By way of rejoinder, he received a lusty kick in the short ribs, and the threat that if he didn’t keep his windmill shut off, he would get the wings knocked off, which netaphorical and elegant speech, translated into plain English, meant that he would have his teeth knocked out, if he did not keep a closed mouth. He was sufficiently acquainted with despera- does to reflect that discretion is the better part of valor, and like a shrewd man, kept his peace externally, but within he was asa raging bull; and he swore lustily to himself, in a way Spaniards only can, They rifled his pockets : ravaged every portion of his outer clothing, an uarreled over their illegitimate booty, kicking him from time to time in barbarous delight; and at length the taller rascal went off to feteh their concealed horses, swearing at the flight and escape of the noble black horse, which he had in vain attempted to lasso, The horses were brought, and Pedro was roughly jerked to his feet, and after being placed mos one of them was securely lashed to the saddle with the riata; and then his captor mounted behind him, and his companion vaul ing into his saddle, they rode away, bound, Pedro knew not whither, His victors, after the first outbreak, had relapsed into moody silence, Leaving the chaparral, they entered the mezas, ne and galloped toward the camp.’ i An hour later, they rode into the midst of nearly a dozen men, who were temporarily en- in camped on the hill, where Duncan bad met the a half-mile distant from the _ Phantom Rider, : : E their warlike attitude, Pedro camp; and seeing ny nd tacalae a vw ’ =
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_— eT a ae eee ae ee ae ee - . 10 The Canyon Pards. knew at once why his comrades had not come to the hill in accordance with his desire—they were besieged by a band of rangers, though for what reason, he could not imagine, The mysterious shots aimed at his head, the strange horsemen, he had seen in the chaparral, were enigmas to him no longer; the marksmen belonged to the band, and the cavalleros were even now Clustered about him. “You have got him, I see, men,” observed the chief, Cyrus Johns. ‘‘ Well, you have worked it finely.” The band, save several who were evidently acting in the capacity of spies, gathered about Pedro as he was pulled from the saddle. He was securely bound, hand and foot, and placed upon his back, with a saddle for a pillow; and then the chief said: ‘Mr. Greaser, I suppose you would like to know why you are brought here, wouldn’t you? Well, to give you a little idea, [ll tell you. There’s a woman in your camp, ain’t there?” **Not to my knowledge, senor.” “There’s a lie at the start. You are beginning well, greaser.” He was a coarse-featured, wolf-eyed man, rather large than otherwise, and though he habitually spoke sarcastically, there was a gleam of devilish ferocity in every action. At his last remark, Pedro scowled at the sensual face, but said nothing, and his captor resumed: ‘'There’s a woman there, and you know it. Well, I suppose you also know she belongs to me. If you don’t you’d ought to, so it’s all the same, Now, your high-toned and cranky pals don’t intend to give her up to her lawful owners —at least they say they won’t. But we are going to have her, and the way we'll do it is this: to-morrow morning we will take you out on the hill, and give them the choice of two things; to deliver up the girl, and take you back, and a thousand American dollars (we are willing to do the square thing) to boot. Other- wise, if they don’t choose to do it, we will shoot you. That’s all, Mr. Greaser.” “Stay!” cried Pedro, as Cyrus Johns was turning away. “I protest there isno woman in our cam=—at least there was none when I went away in the middle of the afternoon, If the woman, whoever she is, is at our camp, she has entered since I have been absent.” “Taking all you say fxr the truth, greaser, that don’t make a straw’s difference. They’ve ot her, and we’ve got you; you've been told ow we are going to get her.” ‘* But, senor, supposing they will not give her up and you do shoot me. That will not do you any good—it will not bring the woman back.” ‘There'll be one greaser less in the world, then,” was the brutal rejoinder. ‘‘Curse a greaser! I hate the whole treacherous tribe.” Pedro fumed. “I am no greaser, you low scoundrel!” he thundered. ‘‘My grandfather was a Castilian noble; and had not my father been exiled on account of politics, J would have been a noble to-day.” “ Exactly, Mr. Greaser—I savvy. My grand- father was hung for murder; and if my father wasn't in the penitentiary for life on account of a little fracas with knives, he would be out; see the point?” With this jocose bit of family history he final- ly turned away to snatch some sleep against the morrow’s crime; and Pedro, angrily muttering, was taken to the summit of the hill where he would be under the supervision of the guard; and having tightened his bonds, his escort left him in charge of the latter, and unrolling their blankets from their saddles, they lay down be- side their horses and went to sleep. Pedro was greatly surprised at hearing a woman was inthe camp, but he had no reason for disbelieving the statement, His captivity, and the proximity of the rangers to the camp did but confirm it; and taxing his brain to in- vent means of escape, or at least, communi- cation with his friends, he sat on the summit, looking down upon their silent camp, The only means which he could devise for escaping were put into execution immediately. There were three wacchers closely eyeing the camp—one close by, another at some distance, _ and the third still further removed. The near- est ranger divided his attention between his lookout and his prisoner; humming a minstrel- hall ‘melody the while, snapping his fingers as ap accompaniment. He seemed a jovial fellow, = Pedro broached the idea in his mind—a ribe. Although he offered for bis freedom all his ready money (three hundred American dollars) and his two pounds of gold, at the same time artfully hinting at future emolument in the shape of additional coin, the ranger heard him rp no and it would seem so in this case. Here the braggart was casting off his robe of many- colored vaunts, dofling it to don one of humil- ity, crawling out of his external self like an eagle deserting his last year’s feathers: and had Simpson seen him then, he would have been amazed, ‘“T am not what you deem me,” he added, anxious to roinstate himself in her good opinion. “‘T am not a professional hunter and plainsman; I am driven to lead the life.” “Driven to it?” she asked, in surprise, “Yes, driven to it. I am by profession an artist—a landscape and scenic painter; and many’s the connoisseur that has eulogized my works.” She smiled, though kindly, and her beautiful face expressed her amusement. He flushed. “Do you think lam joking?” he demanded, “or again boasting? No, and to convince you, T will get a charred brand from the coals out- | side and sketch your portrait on the canvas; had become rich, every man of ’em, he said, | and poor as are my implements, if you don’t chucklinz—every man of ’em rich, think, when you see it, that you are looking into He gloated over this, repeating his favorite a mirror, my name is not John Worth, or ! | | quietly through to the end, then decidedly shook his head. ‘‘Tt?s no use, pard,” he said, ‘‘no use—don’t think of it, for you can’t work that game with us. Why, man! our pockets are stuffed with gold—we are rich, every man of us; and a few hundred dollars more or less don’t signify. If I was poor,.now, ’twould be different; but I am rich, and that stops your deal at the very soda. If you ever played faro-bank you'll see the oint, f Pedro had, and did. His good-humored tone showed him to bea genial, hail-fellow-well-met sort of knave, but there was no mistaking him—he could not be bribed. No more could his comrades, he said— they were too rich—too rich. He said the party had halted temporarily at the chaparral to recruit, before undertaking their arduous desert journey to Texas, where they were to disband, after having been on the maraud for two years. During that time they word, which was music to his ears, several | Worthington.” ’ times; and waxing sunnier and more genial at ‘Come outside, Jack,” called Simpson, from the thought of future high living and aimless | without. ** Don’t be alarmed, Miss Sandorn,” he again said. ‘‘AslongasI can move a muscle, lam devoted to your service. I must go now,” and with these words he was gone. His two companions were standing together, looking off over the southern plain. The guide pointed to the western extremity of the bill, where a madly galloping horse was approaching vagabondizing, he offered Pedro his pipe to keep up his spirits, he said. As for Hen, he didn’t need any stimulant, for he was rich. Pedro gratefully puffed the pipe, though it was strong with age and villainous tobacco, but but passed a dismal night filled with gloomy fore- bodings, though his jovial guard cracked jokes, sung comic songs, and narrated droll incidents the entire night with infinite gusto. At inter- | riderless. . ‘ vals assuring a rake-helly air, he would strut ‘““That’s Pedro’s horse, coming back without up and down his beat, occasionally pausing to | him.” execute a jig or a shred of hornpipe; but his gayety jarred upon Pedro, and his spirits sunk lower and lower, as he pondered over the prob- able events of the morrow. Jack saw at a glance the guide was correct. There was no mistaking that swift, smooth gal- lop of the noble black horse; and in a few sec- ouds’ time he dashed into their midst and halted, snorting in affright, with an empty saddle and swinging stirrups. ‘ Something’s happened to Pedro!” cried the ‘*Something’s happened to my old I believe it has sper- CHAPTER XII. ; SURROUNDED. AFTER the rangers had galloped away in affright at the appearance of the Phantom Rider, the friends arose and stretched their legs, and though hardly daring to venture far from the breastwork, the guide and Duncan busied themselves in collecting sufficient bunch- the guide. chum. Curse that ghost! rited him away.” It would be a dificult matter to find two men more devoted to each other than were Pedro ‘ Felipe and the guide, friends and comrades of grass for the horses in the gully behind them, ! years’ standing. Alarmed, and not without After a sufficiency had been deposited before | abundant reason, be clapped his saddle on the them they returned, and leaning against the | vicious mustang, and was working like a bee in breastwork, occupied themselves with surmises hasty preparation to search for his friend, when as to Pedro's locality and well-being. They | a cry from Jack aud an oath from Duncan ar- were not alarmed at his absence, having the ; rested him. He turned hastily, halfsick at highest confidence in his sagacity and caution; | thinking blood had been discovered on the Span- but stiil these might stand for naught against | iard’s saddle—the life-blood of his old friend. the horseman whom precisely-aimed rifle-bullets He drew a breath of relief as he saw Jack could not injure. Their tones grew lower as narrowly scanning a yellow object in his hand, they entered upon this subject, while Jack | and which he had taken from the saddle, An- within the tent was busily occupied in comfort- | other glance and he recognized it—Jack held a ing Kate, who was highly alarmed at the deter- | nugget of gold. mination of her former captors, Ha! had Pedro discovered treasure some- ‘Never fear, lady,” be said; ‘‘ while one of us | where—had he sent his horse to camp with the breathes we will protect you.” nugget by way of message? No; the first self- ‘You don’t know how you comfort me,” | query was absurd, and the second silly—some- was the grateful rejoinder. ‘‘Mv debt of | thing had bappened to his old friend. gratitude is far greater than I can ever hope to | After the first questioning glarces, he be- repay.” stowed no more attention and thought upon the ‘*Man is bound,” replied Jack, solemnly— _ gold than if it had been a stone, although Jack, ‘man is bound to protect others weaker than in admiration, was lauding it to the skies, What himself, which is exactly what we are doing | was a nugget—a paltry lump—a mine of gold, and which we are by the laws of nature re- | even, while his comrade might even now be dy- quired to do,” | ing far from help? Nothing, Jess than nothing, She smiled as he thus cast condescension to | were that possible. the winds, and a grateful warmth glowed in her But another burst of profanity from Duncan lovely eyes. and a responsive ejaculation from Jack, cause ‘‘ But your other companion, the Spaniard— | him again to pause and follow their outstretched Pedro—is he not long absent—are you not | arms with bis gaze. Seeing what they did, he alarmed at his prolonged stay?” swore roundly; the rangers having recovered ‘No, lady—Miss Kate, if you will allow me | from the fright occasioned by the Phantom to address you in that manner,” and the cunning | Rider, were reassembling, and were even how on Jack gave her no time for consent or refusal, | two sides of the camp. : but went rapidly on: “he is wary and shrewd, He must be expeditious now, or his outward in fact, being the second sharpest man that | course would be obstructed—or, to use bis own roams the plains.” expressive remark, his game would be blocked. She naturally asked who was the first and | In a few seconds the inustang stood saddled and foremost. He bristled like a turkey-cock. bridled. He hastily grasped his rifle, and look ‘“Who? Why, me, of course; tuat’s a pretty | ing to his revolvers, sprung into the saddle and question to ask the lion-tamer. I’m the cock of | started from the camp, riding toward the north, the walk! I’m the Feejee dancing master and | the only side now which was not occupied by the king of—” . mounted rangers. He stopped short in embarrassment as she But he did not go far. Seeing a horseman colored and drew away from him in alarm. | leave camp and spur swiftly northward, several Red with shame, he hastened to apologize. rangers galloped to intercept him. Simpson ‘‘Pardon me, please,” he pleaded. ‘‘ You | urged his mustang to his fleetest now, but he think me insane, and no wonder, It is a bad : habit I have fallen into, this vaunting. If you will excuse it this time, I will endeavor to reform.” ; It is said that man is constantly changing, yards, three horsemen were in his path, anda hoarse hail greeted him: ‘Keep back—halt, or you drop!” He obeyed the command, seeing the utter uses was to late; before he had ridden two hundred
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i ter BLS Ste nee Ee ce $3 eed \ a ws ‘ ‘ Be, a? 5 ws rt r ye ~ “gt m: ' ‘in lessness of endeavoring to pierce the line of horsemen which encircled the camp. He looked this way and that, with the wistful eagerness of a hunted fox; but, turn whichever way he would, he still saw a man in his path, with more at hand to spur to his assistauce in case it should be required. In his wrath, he cursed the bright moonlight for having exposed bis actions, hurled a volley of maledictions at his enemies, and, in his rage, shot wildly, and wide of the mark, at his nearest foe. In reply, several bullets whistled uncom- fortably near his head, with the accompanying remark, uttered in a threatening tone: ‘Get back into your hole, Mr. Rat, or your friends will have to make one for you, some- wheré in the vicinity of six by two.” Sullenly retreating, the wrathful guide obey- ed the stern command, and retraced his steps into camp and dismounted, fuming. But he left his mustang ready equipped to make a sudden decamp, should an eligible opportunity occur. But to his further discomfiture and cha- grin, it did not fall to his lot to leave, although he kept constantly peering in_ quest of an op- portunity the entire night. His companions busied themselves when the moon set (which it did al ttle while before dawn), in transferring tke entire camp to the gully behind them; and when the first gray streaks of daylight slanted across the sky, and gradually augmenting, lighted the plain, the bandits on the hill shouted in surprise! the camp was not in sight, CHAPTER XIIT. A WELCOME REFRIEVE. THE same gray streaks which heralded the approach of day, and originated the cry of sur- prise from the bandits, called forth a similar though cautious one from the friends lying perdu in the gully; for Simpson’s keen eyes, scanning the summit, had fallen upon Pedro, a captive, sitting upright, calmly puffing a pipe, and closely guarded by a single man. The guide sighed in relief at seeing him alive and sufficiently well to smoke, and though not relisi- ing his captivity, he regarded it as infinitely better than death. : ae He was so far lightened in spirit that, leavin Jack to guard the camp, he and Duncan started away down the ravine with a skillet and a uarter of antelope; for your ranger, even in the midst of deadly peril, will not forego his meal, if he can possibly find an opportunity in which to eat it. ‘ The descent of the gully was so rapid, that a few rods down, it became a canyon, with recipitous walls, nearly a hundred feet’ in ight; here was a capital chance to cook with- out being betrayed by the smoke. A few light, dry sticks were guthered from neighboring dwarf-oaks, and as these had been drying ever since the winter rains, they emitted but little smoke; and soon the antelope was sputtering on the coals. It was not long before they reappeared at camp with the skillet full of juicy steaks, Miss Sandorn appeared, much refreshed, and though still fearful of being recaptured by her dreaded enemies, brightened the breakfast by her sweet, womanly presence, and the meal was discussed in moderate spirits, though dashed with melan- choly at the thought of their comrade and leader being in the hands of the bandits, - They had scarcely finished, and were rallying Duncan upon having gotten through a Licul without a surly remark, when a hoarse hail came from the hill in the voice of Cyrus Johns: “Hallo, yender! LPve got something to say.” “Spit it out!” whispered the guide, epigram- matically. , “You needn't think we don’t know where ou are,” continued the gruff voice, “ You are in that gully. Now, if you want to save your greaser’s life, you hud better answer,” The three friends cautious!y peeped over the bank, and saw the robbers assembled on the hill, with Pedro, now erect. Three men sat on their horses a half of a mile north, making a surround. “Do you see this fellow?” shouted Cyrus Johns, pointing to Pedro, who was aside from the rest. “Yes,” halloed Jack in reply. only decent man among you.” , “You'll sing a different song before night, Cimarron Jack,” was the angry reply. ‘‘ You'll beg on your knees for your lifeé—mind that.” “Ah, jest shut yer foul mouth!” shouted Simpson. ‘‘ Cyrus Johns, you ain't fit to kerry slops to a bear.” he hoarse voice became angrier, , “You, too, mark my words, Tim Simpson, “He is the The Canyon Pards. Tllsend you to your reckoning before sunset. You've seen the sun rise tor the last time.” ‘* Don’t aggravate him, Tim,” cautioned Jack. “Tf you do, he may harm Pedro,” The clustered bandits remained silent as their leader proceeded, shouting to make himself heard, being nearly three hundred yards dis- tant. ‘*Pve got a proposition to make to you fel- lows. I’ve got no ill-will against you—you never did me no harm beyond killing three of my men last night, and every one of them was a fool. If you'll do what I want you to (it ain’t much), Pll give you a thousand American dol- lars, deliver up the greaser, and Jet you go free, But if you don’t consent, PU shoot the greaser right here where he stands, so you can see the fun, and then charge your camp, and leave every man of you lying dead in your gully.” ‘That isa pleasant prospect, indeed,” growl- ed Jack, who well knew what the ‘ proposi- tion” wouldbe, ‘* Don’t be alarmed, Miss Kate,” | he whispered, consolingly, to the young girl, who was pale with fear, “Give up the girl, and take your Greaser and your thousand dollars, and go wherever you please; but if you refuse, you'll see the Greaser dead in three minutes, Then, if you still refuse, we'll kill every mother’s son of you. Now you can take your choice—yow’ve got the two to choose between, “Pil give you five minutes to decide in,” he shouted, in conclusion; ‘and I intend then to stick to my resolution.” He turned away, and leaving Pedro strongly guarded by three men, he called the trio from the opposite side of the camp, well knowing the friends would not leave their present position under the circumstances: and when they had arrived, be collected them in readiness to carry out bis plans, y Jack turned to his companions, supporting the young lady who was half-fainting with appre- hension. ‘* Well?” he inquired, ‘‘ what is your opinion, comrades?” He met with no reply. The cook sat with his hands clas ing his face, sorrowfully, gazing at the ground, while the guide fingered his knife convulsively. “ ‘You've got to make up your minds,” con- tinued Jack, sadly, ‘That villain means every word he says, and in five minutes will demand an answer. Think well over it, boys—it is a horrible alternative at best. | And I hope,” (and he elevated his hand and turned his face, white and stern, skyward) ‘I hope that if there is a God, and if there is such a thing as a hell, that every man that takes part in these foul deeds will be eternally damned.” Be met with no response yet. The brains of the two men before him were surging with dark and bitter thoughts, commingled with wild sor- row, _ ‘Cant we make a charge, and rescue Pedro?” inquired the guide, without raising his eyes. * It’s no use—the moment we leave this ravine to do it, they will stab Pedro; no, Tim, we can’t rescue him, except by—” He halted short, he could not think of the al- ternative; but, winding his arm round the waist of the weeping girl, put his hand to bis face and sbut it from sight. His comrades could see the huge form of their companion on the sum- mit erect ard defiant, yet with his face silently regarding them, as if in mute appeal. Every past kindness, joy, and. pleasant time came vividly to remembrance—every generous deed his noble heart had prompted, recurred with tenfold intensity; and, could they_now see him shot dead before their very eyes? o! ten times, a huudred, a thousand times, no! But, could they yield this creature sent by Providence to their protection to the depraved | and brutal men above?—could they, if they did, ever sleep without seeing her agonized face con- fronting them in stern accusation—hear her shrieks of agony in their midnight dreams? ‘Thinking of mothers, sisters, daugh ers, at home, could they for a moment entertain the thought of giving ber up! No! ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times—no! The young giant endeavored to instill scme comfort into the beart of the distressed girl, but met with no success, not being in a state of mind qualified to inspire hope, She fell on her knees, and with her beauiiful face piteously working beseeched,and implored bim to save her from those terrible men: sobhing wildly and Wringing her hands, as if her heart would break, wringing his to the very core. € was in a barrowing position, and he knew no means of extricating himself with an easy fi | | 11 conscience. He truly, and with his whole earnest soul, loved the creature who was driving him mad with her frantic appeals for protection, and several times was on the verge of saving her at all risks, But when he turned toward the hill and saw his companion’s sad face turned toward him silently, his whole nature arose in arms; no! he never could, he never would, see his comrade shot down like a dog before his very eyes. A wild idea entered his brain. e would gather his tiny force and make a desperate charge upon the bandits, and endeavor to rescue Pedro, ut the idea was rejected as soon as conceived—at the first demonstration a knife would be plunged into Pedro’s heart. The demeaner of the young girl changed, Her lovely face became set in a hard expression, which alarmed bim, it was so stony. Her eyes glittered, hard and cold, and steadily gazing in- to his face, she said quietly: “TfT am not given up, will they kill your friend?” He bowed sadly. She continued, in the same | clear tone, steadily looking into his eyes: ‘ py ears ; : ‘The proposition is this,” resumed the bandit: | ‘‘ My coming here has caused all of this trouble, and L know how hard it 1s for you noble, brave men to givemeup. I cannot live with those men —I cannot see your friend die; will you lend me | your knife!” He clasped her tightly to him. ‘** My knife!” he gasped. ‘* What do you want with my knife?” A sudden spasm shook her, and she wildly pressed her bands to her bosom; then recover- ing, she continued: ‘*T cannot, cannot live with those men your friend will die if I am not given up, end this trouble—lend me your knife!” He drew away from her. ‘No, I will not!” Her eyes blazed. ‘* Lend me your knife ” ‘1 will not!” i She was quivering with excitement. “T order you!” she cried, ‘‘ I command you to and t will -lend me your knife!” | ‘* Boys,” he cried, *‘ hold on to your knives— she is going crazy and wants to kill herself.” The two men were awe-stricken, as she stood with blazing eyes confronting him. At this juncture a hoarse hail came from the hill. She started and tottered as the voice of Cyrus Jobns rung out. Phey. turned toward it—the time had ex- ired. ‘Hallo, you fellows!” cried the voice. ‘ Your time is up, but some of my men ain’t satisfied— they want to give you until sunset. Majority rules in this outfit—you’ve got till sunset, and there it ends.” ‘* Praise God!” shouted Jack, clasping her to his breast, while the young girl glowed with sud- den relief, ‘* Hurrah!” ‘* Look!” whispered the audible tones, to Duncan. ‘ eryiw’ like a child,” ‘Let him!” snarled Duncan, with transfigured face; ‘let him, you old thief—let him!” ‘““She’s got her arms around his neck,” con- tinued the guide, in a breathless state of excite- ment; ‘tan’ he’s kissin’ her an’ cryin’ like a child.” “Dead gone, my Christian friend—dead gone!” he shouted, dancing like a madman— “dead gone!” ruide, in scarcely e's kissin’ her, an’ CHAPTER XIV. DOT’S INFLUENCE, Tue overjoyed friends did not know, thou Pedro did, that the reprieve originated with his jovial guard. For some occult reason. he had busily harangued a majority of bis fellows dur- ing the five minutes, and, such was his remarkable fluency of speech, he soon made it evident to them that a continuation of the time until sunset would be fair play, nothing more. Thanks to his ready wit and shrewd, supple tongue, he triumphed in his strange desire, and was now, merrier than ever, guarding Pedro on the summit. ; : He told the Spaniard his name was Veach— Charles Veach, of Connecticut, a rich man. So were all of them, he said—every men of them was rich, Heseemed in excellent spirits, and began a running fire of songs, jigs. hornpipes, and rather low anecdotes, to which Pedro listen- ed and applauded, out of sheer gratitude, as his heart was heavy, notwithstanding his reprieve, Atan hour after sunrise five of the band mount- ed their horses and rode away toward the chap- arral. Provisions had run low, and they were off in search of deer, antelope, or any worthy game which they might meet. fe: “eran
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“leepy, and my eve! ain’t she pretty. This left but six to ee the camp, which | force, commanded by Cyrus Johns and _arhich by his brutal fodbeaank Bill Moore, was con- sidered amply sufficient. The three otr duty— the two leaders and. another man—scattered about, and finally, spreading a blanket on the hillside, a hundred yards south of the summit, began a game of-poker, one dollar ante. Pedro, talking with his merry guard, saw the game commence, and had he been at liberty, would have thirsted to join; but suppressing his passion, he watched the slow hands of the robbers as they moved over the cards on the blanket. ‘* There are the three best poker-players in the band, pard,” remarked Veach. ‘Read charac- ter and face as—well, I should remark they can; and Cyrus Johns can almost tell what a man’s got in his hand by looking at his face.” The game had commenced. The cards were shuffled out and dealt, the ante was deposited. A small pile of gold coin lay near each player’s hand, slowly diminishing in size, as coin after coin was placed in the center. Their tones were low and cool, and each layer alternately eyed his companions’ faces, he money, and ‘his hand, The frequently re~ ¢eurring words, ‘‘ I see, I raise, I call,” were ut- tered in the same unvarying monotone. But they were betting heavily, and were so far oc- cupied in watching their companions’ faces and fingers, that at the expiration of an hour they did not notice that the hunters had disappeared in the distance. But the guards did, and the other two had be- come intently interested i in the game on the hill- side below them. Casting a parting glance at the camp, they bade Veach “watch that greaser,” and joined their companion gamblers, standing over them and intently watching the progress of the game. The three players remarked the presence of the guards, but, betting heavily, had entirely forgotten that they were neglecting their duty. The lax guards presented their claims for admit- tances. The losers in the game—Cyrus Johns being winner—were glad of an opportunity to play against two mediocre gamblers; and soon two more men were sitting at the blanket, two more piles of gold shone under the cards, and two additional pairs of suspicious eyes were watching their antagonists, Veach, for some reason, now became extreme- Ty jolly, ‘and began to ertlogize a certain dark- orbed damsel whom he said was awaiting his re- turn in the Wocden Nutmeg State. Gliding from one feminine subject to anotner, in the fishy, gentle way males do, he remarked what a cursed pity it was that the boss cut up so about a girl. With that, he narrated what he knew of her adventure. Her capture by the.band; her contempt and scorn of Cyrus Johns; ber subse- quent imprisonment, and final escape ; and re- marked, in conclusion, with a furtive glauce at the gamblers, ‘ it’s a great piece of scoundrelly villainy to pspper you on ber account, ain’t it?” Pedro thought it was. Veach continued, st fini his knife and whetting it rapidly on his oot: “She’s a right neat bit of a girl—too nice to live with Cyrus Jobns.” Pedro did not know—he had not seen her, Veach looked down into the gully where the friends were moving about from time to time, and suddenly said: “1m a peacemaker.” Pedro was glad to hear it. The robber filled his pipe, and firing it, handed it to Pedro, who gratefully thanked him, After watching him smoke for a few minutes, he again burst out in a low tone: “ve got a sister back in Connecticut, Fe- Now you wouldn't think, looking at me, that I could have a pretty sister, would you?” @ was a hands‘me, dashing fellow, this ban- dit, and as it would do no burt and might pos- sibly be well to tell the truth, Pedro did— he thought it very likely The young fellow seemed gratified, and smoothed his brown mustache. ‘ She’s good!” he resumed; “she’s good—and if an ‘fellow dared to say anything against her, do you know what I'd do?” “* Kill him.” “Certainly; as How a fellow will —won’t he?’ “ Yes. +) ) **More’n he will for a man, eh? You bet, Slander can’t hurt a man much, but it ruins a woman,” He whetted his knife more rapidly now across his instep, and again stealthily glanced at the ve uick as I could draw trigger. ght for his sister and mother oe The Canyon ‘Pard Pards. gamblers. They were oblivious to everything except the game, Across the blanket gleamed cool and steady eyes, gazing their adversaries in the face. The muttered tones, the ‘‘see and raise,” went the rounds of the cir cle, and the sparkling gold formed a ring of glitters as 16 was changed from the supply to the bet, from the stake to the winner. The sun became hot, and the players doffed their coats, and pulling their fl apping slouch hats over their eyes, went on with the game. Down in the camp, from time to time, Pedro received gestures of encouragement from his comrades, which he would fain answer, but could not loose his bonds. The heat arose in its liquid, shivering waves from the meza; the dis- tant mountains purple-glistened in the south; ‘ and still the monotonous tones came from the cirele of players, accompanied by the chink of gold; “I see, I raise, I call.” “T can’t be br ibed,” whispered Veach, with a sunny smile; ‘‘ none of us can—we are too rich, too rich. iow do you like the tobs acco?—it's my best: the stuff I smoke on loafing days. Sweet, ain’t it?” Tt was villainous, comforting.” “*T thought so, Well, a rich man can afford to smoke good tobacco, can’t he?” ** Si, senor. “T Jike ‘si’ better than ‘ yes,’ it’s word. Don’t you think so, Feleepy?”’ ‘¢ Si, senor.” Veach caroled ‘‘ Auld Lang Syne,” cheerfully. **T like to sing that—it reminds me of home,” he said. “ Little black- eyes is there, and sister. Sister looks a heap like the girl yonder in your cam oes she?” ‘¢ Si—which stands for ‘ yaw’ in Dutch,” and Veach dwelt on the Castilian monosyllable. ‘I say!” he added vehemently, “*T can’t be bribed, but if my sister was in yonder camp in the stead a the one that is there, do you know what I’d of” ** You would fight for her.” ** Until I died, or Cyrus Johns’s gang had been thrashed!” and his eyes gleamed like coals. ‘* No, Feleepy, you can’t bribe me,” he said, after a pause; ‘‘for I’m too rich. But by—, Feleepy! I like my sister, and she looks a heap like her; and if ’twas my sister there, now, I’d fight our gang of scoundrels until [ died.” Pedro applauded his brotherly love. “Feleepy,” he growled, with a snappish ter- rier’s every action, ‘“‘I can’t be bribed—don’t think BO. ‘**T know you cannot, senor.” “We call our sister Dot, though her name is Dorothea. Dot is a ’cute name, ain’t it?” What under the sun, thought Pedro, what is he driving at, with all his talk about his sister? Veach again glinced furtively at the gam- blers. They were buried in their game, Over the plain, It was bare. “ Who's winner?” he cried. He was not heeded. “ Who’s winner, I say? They did not hear him, and still the tones went round the circle; ‘‘T see, I raise—” “Hallo! Hallo-o-o!” Cyrus Jobns started and looked up, but seeing his captive still under the supervision of Veach, again bent his eyes on the game. Veach chuck- led in str. ange delight. ** Who’s winner, Cyrus?” te Me, ” ** What's the ante?” ‘“‘ Five dollars,” ‘“* Whew-w! how much money’s up?” “Seven hundred and eighty, and [ll raise you fifty,” he concluded, again intent upon the ame, 3 Veach’s eyes snapped like those of a ferret. ‘“They are excited, Feleepy.” “*T see they are.” “They don’t notice us—nothing short of an earthquake would rouse ’em.” ‘*-You are doudtless correct.” Veach stopped whetting his knife and felt its edge, ‘It’s sharp,” he said, and reaching for- ward drew the knife across the sinews that con- fined Pedro’s ankles, easily severing them. ‘*Feleepy, give me my pipe, for it’s all I’ve got, and I don’t want you to carry it off, Now I'll free you, but [ want you to sit still until I make the ends of the sinews look as if they had been broken, Will you do it?” ‘Yes, senor,” and a grateful look went out from Pedro’s raven eyes. “ Senor, if you ever want a friend—” “That’ll do,” hurriedly whispered Veach, “J do it because she looks like Dot—not be- cause I like you.” : ‘* Si, senor, it is sweet and. a softer ” ¥ Pedro was free. the several ends of the sinews with his knife. Another look at the gamblers. Still ‘‘I see, I raise,” but no cali as yet—the stake was now @ thousand dollars, and every man had a good hand. ** Feleepy, you?” ‘Yes, senor, my friend, I will.” “Now, Feleepy, | want you to lay down that pipe before you forget it, and bu’st me in the nose hard enough to draw the claret. Will you do it?” ‘“* Tt will give you pain, my friend.” “No matter. I'll make Cyrus Johns believe you broke loose and knocked me down. Fe- leepy, I’ve favored you, now youdo me a good turn—-will you:” “ce Yes, ”? “ Ail right—you haven’t laia down the pipe— Feleepy, don’t go back on me and carry it off.” And his liberator eyed him reproachfully. Pedro blushed, laid down the nasty pipe, and stealthily rose, eyeing the busy gamblers. ‘* Tell her I said she looks like my pretty sister Dot, will you?” earnestly urged Veach, ‘‘ Will you be sure?” ** Quite sure, my friend.” ‘All right—blaze away—but don’t hit too hard, Feleepy. v4 The brawuy arm of the Spaniard shot unwil- lingly out from his shoulder and struck the other squarely in the nose, causing the blood to spurt over his face; then he was r unning rapidly down the hill toward camp, while Veach rolled on the ground. The latter took some blood from the miniature torrent which gushed from his nose, and dashed it into both eyes, then sprung to his feet and discharged his gun over Pedro’s head. “Hurry!” he cried to hiscompanions. ‘‘ The greaser’s bu’st loose,” At the report of his gun the gamblers looked up and saw that Pedro was gone! Then, leav- ing the game they grasped their guns and dashed to the top of the hill where Veach was discharg- ing chamber after chamber of his revolver at Pedr 0, though a hundred yards over his head. But they arrived just in time to see the burly form of Pedro disappear headlong into the gully —safe. ‘* Curse you for a fool!” screamed Cyrus Johns, in an ecstasy of rage. ‘'He’s gone, has he?” and he struck the man a heavy blow. Veach reeled: and staggered, pressing his hands to his face. ‘He knocked thunder out of Veachy,” re- marked Bill Moore. ‘Vl bet his nose is broke in a dozen places.” ‘* Yes,” returned Veach. ‘‘ And if the infer- nal blood hadn’t zot into my eyes so I couldn’t see to shoot, Pd 9? dropped that cursed greaser in two seconds—blast his dirty hide!” tell her she looks like Dot, will CHAPTER XV. A BATTLE WITH KNIVES. PrEpDRO had scarcely received the congratula- tions of his friends, when tbe robbers on the sumimit, enraged at his escape, charged down upon them, shouting like demons. Pedro, hay- ing no gun, was given a revolver by the ’over- joyed guide—a weapon be could wield with accuracy and rapidity. Running his eye over the coming robbers, he noticed that they num- bered but five. One was missing, and that one was Veach, Casting his gaze again to the sum- mit, he saw that merry bandit spring upon a horse, and striking spurs to the animal, gallop swiftly in a souther ly direction. “Ha!” thought Pedro, ‘He has repented his good already, and has gone to bring up the re- mainder of the band.” But the young bandit had not. Disgusted and ashamed of his connection with tbe Villains, he had taken this opportunity to desert, and ha even now speeding toward the Colorado iver, Pedro was brought to a sense of the coming danger by the rifle reports of his three com- panions, and one of his quondam captors reeled, halted, then fell with a terrible curse, with his life blood staining the ground. The others barely paused to ascertain his condition, then seeing he was past human aid, pressed on anew with rifles ready and knives drawn, intent on butchery. ; “‘ Scuttle behind the breastwork, boys!” com- manded Jack. ‘They'll let us have a volley before they try the steel.” His command was obeyed none too soon; for even while he spoke the bandits halted and took a hasty aim. But Jack’s forethought had spoil- ed their intention—as the report rung out, the But he waited as Veach tore
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— ag » "£r—N - oes See fe ba lie ai a ee ete ee me oy! - ae ; re .* 7. Gs 4» ee a a 5S) r : a: trenchant b nt cheek. Ac oa in agony the ro ‘ 9 SHG : The Canyon Pards. ar 13 Now py reine Ft s superior in point of strength and prowess, but TS eces forced to exert all his strength to im- prison his enemy’s arms. His adversary was also strong and active, and it required all the Spaniard’s power to confine the limbs which were twisting fiercely in wild attempts to tear themselves free; but Pedro was fully alive to the importance of keeping them confined, and he exerted al]l his powers in that procedure, But he was well aware the struggle could not last long, for he was wasting his strength, while _his enemy was not; he knew bis fingers, though inset great muscle, must soon cramp, and en— He knew the result and changed his tactics. Watching his opportunity, he enddenly loosed his right hand, and as quickly slid it up and the knife. This act was wholly un- ooked-for by the bandit, and his grasp of the knife was slight in consequence of the pipe srs sion of his wrist; and with a violent effort, Pedro wrested the blade awav, He did not ey to search for the most vital place in which to strike—he knew the import- ance of striking quickly; and drawing back the e he forced it into his adver- of pain followed the blow, ber clutched Pedro's throat, * * last man, Duncan, was just disappearing behind the bank. ““ We cannot trust to revolvers, senor,” calmly said Pedro, sheathing his and drawing a knite which Duncan had given him. ‘‘ When they appear on the brink we will have no chance to shoot, but we must meet them with cold steel.” : During the day, by Jack's command, the breastwork of blankets, which had been used above, had been increased in size by the boughs of adjacent dwarf-oaks and soil from the banks, making a sort of rampart, supported by the tent, in which sat the young girl. This fortifi- cation was about three feet in hight by seven or eight in length. Behind it stood the four com- rades, each with drawn knife, braced to receive the coming shock. Jack had taken particular pains to place him- self at such a point where he could render prompt assistance to Kate, in case she should require it, swelling with a warrior’s lofty pride in combat, and burning to meet the villains that had maltreated her. Beside him stood the colos- sal Spaniard, coolly drawing his finger along the edge of his keen knife. Next was Duncan, in an agony of nervousness and excitement, but wildly desiring the combat; and last was Simpson, quietly chewing his tobacco and keep- ing his eyes fixed upon the bank above, awaiting the attack. It came. Four burly forms appeared for a second on the brink, with four inflamed and ferocious faces glaring down upon the comrades; then the robbers plunged headlong on the ram- part below—it had come, hand to hand. The foremost robber was the lieutenant, Bill Moore, and, plunging down over tbe breast- work, fell heavil ey Pedro, who struck at him with his knife. Butas he did so his foot slipped, destroying his aim, and the burly form of Moore, like a colossal bird, struck him heay- ily, felling him to the ground. The shock, while it dazed Pedro for a moment, was equally disadvantageous to his opponent, for his bended knee struck the barrier in his wild descent, doubling it under his body, and causing a thrill of intense pain to dart through his entire system. Had not this pain rendered him for the moment incapable of proceeding with his bloody design, in all probability Pedro would have been dispatched at once; however, both men recovered their faculties at near] the same instant, both lying on the ground, Pedro beneath. The latter’s first act was to glance hurriedly about for his knife. It had been struck from his hand by the shock, and was nowhere visible. He thought of his revolvers—he could not reach them; they being closely compressed between his body and that of the ranger. Moore saw his adversary’s entire lack of wea- pons, and raising his knife, aimed for a brief moment, then sent it on its errand of blood. But he had been too precise, too cool; for in the short space of time in which he had paused to pie his aim, Pedro grasped his wrist with is powerful hand, and clutching it firmly, ar- — a actos of bo knife. , ne hand being balked, the robber quickly shifted his knife to the other, hut was me aaa | in the same manner, A gleam of malevolency swept over and about his sensual face, and his wicked little eyes paced down into Pedro’s, which glowed hotly truggle. Pedro was the fiercely, with his freed hand, But he soon loosened his grip, for Pedro, suddenly with- drawing his left hand, forced the robber’s head back, and with another and fiercer blow, he plunged the knife into the bronzed throat. The clutch on Pedro’s throat loosened, and the blood dabbled upon his face as his enemy’s head swayed, nodded, a film came over his eyes, and gulping up large quantities of blood, he rolled over on the ground dead. Pedro arose, cast a look upon his prostrate, vanquished foe, and abandoning the bloody knife, possessed himself of his own, which lay at a short distance. Then he was ready for another scuffle, for his blood was up. — A robber lay under the breastwork, cut and gashed about the face and breast, dead. Be- yond, leaning against the perpendicular bank, was a sturdy ruffian cutting and thrusting, closely set upon by Duncan and the guide. ‘¢ They’ve got him,” he thought, as he saw the robber was badly wounded, and was rapidly sinking; ‘they don’t need me there—wbhere are Cimarron Jack and Johns?” He heard a scuffling noise within the tent, and a ie female scream rung out. He sprung toward the entrance; they were inside, these muscular, well-matched men, fighting with the full force of their fiery natures. He burst inside, and at a glance saw the situation was a desperate one for his friend, Prostrate in the further corner lay the young irl, shrieking with fear and wringing her ants, Over her stood Cimarron Jack, with uplifted knife, endeavoring to elnde a clubbed rifle which Johns was brandishing over his head. Jack had evidently been felled by that same weapon, for his head was laid open, and his face was streaming with blood. But drawn up like a bear at bay, with eyes flashing angrily he was endeavoring to avoid the brandished gun, and slip into the robber with his knife. But the latter bad every advantage. Stand- ing as far back as the small tent would permit him, he raised the heavy rifle, and swung it down with sweeping force upon his antagonist. Jack dodged and partially evaded the blow otherwise it would have slain him instantly ; but the butt of the gun descended upon the side of his head, opening another and greater gash; and, helpless, the young giant fell senseless, The young girl sbrieked again in terror. The muscular Spaniard darted forward, and roused to towering rage at seeing his companion bleed- ing on the ground, plunged his knife into the back of the bandit, who half-turning toppled and fell forward almost in Pedro’s arms, ith a snort of rage the Don spurned the body from him, and rushed from the tent to aid his com- rades in their work. But, once outside he was confronted by Kit bare og! kar ’ ; he way is clear, here, pard,” the guide ex- plained, inctog Pedro's fierce mood; ss Pim one of the cusses is wiped out. Is Jack hurt?’ he asked Some “ He's badly hurt, but I think not dangerous- ly,” and Pedro explained the struggle. “ You know these cuts on the head soon heal and I should not be surprised if he was even now on his feet.” The guide passed by him and entered the tent, but soon returned. His face was grave, and his whole manner expressed the liveliest concern. Was Jack dead ? They noted his grave face, and feared he was the bearer of bad news, Taking each of them by the arm and placing himself 5 ean them, he led them some distance away, then halted, and said, in a semi-whisper: ‘‘She’s got his head in her lap, an’ she’s wipin’ the blood from his face, an’ she’s done up his head with her handkerchi’f, an’ she’s a-kissin’ of him in the face, an’ a-callin’ of him ‘ r John.’ Dead gone, my Christian friend—dead one,’ “‘ What, dead—is he indeed dead?” demanded Pedro, starting toward the tent. ; The guide shook his head, and detained him, .“*T see’d him cpen his eyes, an’ I see’d her kiss his hand, an’ he grinned, an’ she mussed him around, an’ kept a-callin’ of him ‘Dear John, my preserver,’ An’ sez he, ‘I ain’t much hurt love’ (jest twig that—love), and then she cried harder, and called of bim, ‘My hero, my oon Dead gone, my Christian friend—dead “She didn’t say ‘Dead gone, my Christi friend,’ did she? ‘snapped Monta ed | eed did see a feller so keerless in his talk.” The guide paid no attention to bim. _“* An’ when ] kim out she had her arms round him, like a bear, an’ a-whisperin’ in his ear, ys _ vf ogee e te 4 “A yl Sh ere i : z ee er “a a | An’ she bent her head down so he could kiss: her!” said the guide, asif he did not expect, to be believed. ‘‘ Yes, sir, she did. I declar:.’m *most beat out with sech goin’s-on.” Pedro smiled. ‘* Since he is in such good care, it will be bet- ter for us to leave him alone, will it not?” ‘*Of course,” replied the guide. ‘I’m goin” back on Cimarron Jack, sence he’s got to be sech a fool. Why, he’s dead gone—he is, for a fact, Acting upon Pedro’s motives of delicacy, they did not enter the tent, feeling satisfied that their comrade was not badly hurt, and that he was in a fair way for recovery. The corpses of the slain bandits filled them with disgust; and taking the ones that were scattered about, they conveyed them several furlongs down the ra- vine, and abandoned them to the fangs of the carnivorous animals, This done, the rampart was rebuilt in a more substantial manner; the rifles were reloaded, and Pedro went into the tent to withdraw the. body of the bandit chief. Jack was asleep, with his head comfortably bandaged. Near him was his nurse, looking so. sweetly conscious that Pedro stared. “T can see a wedding not far off,” slyly whis- red the sagacious veteran to himself; ‘‘and it is my opinion the expedition will cease: here.” As he was drawing the body out of the en-. trance he stumbled over his nugget, which was: lying in the door. As he picked it up, he utter- ed a cry of surprise, as he saw two initials cut Ta he had failed to perceive before He was grievously disappointed. He had been dreaming of unearthing vast wealth from the hill, only to be sorely tumbled from his cas- tle in the air. The initials proved the nugget to have been in the possession of another, and it might have been carried a thousand miles for aught he- knew. He sighed, as his dream of gold vanished into nothingness, and was only consoled by the pos-- session of the nugget, which might be of con- siderable value. The body of Johns was thrown among those of his criminal companions; Duncan, snarling and fn ma eid busied himself in cooking a late dinner; and Pedro and the guide, lighting their pipes, began to smoke the intervening time away, keeping the bill summit under their gaze, awaiting the return of the absent rangers, which they expected every moment, In the mean time, Jack, while rapidly regain- ing his health, related his history to his fair and attentive nurse, who hovered over him in sweet: watchfulness. He had come from one of the oldest and wealthiest of South Carolina’s proud: families. He had received a liberal education, and after graduating, had entered upon the- ursuit which he was passionately fond of, and in which he gave high promise of future fame— sary But, with the susceptibility of genius. ehad become, a few years ago, enamored of a et Georgian beauty, who coqueted with him or a while, and then scornfully cast him off. This was more than his proud spirit could bear. Abandoning his —. name (Worth- ington) for one less patrician, be had fled to the- frontier, where he joined a party of emigrants: en, route for Santa Fe. Fork, they were attacked ey. a Jar Indians and renegade whites, plunder, He fought feroely scarcely Sh whether- he lived or died, and it was mainly due to his prowess that the plunderers were at last repuls-. ed, after a severe loss on both sides, The combat is known to this day by the name of ‘‘ The Battle of the Cimarron,” and here was bestowed on him the sobriquet of Cimarron Jack, a name which he bad in future borne, causing it to be known throughout the South- While on the Cimarron e band of nt upon west. He had himself (he said, with a blush) con- tracted the habit of vaunting purposely, to kee his thoughts from pect 3 to the sco beauty he had left bebind; but now he said, there was no longer any necessity for vaunts, for a single glance at her sweet face— The cook, poking his head inside to announce dinner, surprised the young giant in the act of imprinting an ardent kiss pon tke hand of bis lovely nurse, and such was the modesty of Kate and the sheepishness of Jack, that some little time elapsed before they obeyed the summons, Daring dinner, Jack was the recipient of numberless congratulations upon his speedy re- covery, mingled with sly hints as to the pre- dominating cause, all of which Kate blushed
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The Canyon Fards prettily thereat, and Jack, as is usual with young men similarly placed, relapsed into a state of semi-imbecility. CHAPTER XVI. CAPTURED AT LAST. THE dinner had been finished but a short time, and the men, drawing back from the un- comfortably warm fire, were puffing their pipes with the quietude and self-satisfaction born of a well-lined stomach, when the cook, who had re- sumed his pugnacious grumbling, suddenly cried: ‘*Tear every stitch out of my boots, but thar comes the ghost!” The men sprung to their feet, and the young girl, not cognizant of the Phantom Rider’s shadow-existence, glanced timidly about her. Across the southern plain, and riding directly toward them, galloped a steed that Pedro and Duncan well knew—the chestnut horse, and on his back was the Phantom Rider. <A snort dis- tance in his rear, galloped a horseman, evident- ly in hot pursuit. This horseman was small in proportions, and was plying the spur rapidly, urging on his straining horse. n flew the chestnut steed, bearing directly upon them, though nearly a mile away; on came the slender horseman, plying both spurs. ‘* He is chased!” cried Pearo. “« And by a ranger,” added the guide. ‘‘ Shall we hide and pepper him as he goes by, Pedro?” “ Stay a moment—I think I know him.” He shaded his eyes with his hand, and peered closely at the papetty “It isas I thought,” he said. ‘It is Veach— there is noneso small as he in the party.” “ The feller that let yer loose?” ‘The same. See, he is waving—he is sig- naling; what does he mean?” He wasa mile distant, and the flying Rider was a hundred yards or more in advance of him. Taking off his hat, the former waved it violently over bis head, as if to attract atten- tion, and as they were the only men in the vi- cinity of the ill, he must be desirous of attract- ing their notice. In answer, Pedro sprang upon the bank, and doffing his sombrero, swung it rapidly over his+head, At this the gestures of Veach—for it was he— vecame more violent. His hat now deseribed shorter and quicker circles, and he appeared to be standing in his stirrups. ‘* What does he mean?” inquired Pedro, ‘He wants us to do something, that is sure. What can he mean?” That he wanted something was evident; for while he dashed the spurs against his horse, he waved his hat more frantically, and every mo- ment the chase drew nearer, “*T will saddle my horse, at any rate,” said Pedro; *‘soif he wants me to help him, I will be ready to doit. Mind, now, Tim,” he said, as he set about his task, ‘‘don’t flre at him—he’s friendly.” The guide assented. The speed and yet nicety with which Span- iards can saddle and bridle horses is marvelous to uovices. This one was an accomplished equestrian, andin an incredibly brief space he was mounted and riding out of the gully. But now the gestures of Veach had ceased, and he was no longer visible on his horse. Had he fallen? No; they would have seen him. Was his saddle empty? No; they could still see his swinging legs as he regularly spurred, But he was bending over his horse’s neck then, for his form was not visible. The chase drew nearer. The chestnut horse galloped wildly, and was drawing close, closer at every bound. All of the party felt a strange interest in the chase, a wild desire to solve the mystery of the Phantom Rider. : ach man took his gun, resolving to aim steadily, and if possible empty the saddle of the chestnut horse, though they had no expectation of so doing. Duncan was wildly excited, and was as nerv- ous as he could well be without bursting an ar- tery, while the guide and young Worthington anxiously awaited the approach of the chase. Veach still remained invisible; what was he doing? His gestures had some time before ceased, not to be renewed, and he no longer stood in his stirrups. ¢ ‘It’s very strange, comrades,” remarked Pe- dro, sitting on his horse above them. “ He evi- dently wishes us to do something, but he no ng. waves,” “He has his hands at his borse’s head,” he re- sumed, directly. ‘‘I can plainly see his arms. He is at work there, Ha! he is loosing his lariat.” ———$—$ $e eee Ee Pedro was correct; the bandit was loosing his | He had been bound to his saddle securely— halter from the neck of his horse, for the next moment he appeared in his seat, waving wildly: this time with his halter in his hand. ‘*He wants you to lariat the ghost, Pedro,” said the guide, excitedly; ‘“‘that’s what he wants.” It was exactly what he did desire. Pedro quickly took bis coiled riata from the | saddle-horn, and showed it to his horse. ' In the other was a long knife. The well-trained animal understood the mo- , tion, and fastened his eyes on the Phantom Rider, now a quarter of a mile away. Pedro turned to his companion. “Three times [ have tried to lasso yonder horseman, and three times [ have been balked. Senors, if I fail this time, he is, indeed, not of this world.” On came the chestnut horse, like the wind, with his strange rider—on came Veach, having ceased his gesticulations, Pedro again turned to his companion, and for the first and last time in his life, boasted. ‘*Senor, I am the very best caster of the riata in Mexico; Iam famous. My horse is the best trained for that purpose in the country; and, if I miss now, the horse and rider are ghosts.” In his right hand he took his vita, and slip- ped the noose to about three feet in diameter. The noble black horse pranced slightly, then was a block, carved, fixedly watching the com- ing horseman. They watched with intense interest. Nearer came the chestnut horse, bearing straight down upon them, while the Mexican and his horse were like a statue. The Phantom Rider evinced no intention of veering and sweep- jog = the hill; if he did, Pedro would have a difficult task; but on he came, dashing madly, and he was now so close they could hear the horse breathe, short and heavily. Pedro raised his riata. The black horse braved himself, preparing to dart forward when the coil left his master’s hand. Nearer came the Phantom Rider, closer; he was close by; still Pedro sat quietly. Nearer—still nearer—he was nearly opposite, twenty yards away. Pedro whirled the riata over his head, while the black horse, quivering with excitement, pre- pared to spring. Once—twice—tbrice—four times, and—whir-r! Away went the lasso like a darting serpent, toward the neck of the chestnut horse. In the gully they held their breath with anxiety, and Veach, behind, reined in. When the coil left the Spaniard’s hand, his horse sprung forward like an arrow. The lasso spun out its spiral length—longer—still further away—it is descending—it is over the neck of the chestnut horse, ‘* Hurrah!” The black horse, as he saw the noose encircle its victim’s neck, halted suddenly and braced himself. The noose sg shock— and the chestnut horse was rolling over on the ground, over and over his rider. ‘* Captured—caught! hurrah, burrah!” and the gully echoed again and again. Veach, be- hind, took up the cry, and came dashing up. *““Well done, hurrah! Three cheers for Fe- leepy !” / hey were given ney The friends rushed out of the gully and crowded about the captured horse as he arose, half-choked and gasping for breath, But he arose without his rider—there he lay on the ground, scowling up at them from the horrible face beneath the flapping hat. While Jack held the plunging horse, and Pedro, hand over hand, came up over his lasso, the rest, charged with curiosity, bent over the prostrate rider, and the same cry came from all, simultaneously: *¢ A dead man!” He was a corpse! Sternly, yet with vague distrust, they shook him slightly, and neneed his body between their hands. It was cold and stiff—-beyond all doubt he was dead. Assisted by Veach they took off his poncha. Underneath that garment was a vest, drab in color, and of American make. Next came a woolen shirt. Tearing this open, they found a small dark spot on the breast, at the heart; it was a bullet-hole. The ary, hot air of the Southwest is as effi- cacious for a few months, in the preservation of dead bodies, as the process of embalming—they wither, wrinkle, become brown, and then retain their substance for some months. _ Knowing this, and noting the scaly, dried blood upon the bullet-hole, they were satisfied he had perished months before. Indeed, they were assured of this, for they met with that which explained the mystery. | i thongs around his legs and on the saddle showed. that to be the case. They had been broken by the sudden shock. In his head and face they found no less then five bullet-holes, proving conclusively that Duncan and Pedro had aimed correctly, as had the rangers when they gave him a volley. In one of his cavalry boots was a silver-mounted pistol, which they abstracted. : Drawing this out, they perceived it transfixed a shred of white paper. This they withdrew and unfolded, and the following met their view, written in a rough, unpracticed hand, with blood: ‘“River Gris, 1849.— Here is the bod Griffin, who murdered his father for gold. his reward. All murderers take warning. ‘* APACHE JACK.” They well knew the signer, all except Duncan and Kate. He was an honest man and far- famed scout; and in the absence of justice, he had executed the solemn command of God, which let no man dare abridge: “‘ Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, blood for blood.” They cast the parricide from them, and tak- ing the chestnut The Phantom Rider was a mystery, a ghost, no longer. of John He met Our tale is ended, and the exploration of the Colorado River also; for the next morning Cim- arron Jack, or John Worthington, as it is best he should be called, stepped forward, and called for volunteers to escort him and Miss Sandorn to the States, where, if it pleased Providence they were to be married, when her term of mourning for her father had expired. Every man volunteered, Veach among the rest. The latter stated he had met the five rangers who had left the main body, and they had in- formed him they had deserted—they cared not to expose their bodies to the aim of crack marks- men to indulge a whim of Cyrus Johns’, As for himself, he had been on his way to Califor- nia, but meeting with the strange horseman, he had determined to ferret out the mystery, and gave chase. We know the result, . He identified the nugget as his own, the in- itials being those of bis name—Charles Veach. He was rich, he said—rich as a miser; and was going back to see Dot, and marry Black-eyes in the little old Wooden-Nutmeg State, And he reeled off a lively hornpipe in anticipation, The chestnut horse proved to be an invaluable animal; gentle, and suitable for a lady’s steed, notwithstanding he had so long carried such a degraded burden; and the pack-saddle was meta- morphosed into a side-saddle, so Kate could ride on the homeward journey. A supply of provisions was cooked: by noon of the next day they were in the saddle; and a year later, Duncan_and Veach witnessed the marriage of John Worthington and Miss San- dorn at Worthington Elms, ia South Carolina, and enjoyed the privilege of kissing the bride, | Pedro and the guide have settled for life in Mexico, where they smoke and chat away their quiet lives in peace, recounting their thrillin adventures in the days of the ‘*’forties.”| An here end the adventures of Pedro Felipe and his comrades, ; THE END. DIME DIALOGUES AND SPEAKERS FOR SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS AND HOME ENTERTAINMENTS. Dialogues, Nos. 1 to 34 inclusive, 15 to 25 popu- lar dialogues and dramas in each book. Each vol- ume 100 pages 12mo. Speakers, Nos. 1 to % inclusive. Each speaker 100 pages 12mo, containing from 50 to 75 pieces, YOUNG PEOPLE’S SERIES, Dime Book of Winter Sports. ; Dime Book of Summer Athletic Sports, Dime Gents’ Letter Writer. Dime Book of Etiquette, Dime Book of Verses. Dime Book of Dreams. Dime Fortune Teller, Dime Ladies’ Letter Writer. Dime Lovers’ Casket. Dime Ball-Room Companion. Dime Book of 100 Games. Dime Chess Instructor Dime Book of Beanty For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, post-paid, on hi receipt of price—ten cents, BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, 98 Willian: Street. New York, orse, went back to the camp. °
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7, . BEADLE'S#H ALF- [IME] JBRARY. Pi) lished Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers, Se BY PHILIP 8. WARNE, GT Patent-Leather Joes or, Old Rattlesnake, the Charmer. «%S Cuptam Arizonay or, Patent-Leathor Joe's Big Game, UV Oaptain Vasky or, Patent-Leather Joe's Defeat, Bi" Despurd, the Duelist; or, The Mountain Vempires, @#s A Tough Boy} or, The Dwarfs Revenge. BOS Littic Tornados or, The Outcasts of the Glea, GTS Littic Stngos or, the Queer Pard. B~s Little Oh-mys or, Caughs in His Own Trap, 4¢+t Little Shoo-F ly 3 or, A Race for a Ranch, 40M Little Leather-Breeches; or, Old Jumbo’s Curse, 481 Little Ab Siny or, The Curse of Blood, 461 Colorado Kate. A Tale of the afines. 40 Three Jolly Parda, S17 Jim Gladden’s Deputy. BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER, 15 The Sea-Caty; or, The Witch of Darien. 89 The Dumb Page; or, The Doge’s Daughter, 48 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. 160 Lance and Lasso}; or, The Children of the Chace, 164 The Sword Hunters; or, The Land of the Elephant Riders, 159 The Lost Captain; or, Skipper Jabes Coffin’s Cruise to the Open Pular Sea. 800 The Boy Bedouinsy, or, The Brothers of the Phumed Lance, 214 Wolfgang, the Robber of the Rhine, 949 Milo Komer, the Animal King; or, The Round the World Wanderer. 865 The Tiger Tamer} or, The League of the Jungle, G81 Black Nick, the Demon Rider, G95 California Jee’s War Trail. BY BUCKSKIN SAM (Major Sam. 8S. Hall.) 984 Old Rocky’s *“*Boyees;” or, Benito, the Young Horse Breaker. 846 Glan’ George; or, The Ang’! of the Range. 876 Arizona Jack} or, Giant George’s Pard. 897 The Tarantula of Taos; or, Giant George’s Revenge, 60T The Strange Pardy or, Little Ben’s Death Hunt. 618 Ker-whoop, Ker-whoo} or, The Tarantula of Taos. SUT Creeping Cat, the Oaddo;s or, The Red and White Pards, BSe Frio Fred; or, The Tonkaway’s Trost, 644 The Fighting Trio; or, Rattlesnake, the Tonkaway. B49 Wild Wolf’; or, Big-Foot Wallace to the Front, 857 The Ranch Ralders; or, The Siege of Fort Purgatory, 864 #nap-Shot, the Boy Ranger, 875 Chiota, the Creeks or, The Three Thunderbolts, $81 Bandera BILl} or, Frio Frank to the Front. S92 Romeo and the Reds} or, The Belesguered Ranch, 404 Little Lariat; or, Pecan Pete’s Big Rampage, 414 The Dalsy from Denver, 427 The Three Tratleras or, Old Rocky on the Rampage, 442 Bluff Bill; or, The Lynx of the Leona. 455 Little Lone Star; or, The Belle of the Cibole BY EDWARD WILLETT. ROT Aaa Scott, the Steamboat Boy, 199 Featherweight, the Boy Champion of the Muskingum 888 Ozark Alf; or, Featherweight Among the Outlaws, 8829 The Typo Detectives or, Weasel, the Boy Tramp. 895 Fearless Phil; or, The King of Quartsville, 611 The Roving Sport} or, The Pride of Chuckaluek Camp, 822 Nemo, the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon's Vendetta. 840 Olip, the Contortionist; or, The Montana Vigilantes. BY J, 0. COWDRIOK, 660 Silver-Mask, the Man of Mystery. 669 Shasta, the Gold King} or, For Seven Years Dead, 420 The Detective’s Apprentices or, A Boy Without o 424 Cibuta Johns or, Red-Hot Times at Ante Bar. 489 Sandy Sam, the Street gcoat. 467 Disco Dan, the Daisy Dude, 490 Broadway Billy, the Bootblack Brave. 606 Redlight Ralph, the Prince of the Road, 614 Broadway Billy’s Boodle, 624 The Engineer Detective, BY J0 PIERCE, 897 Bob o’ the Bowery} or, The Prince of Mulberry Street, 415 The Vagabond Detectives or, Bowery Bob’s Boom. 452 Hotapur Bob, the Street-Boy Detective, 460 The Lawyer’s Shadow} or, Luke’s Legacy, A472 Jaunty Joe, the Young Horse-King. 494 Burly Sim, the Young Ferryman Detective, 604 Five Points PhiL 609 Jack Jaggers, the Butcher Boy Detective, 616 Tartar Tim; or, Fiye’Points Phil’s Menagerie, 526 North River Nat, the Pier Detective BY OaPT. MARK WILTON, #56 Young Kentucky or, The Red Lasso. 870 Buizeard Ben; or, The Riot at Keno Camp. 886 Josh, the Boy Tenderfoot. BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. 76 Biue Dick; ot, The Yellow Chiefs Vengeance. 8T The Land Pirates; or, The League of Devil’s Leland, 28T The Helpless Hand} or, Backwoods Retribution. 889 The Geld-secker Guido; of, Tie Los Mountain. BY BRAOEBRIDGE HEMYNG, 89 Taland Jimy or, The Pot of the Familiy. 91 The Oaptain of the Club; or, The Rival Athletes. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York. BY GEORCE WALDO BROWNE, 86 Dandy Rock, the Man fwom Texas, 90 The Dread Riders or, The Texan Duelist, 99 The Tiger of Taos; or, Dandy Rock’s Angel, 116 The Mad Miner; or, Dandy Rock’s Doom, 181 The Golden Handy or, Dandy Rock to the Rescue, 164 Dandy Rock’s Pledge}; or, Hunted to Death, 178 Dandy Rock’s Rival; or, The Haunted Maid of Tacs. BY OAPT. J. F. ©. ADAMB, 84 Oregon Sol}; or, Nick Whiffies’s Boy Spy. 46 Glann-Eye, the Great Shot of the West. 564 Ned Hazel, the Boy Trapper. 566 Nick Whites’s Pes; or, In The Valley of Death, 60 The White Indian; or, The Scout of the Yellowstone, 7% Old Zip’s Cabin; or, The Greenhorn tn the Woods, $1 Lightning Jo, the Terror of the Prairie. 85 Buck Buckramy or, Bess, the Female Trapper, 247 Old Grizzly and His Pets; or, The Wild Huntress, 251 Light-house Liges or, Osceola, the Firebrand. 257 The Lost Hunters; or, The Underground Camp, 288 The Scalp King}; or, The Human Thanderbok, BY ROGER STARBUOK. 85 The Boy Captain; or, The Pirate’s Daughter, 114 The Black Schooner; or,,Jib Jank, the Old Tax. 259 The Golden Uarpoony or, Loat Among the Floes. 848 Fire-Heels; or, Old Skinfliint, the Duath-Shadow, 854 Big Worn Ike, the Hill Tramp} or, The Odd Pards, 861 The Phantom Light-house. 870 Breaker (Wen, the Reef-Runner. BY WILLIAM R, EYSTER, 196 Dandy Darke; or, The Tigers of High Pine. 210 Faro Frank}; or, Dandy Darke’s Go-Down Parda, BY COLONEL DELLE SARA, 108 The Lion of the Sem} or, The Veiled Lady, 186 Oool Desmond; or, The Gambler’s Big Game, BY HARRY 8ST. GEORGE. 80 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, the Ranger. 44 Rattling Rube} or, The Nighthawks of Kontneky, 59 Old Hickory} or, Pandy Ellia’s Scalp. © 108 Daring Davy} or, The Trail of the Border Wolf, 166 Hickory Harry; or, The Trapper- Brigade’s Spy, 172 Thunderbolt Tom} or, the Wolf-Herder, BY JAMES L. BOWEN 107 One-Eyed Sim} or, The Abandoned Forest Home. 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies. A Story of Texas, BY 0. DUNNING OLARK. 185 Oaptain Paul; or, The Boy Spy of the Mountains. 280 The Yankee Rajah; or, The Fate of the Black Bheoreed, BY GEORGE ©, JENKS, 485 Git Thar Owney, the Unknown, 492 Git Thar Owney’s Pledge, 518 The Demon Doctor, BY OAPT. ALFRED B, TAYLOR, Uv. & A. 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhader; or, The Doomed Thirteen. 194 Buffale Bill's Bet; or, The Gambler Guide, BY OHARLES E. LASALLE. 50 Burt Bunker, the Trapper, 52 The White Buffalo. A Tale of the Northwest BY JOHN J. MARSHALL. 4® Roving Ben. A Story of a Young American. 97 The Outlaw Brothers; or, The Captive of the Harpes, BY MAJOR E. L. ST. VRAIN, $98 Sancho Pedro, the Boy Bandit, 801 Leadville Nick, the Boy Sport. 812 Redtop Rube, the Vigilante Prince. 888 Brimstone Bob, and His Lightning Horse Quartette, 852 Tombstone Tom, the Arisona Boy of “ Sand,” 859 Durango Dave, the Young Champion Wrestler, 871 Kingbolt Chris, the Young Hard-Shell Detective, 880 Avalanche ALf, the Foothills Guide, 890 Jaguar Joe, of the Mountain Mall-Line, BY WM. G. PATTEN, 489 The Diamond Sport} or, The Double Face of Bed Rock. 519 Captain Mystery § °, Five in One, BY MAJOR HENRY B. STODDARD, Ex-Boout, 806 Neck-Tie Ned} or, The Dug-Out Parda, 846 Rapier Rapksel} or, The Swordsmen of Zacatecas. 891 Kid-Glove Kit, the Dandy of the Rockies, 898 Kid-@Glove Kit and Pard; or, The Gold King, 406 The Mad Man-Hunters or, The Mystery ef @elden 605 Powall’, Pard} or, The One-Armed Giaat. BY MAJOR LEWIS W. OARSON, 278 Fhe Three Trappers; or, The Mountain Menstes, ®85 Indian Joo; or, The White Spirit of the Hills, BY W. J. HAMILTON, 68 The Red Brotherhood; or, The Twelve Avengers, 66 Single Wand; or, A Life fora Life. 72 Mad Tom Weatern, the Texan Ranger. 887 Bem Bird, the Cave King; or, Big Pote’s Scoop, BY JACK FARRAGUT. 815 Ned, the Cabin Rey. 820 The Sea Sorceresny or, The Boy Skipper, BY FRANK DUMONT. 120 The Branded Handy or, The Man of Mystery, 127 Wild-Fire, the Boss of the Road. 140 Blue Blazes; or, The Break o’ Day Boys of Rosky Baw 171 Ebony Dany or, The Rival Leagues. 185 Evil Eyes or, The Vultures of the Rio Grande, BY LIEUT. H. D. PERRY, U. 8. N. 176 The Boy Runaway } or, The Buecaneer of the Bay, 180 The Sen Trailer; or, A Yow Well Kept. 192 Captain Kit; or, The Mystery of Montauk Point. BY HARRY WAZARD. 828 Arkansaw Jacky; or, The Scourge of the Mines, 829 Red-Skin Tomy or, The Demon's Trail, 842 Tho Mountain Devil; or, Yellow Jack, the Outlaw, BY COL. A. ¥F. HOLT, 899 Bilnck Buckskin; or, The Masked Men of Death Canyon, 41° Kenneth, the Knife-King. 4865 Little Lightfoot, the Pilot of the Woods. BY J. W. OSBON. 469 The Rival Glants of Nowhar’. 498 Oactus Burr, the Man from Hard Luek. BY FREDERICK DEWEY. 818 Olmarron Jack, the King-Pin of Rifle-Shots, 478 Tangewund, the Desert Detective. MISOELLANEOUTS AUTHORS, 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters, By Capt. Mayne Reld ané Frederick Whittaker. ® Adventures of Baron Muachausen, 18 Gulliver’s Travels. By Dean’Swift 14 Aladdiny or, The Wonderful Lamp. 16 Robinson Oruanoe. (27 Lluatrations.) 18 Sindbad the Sallor, His Seven Voyages, 22 The Sea Serpents or, The Boy Robinson Crases. By Joss ewln, 88 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pira: Cortina By 8, W. Pierce. . ton of the 86 The Boy Olowns or, The Queen ofthe Arena, By Fraak i nn. BS Ned Wylde, the Boy Scout. By Toxas Jack. 51 ‘The Boy Rifles; or, The Undergreund Camp. By Archie » trons. 95 The Rival Rovers The Fr By Lieas.-Col.glaseliine, Freebooters of the Mississippi. 98 Robin Hood, the Outlawed Karl; Merry Men of Green- wood. By Prof. Giidaninnss: — 105 Old Rube, the Hunter; or, The Crow Captive, By Captain Hamilton Holmes, 112 The Mad Hunter; or, The Cave of Death. By Burton Bare, 124 Tippy, the Texany or, The Young Champion. By George Glesson. 128 The Young Privateers or, The Pirate’s Stronghold. By Harry Cavendish. 148 Sharp Sam; or, The Adventures of Friendless Boy, By J, Alexander Patten. ®27 Dusky Darrell, Trapper: or, The Green Ranger of the Yo. lowatone, By Edward’ Emerson. 261 Fergus Fearnaught, the New York Boy, By George L, ken. 866 Killb’ar, the Guides or, Davy Crockett’s Crooked By Ensign C. D. Warren, Trail, 298 Red Claw, the One-Ryed Trapper; or, The Maid of the Cig By Captain Comstock, > k Pete, the Lively Lad from Leadville, . 817 Bema ir Thorne. By lime Sky Wetective; or, A Boy's Fight fo ae Fe Malor Mickey Free. ioe ye Wig’ x Life and Honor. B50 Ralph, the River Rover mee By Ned Buntline. fot, The Brother's Re- 8665 Baltimore Ben, the Bootblack Detective, By A, P, Morria Bt4 aga Tomy or, Ben’s Double Mateh, By George M oree. Life fi a Hoe uae sca Trail, By Colonel Thomas 418 Billy Bombshell, the Cliff Climber. By ¥. 8, Winthrop. 440 Little Foxfoot, the Gold Bowie Kid, By Arthur C. Grissom, 475 The Black Ship. By John 8, Warner. 484 Comanche Dick and His Three Invinelbles, By Henry J. Thomas. 588 Wisard-Arm, the Dandy Sport, By Arthur F. Holt, A New Issue Every Tuceday- The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all newsdealers, five cents por copy, Or sent by mall on receipt of six cents onah, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New Yerk,
Page 16
BY EDWARD L. WHEELER. Deadwood Dick Novels. 1 Dendwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. 20 Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Defiance. 28 Buffalo Ben; or, Deadwood Dick in Disguise. 35 Wilda Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval. 42 Phantom Miner}; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza, 49 Omaha GIL; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger. 5¢ Deadwood Dick's Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar. 78 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane, the Heroine, %? Corduroy Charlie; or, Deadwood Dick’s Last Act, 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville. 104 Dendwood Dick’s Device; or, The Double Cross Sign, 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. 129 cenaweod Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s uich. 188 Blonde BIL; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base. 149 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike. 156 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party. 195 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, The Rivels of the Road. 201 The Black Hills Jezebel; or, Dendwood D.ck’s Ward. 205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Last Ad- venture, 217 Captain Orack-Shot, the Girl Brigand. 221 Sugar-Coated Samy} or, The Black Gown, 282 Gold-Dust Dick. A Romance of Roughs and Toughs, 263 Deadwood Dick’s Divides or, The Spir.t of Swamp Lake. 268% Deadwood Dick’s« Death Trail. 809 Deadweod Dick’s Big Weal; or, The Gold Brick of Jregon, 821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen; or, The Fakir of Phantom Flats. 847 Deadwoed Dick’s Ducats; or, Rainy Days in the Dig- gings. ‘. 851 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta, B62 raha Dick’s Claim; or, The Fairy Face of Faro nts. 405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City. 410 ene aon Dick’s Diamonds ; or, The Mystery of Joan orter, 421 Dendwood Dick in New York; or, A “Cute Case,” 480 Deadwood Dick’s Dust; or, The Chained Hand. 448 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 418 Nickel-Plate Neds or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Defiance. 458 Sunflower Sam, of Shasta; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Full Hand, 459 Fhush Fan, tle Ferret; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Big Ronnd- Up. 465 Philo Fly, of Phenix; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Racket at aim . 471 Bozeman Bil; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Corral. 476 Humboldt Marry, the Hurricane; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Dog Detective. 481 Moll Mystery; or, Deadwood Dick Jr. in Dendwood. 491 Prince Pistol, the King of the West; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’a Compact. 496 Monte €riato, Jr.3 or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Inheritance. 500 Deadwood Dick’s Diggings ; or, Dr. Death-Grip’s Swoop, 508 Deadwood Dick’s Deliverance. 515 Deadwood Dick’s Protegee, 522 Deadwood Dick’s Three, Other Novels by E. L. Wheeler, 26 Cloven Noof, the Buffalo Demon. 82 Bob Woolf; or, The Girl Dead-Shot, 89 Death-Face, Detective; or, Life in New York. 45 Old Avalanche; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand, 58 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix. 61 Buckhorn BIL; or, The Red Rifle Team. 69 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter; or, The “34 Detective, 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nugget Ned, ths Knight. 84 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand, 88 Phetogra Phil; or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance, 92 Canada Chet} or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp. 96 Watch-Eye3 or, Arabs and Angels of a Great City. 13 Jack Moyle the Young Speculator. 17 Gilt-Edged Dick, the Sport Detective 21 (fF inamon Chip, the Girl Sport. 25 Bo :annzea BHI, Miner. 188 Bua» dob the King of Bootblacks, eee ee 141 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent. 146 Ceptate erret, the New York Detective; or, Boss Bob’s 088 . 161 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective. 177 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, Tho Sierras Scamps. 181 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo. 218 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventriloquist Hunter. 226 Pusonor, the Boy Sharp; or, The Arab Detective. 2X5 Denver Doll's Decoy ; ‘or. Little Bill’s Bonanza. rret. 296 Denver Doll’s Drift; or, The Road Queen. 299 A No. 1, the Dashing Toll-Taker. 825 Kelley, Hicke B80 Little Q 'e. 872 Yreka Jim’s Prize. B78 Nabob Ned; or, The Secret of Slab City, BY ALBERT W, AIKEN. 11 The Two Detectives; or, The Fortunes of a Bowery Girl. 76 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. 79 Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. 288 Joe Buck of Angels and His Buy Pard. New York Nat. A Tale of Tricks and Traps in Gotham, New England Nicks or, ‘le Fortunes of a Foundling. Nimble Nick, the Circus Prince. ‘Taos Ted, tae Arizona Sport. Cool Colorado, the Hal{-Breed Detective, 5 Cool Colorado in New York. / Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers, BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRATIAM, ? The Flying Yankee; or, The Ocean Outcast. Z Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccan-er; or The Fugitive Yacht. 1 Diamond Dirk; or, The Mystery of the Yellowstone. 62 The Shadow Ship} or, The Rival Lieutenants, 5 The Boy waelists or, The Cruise of the Sea-Wolf, 1 Dick Dead-Eye, the Boy Smuggier. 1141 The Sen-Devil; or, The Midshipman’s Legacy. 116 The Hussar Captain; or, The Hermit of Hell Gate, 197 Little Grit; or, he the Stock-Tender’s Daughter. 204 Gold Plume; or, The Kid-Glove Sport, 216 Bison BI, the Prince of the Reins. 222 Grit, the Bravo Sport; or, The Woman Trailer. 229 Crimson Kate; or, The Cowboy’s Triumph, 237 Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain. 245 Merle the Middy 3 or, The Freelance Heir. 250 The Midshipman Mutineer 3 or, Brandt, the Buccaneer, 264 tape Floating Feather; or, Merle Monte’s Treasure Shand, 269 The Gold Ship; or, Merle, the Condemned. 276 Berle Monte’s Cruise; or, The Chase of “The Gold Ship.’ 280 Merle Monte’s Fate; or, Pearl, the Pirate’s Bride. 284 The Sean Marauder; or, Merle Monte’s Pledge. 287 Billy Blue-Eyes, the Boy Rover of the Rio Grande. 804 The Dead Shot Dandy ; or, Benito, the Boy Bugler. 808 Keno Kit; or, Dead Shot Dandy’s Double. 814 76 Mysterious Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler’s Long rail, 877 Bonodel, the Boy Rover; or, The Flagless Schooner. 888 The Indian Pilot 3 or, The Search for Pirate Island. B87 Warpath WILL, the Boy Phantom, 44 4 Foawalt the oy Spat pas 02 Isvdor, the Young Conaptrator 3 or, The Fatal League. 407 The Boy Insurgent; or the Caben Vendetta. oO 412 The Wild Yachtaman; or, The War-Cloua’s Cruise, A429 Duncan Dare, the Boy Refugee. 488 A Cabin Boy’s Luck; or, The Corsair. 487 The Sea Raider. 441 The Ocean Firefly 3 or, A Middy’s Vengeance. 446 HMaphazard pisery $ or, The Scapegrace of the Sea. 450 Wizard Will; er, The Boy Ferre: of New York. 454 Wizard Will's Street Scouts, 462 The Born Guide}; or, The Sailor Boy Wanderer. 468 Neptune Ned, the Boy Coaster. 474 Flora; or, Wizard Will’s wagebons Pard, 488 Ferrets Atloat; or, Wizard Wi1)’s Last Case, 487 Nevada Ned, the Revolver Ranger. 495 Arizona Joe the Boy Pard of Texas Jack, 208 The Royal Middy tor, The Sherk and the Sea C e Roya or, The Shark an e Sea Cat. 507 The Hunted Midchi man, 5611 The Outlawed Middy. 620 Buckskin BIL, the Comanche Shadow. 525 Brothers in Buckskin, BY CHARLES MORRIS, 118 Will Somers, the Boy Detective, 122 Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. 126 Picayune Petes or, Nicodemus, the Dog Detective. 80 Detective Dick; or, The Hero in Rags. 4 42 Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective, 147 WHI Wildfire, the Thoroughbred. 62 Black Beas, Will Wildfire’s Racer. 57 Mike Merry, the Harbor Police Boy, 62 Will Wildfire in the Woods, 65 Billy Baggage, the Railroad Boy. 70 A Trump Card; or, Will Wildfire Wins and Loses, 74 Bob Rockett; or, Mysteries of New York. 179 Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, 188 The Hidden Hands or, Will Wildfire’s Revenge. 187 Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Boy; or, The Smugglers, 189 Bob Rockett ; or, Driven to the Wall. 196 Shadowed ; or, Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life, 206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King. 212 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective. 220 Tom Tanner; or, The Black Sheep of the Flock, 225 Sam Charcoal the Premium Darky, 235 Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy. 242 The Two * Bloods ”; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang. 252 Dick Dashaway 3 or, A Dakota Boy in acy = 262 The Young Sleuths; or, Rollicking Mike’s Hot Trail, 274 Jolly Jim, the Detective Apprentice. 289 Jolly Jims Job; or, The Young Detective. 298 The Water-Hound; or, The Young Thoroughbred. , 805 Dashaway, of Dakota; or, A Western Lad in the Quaker City. ety Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective. 8 ee ledododad-al 41 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. 58 The Reporter-Detective ; or, Fred Flyor’s Blizzard, 867 Wide-Awake Joe; or, A Boy of the Times. BY pet © the Leveler; or, The Bloods of the Boulevard. 408 Firefly Jack, the River-Rat Detective, 428 The Lost Fingers or, The Entrapped Cashier, 428 Fred Flyer, the Reporter Detective, 456 ae. Brick, the Juily Vagabond. e- r. 48 Black John, the Road-Agent; or, Me Outlaw’s Retreat. 65 Hurricane B 119 Muatang Sam 3 or, The King of the Plains. Fawk it; or, The Daughter of the Ranch, 16 168 Deadly Dash; or, Fighting Fire with Fire. 184 ¥ it , 208 211 Crooked Cale, the Caliban of Celestini City. 810 The Barranca 819 The 885 Old Double Fist ioe ‘The Strange Guide. 855 The King of the 449 Kit Fox, the Border Boy Detective. BY EDWARD 8. ELLIS. BY BUFFALO BILL (Hon. Wm, F. Cody). 8 Kansas Kings or, The Red Right Hand. 19 The Phantom Spy: or, The Pilot of the Prairie, 65 Deadly-Eye, the Tiki Scout. 68 Border Robin Hood; or, The Prairie Rover, 158 Faney Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’e Trust, BY OLL COOMES. 5 Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew. 18 The Dumb Spy. 2¢ Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. j 81 Keen-Knitfe, the Prince of the Prairies. 41 Lasso Jack, the Young Mustanger, 58 The Border King; or, The Secret Foe. 71 Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy, 74 Mawk-eye Harry, the Young Tiapper R nger. 88 Rollo, the Boy Ranger. 184 Sure Shot Seth, the Boy Rifleman. 148 Scar-Face Saul, the Silent Hunter, 146 Silver Star, the Boy Knight. 158 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. 168 Little Texas, the Young Mustanger, 178 Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper. 182 Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. 202 Prospect Pete; or, The Young Outlaw Hunters, 208 The Boy Hercules: or, The Prairie Tramps. 218 Viger Tom, the Texas Terror. 224 Dashing Dick; or, Trapper Tom’s Castle. 228 Little Wildfire, the Young Prairie Nomad. 288 The Parson Detectives or, The Little Ranger. 248 The Diasguisxed Gulde; or, Wild Raven, the Ranger. 260 Dare-Devil Dun, the Young Preirie Ranger. 272 Minkakin Mike, the Boy Sharpshooter. 290 Litthe Foxfire, the Boy Spy. 800 The Sky Demon} or, Rainbolt, the Ranger. tr 884 Whip-King Joe, the Boy Ranchero, a* 409 Hercules; or, Dick, the Boy Ranger. Al? Webfoot Moxe, the Tramp Detective. 422 Baby Sam, the Boy Giunt of the Yelluwstone. ‘ 444 Little Buckskin, tne Young Prairie Centaur. 457 Wingedfoot Fred}; or, Old Polar Saul. i, 468 Tamarae ‘Tom, the Big Trapper Poy. 478 Old Tom Rattler, the Red River epidemic, 482 Stonewall Beb, the Bey Trojan. / BY T. ©. HARBAUGIL. \ ay 8 Nick o? the Night; or, Th» Boy Spy of 76. @ The Widden Lodge}; or The Little Hunter. 47 Nightingale Nat; or, Tne Forest:Captains, 64 Dandy Jack; or, The Outlaws of the Greqon Trair, 82 Kit Harefoot the Wood-Hawk. 94 Midnight Jack 3 or, The Boy Trapper. 106 Old Frosty, the Guide; or, The White Queen. 128 Kiowa Charley the White Mustanger. 189 Judge Lynch, Jr.t or, The Bey Viziante, 155 Gol Tri er, the Rporty or, The Girl Avenger. 169 Tornado Tom; or, Injun Jack Froin Red Core. 188 Ned Temple, the Border Boy. 198 Arkansaw 3 er, The Quen of Fate’s Revenge. 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. 215 Captain Bullet; or, Little Topknot’s Crusade, 281 Plucky Phil; or, Rosa, the Rei Jezebel. 241 Bill Bravo; or, The Roughs of the Rockies, 255 Captain Apoll«, the King-Pin of Bowie, 267 The Buckskin Detective. 279 Old Winch or, The Buckskin Desperadoes, 294 Dynamite Dany or, The Bowie Blade of Cochetopa. 02 The Mountain Detective ; or, The Trigger Bar Bully, . 816 Old Eclipse, Trump Card of Arizona, 826 The Ten Pards; or, The Terror ot Take-Notice. 886 Big Benson; or, The Queen of the La so. 845 Pitiless Matt; or, Red Thunderholt’s Secret. 856 Cool Sam ind Par’'3 0 The Terrible Six. B66 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. 886 Captain Cutlass; or, | he B ccuneer’s Girl Foe. 896 Rough Rob; or, The ! win Champions of Blue Blazes.. All The Silken page. or, The Rose of Rancu Robin, 418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter. A25 Texas Trump, the order Rattler. 486 Phil Flash, the New York Fox. 445 The City Sleuths; or, Red Rolfe’s Plzeon. 461 One Against Fifty ¢ or, The Last Man of Keno Bar, A70 The Boy Shadow ; or, Felix Fox’s Hunt. Av? The Excelsior Sport; or, The Washington Spotter... 499 Single Sight, the One-Eyed Sport. 502 Branded Ben, the Night Ferret. 512 Dodger Dick, the Wharf-Spy Detective. 521 Dodger Dick’s Best Dodge. ( LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. 527 The Jolly Pards to the Rescue, By P.S.Warnes _ 528 Fox and Falcon, the Bowery Shadows, By T. C, Harbaugha. 529 Deadwood Dick’s Danger Ducks. By E. L. Wheeler. 580 The Buckskin Bowers. By Co), P. Ingraham. 531 Daisy Dare, the Sport from Denver, By William G, Patten. 582 The Cowboy Duke._ By Edwin Brooke Forrest. B88 Wrestling Rex, the Pride ofthe Sixth Ward. By Jo Pierees. 584 Deadwood Dick’s Death Hunt. By E. L, Wheeler. 535 The Bue skin Rovers, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. B86 Broadway Billy’. “* DiMkilty.” By J. C. Cowdrick, BRT Old Buckeye, the Sierra Sleuth, By J. W. Osbon. B88 Dodger Dick, the Dock Ferret. By T. C. Harbaugh. 5&9 Deadwood Dick Jr., in Texas. By Edward L. heeler, . 640 Captain Ku-Klux, the Marauder of the Rio. By Colone} Prentiss Ingraham, bA41 Jeff Flicker, the Stnble Boy Deteetive. By Jo Pierce, 42 The Canyon Pards, By Frederick Dewey- 548 Dodger Dick’s Double. By T. C. Harbaugh, 544 peadwoed Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidocq. By Edward! * ieeler, 545 Lieutenant Leo, the Son of Lafitte. By Col. P. Ingriham.. 546 Captain Cactua, the Chaparral Cock. By Lieut. A, Ky. Sims. Ready January 10. 547 Sandy Andy3 or, A Good Man Down. By P. 8, Warne. Ready January 17. ’ 548 Mart, the Night Express Detective. By J. C. Cowdrick. Ready January 24. 549 Capt. Crimson Cowl, the Road Raider, By E, L, Wheeler. Ready Jannary 31. 550 Lafitte’s Legacy: or. The &venging Son, By Col. Preutiss Ingraham. Ready Februrary 7. A New Iesue Every Tuesday. The Walf-Dime Library {s for sale by ail newsdealers, five eenta per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York, .